Chelynne (45 page)

They had not spoken since Sheldon’s death except for the superficial comments people who care nothing for each other make.

“I shall be leaving in the morning, Aunt,” Chelynne said.

Eleanor looked at her. She did indeed have the haggard look of the bereaved. Her husband’s passing had etched deep lines on her face and her pallor bespoke ill health. “I rather expected you would.”

“Unless you need me here to—”

“I shall be glad to have you gone.”

“You grieve deeply,” Chelynne said more to herself than to Eleanor, making allowance for the woman’s tactless tongue.

“And would that surprise you? I grieve more for the many years I’ve lived in marriage with a man who never saw fit to treat me in a wifely fashion.”

“Sheldon was good to you,” Chelynne said, coming to her uncle’s defense.

At that Eleanor laughed. “Ah, yes, he was so good to me! The kindest thing he ever did for me was to die!”

“Eleanor, please,” Chelynne begged, hoping to stop the woman before she said too many things she could not retract.

“No, hear me. Hear me now while Sheldon is not here to silence me. For all the years I was mistress of this house and lady of these lands I never had his love. Do you think him so noble? So gallant? Then consider this: on the night I labored to give his son birth, he was whispering love words to another woman. All the years I traveled like a gypsy as we fled England he wrote letters to his true love, longed for another, desired...” Her voice broke for an instant but returned with clear resentments. “Oh, it was a long time before she was out of his reach, but he did not turn to me then. Then his devotion was for you! His own son could not have the love he gave you! Ah, my regal niece, you’ve had more of Sheldon than any other. Go! Go to your earl and good riddance!”

The hateful words stung her deeply, but in deference to the uncle she loved, Chelynne turned to Eleanor kindly. “If you should ever have need of me, Aunt, have word sent and I shall come.”

“At long last, my dear, I shall have no needs. Now I shall finally gain my due.”

“What do you mean?”

“Have you looked upon these lands? Have you not seen where all our holdings lie? Perhaps you thought us wealthy? The Mondeloys have never known wealth! Are our people dressed in rags? Are their houses badly kept? Even the children who will be raised to naught more than simple churls are schooled here. They learn to hold a quill and read in Welbering! They keep a finer share of their crops to barter than their lord ever had. Every man has a horse to ride aside from the beasts to tend the crops. Our peasants are fat and wealthy and the lady of the manor must plead for simple garb from the lord. I’ve begged shoes for my son while the farmers read in their leisure time!”

Maudlin, dramatic lies, all of it. Eleanor had a shoe for every day of the year and there were only a few in Welbering who knew comforts beyond the norm for a yeoman. Schooling was a thing Sheldon thought of, pursued on a small scale, and had only barely achieved for some of the adult members of his burgh.

“Eleanor,” Chelynne hissed in warning. “Sheldon was a fine and fair baron! I’ll not let your jealous slander rip him from his grave! He gave naught but kindness and justice here. You’ve never suffered!” She clamped her mouth shut, though there was a great deal more she wished to say.

“Every spare coin we held was put toward a dowry that would see our regal wench wed to a fine title! We bought your fine marriage with Harry’s future, with my mother’s jewels! What has Harry now? A piddling acreage and a humble steed! No fine bride with handsome holdings. No lands in new ports! Nothing but a simple farm and an aging mother! It took the smallest and final pittance from my own purse to set him in a house that would not shame our name in London. Do not preach to me of what I have! I know what I have!”

Chelynne shook her head sadly. “He has stolen from you, too? Has Harry cried his woes to take the last of your own gold? I pity your foolishness, Aunt. You should have called him home, gifted him with his simple farm, and challenged him to be half the man his father was.”

Eleanor smirked at her niece. “Sheldon paid a fair price for your loyalty, Chelynne. My only reward comes in seeing that at least that was not wasted. How could I expect you to feel shame for what you’ve taken from us all?”

