A Rose in Winter (56 page)

Dragging her gaze away from the magnificent beast, she surveyed the area sheltered by the hedge. Two different paddocks existed and were separated by a walk. Six enclosed stalls were built next to the cottage, two of which opened by way of a gate into each of the paddocks. Four carefully matched steeds stood in the smaller stalls, while the larger stall and paddock opposite Saracen's stood empty.

Erienne's brows puckered in thoughtful bemusement. She knew this was her husband's land she stood upon, but before today she had had no idea this cottage even existed. Bundy, however, seemed quite familiar with it and also with the animals stabled here. Like the cottage, he was a most secretive man, except with Lord Saxton.

Drawing away from the shrubs, Erienne headed back toward the stream. Since Bundy's loyalty to her husband was most evident, he could not mean them any harm. Lord Saxton undoubtedly knew about the place, and she had to trust that whatever he and Christopher Seton were doing was within the law.

It took some searching to find the opening to the passageway, and she had to retrace her steps twice before she found the particular shrubs that covered it. Several moments later she was in her bedchamber stripping off the soiled gown. She made herself presentable again, and a thrice of hours later, informed that her husband's landau was approaching, she went to greet him at the front portal. She stood outside the tower entry and watched the four-in-hand draw near. The closer they came, the more surprised she became, for the four prancing steeds looked very much like the ones she had seen in the stalls next to the cottage. Though she had not inspected the carriage that had been there, her husband's landau seemed a close match.

Erienne's eyes flew to the coachman, and a sudden prickling went along her spine. Bundy was driving! Her mind began to churn in a restless frenzy, grasping for some logical explanation but finding none. Lord Saxton had been gone all afternoon. So how could Bundy be with him?

The smile that she had prepared for her husband was only a shallow reflection of its former self. Dismay dimmed the light in her eyes, and knowing she would have trouble meeting the gaze behind the slitted holes, she turned toward the tower as he came near, letting him slip an arm about her waist. She could hardly suspect him of being involved in a clandestine affair of the heart, yet something was not right here. The pieces did not join neatly together, and she could only wonder at the mystery that involved him, Bundy, and Christopher Seton.

Chapter Eighteen

A festival was held at Saxton Hall to lure the warmer winds of spring to their clime. It was a time of gaiety, feasting, and dancing, when lord and lady, servant and peasant alike joined in the merrymaking. It was also a time for a fair of sorts, when the tenants could gather their handiwork of the winter months for the purpose of selling or bartering it away to the visitors who were wont to come. Crude and temporary stands and fancier pavilions and tents were erected for the display of merchandise. Woolens, laces, and miscellaneous wares were to be had for a tuppence or two.

'Twas decreed that the day would be fair of weather, for no cloud would dare cast its shadow over such festivities, and indeed it was. The sun's presence added warmth to the snaggletoothed grins of eager young faces and those of the very ancient as well. Hands gnarled by hard work clapped in enthusiasm while the quick-stepping feet of dancers flew in time with the music. Small crowds formed here and there to watch the various sights. Jugglers and acrobats performed their feats for pennies, while jesters garbed themselves like the knights of yore and, equipped with clever horse shapes strapped about their waists, acted out inane jousts to amuse the people.

Lord Saxton and his lady toured the grounds, pausing now and then at the stands or in the open to watch the minstrels or the dances. The crowds gave way before them but seemed to fill in close behind. Whenever they did pause, the gaiety soon grew subdued, as many were wont to stand with half-quaffed mug in hand and simply stare at this terrible-looking lord. With spry alertness, children sought out the shelter of their mothers' skirts and peered out as that ominous ogre approached with his blank-staring mask and fearsome gait. Though the tenants spoke in respectful tones of him, for the most part they were inclined to speculate at what horror the helm did hide and the courage of the lady who had to face him each night. Exaggerated tales of how he had set a band of thieves to rout were bantered about. It was said that he had dealt with others of renown and gave no quarter. Yet he was also the one who had come among them with his steward to inquire of their welfare and whether the rents in the past had been fair or not. After the burden Lord Talbot had placed upon them, they were amazed and grateful when he had slashed the rates to less than half the mark.

