Beloved Abductor (18 page)

Edmund lifted his mouth from hers and noted her dazed expression. He took her hand and led her up the ladder into the bedchamber, closing the trapdoor firmly behind him before reaching for her again. She scrutinised his features. He had been to war, and this was but an interlude before he returned. The world beyond the bedchamber started to slip away again as he began to undo the fastenings on her under-gown. There were just the two of them alone in an ocean of time. No tomorrow—no yesterday—only now. A man and his woman, knowing each other.

He roused her to a pitch of expectancy that was exhilarating, wooing her with the hunger of his kisses and the urgency of his embrace on thigh and hip. Her need was desperate! The thought laughed in Felicia’s mind as she made her husband welcome in her body. When the fervency of his lovemaking threatened to overwhelm her, she clung to him, riding the storm with him until she reached a place of sweet delight. Never had she thought that it could be so wonderful again. Afterwards he slept, and if Felicia ached to hear words of love from him, she brushed the desire aside, knowing that a man’s priorities were somewhat different from a woman’s.

She lay for a while beside him, gazing at the contours of his face not hidden by the beard. Had he known he had pleasured her? He had said nothing, only kissed her hard and long before turning away to sleep. But she had seen his face and been glad that some of the lines of tension had eased. For now, she would have to be content.

Suddenly she sat up, remembering that she had left the cooking-pot over the fire. Perhaps, also, Dickon was awake and wondering what had happened to the two of them. A door slammed as she came down the ladder, and she saw Joan walking slowly across the sweet-smelling herbage and rushes. Her cousin stopped short and looked up at her before her eyes went to the body stretched out on the table.

‘Sooo—they have returned!’ Joan’s voice was loud in the silent hall. ‘What has happened to Dickon? Is he dead?’ Her voice shook.

‘No!’ Felicia’s voice was sharper than she intended. With Joan’s arrival, she was suddenly filled with apprehension.

Joan stared at her, her face pale. ‘Has there been a battle?’

‘Aye, the city of Gloucester has been taken. Dickon was injured in the shoulder by an arrow.’ Felicia’s voice was strained, remembering the wound and how much worse she would have felt if it had been Edmund. Could she have dealt with such a wound as skilfully as he? Her legs felt weak and she sat down on the bottom rung of the ladder.

‘Does that mean he will have to stay here?’ A shadow crossed Joan’s face. ‘Is your husband here?’ Her voice rose. ‘Of course he is! He must have brought him!’

‘Aye, Edmund is sleeping but he has to return to the Lord Edward’s host later today.’ Felicia forced herself to her feet and went over to the cooking-pot. She poured some more water into the simmering meat and vegetables. ‘I shall nurse Dickon—do not fear that the task will fall to you, cousin.’

‘He will enjoy that!’ Joan’s hands gripped the table. ‘How many more men will you enjoy casting your spell on, Flissie? This mention of your husband sleeping, you have been with him. As for the minstrel, he is bewitched by you, although he would deny it because there is another woman in his life!’

‘You talk nonsense!’ Felicia was dismayed. The sight of Dickon and the arrival of Edmund had obviously reminded Joan of how she had felt when first she had met them.

Joan shook her head. ‘And what of Philip? He will come back to claim you. His black hand will reach out and take you!’ she cried and ran from the hall.

Felicia’s knees shook so much that she had to sit down or she would have fallen. How could her cousin say such things! What could she do to help her? Perhaps it would be best for her to go into a nunnery. Felicia would find the money somehow, and maybe the prayers of holy women would cure her for it seemed she could not. There was the sound of footsteps on the ladder, and at the same time she heard Dickon stir restlessly. Felicia looked up towards Edmund and met his eyes. It seemed in that moment that she looked into the face of a stranger. A stranger she had met so many weeks ago.

‘Is the food ready?’ His voice was emotionless as he approached her. ‘I must leave soon.’

She nodded. ‘I shall fetch a couple of bowls and perhaps you can cut some bread?’ She wondered how much he had overheard of hers and Joan’s conversation.

Edmund sat down and took up a knife and sliced the loaf. Felicia wanted to speak to him about Joan but there was a grim expression on his face and the words would not come. They sat opposite each other, eating, not talking and avoiding looking at each other. How could they be like this after they had made such sweet love? She wondered.

