Rexanne Becnel (32 page)

“And if those accomplices include your brother? Or your wife?” Dunn persisted.

Corbett did not answer at once. When he finally spoke his voice was grim. “Then they may expect no pity from me.”

Lilliane lowered herself onto a narrow hide-covered bench and rubbed the aching small of her back. She was exhausted. She hurt all over from sitting in that wretched sidesaddle, and she wasn’t sure which she wanted more: a bath or her bed.

“You smell of horses and you’re caked with mud.” Magda fussed as she removed Lilliane’s travel-stained cloak then began unlacing her coarse woolen tunic.

“And you smell of fresh bread and … and baby.” Lilliane smiled despite her utter weariness. “How is little Elyse? I should like to see her at once—”

“She is in her bed asleep, as you will be very soon also. Once you are bathed and fed you will go straight to bed.”

Lilliane sighed, as much in contentment as anything else. How good it was to be home. Magda and Ferga had kept the household in good order, and even Thomas had been on hand to give her his familiar smile. Orrick would always be home to her, she decided. Let other, grander ladies than her have London. She would be content to stay a simple country mouse.

The trip from London had been far more arduous than their initial journey. Corbett had driven them at a furious pace. He spared neither men nor beasts in his determination to see them safely on the lands of Orrick. Lilliane’s face lowered in a thoughtful frown. Corbett had been quite distant throughout the journey, hardly spending any time with her at all. She understood, of course, that he had been most concerned with their safety. Even now she shivered to think how viciously he had fought off those foolhardy knights who had attacked them. But now they were home and everything would be all right.

Of course there was still the dreaded Christ’s Mass festivities to get through. Why Corbett wished to entertain people he did not even like, and so soon after her father’s death, was still a mystery to her. But he’d been in a difficult mood during their journey and she’d not dared to question him.

At Magda’s prodding she lifted her arms so that her tunic would slip over her head.

“We’ve a considerable task ahead of us.” Her muffled words came from beneath the smothering gown.

“Whatever it is, ’tis naught that can’t wait on another day,” Magda retorted as she pushed Lilliane toward the steaming tub set before a hearty blaze.

“So you say now,” Lilliane answered as she let the woman remove the remainder of her clothes. “But it will take every pair of hands at Orrick to see my lord husband’s will done.”

“You can cajole him with just a smile.”

Lilliane grinned and sank gratefully into the warm water. “I hope that is true,” she admitted. “But it is the festivities of Christ’s Mass I speak of. He has invited near a hundred guests! Think what that means, Magda. We must entertain them on the feast of St. Thomas, prepare gifts and a huge banquet for Christ’s Mass, then toast them anew on the feast of St. John. If the weather precludes travel they’ll linger for the feast of the Holy Innocents—or perhaps we may encourage them to fast that day. And of course there are those who will stay through Twelfth Night.” She pursed her lips, already feeling daunted by the enormity of the task that confronted her. “We shall be fortunate if they leave before Candlemas!”

But for all Lilliane’s fear of entertaining on such a grand scale, there was nonetheless a secret satisfaction in her heart. Corbett trusted her to see the castle ready and every detail of the weeks-long celebrations attended to. When at last she settled into her high bed, she had already composed a list of meals and accommodations, and decided on the forms of entertainment she must arrange.

She was determined to stay awake until Corbett joined her, but she had no sooner lain down than an overwhelming sleepiness took her. Though she fought to stay alert, her waking thoughts seemed to jumble with very odd dreams. Wait up for Corbett, she told herself. Yet the last image she recalled was of a huge black bird circling a snow-covered field where a single white flower dared lift its delicate head.

Sir Dunn watched her more closely than ever, although he tried mightily to be nonchalant about it. But Lilliane ever felt his eyes upon her. She would have complained to Corbett, but his mood was strangely tense. Sometimes she felt he also was trying to see quite through her as if what he saw on the surface was still not enough.

In every other matter things seemed well enough. The servants had been conscientious about their tasks during their lord and lady’s absence, and even frail little Elyse-seemed to be thriving.

And yet Lilliane knew something was amiss.

