Hellion (5 page)

Alette de Manneville pushed an errant lock of her golden hair from her forehead. “Do you know how fortunate we are, you little fool? A less thoughtful, a less Christian man than King Henry would have done nothing for Robert de Manneville’s widow and innocent daughter. And do not dare to prattle to me of your half brother, Richard. He will not have us! It is time you faced some truths, my daughter. Your father married me for two reasons: to care for the two sons his first wife, the lady Sibylle, bore him, and to get other children.

“William was nine and Richard five when Robert and I wed. They were horrible little boys, always polite and obedient in your father’s presence; always rude and disobedient toward me, though defended by that wretched old dragon of a creature who had been their mother’s nurse. I might have won them over except that she encouraged them in their behavior. It was her way of keeping her mistress’s memory alive.

“You think your brothers loved you, Belle? They did not! When you were but two months old they put you in a willow basket, carried you to the riverbank, and prepared to drop you into the water below. Had the watchman not seen them, I should not have you today, for surely you would have been killed. Their old nurse begged me on her hands and knees, tears streaming down her face when I had thought her incapable of tears, for witches do not cry, not to expose their horrendous misdeed to Robert. He would have beaten them senseless had he known. I did not expose them on the condition that they never come near you again while you were unable to defend yourself from them. The old nurse swore to keep them from you, and to give her credit, she did.”

“Why did you have no more children?” Isabelle asked,
curious suddenly, for her parents had been wed twelve years before her father had departed on his crusade to the Holy Land.

“Your father became incapable shortly after your birth,” Alette said bluntly. “I was glad, for though I was a virgin when he married me, I believe him to have been an unfeeling and rough lover. A woman, even one lacking in experience, instinctively knows such things.”

To her great mortification, Isabelle blushed at her mother’s frankness. Her elegant, noble father had been her ideal. To learn that he was less than perfection was disquieting.

“My marriage, however,” her mother continued, “is not the point of this discussion, my daughter. Your marriage is.”

“I will not wed with that plain-faced, great gawk of a man,” Isabelle said stubbornly. “Could not the king have sent me a pretty fellow like his companion? Besides, if I am not willing, there can be no marriage, can there, madame?” She smiled smugly, and then gasped with surprise as her mother lashed out, slapping her cheek hard.

“Are you really so dense that you cannot fully understand what I have just told you, Isabelle? You no longer have choices. Langston is not yours. If you do not marry Hugh Fauconier, who will you marry? Who will have a landless, dowerless girl? Especially one with such overweening pride, and a bad temper. And what is to happen to me, my daughter? Do you care at all? Must I walk the dusty roads of England in my old age begging charity? Even you cannot be
that
heartless, Belle!
You cannot!
”

Isabelle burst out laughing. “Madame, you are hardly ancient. In fact, you are most beautiful, and yet young. Can you not obtain another husband who will house us both? Why do
you
not wed Hugh Fauconier? That would certainly be an ideal solution.”

“For you, perhaps, but not for me. I would not marry again if I could. Widowed, I am free to manage my own life. I am quite content to remain that way, which is just as well for there is no one here to have me. Be sensible, Isabelle. Hugh
Fauconier seems a good man who will treat you well if you would but allow him the opportunity and say a kind word to him.”

“He is a Saxon, madame. You know how my father felt about Saxons. He did not like them at all,” Isabelle reminded her mother.

“This man is the king’s friend, Isabelle. The priest says that he was raised with King Henry. If the king has accepted him, how can you reject him? Even your father would not deny his liege lord.
You must wed him!
”

“I will not!” Isabelle stamped her foot angrily.

“You will remain in your room on bread and water until you change your mind,” Alette said, equally angry. She knew how her daughter hated being penned up. Isabelle spent her days out of doors, rain or shine.

“I will run away,” was the defiant reply.

