Rexanne Becnel (40 page)

There was a stirring in the shadows and Hughe looked around furtively. “The guards will not sleep forever. Hurry to your task. Everyone is yet at the feast. You know where the babe lies. Be quick about it!”

The ladies retired when the men began to gamble at dice. There was much boasting and ribaldry as well as numerous oaths to be heard when a large group of men drank and gambled. Lilliane deemed it best to escort the ladies from the great hall before things became unruly; she relied on Corbett to keep the men reasonably in line.

Corbett bade her a fond good night when she rose to leave, kissing both her hands then holding them more tightly when she would have left.

“Shall I wake you when I come to bed?”

Lilliane’s eyes fell away from his intense gaze and she felt her cheeks color. “Yes.”

“It may be quite late. You’ll not be too tired?”

At that Lilliane looked up into his serious face. “I’m never too tired to attend you, my lord.”

Again there was a pause. “You’ve been most weary lately.”

So he had noticed. Lilliane resolved then and there to tell him about their child. Tonight, after they had made love, she would confide in him. Then she would know where she stood with him.

“I’ll be waiting for you,” she vowed.

Once in her own chamber, Lilliane paced restlessly. She was as eager as a new bride, she admitted. Surely it must be a sin to desire your husband so. Yet she knew no church admonition that clearly forbade her this deep-rooted longing for Corbett.

He would be a long time coming. She knew that some of the men would happily remain at the gaming until almost dawn’s light. At the thought of that possibility she frowned and wrapped her arms about her waist. Her sweet secret lay cradled deep within her. Corbett did not know of it.

But he could not be as unaware of her love for him. Even if he’d not heard her whispered words of love, he must at least suspect how she felt. She was an utter failure at hiding her emotions, quite unlike him.

He’d never really sought her love. Still, there had been times when he would look at her in a certain way, or perhaps say something unexpected. She bit her lip in uncertainty. Perhaps it was time to tell him exactly how she felt.

A quiver of nervousness shivered up her spine at the thought of such a revelation. She could win all she hoped for, or her dreams could be dashed forever.

Lilliane began to pace again. Then she stopped. Perhaps she could while away the time with Elyse. Ferga still gave the child a nightly feeding, but tonight she would do it herself. Satisfied with that idea, she slipped her tunic back over her kirtle. When she realized her hair was streaming loose across her shoulders in the most wanton manner, she donned a short, hooded mantle and quickly tucked her thick hair inside the woolen garment. Then she quietly made her way down the stairs and across the loggia to the wing where the nursery was.

The scene that greeted Lilliane was hardly one of juvenile repose.

“Ferga! Ferga!” Lilliane rushed to the bound figure lying upon the carpeted floor.

“She’s gone, milady! He’s taken her!” the weeping woman exclaimed, sobbing, once Lilliane removed the cloth that gagged her mouth.

“Elyse? Someone’s taken her? But who? Who?”

“Sir William! He said she was his and no devil of King Edward’s was going to raise her.”

“Oh, dear God in heaven,” Lilliane whispered as she helped the frightened woman to rise. “He must be mad to take such a tiny infant into the winter night like this. Hurry, Ferga. We must go to Corbett with this. He can—”

“But, milady, wait. Read this first.” Ferga grabbed her arm and showed her a bit of paper. “Sir William was most adamant that I give it to you when no one else was present.”

Lilliane’s hand trembled as she took the single piece of parchment and then read the words William had written.

She is my daughter. She was given to you to raise. We may yet do that together. Join me at the crossroad to Burgram Abbey, sweet Lilliane. We have been denied our happiness too long. But now we must act. Come to me at once. Tell no one of your destination. Do not fear to leave all behind for I’ve made plans to rid you and Orrick of your cruel husband once and for all.

William

Lilliane stared at the parchment long after she’d read over the words. He’d made plans to rid her of Corbett? Dear God, dear God! He must truly be mad! Did he really think she valued her wedding vows so lightly? Even had she been married to a man she detested she could not so easily betray him. But she loved Corbett with her whole heart and soul. With every fiber of her being. She would never leave him. Nor would she allow William to hurt him in any way.