After his coming, the word had quickly spread among them. The lord of Saxton Hall was home, and they began to hope that the ills that had beset them would be turned aright. A new sense of justice was established, and henceforth what was right was right, and what was wrong was wrong. There would be no shading of the till or a thumb upon the scale. Here was a justice stern but fair, one they could understand and live with. No whimsical quirk to tip the scales against them. No greedy palm stretched forth in bold demand while truth and fairness quaked. And somehow all of them were the happier for it.

In many ways Lord Saxton had ceased to be the unknown beast and in their eyes had taken on the manner of a worthy lord. They now scoffed at the wild tales that told of him flying in the night like a great winged bat. Indeed, he had become something of a hero to them all, and they began to take offense when one unduly criticized him.

Yet for all of their loyalty and respect, nothing had been effective in setting aside their reticence until they watched the lady at his side. They forgot that Erienne had once passed along as one of them and brushed their elbows in the marketplace. They saw her only as the mistress of the manor now, and her ease and comfort with the man who quietly escorted her did much to ease their trepidations. They gaped in bemused awe as she laughed and chatted with him. The resting of her hand on his arm, her casual acceptance of his touch, and an intimate whispering between the two did much to dispell the lingering qualms.

To be sure, Erienne Saxton was as gracious a lady as any they had ever known. Mothers watched with pleased smiles as she touched this child and bent to kiss that one. She doled out bits of sweets to the gamins and often paused to coax the younger ones to come to her. The women were soon abuzz with how she actually held a wee babe in her arms and cradled it close against her. It was even told how the lord himself chuckled at the babe's delight and held out a black-gloved finger for the lad to play with.

Fears softened as the day wore on, and there grew out of it a pleasant feeling of contentment. Even if this present lord had the appearance of being born in the fires of hell rather than merely having been tested by them, the tenants were settled on the fact that they were far better off for having him as their lord and his lady as the mistress of their lands.

For some at least, that idea was reaffirmed when the mayor of Mawbry decided to join his son for a visit to Saxton Hall. While the younger Fleming's interest turned to a contest of skills with firearms, the elder displayed his relentless fascination with wagering. It took on many forms and aspects, from the hiding of a pebble beneath a thrice of cups, to a little game with cards. After all, it was only for a tuppence or two, and perhaps 'twas the best the tenants could afford, Avery reasoned, but come summer they could earn enough to make up for the loss. Still, he was careful to carry on his activities well out of eyesight of his host.

As the day wore on, the mayor became so completely engrossed with his purpose that he failed to notice his daughter eyeing him quizzically from nearby. He was surprised when he heard her calling him. Hastily gathering up his winnings and concealing them in his coat, he excused himself from the small collection of men and swaggered toward his daughter, as if the idea of cheating had never so much as entered his mind.

Erienne tilted her head as she looked at him curiously. "Father, I hope you have remembered that you're a guest here and have not taken advantage of the fact that you are related... in some manner."

Avery drew himself up and flapped his wings in the manner of an outraged rooster. "What do ye mean, girl? Do ye think I don't know how to conduct meself at an outin' such as this? Here I am with most o' me life behind me, and ye tryin' ter give me counsel at this late date. Why, I've been with dukes and earls and higher lords than the Saxton name has borne. Now ye're worryin' about me conduct with a few simple peasants. A pox on ye now!"

"A pox on you," Erienne returned in an angry whisper, "if you've been cheating my husband's people. If I hear one word about you working your shifty ways here today, I'll see that you never bring your shadow on these lands again."

Avery's face took on a deep hue of vermilion. Leaning toward her, he spoke through gnashing teeth. "Why, ye little turntail snip. Ye'd rather take the word o' some mindless folk and condemn yer own father without allowin' him a word in his own defense. Just 'cause ye be wearin' fancy skirts now and ye got yerself a high title, ye don't need ter be actin' so grand with me. I know where ye really come from."