‘You will remember to change Dickon’s dressing daily?’ Edmund’s voice broke the silence and he rose to his feet, having finished his meal.

She nodded and gazed up at him. ‘D’you think Nell should be informed?’

He nodded. ‘She is certain to be anxious for news. Besides, if she comes to see how her brother fares, she will be able to help you to nurse him.’

‘I shall send one of the men with a message.’

‘Good.’ Edmund picked up his gauntlets and went over to Dickon. Felicia followed, watching him as he gazed down at his friend and then he turned to her. ‘Don’t come out with me. I want no farewells.’ He kissed her lips. She was unable to speak for the tears that clogged her throat as their eyes met, for there was something in Edmund’s gaze that gave Felicia cause to hope in all her frantic thinking. Then he was gone.

Chapter Thirteen

Joan ran and ran, her fear and envy forcing her feet on, oblivious of the curious stares of the peasants working in the fields. When she came to the forest, she pushed herself through the undergrowth that had thickened during the summer months. Tears slid down her cheeks. At last she could run no more and flung herself down in the tall grass. Her head ached unbearably and she had a dragging pain in her side. She lay there for a long time.

A rustling in the undergrowth caused her eventually to look up. A figure stood before her, tall and handsome. The hair, though damp with sweat, was the colour of burnished gold. His eyes were green, and wide set beneath finely arched brows. The nose was straight with slightly flaring nostrils, and the mouth was full above a dimpled chin.

The angel! Joan was instantly terrified that she would surely be struck dead. Perhaps her good works had not impressed the Almighty. Then she noticed that the figure was sweating and an incredulous laugh broke from her lips.

‘What is wrong with you?’ His voice was as harsh as she remembered it. ‘I know your face.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Are you not from the manor house?’

She made no answer, but continued to laugh hysterically. How could she have been so stupid as to believe that God would send her an angelic messenger? What did He care about her? She was going to have Philip’s child! The child of a devil!

‘Are you mad?’ The man grabbed hold of her arm, dragging her to her feet. ‘Stop it!’ He shook her, but she could not stop. ‘By all the saints, will you stop it!’ he said, sounding exasperated. He slapped her across the face. The shock of the blow caused her to hiccup into a whimpering silence.

She stared up at him, and in that exchange of glances she began to wonder who he was. He was finely dressed in an under-tunic of red linsey-woolsey, over which he wore a blue linen cote-hardie finely embroidered at neck and hem. No outlaw! Suddenly she remembered the first time she had seen him.

‘Are you from Philip?’ Her voice trembled slightly.

‘Philip?’ The man’s hand tightened on her arm.

‘I always knew he would come for her.’

For a moment he looked baffled. ‘You did?’

Joan nodded. ‘She should not have run away from him. She loved him once and no doubt he could make her love him again.’

The man’s expression altered, and he loosened his grip. ‘And how would he do that?’

‘A love-potion! I could help you, if you wish by putting the potion in her drink.’

The man frowned. ‘You must really hate your cousin. You are Mistress Felicia Meriet’s cousin, aren’t you?’

Joan’s mouth quivered. ‘I don’t hate her but I fear I will never be free of Philip’s evil spell unless he is able to have her. She belongs to him, not the physician.’

‘There is a physician up at the house?’ he asked rapidly.

‘No, he has gone—or is leaving soon to fight in the war. Only the minstrel is there now, and he is injured. I don’t want him to die.’ She bit down hard on her lip.

‘You have a minstrel up at the house to entertain you?’

Joan shook her head and gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Did you not hear me say that he was injured. He has come but recently.’

‘I see. You have been very helpful.’ He released her. ‘Does your cousin know you wander the forest alone? It could be dangerous. No doubt she would not do so herself.’

Joan made a face. ‘She fears Philip might come. If I had a love-potion and she fell in love with him, then she would no longer fear him.’

‘I shall get you a love-potion—but the time is not right to use it yet. I need to go away for a few days, but I shall watch out for you again when I return. Go now! But don’t speak of this meeting to anyone. It is our secret.’ He gave a breathtaking smile that quite dazzled her. The next moment he had gone between the trees, leaving her staring after him and thinking about Felicia and Dickon back at the house.

