Infamous (16 page)

The earl spoke with his daughter-in-law after the ceremony. “I left Henry in charge of our men-at-arms. In all fairness I must return and share the burden of night patrol of the marches. I warrant you are still in shock, my dear. You will mourn in your own time and your own way. In the peace and tranquility of Goodrich, the floodgates will open. Good-bye, Marjory. I love you like a daughter.”

Jory walked about in a trance, not allowing herself to think or feel anything. She knew it was the only way to keep pain at bay. About certain things her mind was a complete blank. She could not remember anything about the journey from Chester when she and John de Bohun had brought Humphrey home to be buried.

Goodrich Castle and its people were in deep mourning. Everyone followed Lady Marjory's lead, walking softly and speaking in whispers. It was obvious that she wished to be left alone. A letter came from Joanna, inviting her to Gloucester and assuring her that a visit would help to dispel her sadness. Jory sent no reply and when another letter arrived, she left it unread.

Slowly, gradually, her grief and guilt ate their corroding way through the iron carapace that Jory had built to protect and deaden her emotions. Finally, the introspective thoughts began.

It's my fault. Humphrey thought I was his talisman, his lucky touchstone, and I could keep him safe. But I failed to protect him. I encouraged him to think foolish thoughts by telling him that my love would surround him and protect him until he came back to me.

Jory felt so much guilt that she could not bring herself to visit Humphrey's grave. She picked flowers for him every day, but asked David Bridgen to take them to the hallowed place beneath the copper beech tree.

She began to ride out alone through the lush Borders on a sure-footed Welsh pony. She suspected that a groom followed her, but if he did she was thankful that he kept enough distance between them to give her privacy.

“Why did I continually urge him to be courageous?” she asked the trees. “He acted the hero because I insisted upon it. It's my fault that he was killed!”

That night, Jory awoke with a start after her recurring dream about Guy de Beauchamp, the infamous Earl of Warwick. She jumped from bed and lit the candles to dispel the darkness. Resolutely she faced the demon that had been devouring her for months.

“I didn't
love
him enough!”

A tear rolled down her face, and then another. Soon she was sobbing uncontrollably and it went on and on throughout the long night and into the next day. Jory castigated herself, holding nothing back, confessing all her shortcomings and admitting to all her faults. When she had cried herself out and her tears finally stopped, she felt chastened. She knew there was only one thing left to do. She must go to Humphrey and beg his forgiveness.

Jory bathed her swollen eyes, brushed her hair until it fell into silken waves, and pinned on her diamond swan brooch. With firm, purposeful steps she left the castle bailey and made her way to the giant copper beech. When she came to the wooden cross, she went down on her knees and gazed at his name. As she knelt in silence, a profound feeling of peace filled her heart, and finally truth dawned, pure and simple. It was a revelation.

“Humphrey,
I did love you!
Oh, not at first. When we married, neither one of us was in love. But we comforted each other and grew to care deeply even though we were apart for much of our married life. In the end I was ready to make any sacrifice if it would help stave off your fear and bring you comfort.”

Jory traced his name with her fingertips. “Rest in peace, Humphrey, knowing full well that you were loved.”

As she walked back to the castle her heart felt considerably lighter. A poignant sadness lingered, but the heavy burden of guilt had been lifted.
I felt guilty because I survived him, not because I didn't love him.

 

By the time the insurgency in Wales had been put to route and the de Bohuns were on their way home to Goodrich Castle, Jory had begun to pick up the pieces of her life.

David Bridgen received advance notice of their arrival, and Lady Marjory and her steward were determined to give them a worthy homecoming celebration.

“Henry!” Jory stared down into the bearded face of the man who had lifted her from the floor.
You have been away so long, you are like a stranger to me.
He swung her about and set her feet to the floor of the Great Hall.
I remember a boy, but you are a man.

John de Bohun's massive arms came about her, preventing her from curtsying to him. “My lord earl, thank heaven you look exactly the same.” Some of the disquiet she had felt evaporated.