There was nothing to be said to this resentful shrew. Chelynne grieved all the more that Sheldon had spent so many years living with this. It was clear that had he not seen to her future, Chelynne would have been fortunate to be allowed to empty the slops in this house. She had always known there was dislike for her here, but she had never realized the hatred ran this deep.

“Good-bye, Eleanor. I wish you well.”

“Hold fast to your fine title, countess. Take care not to call yourself Mondeloy again. I deny our kinship from now.”

Chelynne turned slowly to face her aunt again. “I doubt there ever was any kinship between us, Eleanor. I think you have denied it always in your heart.”

“The next time you pillage through my house without permission, I shall have you jailed. Never set foot here again!”

“No matter.” Chelynne shrugged. “There is nothing here for me.” There were no tears for Eleanor’s harsh words, but pity.

Early, as the sun was just rising on the next day, they prepared to leave. There was little to ready, simply servants to inform, horsemen to alert. Chelynne pulled her wrap tightly around her as she watched Tanya leave with the last light parcel. She looked around the room that had been hers when she stayed at Welby Manor. The bed had been made in France, a gift to her on her tenth birthday. The room was done in virginal pink and white, a feminine and pure habitation. She remembered Sheldon’s exclamations, for he had had the room decorated to his specifications. “If I surround you with womanly things perhaps you will grow into gowns instead of breeches!”

Sheldon had always said such lovely things about her mother, his hope clearly being that drawing a good picture of Madelynne would help Chelynne to grow into the dignified and graceful woman her mother was. She had at long last given up her boyish antics and impish foolery, but she could never live up to Sheldon’s expectations. She could feel gratitude, though, and more profoundly now as she prepared to leave for the last time. She had not known parents but she knew fatherly love. She had never felt protected until the protection was gone and she was awesomely alone.

The only thing she could do for Sheldon now was to take charge of her life and carry on as she had been reared to do. She gave a sigh of resignation and prepared to leave all this behind her.

There was a swift sinking in her heart as she saw Harry in the doorway, lounging lazily against the frame. She would not be allowed to go easily now. He stood and leered at her.

“Will you ride in the coach this time, cousin, or flee on horseback again?”

“I will ride where it pleases me,” she sighed wearily.

“Strange, I hadn’t thought you so clever, Chelynne. Such a wit. I’m greatly impressed.”

“You seem greatly intoxicated, Harry. And so early, too.”

“I should like to know if you sought it out, or stumbled upon it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Harry.”

“The paper. I would like to have it back.”

“What?”

“Perhaps you didn’t know it belonged to me, Chelynne. Did you think perhaps it was my father’s?”

“I don’t know what you babble about, Harry.”

“Spare me your innocence,” he snapped. “I know you were the one to take it. I want it back.”

“I’m sorry, Harry. More of your delusions?”

“The record of your husband’s marriage, as well you know.”

“You confuse me. You must explain.”

His fist hit the door in a sudden rage. “Where have you taken it?”

Chelynne jumped in surprise and turned her palms up in dismay. “I’ve not left the house since I arrived but for a ride. What is it you’re after?”

“I know it’s not here, I’ve had your room thoroughly searched. I mean it, cousin dear, I want the thing!” Her great effort at confusion was not fooling Harry. He was determined and his temper frightened her a little. She was too alone with him. He stared her down and she remained mute, refusing to play this game with him. “Perhaps you thought to make use of it yourself, Chelynne?”

“Make use of what, Harry?” she asked with feigned tolerance.

“Your husband’s marriage to Anne Billings. Will you hold it over the earl’s head for a price?”

She ruffled somewhat, wondering at his plan. She should have determined this was mischief worthy of Harry, but she had not. She couldn’t fathom his purpose now.

“My husband will be angered by your interest in his private affairs.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Harry laughed. “He’s taken great enough pains to keep it secret.” Chelynne paled and Harry was quick to notice. She was at the disadvantage, knowing nothing of the marriage and little of the man. He saw his chance. If he was correct in guessing, she was ignorant of the whole thing. “It must have come as quite a shock to you, Chelynne. Of course you would be the last to learn of it.”

