Susan Spencer Paul (9 page)

“Cease this foolishness, Hugh Baldwin! Come and let me show you your nieces and nephew.” Turning toward the children, she led him first to an exquisitely beautiful little girl around eight years of age, whose white blond hair and clear blue eyes mirrored those of her mother.

“This is Eleanor,” Edyth said, gently patting the child’s head. “And this is Elizabeth.” She indicated the five-yearold who stood next to her sister, another lovely child possessed of her father’s darker looks. “And this,” Edyth said, moving to the small boy who stood sucking on his two middle fingers and looking anxiously toward his parents, “is Rorian, whom we call Rory.”

Hugh bent to the children’s level. “Hello, Rory, and—” aware that the girl had been named after his own mother “—little Beth, and—” he picked the beautiful child up in his arms “—beautiful Eleanor.” He kissed the child’s cheek and showed her to an approving Rosaleen. “What do you think of my nieces and nephews?”

Amused at how quickly Hugh Caldwell latched onto his family after his long absence and deep fears, Rosaleen smiled. “They’re lovely.” She nodded at her hosts, who gazed pridefully at their offspring. “You have a fine family, Lord and Lady Gyer.”

“But where are Willem and Justin and Candis?” Hugh asked, turning around in a circle as though he expected his other two brothers and sister to appear all of a sudden. “Never tell me they’re away from Gyer!”

“I’m afraid that Willem and Candis are gone to London,” Alexander admitted, “where our little sister is presently enchanting every man between the ages of twelve and eighty-five at court, or so I’m given to understand. But
Justin, or rather, I should say,
Sir
Justin, as he was knighted only three months past, is just inside and waiting for you to make a stately entrance for the benefit of those who are gaping out the windows at us.”

“Sir Justin, eh?” Hugh said, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll be glad to see him in spite of that.” He stopped speaking long enough to lift up his youngest niece, who was tugging at his chausses, until he held her secure in his other arm. With both nieces held high, he beamed with family pride. “Justin will be a grown man now. Is he as serious as when he was a boy?”

“More so!” Alexander assured him with a laugh, picking up his youngest son, who had toddled over to his Uncle Hugh in an attempt to be taken up with his sisters. “Now come inside and be made welcome, Hugh, Lady Rosaleen, before my people expire of curiosity.”

“Yes, please come inside and be welcome,” Lillis echoed, placing a light hand on Rosaleen’s arm. “You must be weary from your journey, my lady, and in want of a warm bath and something clean to wear.”

The thought of a bath…a warm, scented, delicious bath such as only a household the size of Castle Gyer could provide…was so welcome it nearly brought Rosaleen to tears. She had been used to bathing daily in her own home.

“Yes, my Lady Gyer,” she said, “I should indeed like a bath. It has been several days, I fear, since I last enjoyed one.”

Lillis smiled at her warmly.

“Then you shall have one without delay, and I shall send you something clean to wear from my sister Candis’s wardrobe. She has not your height, but I’m certain I can find something to fit, and she has left behind some lovely clothes.”
“I am grateful to you, Lady Gyer,” Rosaleen said, and allowed herself to be led into the great hall of Castle Gyer.

They knew who she was, of course, Rosaleen thought later as she blissfully sank farther into the large wooden tub, sloshing a little of the hot, scented water over the side and onto the towels that had been placed on the floor.

The chamber Lady Gyer had given her was lavishly beautiful, putting Rosaleen in mind of one of the chambers of state that she herself kept ready at Siere for the use of the king and any high-ranking nobility who might arrive without notice. She had become suspicious that the Lord and Lady of Gyer knew who she was when she had seen their reactions upon hearing her name, and the fact that she had been put in this grand chamber was more than proof that her suspicions were correct. Although Alexander Baldwin was possessed of greater wealth than she, Rosaleen’s birth gave her an eminence far above the Lord of Gyer’s; to be given a chamber such as this was in perfect accord with her due as the daughter of the Earl of Siere, and as the heir of her family’s great name and title.

But if they knew the truth, Rosaleen wondered, then why had the Lord of Gyer not allowed his wife to speak it to Hugh? She knew full well that she was considered more as a valuable property than as a person. Alexander of Gyer, being a member of the nobility and having sworn fealty to King Henry, would surely feel it his sovereign duty to return her to her uncle, who was her royally approved guardian.