“Nay, it is I who thank heaven for the treasure he sent us when you wed Humphrey. You are a wonder! You are flying a victory flag atop our castle, you have welcome banners here in the hall, and I can smell meat roasting on the spits for a feast tonight.”

Jory took extra pains with her toilet. She was aware that she had grown wan and pale, so she rubbed her cheeks with rose petals and set aside her black surcoat. She donned a gray silk gown and put on a matching head veil, befitting a widow.

Though Jory had arranged for singers and harpists to entertain at the homecoming dinner, it soon became evident the men were more interested in drinking and dicing and fondling the women they hadn't seen in over a year. She withdrew early so that everyone could enjoy the celebration without worrying about offending her.

Jory sat up in bed, awakened by the sound of scratching on the door. She threw back the covers and went to investigate. Her eyes widened in disbelief at the sight of Brutus. Then she was swept up in powerful arms and her heart almost burst with joy that Guy de Beauchamp had come home to her, jubilant with victory.

Guy carried her back to her warm bed, threw off his clothes, and joined her. He gathered her to his heart and she lifted her mouth eagerly as a surging wave of hot desire swept through her veins. His lips met hers in a kiss that unleashed her fierce yearning. His kisses deepened and roughened with his mounting need until Jory was weak with longing. His strong fingers splayed through her hair and held her captive for his mouth's ravishing. His lips traced a hot trail, seeking the pulse points on her temple, behind her ear, and at the base of her throat. She saw his face harden and his nostrils flare with a carnal desire that she shared. His insistent hands slid her night rail from her shoulders, freeing her breasts for his mouth's pleasure. Heat leaped between them, arousing a smoldering need that cried out to be quenched.

Jory opened her eyes and saw that she was alone. She moaned softly, frustrated beyond all endurance.
Why couldn't my dream of Guy play out to its passionate conclusion?
She knew the answer, of course. She had no experience of passionate lovemaking. How could she dream of fulfillment if she had never known it?
Damn you, Warwick, will I never be free of you?

 

It took only a fortnight for things to get back to normal at Goodrich. Jory sat in the place of honor and if the earl had guests she acted as his hostess. As each day passed, more of her sadness melted away and she started to come out of her cocoon.

John de Bohun followed her up into the mews one afternoon. “Marjory, my dear, I long to see the roses back in your cheeks. I want to know honestly how you are feeling. Are you able to talk about it yet? Are you over your mourning?”

She smiled at her father-in-law. “Yes, I believe I am finally over my mourning and I am quite able to talk about Humphrey without the lump in my throat choking me. There are things I will always regret, of course…things that will forever make me sad, but I am coming to terms with it all.”

The earl frowned. “What things do you regret?”

“That Humphrey and I never got to spend time at our Castle of Midhurst in Sussex. I regret we didn't have a child—I am sorrowful that I never made you a grandfather, my lord.”

“My dearest Marjory, you are a young woman of little more than twenty. There is a way that Midhurst can still be yours. Henry is now my heir. I have signed the castle over to him and his firstborn child. You can still make me a grandfather. You are the perfect daughter-in-law. I want no other, now or ever.”

Jory felt cold fingers steal about her heart.
He cannot mean what I fear he means.
She licked suddenly dry lips. “My lord earl, you are not speaking of Henry and me?”

“Indeed I am. Marriage with Henry is the ideal solution.”

“My lord,” she explained gently, “it is against English law for a widow to wed her husband's brother.”

He waved a dismissive hand. “There is a way around that impediment. All it takes is a dispensation from Rome—a mere formality.” John de Bohun smiled at his own cleverness. “I think it is safe to say you can start to make your plans.”

She stared at him in horror.
Unless I wed Henry, I am to be cheated out of Midhurst. I put my trust in you, John de Bohun, and you have betrayed me
. “I…I am speechless, my lord.”

He placed his big hand over hers and squeezed. “I'm glad we had this little talk. I was worried that it might be too soon.”

Marjory recoiled mentally and withdrew back into her cocoon. When she arrived at her chamber she locked the door securely and sat down to think.
Humphrey's father has proprietary feelings for me and for Midhurst, but there is no way on earth I will marry my husband's brother to gain a castle. I am a bloody fool! Men cannot be trusted. John de Bohun is not the first earl of the realm who has betrayed me, but I vow he will be the last!