“And where would you go?” her mother demanded scornfully. “To your precious Richard? Even if he were willing to shelter you, Belle, what would become of you? You should end your days an unpaid servant in your brother’s house. Without this estate, you have no dowry. For now you have your youth, and you have beauty. True, you are not the ideal woman so fashionable today. You are too big a girl. But there might be some man of your brother’s acquaintance who would be willing to have you for his leman. Your hair and skin are without flaw. Still, would you choose that kind of a life over being the lady of Langston? No.” Alette held up her hand as Belle opened her mouth to reply. “Say not another word to me, Isabelle. I will leave you now to think about everything we have discussed this evening. I know you will come to a sensible solution.” Unbarring and opening the door, she went through it back into the Great Hall. Alette locked her daughter’s chamber behind her before joining the two knights and the priest by one of the fires.

“Sit, madame,” Hugh said graciously. “Is the lady Isabelle calmer now, and over her initial shock? I realize it cannot have
been easy for so sensitive a female to have learned of her father’s death in such a manner. It is obvious she loved her sire well.”

“He spoilt her,” Alette de Manneville said quietly, “and while I appreciate your kindness, my lord, let us not dissemble with one another. Isabelle is not sensitive. She is willful. I was not allowed to discipline her, for my husband found what he referred to as her magnificent spirit both admirable and amusing. In truth, however, I have discovered that strength of hers a virtue since my husband’s departure. I have not the steadiness needed to hold Langston together. Belle does. She was born here, and she loves it best of anything else in her life.”

“Enough to marry me without further ado?” Hugh queried.

A small smile touched Alette’s lips. “She is not yet ready to concede defeat, my lord. She is filled with anger and defiance. I have told her she will remain in her room, to be fed only on bread and water, until she sees the sense of it all.”

He nodded. “Perhaps a few days alone will help her to see reason, madame. Will you send the steward to me in the morning? I must inspect Langston thoroughly to see what needs to be done so that we are ready for the spring planting.”

“There is no steward, my lord. He was an old man, and died three years back. I did not know whom my husband would choose to replace him, and so I did not. Isabelle has run the estate ever since. Nothing has been written down, of course, but my daughter has a good memory for facts and figures. We have managed well enough.”

“Then we cannot keep your daughter locked away tomorrow. I need to learn about the estate as quickly as possible,” Hugh said.

“Will you have the keys, then?” Alette asked him, holding out her iron ring which held all the keys belonging to Langston.

He shook his head. “They are yours until Isabelle becomes my wife, madame,” Hugh said.

“In that case,” Alette said, rising from her seat, “I will see to the meal, my lords, and you will, of course, need to know
where you are to sleep. I shall need a day or two to clear my belongings from the solar. I regret there are but two guest chambers. Two of you shall have to share, but I shall leave you to decide that among yourselves.” She curtsied, and hurried off.

“What a pity the king did not arrange for you to wed the widow instead of the daughter,” Father Bernard said. “She is a charming and most well-behaved woman. A man would be fortunate in such a wife.”

“She is lovely, I will agree,” Hugh replied, “but I prefer a bit more spice, good father. The daughter suits me well enough. There would be no surprises with the lady Alette.”

They were shortly invited to the high board, and the supper was served. It was a simple meal: a platter of meaty prawns that had been broiled lightly and were served upon a bed of fresh green watercress; a rabbit stew in a winy brown gravy, flavored with leek and carrot; a fat, juicy capon surrounded by roasted onions; fresh baked bread; a chunk of golden butter; a rich, runny piece of Brie cheese; and a bowl of brown russet pears. Three pitchers were placed on the table. One held cider, one ale, and the other a dark red wine. There was even a little dish of salt.

“My husband,” Alette explained, “liked variety, and preferred to help himself to drink.” She sat next to Hugh, with the priest to her left, while Rolf de Briard was seated on the other side of his friend.

The table was set with snow-white linen, silver goblets, and plates. While there were spoons for the stew, and each diner had a personal knife should the need arise to cut anything, they ate everything else with their fingers, picking from the platters. The hall was comfortably warm, with the light from its two fires and the candles casting a friendly golden glow over everything. Hugh noticed that there were no rushes upon the floor, and remarked upon it. Alette explained that she did not like rushes, even when herbs were sprinkled amongst them.

“They only encourage dirt, my lord. When garbage and
spittle are worked into the wood, one can never get rid of the stink. My floors are swept daily. I keep bowls of herbs and dried flowers for sweetening the air. I do not like noxious odors, and the dogs have a tendency to pee among the rushes. A clean floor intimidates them.”