Why, then, had he not allowed the truth to be revealed? Perhaps he had wanted to avoid an unpleasant disturbance before his people. Perhaps later, when there was more privacy, he would inform Rosaleen that he knew who she was and that he would be returning her to Siere. Or
perhaps, even worse, he had already sent a message to her uncle informing him of her whereabouts. Whatever the Lord of Gyer’s game was, Rosaleen knew she couldn’t trust him. He and his wife were being very kind to her, and she was truly grateful, but in spite of that she couldn’t remain at Gyer and wait like a lamb about to be led to slaughter. She had to get to London, and she had to see the king before her uncle got to him first and poisoned her chances with his foul lies.

Knowing it to be fully selfish, Rosaleen yet wished that Hugh Caldwell hadn’t turned out to be Hugh Baldwin. It wasn’t that she was not happy for him; indeed, she was exceedingly pleased that he had been so well reconciled with his family and that she, though unwittingly, had played some small part in bringing that reconciliation about. But, in truth, his turning out to be a member of the nobility was a plaguing nuisance! How would she get to London without a man like Hugh Caldwell to protect and help her?

Pillowing her head more comfortably on the towel set on the edge of the tub, Rosaleen fixed her gaze on the ceiling and, with a loud sigh, began to think of what she must do.

“S
he’s been beaten!” Lillis declared as she walked into her husband’s working chamber, where Alexander and her brother sat talking. “That poor child’s been beaten black and blue! The maids who were helping me ready her bath nearly took to screaming when they saw her bruises, and I almost became ill.” She rounded on Hugh, demanding, “Who did such a thing?”

“It wasn’t me.” Hugh promised. “Don’t look at me in such a way, I beg you. It was her uncle who did it, because she refused to wed the man he’d chosen for her. That’s what set her on the run in the first place.” He held his hands up as if proclaiming his innocence. “I’m simply the man she ran into. That’s all, I swear it.”

“Of course I didn’t think you had done it, Hugh,” Lillis assured him, unable to calm her anger. “But the man who did do it ought to have a whip taken to him!”

Her husband laughed. “And I imagine you’d like to be the one to wield it, would you not, my fierce wife? Calm yourself, sweeting, and come sit down. You look as though you’re about to throw something for the simple joy of it.”

Lillis plopped into the chair beside her brother. “You find it amusing, my lord, but if you’d seen the poor girl just now you’d be on your way to hunt the animal down,
I vow. I’m proud of you, Hugh, for helping Rosaleen as you have.” She patted her brother’s knee. “It was right and chivalrous.”

Hugh cringed. “Please, Lillis, don’t speak that word in my hearing, especially if you must attach it to my name. Besides, if you ask Rosaleen, she’ll tell you a great many other words that would be more fitting. She never lacks terrible things to call me. I do believe that’s what I’ll miss the most about her.”

His eldest brother fixed him with an interested gaze. “Miss her, Hugh? I had thought your relationship with Lady Rosaleen to be of a more permanent nature, and I expected you to tell Lillis and me of a possible future commitment.”

“God’s teeth, Alex!” Hugh uttered, horrified. “Tell me you jest! Rosaleen no-name is the most troublesome female I’ve ever known. I’d rather shackle myself with a shebear.”

“But, Hugh,” Lillis protested, “she’s quite sweet, and her manners are excellent. And you cannot deny that she’s very beautiful.”

“Well, there is that,” he admitted. “She’s a goodlooking female. Did you see the look on Justin’s face when they were introduced? I thought he was going to go down on one knee right there in the great hall and make a fool of himself.”

Lillis giggled. “He was stricken, was he not? But, in truth, he has been looking for a wife. He determined only two months past that he will wed before he attains the age of five and twenty, and you know how seriously he takes such things. I fear he’s approached the matter of marriage much as he would any other problem.”

Hugh grimaced. “I can well imagine. Good lack! The boy has the personality of a rock. Why don’t you send him
to court, Alex? Or out into the world? Or anywhere other than Gyer. He needs a little adventure to liven him up.”

Alexander sighed. “Like you did? From what we’ve heard about you over the past many years, Hugh, it seems that your life has been one adventure after another. You’ve been lucky not to end up in prison, or worse, have you not?”

Hugh felt an uncomfortable clutch of guilt.

“Yes. I’ve been lucky.”

Lucky.
The word throbbed in the ensuing silence like the resounding of a bell. He supposed he had been lucky. The past ten years of his life were one great blur to Hugh, a blur defined only by fleeting memories of fights and scrapes and near escapes. He had killed men, and gone hungry, and stolen, and fought both man and the elements in order to survive. He had made love with what now seemed like hundreds of women. He had made friends and lost friends. He had come to know everything there was about the basest elements of humanity, and he himself had embraced some of those lowly attributes in his struggle to survive. He had learned how to lie and cheat, how to take advantage of the trust of decent people, how to strike out and hurt before he could be struck and hurt first. But he had also learned about goodness, about the limitless boundaries of human kindness. He had known and experienced that goodness and kindness, and he had clung to them in his own effort to remain human. Thinking back on his life now, he felt ashamed to be in the company of his brother and sister, whom he loved too much to hurt with the truth of his own wretched behavior.