Felicia spread the linen sheet over the mattress of the truckle bed that Thomas and one of the men had brought from under the bed upstairs. Dickon had woken once, and she had given him a drink, assuring him that his wound had been seen to. Now he slept again. The door opened, and Joan slipped into the hall.

Felicia noted the tear-stains on her face,. ‘Are you all right?’

‘How—How is Dickon?’ Joan walked further into the hall and halted when she came to the table, gazing down the man’s slumbering face.

‘I did not think you cared,’ said Felicia brusquely, searching for the other sheet, and spreading it with some violence.

‘I do not want him to die.’ Joan sighed. ‘I shall help you to nurse him, if you wish.’

Felicia stared at her in puzzlement. ‘Why have you changed your mind?’

‘I do not like to see him so.’ Joan continued to gaze down at Dickon. ‘This woman Nell he mentioned, can you tell me more about her?’

‘She was widowed not so long ago and left with a young son to rear and so she thought it sensible to share a home with her brother. Edmund and I stayed with Nell and Dickon in Shrewsbury after I hurt my back.’ Felicia turned away, calling Thomas over because she wished to move Dickon on to the bed.

‘You mean Dickon and Nell are brother and sister!’ exclaimed Joan, looking disconcerted. ‘I thought ...’

‘What did you think?’

Joan moistened her mouth. ‘That she was his mistress. Perhaps he did not intend to give me that impression but it was what I thought. It was wrong of me to so misjudge him.’

At that moment Thomas came over to the table and she stepped back, watching as he slid his arms beneath Dickon in order to lift him.

Dickon groaned, and his eyes opened. ‘Edmund?’ His voice was husky and pain-filled.

‘He has gone.’ Felicia stepped forward and smiled down at him.

‘Gone?’

‘Aye, he has returned to the Lord Edward,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But you are not to worry—you are in our hands now but Edmund has given strict instructions how we are to care for you.’ She covered him with a blanket. ‘How do you feel?’

‘As though the arrow were still in my shoulder,’ he gasped, trying to sit up. ‘How long have I been here?’

Felicia forced him down again. ‘Not even a day. You must be sensible if your wound is to heal.’

He nodded, saying huskily, ‘Can I have a drink?’

‘I’ll get it.’ Joan could no longer bear to see him in such pain. An awful realisation was growing within her, and she was not ready to face it yet. All she could do now for all of them was to pray.

For days Dickon caused both Felicia and Joan great concern. He did not seem to respond to the herbs and potions that Felicia used, although she remembered dealing with wounds suffered by her father after a hunt or jousting with such ones. She accepted Joan’s help as given, trying to forgive and forget the hurtful words she had flung at her the day Edmund had left. Her cousin’s desire to help Dickon to recover did seem genuine. Felicia also sent a messenger to Nell in Shrewsbury, hoping that she could come and share the nursing of her brother. During this period, Edmund was constantly in her thoughts and she prayed fervently for his safe return.

The weather grew warm and sticky, oppressively so, as if it waited for something to happen before bursting into violent life. Then, gradually, Dickon began to improve and to demand something solid to eat. Felicia and Joan breathed the easier, and Beatrice was ordered to make some chicken broth.

‘I shall do so with pleasure, Mistress,’ Beatrice responded with a great beam. ‘It is good to have the master’s friend smiling again. I thought he would die that day the master brought him here.’

‘So did I.’ Joan’s tone was barely audible.

Felicia glanced at her and smiled. ‘I am sure he is on the mend now and pray God that soon Edmund will return safely and with good news.’

Beatrice turned to face Felicia and called, ‘Would you believe that Maud is convinced she has seen an angel? An angel as fair as the Archangel Michael himself, no less. She deems it a good omen.’

Joan paled as she stared at Beatrice. She had almost forgotten the man she, too, had believed to be an angel, giving him scant thought whilst helping to nurse Dickon.

‘Why should an angel appear to Maud? She is imagining things!’ she blurted out.

‘You do not believe that occasionally God sends us visions to cheer us, Joan?’ said Felicia lightly.

Joan flushed. ‘Maybe I spoke too swiftly!’

Felicia turned to Beatrice. ‘Has Thomas heard any other news while he was at market yesterday?’

‘Aye, Mistress. He mentioned that there’s been a skirmish at Kenilworth over the border in Worcestershire. It’s said that the fortress opened its gates to Simon the Younger, the Earl Montfort’s son. But it wasn’t much of a fight if Thomas’s informant is to be believed—and the Earl wasn’t involved.’

