A Dangerous Love (3 page)

When the stream turned east they left it behind. Around them the countryside was both silent and desolate. The herds of cattle belonging to Stanton were nowhere to be found. They saw no one. The raiders had done a fairly good job of destroying and stealing, although Elsbeth knew there would be some who had hidden away like themselves, and escaped the fury of the Lancastrians.

It was several days before they saw any sign of life, but those few people they saw hurried by them in the fields or woodlands, eyes averted. No words were exchanged at all, only furtive glances to ascertain whether they were dangerous. One man did look enviously at their horses, but Elsbeth’s hand went immediately to her belt, where a large knife was visible, and Beiste growled menacingly. The man lowered his eyes again and passed by.

After almost two weeks of travel they had the good fortune to come upon a convent just at sunset. The nuns took them in, and when they had heard the story Elsbeth told them—although she was wise enough to leave out Adair’s natural paternity—the sisters invited them to remain for a few days to rest their animals and regain their strength. They bathed Adair, fed her a good hot meal of vegetable potage and buttered bread, then put her in a comfortable bed, and Elsbeth wept as she thanked them for their kindness.

They remained two full days, and then departed. Elsbeth had dug out two silver pennies from her little hoard and left them on the altar of the convent church, as was the custom for visitors. She knew the nuns would
 
be surprised to find them, and she smiled to herself as they rode along again. The farther south they traveled, the more difficult it became to keep from the roads, which it seemed were everywhere. And villages—there were so many of them. Elsbeth had never been more than five miles from Stanton, and as they traveled she realized how different the rest of England was from the wild Northumbrian countryside along the Scottish border. It frightened her, but she would show no fear before her charge. And Adair was fascinated and intrigued by what she saw. Especially the towns. But Elsbeth would not go into them. Seeing them from a distance, she would circle about them until she could head south again.

The autumn was almost upon them. The days were growing shorter, and their hours of travel were fewer.

Adair had caught a cold, and Elsbeth was worried it might develop into something worse if they did not reach the king soon. The child had always had good health, but these past weeks of long travel, little food, and sleeping outdoors on the damp ground were beginning to take their toll. They both needed an end to their journey, and warm shelter. Then one afternoon they were forced to cross a wide, high road, and Elsbeth saw a sign. Unlike many women of any class, Elsbeth could read. It had amused her ancient father to teach her in the months before his death, when he had grown too frail to do anything else. The sign read LONDON, and pointed toward one of the four roads before her. Elsbeth considered. Perhaps now that they were so far south it would be safer and quicker to follow the road, especially considering Adair’s worsening health. She turned their horses in the direction the sign indicated.

They saw only a few folk as they moved along the road, and as with those they had seen in the woodlands and fields they traversed, everyone was minding their own business. Elsbeth began to feel that perhaps she had made the correct decision. And then she heard be
hind her a troop of horses. Reaching out to grab the reins of Adair’s animal, she struggled to get out of the way, but she was not quick enough. They were quickly surrounded by mounted men. Elsbeth pulled her mount and Adair’s to a halt, that the others might at least pass them by. But to her surprise the others came to a halt too.

The gentleman leading the troop—for by his apparel she could see he was a gentleman—detached himself, and rode over to where Elsbeth and Adair now sat upon their horses. “Woman,” the gentleman demanded, “what are you doing out on the road in these dangerous times?

And with a little maid. Where are you from, and to where are you journeying with only this great wolfhound for your protection?”

Elsbeth opened her mouth, but she was so frightened she could not speak for the life of her. What had she done, coming onto the road? Why had she not obeyed the earl’s directive? Would they now be killed for her foolishness? But the gentleman addressing her was very handsome, and of slight stature. He was commanding, but did not seem menacing. She swallowed and tried again to speak, when to her surprise Adair did.

“I am Lady Adair Radcliffe, the Countess of Stanton, sir. I have come to seek the protection of the king, as my parents are now dead, slaughtered in his good cause.”

The gentleman reached out and pushed Adair’s hood from her head, ignoring the dog’s deep growl. He nodded. “You look like your mother,” he said. “I remember her.”