“Listen to me, Hugh,” Alexander said. “Lillis and I will not ask for an accounting from you for the last ten years. Neither of us wants to hear of it. When you left you hurt us badly, I’ll not deny that or excuse you for it. We all
suffered for months afterward and worried constantly. I looked for you myself for many weeks, and kept half my army searching for you for longer than that. If I had found you then, I would have beaten you senseless for what you had done.”

Hugh dropped his gaze, unable to meet his brother’s eyes.

“I had to go,” he whispered.

“I don’t want to hear it, Hugh,” Alexander said curtly. “I don’t ever want to hear that from you. You didn’t have to go, no matter what you thought then or think now. What we learned about Jaward and our father hurt all of us, not just you. Or did you think you were the only one who could feel pain? And if you didn’t care what your leaving would do to the rest of us, the least you could have done was think of Hugo. Do you have any idea how he reacted that morn when he read your note?” Alexander’s voice grew as grim as his expression. “He cried like a baby. For hours, while I held him.” His eyes shut at the memory. “For months afterward, he wouldn’t even step outside of Castle Gyer, not even to attend mass.”

He wasn’t going to cry, Hugh told himself very sternly. He was
not
going to cry. Except for the understandable lapse of that very afternoon, he hadn’t cried since the day he’d learned the truth about himself, and he wasn’t about to start now, no matter what Alex said, no matter what anyone said. He hadn’t lost himself for so many years for naught.

He rose from the chair he’d been sitting in and walked to the windows that looked out over the gardens of the inner bailey. Several deep breaths helped to calm him, and he trained his eyes on the beauty of the gardens below.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I never meant to hurt Hugo or any of you. But I had to go. There was no choice for me,
Alex, no matter what you may think. You have said you don’t wish to hear that, and, in truth, I haven’t any desire to explain it to you.”

“Hugh.” A hand touched his sleeve, making Hugh wonder how Lillis had come up behind him so quietly. “It matters not. Truly. You are home. That’s what Alexander and I care about. Do not count these angry words against him. You cannot blame us for what we feel, just as we cannot blame you. Please, Hugh, we must put the past behind us and start anew.”

“I am
not
home,” Hugh replied bitterly, shrugging at her hand to make her let go. “Gyer is not my home, now or ever. I’m only here because of that troublesome female above stairs. Now that Alex has promised to lend her aid, I’ll be leaving. Tomorrow morn, in fact.”

A brief silence followed his words, and then Lillis began to weep. Suddenly, loudly and uncontrollably. Both men moved toward her, but Hugh, being so close, caught her up in his arms before Alexander could take more than a step.

“Lillis! Don’t cry,” he begged, clutching her tight.

“Don’t cry.”

She shook her head against his shoulder.

“It’s my fault!” she sobbed. “All my fault! Aunt Leta tried to warn me what the truth would do to you, but I wouldn’t listen! I believed you would want to know, but I was wrong, Hugh, so very wrong!”

Hugh didn’t know what to say, because he did wish that he’d never learned the truth. He wished, as he’d wished a hundred times or more in the past ten years, that he had gone on in blissful ignorance, that he had never known who his real father was.

“It’s all right, Lillis,” he soothed. “You have said it no longer matters, and it doesn’t. It’s done.”

“But still you would leave!” she cried miserably. “Stay with us, Hugh. Please stay at Gyer. This
is
your home!”

They would never understand, Hugh thought sadly. Gyer and Wellewyn were the wells of all his bitterness; he could never stay at either of them for long.

Helplessly, he glanced at his brother, only to be met by a furious expression that at once took him back to his boyhood, when he and Hugo had commonly managed to outrage Alex to just this kind of countenance. And he remembered, somewhat belatedly, that where Lillis was concerned Alex was rather sensitive. More than sensitive, actually. When Lillis was involved, Alex was easily brought to the point of mercilessness.

Remembering that, Hugh gulped, and hugged Lillis a little tighter for protection.

“Say you’ll stay at Gyer,” she begged. “Please say you’ll stay, Hugh.”

“I can’t,” he answered honestly. “Oh, Lillis, I can’t. Please don’t cry anymore. You break me in two! I cannot stay at Gyer.” He chanced another glance at Alex, who was still glaring at him angrily.