On the afternoon of their third day home, she resolved to approach Corbett about it. He was out with his fighting men, as he’d been every daylight hour since they’d returned.

Lilliane locked the kitchen storeroom, then made her way up the four short steps. At the top she felt a momentary light-headedness, but after a brief pause it passed and she continued on her way. Corbett had been most short-tempered with the poor castle guards, the crossbow men, and his own mounted knights. She should be glad, however. Better that he drilled them until he and they were exhausted than bring his poor humor to her. Still, each night when he had come to bed late he had fallen quickly into a restless sleep, and she could not completely bury her frustration.

But not tonight, she vowed. Not tonight.

For all her resolve, however, Lilliane found herself drooping with unaccustomed weariness before the evening’s supper had even commenced. Despite his distracted mood, Corbett noted her obvious exhaustion.

“How do you labor that such an early hour finds you yawning?” he asked in a lighter tone than she’d heard in a week.

“’Tis labor very unlike your own, but tiring nonetheless.”

He seated her at the high table and took his place beside her. “I confess to knowing very little of how noblewomen occupy their days.”

“I know even less of how you spend yours,” Lilliane replied in a voice more plaintive than she’d intended.

Corbett gave her a steady, almost searching look. “I learned much of defense in the East. And of treachery.” He paused. “I want Orrick to be unassailable. To do that the guards must be well trained and the castle defenses well maintained.”

It occurred to her that Orrick had never had a serious enemy save Colchester. Logic deemed that threat gone now. But then, how to explain the attack on them?

“Have you … have we so many enemies, then?” she asked haltingly.

Again Corbett’s keen gray eyes seemed to watch her most sharply though his answer was wry. “I doubt our attackers were motivated by robbery.”

“You have always avoided my questions about that day,” Lilliane accused, her confusion combining with her weariness to make her completely frustrated. “Have you learned who it was?”

For a moment she was certain he was going to confide in her, to tell her just who it was he suspected of so foul a deed. But then a commotion at the end of the hall drew his attention.

When Lilliane looked up she saw Sir Dunn bearing down on them, a most furious expression on his face.

“Sir William of Dearne has just arrived. He expects to be admitted and treated as a guest.”

Lilliane looked at Corbett for his reaction, but he was staring at Dunn. Some understanding passed between the two men, something that excluded her completely.

“And why shouldn’t he be treated as a guest?” she demanded, goaded more by their lack of trust in her than by any lingering friendship for William. “His daughter is under my care. He deserves every consideration as a guest. I suggest you keep in mind your position here, Sir Dunn. It is I who attends the guests.”

She signaled two servants to see to William, but she did not stay to see her orders carried out. His arrival seemed the last straw in a long and grueling day. What little appetite she’d had was now gone. Dunn was scowling at her. Corbett was treating her most strangely, and she knew she was not up to keeping matters between her husband and William civil.

As she rose to leave Corbett caught her hand and peered at her closely. “Do you flee your duties as hostess and mistress of this table?”

From nowhere tears started in her eyes, and she had to blink them away. “The servants are well trained enough to serve the meat,” she managed to say. Then she shot Dunn a disdainful look, lifted her chin a notch, and glanced back at Corbett. “Besides, I doubt my company will be much missed.”

Lilliane wanted Corbett to follow her, but to her vast disappointment he did not. Once in her chamber, she dismissed the young serving girl who had hurried after her, then doused the two torches and the five candles in the heavy branched holder. In the dim light of the hearth she slipped out of her simple rust-colored kersey tunic and pulled an old woolen blanket around her shoulders.

A large sheepskin lay on the floor before the glowing fire, and with a disconsolate little sigh she settled herself upon it. Something was terribly wrong, but for the life of her she didn’t know what. Before she would have thought William’s presence and Corbett’s jealousy to be the cause. But Corbett had been remote ever since they’d departed London. Certainly that could not be blamed on William. Then there was that strange look that had passed between Corbett and Sir Dunn.

