A Lady Under Siege (29 page)

“H
ow do you like my new look?” Derek called over the fence. He had cleaned himself up. It was the first time Meghan had seen him in a shirt with a collar. His face was free of stubble, and his hair still damp, combed back off his forehead. “I don’t know how Thomas combs his hair,” he said.

“He lets if fall forward, in bangs. Actually I like this better.”

“Me too. Hey, would you like a cup of coffee? I’m inviting you over, like neighbours used to do before people had iPhones but no time.”

I
N HIS LIVING ROOM
he said, “You’ll notice I cleaned up around here.”

“You straightened it,” she corrected him. “It’s tidier, but I wouldn’t say cleaner.”

“What I really need is a maid. A servant. I’d love to just snap my fingers and say, ‘Get us some drinks, would you?’ ‘Make it so,’ like Jean-Luc Picard.”

She followed him into the kitchen. “I have some bad news,” she said. “Betsy has decided to run a temperature, so I had to keep her home from school. So yet again I can’t stay long.”

“Depends how you define long. She should be fine for a couple of hours. A lot can be accomplished in a couple of hours.”

“By her or us?”

“By her, of course. We’re just going to fritter it away, getting to know each other.”

While he made coffee she vented about her daughter. “She lost her iPad, and her dad immediately bought her a new one, over my objections. He’s trying to buy her approval, I suppose—we’re not even legally separated and already he’s the classic Disney Dad. Every time he shows up he’s got some expensive new bauble under his arm. She’s in bed with her iPad as we speak. I had to sneak away. I suspect she’s actually a bit jealous of us. She wants you all to herself.”

“I could come over and keep vigil at her bedside.”

“Not necessary. She’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think I have a cup that’s not chipped.”

“You know, I’ve never actually sat in a neighbour’s house and had a cup of coffee like this,” Meghan smiled. “My mom used to, all the time, when I was a kid. She was the classic stay-at-home small-town mom—her kitchen was her kingdom, and her girlfriends would just drop by unannounced. Her life was so much more casual—now everything’s timed to the minute. I’m already feeling guilty about leaving Betsy. Not to mention the work I have. No matter where I am, I feel like I need to be somewhere else.”

“I don’t have that problem. I’ve pretty much retreated from that life.”

“But what have you replaced it with?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Are you happy?”

“Let me put it this way. I see lots of people who are really unhappy, and I’m glad I’m not them.”

“But are
you
happy?”

“Sometimes. Are you?”

“Not often, lately.”

“Should we even be aiming for happy all the time? It takes such effort. Look Meghan, for whatever reason, fate has thrown us together, and I find you very attractive. I’ve let you know that. I told you I’m along for the ride—if you want to use me to reach Thomas, to fulfill some kind of romantic quest you’ve got going, well, I’m happy to be part of the expedition. Whatever your motivations, I’m into it. I can help you out.”

His cell phone rang in the living room. He went to retrieve it, and held it out to her when he came back. “I think you can guess who.”

“How does she have your number?”

“The day she cut her hand, I gave it to her. After I’d bandaged her up. Just in case.”

Meghan took the phone. “Yes my love.”

“What are you doing over there?” her daughter asked peevishly.

“None of your business, actually.”

“You’re supposed to be taking care of me.”

“I do take care of you, 24/7. I was just on my coffee break.”

“Come home.”

“I’m coming. Give me a minute!”

She snapped the phone shut and handed it to Derek. “Someone’s jealous,” she said.

“Tell her it’s platonic.”

“Is it?”

“Platonic with the potential to be more,” he amended. “I need to start working on my wooing.” His lip curled into a slight grin. “How’s Thomas doing with his?”

“Good, actually. I think he’s winning her over. But every time she gets ready to let herself be won, she remembers her husband, and what he made her promise. Whether it’s her personality, or the times she lives in, she thinks differently from me. It’s almost like she lacks free will. She can’t accept she has a choice. But he’s become such a gentleman—he’s so patient with her. You’re being patient with me too.”

“What else can I do? Unlike your Thomas, who had to learn to behave himself, I live in the age of consent.”

“I think I’m ready to give it.”

“Great. Good.” He smiled broadly “Let’s do it.”

“Not now!” she laughed. “Not with Betsy waiting for me. It would be all tense, and furtive.”

“Furtive is good,” he laughed. “Furtive is like sneaky, and illicit, and generally makes things more intense.”

“You’re not a mom, obviously. Sneaky and illicit are fine when you’re a kid hiding something from the parents, but when you’re a parent hiding from the kids, it crosses over to being just plain sordid and weird.”

“I think you should stop talking and kiss me now.”

“All right. I will.”

“Then do it.”

She leaned forward and kissed him experimentally. His lips met hers hungrily, but a feeling startled her, and made her push him back so she could see his eyes. Thomas was there, she was certain.

“It’s like there’s two of you,” she said.

“Is that good or bad?”

“It’s good. It’s okay.”

His phone rang again. He checked the number without answering. “The brat,” he smiled.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Meghan sighed. “Tell her I’m on my way.”

41

T
homas and Sylvanne went riding again together the very next afternoon. This time they gave the horses a thorough workout. Sylvanne rode like a man, with her skirt hoisted daringly high, so that her calves showed bare and white in the sun. At a place where a country creek widened into a kidney-shaped pond, they stopped to let their mounts rest and drink, and Thomas was moved to remark, “In horsemanship, I can truly say we are as equals.”