"One word! Remember it!" Erienne warned crisply. "I will not see you cheating these people."

Avery's eyes flared as he drew back his hand to threaten her. "Ye keep a civil tongue in yer head, girl! I'll not be called a cheat by the likes o' ye!"

In his rage, he was deaf to the shocked gasps of the peasants, and he never saw the black face of the mask turn their way, but of a sudden his raised hand was seized by the wrist in a grip that he could not break. He glanced to see who held him, and the bottom fell out of his stomach. He gulped, ready to run and hide, but his feet were frozen to the turf and wouldn't obey his urging. He stood with quaking limbs as he faced the masked countenance of his lordship, Saxton.

"Is there ought amiss here?" the harsh, rasping voice demanded. The cold, ebon shades of the eyeholes riveted the man where he stood.

The mayor's mouth opened spasmodically, but it was too dry to allow words to form. There was no possible way he could extract himself.

Erienne watched her father's futile attempts at speech and took pity on him, though she could not fully understand why. He had never been extravagant in his mercy toward her. "The argument is an old one, my lord," she answered for her kin. "It fairly vexed us both."

Lord Saxton's gaze never wavered from the man. "I suggest, Mayor, that henceforth you consider the delicacy of your mortal body before you again tempt the Fates this sorely. Your daughter now falls under my protection, and you have no further right to abuse her."

Words failed to come from Avery's throat as they were bidden, and he had to suffice with a hesitant nodding of his head.

"Good!" Lord Saxton released his hold. "Henceforth, I shall expect you to give my lady proper respect and to be careful when dealing on any of my lands. Otherwise, the consequences shall be laid at your feet."

Avery stood mute, rubbing his aching wrist as the master of the manor led Erienne away. He knew if word got back to either of them how he had cheated the peasants, he might lose far more than he had gained. Still, it was only a threepence or a farthing here and there, and even if he wanted to give the coins back, he had no idea who had actually lost to him.

Just before dusk of the following afternoon, Erienne stood at the tower entry and watched the landau pull away from the manor. She was curious to know just how far it would go in its journey and was as equally perplexed by the secrecy surrounding the cottage and the magnificent black steed that was kept concealed. Many questions had begun to plague her. The accusations of Lord Talbot and the sheriff concerning the night rider played on her mind. Despite her avowed trust, she could not fully escape the mental vision of Ben lying sprawled in his own blood with a masked, black-garbed form standing above him with bloodied knife. The thought frightened her and fairly shredded the faith she had laid to her husband.

An urge grew strong within her as the landau disappeared from sight. She had to see for herself if it would stop at the cottage. Perhaps if she found her husband there, he might tell her what game he was playing, and then hopefully her fears could be set to rest. She longed for assurance. In any form! Anything!

Once again, she fetched a lantern and her woolen shawl before entering the passageway. The different quirks and crannies of it were already becoming familiar to her, and she pressed on to the bend with more confidence. A light shone from the area where she had met Christopher, and becoming more cautious, she put out her own lantern and moved with more stealth around the corner. The passageway was empty, but just as she was stepping into the light she heard a low scrape outside the door and saw the handle begin to turn. Moving back into the shadows, she pressed close against the wall and held her breath as the portal swung open. She almost gasped as Christopher came striding in, dressed in the same dark clothes he had been wearing when she last saw him. He seemed sure of his purpose, for he went directly to the locked chest, knelt before it, and fit a key into the lock. Hardly daring to breathe, she watched as he drew forth a pair of pistols and a long saber enclosed in an elaborate sheath. He snugged the belt bearing the scabbard about his narrow hips, then tucked the pistols into the leather band. Almost as quickly, he locked the chest and disappeared through the doorway again, leaving Erienne to sag slowly against the wall in relief.