Lilliane looked up at Ferga. “How did he seem? Was he crazed or distraught?”

“No. No, he was calm and polite. He even apologized for binding me. But then, you know he was never a violent man.”

Lilliane did not respond. William might not appear to be a violent man, but his threat said otherwise. She balled up the parchment and flung it into the fire, not knowing whether to be more furious with him or with herself. She’d never explained to William how deeply her feelings for Corbett ran. She’d foolishly allowed his affection for her to continue long after it should have died. He had every right to his child, she knew. But he was terribly wrong to take her like this and thereby endanger her life. And to threaten Corbett’s life!

In agitation she weighed her alternatives. But given William’s hatred of Corbett, Elyse’s delicate condition, and William’s dire threat, Lilliane could come to only one conclusion. No matter how she debated it, the answer was the same. She must meet William as he’d instructed and then try to make him see the futility of what he was doing. If she could just appease him, he might abandon his foolish threat. And perhaps even let Elyse stay until the spring. She would promise to deliver the child to Castle Dearne then. She would not deny him his child, no matter how much she had grown to love the little girl.

Resolved on this, Lilliane faced Ferga. “Lie down and seek your rest, Ferga. I’ll see to William and Elyse.”

“Shall I fetch milord?”

“No!” Lilliane’s startled cry drew Ferga aback. With an effort she made herself sound more calm. “No, it would be best if he did not hear of this at all. Sir William is only misguided in his devotion to his daughter. But if I go to meet him as he asked, I can soothe his fears and persuade him to bring Elyse back. Besides, you know my husband’s temper would not hold were he to face William now.”

It was that last that convinced Ferga to keep silent. That and Lilliane’s promise to take two guards with her. But although Lilliane made the promise, it was one she had no intention of keeping. Not pausing to weigh the consequences, she hurried to the stable, saddled her favorite, Aere, and without a word to the two hunched-over guards, thundered from the castle.

T
HE NIGHT WAS PITCH
black and bitterly cold. Had Lilliane not known the road so well, she would surely have lost her way. No moonbeam glinted off the bent stalks of dried grasses, no starlight caught in the bare, reaching limbs of the oaks and beeches. It was a night fit only for wolves and owls, those deadly hunters and their hapless prey.

Lilliane tried not to think of all that might go amiss with her pitiful plan. Aere could stumble and fall upon the road, although Lilliane kept her at a nerve-rackingly slow pace; thieves could beset her from the forest, although it seemed unlikely that even highway robbers would be out this night.

She would not dwell on the possibility of not finding William nor on Corbett’s anger when he found about her escapade. She would simply locate William and straighten things out with him. Then she would smooth everything over with Corbett.

It was her determination alone that kept her going through the cold, murky night. She knew from the curves in the turnpike that she was nearing the river and then the Middling Stone. The crossroads would not be much beyond there.

She and Aere were going along at a fast walk while she peered ahead into the darkness when she heard a cry. At once she pulled Aere up. Had it been just a hunting bird, or perhaps a rabbit caught beneath the deadly talons? She strained to hear, holding her breath. Then it came again and she was certain. It was a child, a baby crying out in fear or cold or hunger. At once her flagging spirits were renewed and she urged Aere on.

“William! William, please wait! It’s me, Lilliane!”

When his call came in reply, Lilliane’s heart surged with relief. Following the direction of his voice, she cautiously guided the mare off the road. She did not see anyone at all; she could barely make out the upright shape of an ancient yew tree when William spoke again.

“Stop there, Lilliane. Dismount.” There was a pause. “I trust you came alone as I instructed?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, I’m alone. But how is Elyse? I heard her cry.”

As if on cue the baby began to whimper, and Lilliane immediately hurried toward the sound. But William blocked her path and put his hands on her shoulders. “I knew you would come,” he murmured. Then he enveloped her in a smothering embrace.

“Please, William. Let me breathe,” Lilliane muttered as she struggled to be free of his unwelcome grasp. She was tired and angry, and frightened half to death. With a final yank of her arm she was free, and she moved back a step and tried to make him out.

“Forgive my eagerness, my love,” he began, stepping forward even as she backed away. “It’s just that I’ve dreamed of this day for so long.”