Sylvanne smiled and said, “Oh really? Today I thought myself your better. But perhaps it was my mount that surpassed yours.”

“Then we should switch horses,” he suggested.

“No no. We must find another way of taking each other’s measure,” she said playfully.

“It seems we do so every time we speak.”

On the way back to the castle they took a detour, slowing their horses to a walk to pass through the town. Sylvanne shifted to the more demure side-saddle style so that her legs remained fully covered by her kirtle. A confusion of streets no wider than alleys led them to an open square in the midst of the clutter of houses, a gathering place that had been decorated with garlands of flowers for a wedding celebration. A quartet of wayfaring musicians played a lively jig for the couples dancing on the hard-trodden earth, while children and dogs ran about underfoot. Women could be seen preparing the food for a feast, while their men folk availed themselves of the free ale that attracted all types of classes and characters, from the upright to the downright unsavoury. A couple of well-oiled locals noticed Sylvanne and Thomas approach, and boldly stepped in front of them.

“It’s the lovely Lady Sylvanne,” exclaimed one. “First time I’ve laid eyes on you since we drug you home from the siege. You’re looking much better fed and prettier now than ever, I’m quite sure.”

“You’re drunk,” Sylvanne replied haughtily.

“Course I am, I’ve every right to be, it’s a wedding feast after all. What better occasion? Love is in the air, booze in the belly!”

The second man chimed in. “M’Lord, do us the honour of coming down off your steed and making a toast. Give your blessing to the happy couple.”

“I would, but the Lady is not to be left alone among you rabble. I need to squire her home,” Thomas replied. He thought a moment. “Bring the lovebirds out, I’ll bestow the blessing here and now.”

“Yes Sir!”

The two hurried off, wending their way through the milling crowd until they disappeared into a clotted-walled hall just off the square. A moment later they emerged with Mabel and Gwynn in tow. Sylvanne fixed Thomas with an inquisitive look, which he shrugged off with a smile, saying, “Honestly, I had no idea the happy couple would be these two.” The new bride and her groom stopped in the shadow of the horses. Mabel, robed in a loose, sky-blue half-sleeved gown of linen, kept her head lowered, apparently too troubled by fear or shame to meet Sylvanne’s eyes.

“Poultryman!” Thomas greeted Gwynn. “I see you’ve wasted no time.”

“No Sir. I thank you, Sir, for setting this one free,” said Gwynn merrily, giving Mabel a squeeze. “She’ll be a boon to me and my boys.” He looked around for his three brats, and pointed them out on the fringe of the crowd, pulling the tail of a snarling dog.

“Next time you deliver chickens, I’ll make you a gift of one of my prized fighting cocks,” proclaimed Thomas. “He’ll be a tonic to your bloodlines, if he doesn’t slay your hens in mating with them. For now I’ll simply offer my congratulations, and wish you all the best in the future.”

“Thank you Sir. Same to you, though it seems you’ve chosen a tougher lady to tame.”

”Yes, well. You’re lucky. Sweet Mabel here has accepted her new circumstances and made the best of them. I pray this one will do the same someday,” he said, gesturing to Sylvanne, who did her best to hold herself erect and aloof upon her mount. The sight of Mabel, who had deserted her, raised her blood, and now to hear herself discussed like a chattel by Lord and freeman brought her emotions positively to a boil.

“If she’s right and I’ve been wrong, why is she afraid to look upon me?” she said caustically.

“Now now, don’t sour the poor woman’s happiness on her wedding day,” Thomas reproached her. “Come. Can you not say a few kind words to her?”

“I will try,” said Sylvanne, but her tone remained harsh. “Mabel, I hope your husband proves as faithful to you as mine was to me.”

Suddenly Gwynn spoke up animatedly. “More faithful than that, I should hope!” he cackled. Mabel slapped him soundly across the chest, and scolded him to button his mouth.

“What do you mean by that?” Sylvanne demanded, but the poultryman lowered his eyes. “Mabel, what does he mean by that?”

“Nothing m’Lady.”

“You must have told him something.”

“Nothing, m’Lady,” Mabel protested, but her face had turned red and she still could not meet her mistress’s eyes.

“This is hardly the time or place—” Thomas started to say, but Sylvanne cut him short, addressing Mabel sharply.

“I want you to come see me tomorrow, and I’ll get to the bottom of this,” she insisted. “Tomorrow, do you hear me?”

“Give the woman a full day to recover from her wedding night, at least,” Thomas interjected. “Mabel, don’t come tomorrow, make it the next day.”

“Yes sir,” Mabel replied glumly. “May I go now?”

“Of course, of course!” Thomas crowed, too merrily, in an effort to lift the sudden pall. “Back to your celebrations! Again I wish the both of you all the best, long lives and many children!”

As the wedding couple turned and retreated, he glanced at Sylvanne’s face, still simmering with anger. “I freed you from your prison, yet you seek new ways to bring yourself suffering,” he told her, but Sylvanne didn’t seem to hear him. He turned his horse toward home, and her horse followed on its own, unguided by a rider whose thoughts were miles away.

42

“W
here’s the Find on this thing?”

“You don’t know how to find Find?”

“I don’t use this browser. Here it is. I’m fine. I’m fine at finding Find.”

Derek’s hard drive had crashed, so he’d invited himself over to use Meghan’s computer. “It’s actually for something we should do together,” he’d said.

“Which is?”

“Research your Thomas of Gastoncoe. Trawl through the Domesday Book and any other medieval census we can get our hands on.”