To make matters worse, she must be ill for she was sorely lacking in both energy and good temper. It was one thing for her to snap at Sir Dunn, for he could try her patience acutely. But she had snapped at Cook twice, and even Magda had been the recipient of her bad mood.

The only one who brought her any peace, it seemed, was little Elyse. She had held and rocked the child at midday and had felt truly content to see the tiny girl’s trembling yawn and then her restful sleep. For a while at least, all had seemed right with the world.

But now William was back and Corbett would surely turn even more remote.

Corbett was no less occupied with dark thoughts. He had finished the evening supper in silence, but to the cook’s eyes seemed not to enjoy any aspect of the well-prepared meal. When he rose to depart the table, he signaled the others at their meal to continue. But Dunn quickly followed his retreating form.

“Where is he?” Corbett muttered when they had quit the hall.

“The puppy has gone to change from his traveling clothes.” Dunn snorted in disgust.

“Puppy he may well be. But he is not to be taken lightly.” Corbett hesitated as if he dreaded what he was about to say. “He spent several evenings in London in long conversations with Hughe.”

Dunn peered keenly at Corbett although he did not appear truly shocked. Then Corbett continued. “There is much evidence to support the idea that William is Hughe’s dupe, not the other way around as I had hoped.” When Dunn made no protest of that idea either, Corbett rubbed his scarred brow as if he were suddenly weary.

“See that William is given a squire to attend him. Someone completely trustworthy. Then keep me informed of any strange doings on our guest’s part.”

“Where do you go?”

Corbett glanced only briefly at his man, then turned to stare at the narrow back stairs. “I think I owe my wife a visit.”

Holding Elyse was like a balm to her soul, Lilliane thought. She had abandoned her bedchamber, seeking some reprieve from her disturbing thoughts. Now, holding the warm baby, she felt some small relief. At least here was someone she could shower her love upon without fear it might be used against her. Here was someone who would love her back and be contented by her very presence.

As she eased herself into a wide settee upholstered in an exquisite silk cloth of eastern pattern, she waved Ferga away. “I’ll call you when I leave. Right now I shall enjoy this solitude.”

But she was not destined to have solitude. Only minutes after Ferga had left, Lilliane was disturbed by a knock on the door. When William entered, cautiously at first, then more boldly as he spied her, it was all she could do to force a smile of greeting to her lips. Still, she could not help but be warmed by this evidence of his concern for his little daughter.

“You have come to see your sweet motherless child. Well, she is strong and growing every day. Here, come nearer and look at her.” She gently nudged the swaddling cloth away from the tiny chin so Elyse’s face could be seen better. “I vow, she favors her beautiful mother already.”

William sat beside her and peered dutifully at the sleeping child, then lifted his eyes to look at Lilliane. “Clearly she is thriving under your care.”

“Actually, it is Ferga who deserves all the credit—”

“You are too modest, Lilliane. As ever.” His eyes swept over her. “Do you know what a model of feminine beauty and responsibility you are? And now, seeing you holding my own child in such a sweet and loving manner.” He paused—almost dramatically, it seemed. But Lilliane had lowered her face in dismay at his warm effusiveness and did not see the look that now heated his eyes.

She suspected that William longed for her still—or for what they once might have had. But she longed only for her husband. She was certain that William’s eye would soon be caught by someone else. But she could not be so certain for herself. She was inextricably connected to Sir Corbett of Colchester—of Orrick—and nothing could prevent the pain she felt when he kept himself remote.

Unexpected tears stung her eyes and little Elyse’s face blurred before her. Oh, Corbett, she thought. Why can you not sit beside me and tell me how you love me … how you long to see me cradling our own child … ?

“What is this? Tears?” William turned her face up to his and cupped his hands about her checks. “Oh, Lilliane. I cannot bear it either! How I would like to steal you away from him. We could be happy together. You and me … and the child as well,” he added.

Lilliane was too stunned by William’s words, and too choked by her perverse tears, to respond at once. As if her shocked silence were tacit agreement with him, he rushed on.

“I could take you away from here. You could seek protection at the abbey … or somewhere else. I promise you, Lilliane, it wouldn’t be long before we could be open about our love.”