Hugh smiled. His grandmother Emma said the same thing, and would not allow rushes in her hall, either. “I agree,” he told her.

It had been decided that Hugh and Rolf would share one chamber, and Father Bernard would take the other. Neither room was large.

Following supper the lady Alette excused herself and retired to her solar. Hugh had suggested that she remain in her apartment until his marriage to her daughter was celebrated, but Alette would not hear of it.

“You are the lord of Langston now, Sir Hugh,” she said firmly. “It is only right that you have the lord’s place. But I thank you for your courtesy in offering. I am glad for your coming, unexpected as it was, and I will be happy to have you for a son.” She curtsied to him, and then turning to the priest, asked, “Will you say mass in the morning, good father? It has been a long time since we have been so blessed.”

“I shall be saying mass every morning that I am at Langston,” Father Bernard replied. “You might also tell your people that I shall be happy to hear their confessions at any time they care to come to me.”

“I thank you,” Alette said, and curtsied to him. Then with a small smile she bid the three men a good night and retired to the solar.

“A charming woman,” the priest approved.

“A lovely woman,” Rolf de Briard said slowly, his eyes following Alette as she disappeared through her door. “She is the ideal female.”

“Christus!” Hugh swore, and then he grinned sheepishly. “Your pardon, Father. Rolf, I have never heard you speak in such respectful terms of any woman but your mother, and then
rarely, for you are a bawdy fellow by nature. Has the widow caught your heart?”

Rolf shook himself like a wet dog, saying, “It would not matter if she had, Hugh. I have naught to offer a respectable woman. I am but a poor knight with no home of his own.”

“Your home is here at Langston now, my old friend,” Hugh told him. “I need your sword, and I need you. The lady Alette told me that the steward here died three years ago. Isabelle has been running the manor without keeping any records, as she neither reads nor writes. You do, Rolf. Will you be Langston’s steward? It is not a lowly position I offer you, and I will treat you fairly. Father Bernard can draw up the agreement between us.”

Rolf de Briard thought a long moment. It was a wonderful offer. Apart from returning to King Henry’s court as one of many landless knights, he had no other prospects. To be steward of Langston would offer him a prestige he had never hoped to attain. He would now be able to take a wife. More important, he and Hugh were longtime friends and got on well together. “Aye!” he said enthusiastically. “I’ll be Langston’s steward, Hugh, and I thank you for the opportunity.”

“Then that’s settled,” Hugh said, pleased. “In the morning after the meal we shall inspect the estate with Isabelle for our guide. She knows it best. We shall need to soothe her feelings, which will, I suspect, be even more ruffled by our interest and the decisions made here tonight. I think we had best to bed now.”

Father Bernard held his first mass in the Great Hall at daybreak, for there was no chapel or church at Langston.

“We shall build a church,” Hugh said firmly, and the priest smiled.

Isabelle stood by her mother, silent and sullen. There were two women servants with them that the men had not seen the night before. Afterward, when they made to escort the girl back to her room, Hugh spoke up.

“With your permission, my lady Alette, I would like Belle to accompany Sir Rolf and me this morning on our inspection tour of Langston. She will need her breakfast if she is to ride with us.”

“As you wish, my lord,” Alette murmured, lowering her head to hide the twinkle in her eyes, the tiny smile on her lips.

“I have no wish to ride with you, Saxon scum!” Belle snarled.

“Nonetheless,
ma Belle douce
, you will,” he said. “Your mother has told me that you have stewarded Langston for three years. No one will know it better than you. I need your help, madame. Besides, would you not rather be outdoors than confined to your chamber?”

Belle glared at him. Damn the man, she thought irritably. He was so wretchedly smug. She wanted to deny him, but the thought of spending the entire day in her little chamber was very disagreeable. She knew her mother would insist she not be idle, and would force her to sew, or worse to weave, both of which she absolutely hated. “Very well, my lord,” she said grudgingly. “I will show you Langston, but do not think you have won me over, for you have not! I consider you my mortal enemy.”