Lilliane’s first inclination was to lash out at him for his foolish notions toward her and his selfish lack of concern for Elyse. But something warned her—perhaps the tone of his voice, perhaps only her sense of self-preservation—to proceed cautiously with him. It was her goal to bring Elyse to safety, she reminded herself. To do that she must reason with William, not berate him.

“I-I know you’ve waited,” Lilliane whispered most reluctantly. “But we must see to your daughter first. She might be cold or hungry. Have you any changing rags?

“Changing rags?” William turned his head toward the sound of Elyse’s cry. “Harold? Have we changing rags?

Lilliane was startled by this first indication that there were others with William. It might make her task even more difficult.

A burly fellow stepped forward carrying a large basket from which the child’s angry cries were coming. At once Lilliane knelt on the ground and carefully lifted little Elyse from the jumble of blankets. She did not speak as she swiftly removed the soaked linen from the baby and fastened fresh cloths around her. Then she tucked her neatly within the protective wicker and warm wool.

Lilliane’s mind had been working rapidly as she’d attended the child, trying to form some plan. Now when she looked up at William she saw he was flanked by two men, their forms more discernible as the clouds thinned and the moon showed feebly in the haze.

“I think she’s already ill,” Lilliane lied. “She’s much too young to be out in such cruel weather. If she’s not put before a warm fire soon she will not survive. Babies are frail creatures. You can’t drag her around—”

“She’ll survive. And if she doesn’t do not despair. I know
you
will give me a son.”

The very callousness of his words struck Lilliane speechless, even more than his outrageous assumptions about the two of them. He didn’t care at all about Elyse. She was simply the bait he’d used to get her to come to him.

With an effort she managed to subdue her fury. She stood up with the basket in her arms. “William, we must find her shelter.”

“We ride to Burgram Abbey. She’ll manage well enough.”

“But, William, I hardly imagine Mother Mary Catherine will take us in if she believes I’ve deserted my husband.”

“You need not worry on that account for long, Lilliane. Besides, you forget that he’s a murderer. He murdered your father and no one has taken him to task for it. But he’ll pay for everything he’s done. I’ve seen to it.”

The icy rage in his voice sent a shudder of pure terror through Lilliane. She hugged the now-quiet baby closer to her as her mind raced desperately for some way to escape him.

It was clear he intended more than simply to flee with her and Elyse. He wanted to wreak his revenge on Corbett. He’d used Elyse as the bait to draw her in. Could she now be the bait to draw Corbett into his trap? Suddenly, she saw how foolish she’d been to come to him so easily. An icy dread filled her as she realized she might be used to cause Corbett’s downfall.

Lilliane was wooden as William took her arm and led her to her horse. There would be no talking him into changing his mind, she understood now. Her only hope was that she might somehow escape with Elyse.

But as William took the baby and helped Lilliane mount, he must have sensed her hesitation. Instead of giving her the reins, he led her horse to his, then wrapped the reins about the raised pommel of his cloth-covered saddle. It was only then that he handed her Elyse’s basket.

“Keep the child quiet as we ride,” he ordered.

“Please, William. You cannot do this,” Lilliane pleaded. “It’s wrong and it will never work.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re mistaken. We have always been right. It was that hideous second son of Colchester who was wrong for you. But your father just would not see it.”

He swung up onto his own horse. “And as for not getting away with it, I told you, you will soon be a widow. I need a wife. You’ll need a husband. You’re already mother to my child. No, it will all turn out as it should have years ago.”

Lilliane had turned pale at William’s confident threat against Corbett. “What do you plot against him?” she cried.

William frowned at the frightened note in Lilliane’s voice. When he spoke this time, his anger was directed at her. “So he has turned you against me! Well, you will get over him, Lilliane, I assure you. Your Sir Corbett will be brought down by his own brother. Then you and I shall rule at Orrick.”

It was a madman’s reasoning, and Lilliane could make no sense of it at all. If Hughe were desperate enough to kill Corbett, then why would he allow William to rule at Orrick? And then, why should Hughe want his brother dead? Lilliane did not doubt that Hughe had such treachery in him, but she could discern no motive for such a vile act.