She felt as if she was being snared in a trap that was fast closing in on her and pure panic rose up in her. Jory jumped up from the bed and began to remove her garments from the wardrobe. She packed her clothes, all her personal articles, and her jewels.

Jory sought out the earl and gave him a disarming smile. “My dearest friend Joanna has invited me to visit Gloucester. Now that my mourning period is over, I have accepted her invitation. I'm sure you have no objection, my lord.”

“Of course not, Marjory. Just come back to us soon.”

She asked David Bridgen if he would see that all her things including her bathing tub were loaded on a wagon and asked him to escort her to Gloucester. Before she left, Jory made her way to her husband's grave. She knelt down and spoke to him in earnest.

“I have come to say good-bye, Humphrey. And to make you a sacred promise. I will never, ever marry your brother, Henry.”

“J
ory, you look ghastly!” After a warm embrace, Joanna held her at arm's length. “Whatever has happened to you?”

“My mourning for Humphrey took its toll. It took a long time to work through my grief and my guilt. When the de Bohuns returned, I thought I was recovered, but the truth was that I was still in a half trance, sleepwalking through the days and nights.”

“You have absolutely nothing to be guilty about. You were a most devoted wife. I'll awaken you from your trance in no time.”

“My sleepwalking is over, Joanna. I've had a rude awakening. John de Bohun wants me to marry Henry!”

“Are you being serious?”

“The Earl of Hereford is certainly serious. Henry is his new heir and he has signed Midhurst over to him for his firstborn son. The constable still wants me for his daughter-in-law. I am still to have Midhurst and still give him a grandchild. Everything is to be the same except I am to substitute Henry for Humphrey.”

“You were right to escape the madhouse,” Joanna declared.

“I
have
sometimes feared for my sanity this past year.”

“All that is about to change. You need fun and games and laughter and, by the looks of you, a brand-new wardrobe. We shall have a lark burning these hideous widow's weeds. Father is on his way to Gloucester and the barons and nobles within a hundred miles will flock here to him. It will be a perfect opportunity to practice your feminine wiles and beguile them with your wit, charm, and exquisite beauty. Jory, you are about to learn that a woman is at her peak of attraction and power when she is a widow.”

When Eleanor de Leyburn, Maude Clifford, and Blanche Bedford welcomed her back into the fold it felt like old times, and Jory's wan demeanor soon vanished and was replaced by a natural vitality. Her new clothes brought back the confidence she had lost.

When King Edward arrived with his entourage, Joanna's ladies were all atwitter, but it was Jory who received the lion's share of attention from the courtiers and she became adroit at luring them while at the same time keeping them from crossing the line in their games of dalliance.

“You have the earls of Tewksbury, Lincoln, Derby, Percy, Stanley, and Clifford along with their sons and nephews to choose from,” Joanna told Jory. “All are wealthy and powerful and ready to worship at your shrine. You need a lover.”

“I quite agree.” Though Jory had been transformed on the outside, the empty longing on the inside needed to be assuaged. “I haven't yet found the man who takes my fancy.”

“I have,” Joanna confided, as her gaze lingered on Gilbert de Clare's first lieutenant. “He has the body of a young warrior. Look at those rippling muscles; they make me feel quite faint.”

“I suppose there's no harm in looking, so long as you don't touch,” Jory warned.

“Ralph Monthermer is too damned noble to even acknowledge the invitation in my eyes. He has pledged his loyalty to Gilbert and nothing will induce him to break it. Believe me, I've tried.”

Jory laughed. “You are behaving outrageously right under the nose of your husband and your father.”

“They are so engrossed in their plans for this full-scale war with France, they wouldn't know if I dined naked. Just listen.”

“I want every earl and baron to spend the winter recruiting. By spring I expect to be able to muster five thousand horse and thirty thousand foot soldiers. The de Warennes will recruit and train men from Suffolk, Essex, Surrey, Kent, and Sussex,” King Edward declared. “Guy de Beauchamp will be responsible for Warwickshire, Leicester, Northampton, and Cambridge.”