He didn’t have any choice. He had to take the easy way out, just to spare Lillis’s and Alex’s feelings.

“I can’t stay because I’ve been given another fief to take care of,” he said, and then went on to tell his brother and sister all about Briarstone and how he had come to possess it.

Alexander’s fury was renewed.

“There’s no need for you to tend the land of strangers, Hugh. There are several Baldwin fiefs that need caring for.”

Stroking Lillis’s white blond hair, holding her lovingly in his arms, Hugh replied, “Then you’d best send a Bald
win to manage them, Alex. Willem or Justin or even Candis should do very well.”

The sound that came from his eldest brother was indescribable. It sent shivers down Hugh’s spine.

“You,” Alexander said tightly, “are a Baldwin.” His expression dared Hugh to contradict him.

Gazing at him, Hugh realized with a deep sadness that his eldest brother no longer had the power to frighten him into submission. Too much had passed, too much had riven Hugh Caldwell’s heart to make him feel any fear easily.

“I have lived by my chosen name for ten years, Alexander Baldwin,” he said slowly, purposefully, “and I shall live under it the rest of my days. The only name I have a right to call myself. Caldwell.” He eased Lillis away and made her look at him.
“Caldwell,”
he repeated to her disbelieving eyes. “And if you’ll not take me as a Caldwell, then I’ll leave this moment. Tell me and let me go, for I promise that I shall.”

“No!” Lillis cried, gripping him. “I’ll not let you go as you went before! I don’t care what name you call yourself by! You’re my own brother, and I’ll not let you go!”

Hugh looked at Alexander, whose angry expression hadn’t eased even slightly.

“No matter what name you go by,” Alexander said, “be it Caldwell or Ryon or Baldwin, you will always be a member of this family. My father was your father, Hugh, in spite of every other truth. Charles Baldwin accepted you as his own son.”

Alexander’s words stunned Hugh. That man’s name, that name he had forced with violence from his own mind a thousand times over, stunned him. It was the one thing, the one thought that he could not bear. He put Lillis away from him.

“I am Hugh Caldwell,” he repeated, then gathered his breath to say more firmly, “Caldwell.”

His own steps toward the chamber door beat loudly in his head. When he reached it, feeling sick and angry, he said, “I will never understand how you could name those two innocent children the way you have. Charles and Jaward! It’s like some cruel jest!” he raged with a fury that he directed toward the door, unable to face either Alexander or Lillis with his most naked feelings. “You must think that by doing so you heal the misery those two men caused on God’s earth, but you’re wrong!
Nothing
could do that. You’ve done naught but damned your sons with the memory of two evil devils!”

Cold and stiff, wanting a fight, Hugh left the room.

His feet turned in the direction that he wanted to go before his mind realized his destination, and very shortly, having run all the way up the multitude of stairs leading to it, he arrived at the door to the rooftop hut where he and his brother had kept their birds so many years before.

Breathless, he pushed the door open, his entrance so sudden that the two boys occupying the partly enclosed shelter jumped with surprise.

“What in the—” Hugh was just as shocked as they were. He had expected to find the small shed empty of everything after all these years, including the cages in which he and Hugo had housed their birds, yet the place was remarkably unchanged. Not only were the cages still there, they were filled with birds.

Looking at his nephews, their surprised, questioning faces turned toward him, one of them holding a young sparrow hawk while the other attached a pair of jesses to the bird, Hugh could almost look back and see himself and Hugo doing the same thing, in just the same way.

“Hello, Uncle Hugh,” one of them greeted cautiously. “Did you come to see our birds?”

Embarrassed to have intruded in such a way, and still feeling uncomfortable with them, Hugh replied, awkwardly, “Yes, I…guess I have.”

“Mother said you and Uncle Hugo used to raise birds,” the twin applying the jesses commented. “Uncle Hugo sometimes comes and helps us with ours.”

Hugh wiped his hands nervously on his chausses and stepped farther into the room. Here was something else that looked smaller to him all of a sudden. There had been a time when this place had seemed big as a barn, yet now the top of his head barely missed scraping the ceiling.

“Well, your Uncle Hugo,” said Hugh as he moved about the hut, looking in the various cages, “is one of the finest falconers I’ve ever known. You couldn’t do better than having his help.”

“That’s odd,” the twin holding the bird said. “Uncle Hugo says the same of you. That you’re very good with birds. He tells us lots of stories about the things you used to do when you were boys.”

“Does he?” Hugh smiled at the thought. “All good stories, I hope, about how well behaved and obedient we were.”