‘I see.’ Felicia’s hands trembled. So it still went on and on. When would the waiting end? And where was Nell? If she had received her message, surely she should have been here by now? And if she came what would she think when she heard of her marriage to Edmund? Her nerves would snap if tidings did not come soon about him. Nell’s arrival was really a minor event in comparison to Edmund’s return.

Another day slid by, then another. Dickon insisted on rising from his bed and sitting in a chair. He laughingly told Joan and Felicia some of the tales he used to sing when he had played the role of minstrel a few years ago. Of the conflict he made no mention, thinking it best to say nothing rather than to offer platitudes.

Joan was suffering from a surfeit of emotion. She had seen her courses, so it appeared that she was not carrying Philip’s bastard after all. It was only after great deliberation did she set off on a walk alone one afternoon. It did not take her long to reach the forest, and she was barely within the confines of its leafy cover when a twig snapped behind her and the golden haired man appeared.

She turned to him. ‘You have brought it?’ she demanded, wanting the meeting over with quickly.

‘Aye, I have brought it.’ He put a hand to his pouch and brought out a small phial. Joan snatched it from him.

‘It is fortunate that you came today, because Philip will come for her tonight. You must give it to her at supper time and make sure that the front door is unlocked.’

Joan nodded. ‘I cannot stay. I shall be missed.’

He seized her by the arm. ‘You will do it?’

‘I shall do it! Now let me go,’ she said fiercely, wrenching herself out of his grasp.

‘Wait! The minstrel, he has gone?’

‘He has gone,’ she muttered.

As soon as she was out of the forest, she ran as swiftly as she could to the house. She burst into the hall and immediately saw Dickon. Their eyes met and her whole body flooded with warmth. She smiled at the man she had come to care for. ‘Where is Felicia?’ she asked.

‘She has gone for a walk. I warned her not to, but she would not listen. I think the waiting is wearing her down.’ He plucked a chord on his lute. ‘I feel restless, myself.’

‘I, too,’ said Joan. ‘Would you like a drink? Then, if you wish, we could also go for a walk. I could find you a stick to lean on.’

Dickon gave a rueful smile. ‘Our pace will be slow.’

‘I don’t mind.’ Joan returned his smile. ‘I shall get us a drink.’ She went over to the table and filled two cups from a pitcher of ale. Then she took the phial from the pouch hanging from her waist and poured the love potion into Dickon’s cup.

*

Felicia’s under-gown clung clammily to her legs as she walked towards the river. The sky was crowded with black and greyish yellow clouds in the west. When would the storm break? When would Edmund come—if he did come? Despair gripped her as she watched the water slide swiftly over pebbles and skirt the boulders. A flurry of warm air hushed the tree-tops, stirring her hair. Then she heard the sound of footsteps, and whirled round to confront the man she presumed to be Maud’s angel. She had seen him before.

‘Why are you on my manor?’ Felicia’s tone was haughty despite her apprehension. ‘I deem you are no angel as one of the women believed you to be.’

‘You are right in not believing me to be an angel, Mistress Meriet,’ he said harshly.

Fear gripped Felicia and she clasped her hands tightly to still their sudden trembling. ‘Perhaps it should come as no surprise that you recognise me,’ she said. ‘I have seen you before. I suppose it is possible that you are a fugitive from the conflict, but I hazard that you are here to spy on me for my cousin, Philip.’

He gave a twisted smile. ‘Clever of you, Mistress Meriet. I wait for him now.’

Felicia’s heartbeat quickened and she glanced about her, hoping to see someone—anyone. But most were working in the fields or gardens at this time of day. She would have run, but the man stepped forward and grabbed her by the waist, swinging her off her feet. She screamed and hit him across the face, as there came a splashing in the ford to her right. The man covered her mouth with his hand, swearing softly as he spun her round to face the horseman coming through the water. Over his fingers Felicia stared in growing horror into Philip’s face.

For a moment no words were spoken, and then a dark delight glinted in his eyes. ‘By the devil, Beaufort! You have worked faster than I thought you would—but has the potion not worked?’ He reached down and tilted Felicia’s chin as her captor took his hand from her mouth. ‘Give my sweet cousin to me,’ he ordered.