“I'll recruit from Gloucester to Hertford, though I already command more men-at-arms than any other,” Gilbert added.

“I want you and your forces to remain in England. You're the only one I trust to keep the country safe. Train any new men you recruit for France with the longbow,” Edward advised. “French archers still use those inferior crossbows.”

“De Bohun and his son will go to France, but what about Bigod? Will the Earl of Norfolk refuse again?” Gilbert wondered.

“I have Bigod by the short hairs this time. His daughter died and left him without an heir. If he doesn't want his castles to revert to the Crown, the marshal will ready his men for France.”

Jory shuddered.
Poor Sylvia is a pawn even in death.

Her patience at an end, Joanna threw down her serviette and stood up. “My ladies and I will retire, I warrant.”

Gilbert protested. “No, no, my dear Joanna. You must have the hall for your dancing. Call in your musicians. His Majesty and I will repair to the war room.”

The older earls and barons followed the king. The younger men, save one, remained in the Great Hall. Joanna sighed loudly when Ralph Monthermer arose and followed Gilbert de Clare.

 

The winter months were mild and when the Yule season arrived Jory, Joanna, and her ladies took great delight in gathering holly, ivy, and mistletoe from the woods to decorate the castle. Little Margaret was the center of attention. Her happy laughter was a joy to hear as they taught her songs, dances, and festive games.

A week before Christmas, after a long day of instructing recruits in the use of the longbow, Gilbert de Clare lifted his little daughter for her ritual good night kiss. The moment he set her feet back to the carpet, he grabbed his right arm and the excruciating pain drove him to his knees.

Joanna ordered him to bed and sat with him for two days to make sure he stayed there. Gilbert was a good-natured patient who seemed to recover from his bout. On the third day he grinned at his wife. “I refuse to stay abed unless you go and rest. Ask Marjory to come and sit with me for a while.”

Jory took Joanna's place and sat down beside the bed. “My lord, I hope the pain has left your arm.”

Gilbert smiled ruefully. “It's not my arm, Jory. It's my heart—it is worn out. I know I won't recover this time.” He saw her eyes widen. “Don't be upset. I need you to be strong for Joanna. I would like to confide in you, if I may?”

Jory gathered her composure and nodded.

“Joanna is young and she will marry again. Margaret is my heiress and will get my landholdings, but since we have no son, Joanna's next husband will inherit my title, Earl of Gloucester. Every self-serving noble in England will seek after the king's daughter and the avaricious bastards named de Clare will lead the pack. I don't want Joanna to be a pawn; I want her to be happy.”

Jory knew there was more and leaned forward.

“I have chosen her next husband. Ralph Monthermer is the only man worthy enough to rule Gloucester. He's been my right hand for years and knows how to lead men. He has sworn an oath to me that he will look after Joanna always.” Gilbert grit his teeth until the gripping pain in his chest subsided. “You must not tell her that Ralph Monthermer is
my
choice. She must think he is
her
choice. On our wedding night I vowed that she could choose her next husband and rule her own destiny.”

“I am Joanna's friend. You must know, my dearest lord, that I will do all I can to ensure her happiness.”

 

Gilbert de Clare died shortly after Christmas and everyone in the realm mourned his passing. The funeral was attended by a score of nobles, including the de Bohuns. The constable paid his condolences to the widow and took Marjory aside.

“My dear child, I am overjoyed to see that you have regained your strength and vitality. But your presence at Goodrich has been sorely missed. I have come to escort you home.”

“My lord earl, I am Joanna's best friend. In all conscience I cannot desert her now. She would be devastated. Perhaps I will be free to return sometime in the new year.”

Early in the new year, Joanna felt the first stirrings of love. Ralph Monthermer had been like a solid rock when the aging Earl of Gloucester died. He took care of all the burial details, and not only did the men-at-arms look to him as their natural leader, he conducted the castle business with competence and saw to it that the household continued to run smoothly.