“You’re mad,” she hissed impatiently.

“I imagine you wish I were. Quite a rake, isn’t he? Keeping two wives in the same city and neither of them knowing of the other. You truly never suspected, did you?”

“Harry, I believe the last link has slipped,” she sighed, quickly trying to pass him in the doorway. He grabbed her sharply by the arm.

“I pray you remember I have never lied to you, Chelynne. Wasn’t it I who taught you of your parentage? Of course I left you the letter in your coffer. I could have held that for a price, but why antagonize the same king I seek favor with? That was better off yours, but this I would have kept.”

“For what purpose, Harry?”

“It might serve to see you selling oranges outside the Duke’s Theater. Nothing would bring me greater pleasure.”

Chelynne was beginning to tremble and prayed she wouldn’t faint dead away. To cover her upset she attempted a wicked laugh, but it was little more than a nervous giggle. “Some petty forgery to bring you easy coin, Harry? Do you think the earl that kind of fool? He would never let you embarrass a farthing out of him! Come now, have done with this acting!”

“Bryant is no fool. He sought to have the best of both and before I found the truth to it he was succeeding. Few knew of the lady Anne. There is the woman who gains his love and devotion and here stands the well-bred flower he can take to court. I don’t doubt it could have gone on for many years, but now I have an upset at hand.”

She blanched, her world beginning to spin around her. It all made sense. He was ever away from the house and she had never shared his bed. Personal problems to set aside? Must he rid himself of the old bride or the new? Whom did he seek to remove? She looked searchingly at her cousin and mumbled, “Why?”

“I wouldn’t know his reasons.”

Her hand came up to stop him, for he had not answered the right question. With a pleading in her eyes she whispered low, “Why do you go to such lengths to bring me pain?”

The cold gleam in his eyes was so wicked and depraved she was more afraid of his words than she ever had been. He had always been a nuisance and now he seemed a danger. “For the years I’ve played lackey to a bastard whelp of an exiled king! Ah, the praise and glory bestowed on our sweet Chelynne, with my father’s own flesh left to scourge a wasted farmland! I’ve taken my place behind you long enough, Chelynne. I’ve lived for the day you’ll beg of me a meager rag to clothe yourself, a roof to lie under. I’ve had a bellyful of your regal airs!” He turned and stamped away but foolishly she called him back.

“And the earl?” she asked softly. “What has he done to warrant your vengeance?”

“He coddles you. And he’s an insulting bastard. Reason enough!”

She stood and stared at the now empty portal where her cruel cousin had flung his final blow. Her spirit was so broken now that could she have closed her eyes and sought the peaceful haven of death, she would have done so. It was mad, this. But life did not give one escapes, but challenges. Some were so unbearable that many gave in to the urge and ended the misery of living for themselves. Chelynne considered that alternative.

She made the blind journey to her coach, seeing nothing she passed, not recognizing the servants who turned out to bid her farewell, not glancing back to what she was leaving. The coach waited with her women standing near, pulling their wraps tightly about them, allowing her first entry into her coach. The men were prepared to ride, their horses dancing in anticipation. Gordon sat beside the driver, more than eager to leave Welby Manor. The majority of those attending her journey she didn’t know by name, but they served. Regal wench! Countess! Her Ladyship! Her Majesty, the royal bastard whelp of a whore and an exiled king? Her Mightiness, the wife of an earl who already had a wife? Her Grace, an illegitimate peasant who lived not even in sin with a married man she loved? A lie? Everything? All things? What was truth? Her world went black. She hoped death had taken her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Petitioners are as common as air at Whitehall. They chase the king down as he walks to chapel, bribe his mistresses for an audience, offer delightful and expensive gifts to his ministers for a kind word on their behalf. And the king is a rare man. He would like to give them all just what would make them most happy.