“And who, sir, are you?” Adair demanded in a slightly imperious tone that caused the gentleman to smile, obviously amused by her bravery.

“I am your uncle Richard, Duke of Gloucester, my lady Countess of Stanton,” the gentleman said. “I think it fortunate that I have come upon you instead of someone else. Is your servant without speech, Adair Radcliffe?”

“Nay. I think you have frightened her, my lord. She has been very brave these past weeks, and I owe my life to her,” Adair answered him truthfully. “Her name is Elsbeth, but I call her Nursie, and my hound is Beiste.”

Richard of Gloucester nodded, turning to the woman.

“You need not fear me, Mistress Elsbeth. I am King Edward’s brother, and I will take you to a place of safety.

You cannot reach London today, and he is not there now. Tomorrow I will send you on with two of my own men to guide you and protect you. You must go to the queen’s household, and she still is in sanctuary at Westminster with her children.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Elsbeth had managed to find her voice again.

“The child looks ill,” the duke said to Elsbeth.

“I fear the conditions in which we have been forced to travel have caused it, my lord,” Elsbeth said wearily.

“We have had little to eat, and have sheltered mostly out-of-doors. It has not been easy for my little mistress.

Only the dog’s warmth has kept her from worse harm.”

He nodded. “No, it would not have been easy,” he agreed. Then, reaching out from his saddle, he lifted the startled child from hers, setting her before him. “You will ride with me, Adair Radcliffe,” he said, and drew his fur-lined cloak around her little body. Then he looked to the great dog, who was now baring his teeth. “Come, Beiste!” he commanded the animal, and, recognizing the voice of authority, Beiste obeyed.

Instinctively Adair snuggled against the duke’s chest.

Her eyes grew heavy as they moved off, the even gait of the horse rocking her into slumber as they rode.

Richard of Gloucester looked down on the child for a long moment. Yes, he did indeed remember Jane Radcliffe. She had been a great beauty, although she was genuinely unconscious of that beauty. Her ebony hair, her violet eyes, and her serene face had attracted his brother. And Edward had never been able to resist a 
beautiful woman. Richard had been only a boy then, but he remembered.

Fascinated, he had watched as his elder sibling pursued the lovely Jane Radcliffe. But she, a lady-in-waiting to the king’s wife, and a married woman herself, had carefully avoided Edward as much as she could, for she was an honorable woman. But Edward could not be deterred. He had gone to her husband, gotten his permission to futter Jane, and Baron Stanton had become the Earl of Stanton. And when Jane had conceived a child she had left court, never to return. He had learned later from Edward that the child had been a girl, and that Edward had acknowledged her birth, setting aside a dower for her.

Richard of Gloucester, now a young man, looked down at Jane Radcliffe’s daughter. She was her mother in miniature. There was nothing of her sire about her, thank God, but he thought that her assured manner was much like his own mother, Cicely Neville. His sister-in-law, the queen, would not be pleased by this addition to her family, but he knew his brother, the king, would keep the child safe.
I will take her myself
, the duke thought,
if need be
. He was interested to learn Adair’s story. Why and how had her parents met their untimely end at the hands of Lancastrians?

They reached the monastery where he intended sheltering that night. The gates of St. Wulfstan’s swung open for them, for they had been expected. The prior was a distant cousin, and his hospitality would be generous. A young monk hurried to take the duke’s horse, not just a little surprised to see a woman, a child, and a great wolfhound among the party. Elsbeth was quickly off her horse. She reached out to the duke, and he handed Adair down into her arms before dismounting himself.

Beiste was immediately by their side, and followed along.

“Come with me, mistress,” he said to her, and she followed him into the building, carrying the little girl. The
 
duke appeared to know exactly where he was going and, reaching a large carved double oak door, opened it, ushering Elsbeth inside.

“Dickon!” A portly man with a youthful face arose from a chair by the fire. “And what, or who, cousin, is this that you bring with you?” He peered at Elsbeth, and then at Adair, who had just been set down upon the floor, stepping back as the wolfhound came immediately to the little girl’s side.

“Peter, I have brought Lady Adair Radcliffe, the Countess of Stanton, and her servant. I found them wandering out on the road. Edward sired the child several years ago. Now she is seeking the king’s protection.”