Joanna's gratitude soon turned into something deeper, and though Ralph kept a respectful distance between them and conducted himself with reserve, she saw the yearning in his eyes in unguarded moments. She recruited Marjory to act as go-between and the couple's relationship began to change, at least in private.

Jory became caught up in the delicious intrigue of secret messages and private meetings. Joanna shared her thoughts and feelings with her dearest friend and coconspirator.

“Jory, I am in love! For the first time in my life, I am head over heels in love. I live for the stolen moments we share. When I see him, my pulses race. When I hear his voice, my heart melts. If he as much as touches my hand, I shiver and tremble. Yet the cruel devil refuses to become my lover!”

“He is protecting your reputation, Joanna. That is gallant of him. You are ready for a romantic interlude, but Ralph is thinking of your future.”

“Ralph
is
my future. I want him to live with me and love me.”

“That could only be possible if you were married. If you do not marry quickly, the king will find you another husband.”

“Dear God, I hadn't thought of that. The king is all-powerful. I would have no choice but to obey him. What will I do, Jory?”

“Put your case before Ralph. Explain to him that you must wed secretly. Through this marriage he will become possessed in his own right of the earldoms of Gloucester and Hertford. It is a perfect solution. Once it's a fait accompli, all will accept it.”

“You don't know my father!”

“He's a man. You were the one who taught me there isn't a male breathing who cannot be manipulated.”

“Here comes Margaret. She adores Ralph as much as I do.”

Jory embraced the little girl and kissed her freckled nose. Margaret had the exact same coloring as Jory's late husband and suddenly her curiosity got the better of her and she threw discretion to the wind. “Was it Humphrey you lay with before you wed Gilbert?”

“No!” Joanna denied quickly. Then she flushed guiltily and confessed, “It was Henry.”

Jory didn't know if Joanna was lying to protect her feelings, but suddenly it didn't matter. Margaret was a beautiful child who was loved and adored no matter her sire. Jory began to laugh. “Joanna, you are absolutely outrageous!”

“Of course I'm outrageous—I am a Plantagenet!”

“Then do it! Take charge of your own destiny and secretly wed Ralph Monthermer.”

 

On a beautiful spring night in late March after most occupants of the castle had retired, Marjory, acting as decoy, met Ralph for a midnight stroll through the gardens. When they slipped into the chapel, a heavily veiled Joanna was already at the altar with the priest. They exchanged their holy nuptial vows quickly yet solemnly. They signed their names in the church register and then the priest and Lady Marjory signed as legal witnesses.

Hand in hand, Jory and Ralph left the chapel and made their way to her bedchamber. They were fairly sure that none saw them, but if anyone had observed the couple, it would be Jory's name that would be bandied about—Jory who had indulged in dalliance.

An hour later, Guy de Beauchamp made an appearance in Jory's dream. “Don't you dare come near me, Warwick! Thoughts of tonight's romantic wedding have conjured you and you are nothing more than a figment of my imagination.”

“If you are just imagining me, why do you fear my nearness? It is
your
dream; you can control every element, including me.”

“Liar! You always take control. They call you the Wolfhound because you are a notorious womanizer and a lecherous swine. Once I let you make love to me, I will never see you again.”

His dark eyes licked over her like a flame. “Tell me to leave and I will. It's
your
dream, Jory.” He held out his hand with his fingers closed.

She had an insatiable curiosity to know what small treasure it held. She felt her determination waver and lifted her chin. “I shall allow you one kiss only. I've quite made up my mind!”

In the morning when Jory awoke she found a white rosebud on her pillow. She refused to let her imagination take flight.
It must have come from Joanna's bouquet.

It was inevitable that Joanna's ladies learned of the secret marriage within the first two weeks. The princess was radiant, her glance languid, her words soft and gentle, her smile sweet, and her sighs blissful. Joanna walked on a cloud and it was obvious that she had fallen in love.

Their idyll was shattered when Ralph's first lieutenant came to him with the news that the de Clares had learned of his clandestine nuptial vows and had sent a messenger hotfoot to the king demanding that the marriage be declared null and void.

“I'll ride to Newcastle,” Ralph declared, “and put my case before your father. Surely the king will listen to reason.”