“Are you certain the child is who she says she is?”

Prior Peter Neville asked the duke. “What proof can be offered that this is not a fraud? The queen will not be pleased, Dickon. You know how jealous she is of even her own children. If it were not for Lady Margaret I do not know how they would fare.”

“The child looks exactly like her mother, and I remember Jane Radcliffe well, Peter,” the duke said.

“Look at her. She is delicate and has fine features.” He held out his hand to Adair. “Come, little one, and make your curtsy to Prior Peter.”

Adair stepped forward and curtsied to the cleric, but she was silent.

“How far have you come, my child?” the prior asked her.

“From Stanton Hall,” Adair answered him. “It is burned now.”

“And where is Stanton Hall?” the prior pressed further.

“In Northumbria, on the border with Scotland. You can see the Cheviots from my bedchamber window, sir,” 
Adair replied.

“Her accent is northern,” the prior admitted.

“Peter, the child, her dog, and her nurse have been on 
the road for several weeks now. They are tired, half-starved, and frozen to the bone. They need dry beds and hot food. You have an abundance of both at St. Wulfstan’s,” the duke said. “I ask you to shelter them tonight.

Tomorrow I will send them to Westminster to the queen.”

“The dog too? She will not be pleased,” Prior Peter repeated.

“But she will take Adair and her party in, for it will please my brother, and Elizabeth Woodville is always prepared to please Edward,” Richard of Gloucester murmured softly.

“And what if she refuses?” the prior asked.

“Then I will take my niece into my household,” was the reply. “She is my blood kin, after all. I will be marrying shortly, and my bride loves children even as do I.”

“I do not need the queen,” Adair suddenly spoke up.

“If my sire, the king, will give me a rich husband I can rebuild Stanton. I would trouble no one but for that.”

Prior Peter looked astounded by the child’s blunt speech, but the duke laughed.

“One day, Adair, you will be given a husband,” he said, “but now is not the time. You are too valuable a prize, poppet, to be given quickly or squandered rashly.”

“I? Valuable? I am poor, my lord, I assure you. All I have Nursie carries. That, two horses, and a wolfhound.”

“You are the Countess of Stanton, poppet,” the duke told her. “You will bring your husband a title and an estate. That makes you valuable, my lady Adair. And the king is your sire, which but adds to your value. And you have a fine dower, for my brother promised it at your birth. He will not have forgotten that.”

“Indeed, my child, you can be considered a wealthy female,” the prior declared. Adair’s boldness in speaking up for herself had surprised him, but then he had decided he liked her. Reaching for a small bell on the table next to him, he rang it loudly, and immediately a young monk answered his call. “Take my lady the Countess of
 
Stanton, her dog, and her servant to the women’s guesthouse. See that they are all well fed and made comfortable.”

“Yes, Reverend Father,” the monk replied.

Richard of Gloucester knelt down and took Adair’s small hand in his. “I will come and see you before you go to sleep. I would like to learn why you have come to seek your sire’s protection. Go with your Nursie now, my poppet.”

“Are you really my uncle?” Adair asked him softly.

“I am indeed,” the duke replied with a smile. This little girl had already caught at his heartstrings.

Adair threw her arms about his neck and hugged him. “I am so glad!” she said. Then, releasing him, she took Elsbeth’s hand and followed the young monk from the room, the wolfhound following in their wake.

“Tell me how Edward managed to sire that fairy child,” Prior Peter said. “Pour us some wine, Dickon, and come sit with me.”

The duke did as his cousin suggested. Then he told Prior Peter the story of King Edward’s seduction of Jane Radcliffe. “She pleased him but briefly, for she was an honorable woman, and not content to be my 
brother’s leman.”

“I am surprised, but not shocked, by her husband’s behavior, though while the lady had honor, her husband, it would seem, did not,” the prior said.

“He was childless and had, I am told, come to the conclusion that after three wives his lack of an heir lay with himself, and not his wives. He was forty. Jane was sixteen, and my older brother’s reputation preceded him. John Radcliffe wanted an heir. Edward tells me he asked for the earldom in exchange for his wife’s virtue.