The Dumont Bride (7 page)

H
e was limping badly by the time he entered the hall. Slowing his pace did not help, nor did holding himself erect and imagining the humiliation of having to pick himself up from the floor. It was sheer determination that moved his feet forward to the table on the raised dais. And it was pure stubbornness that he would not permit himself to call a halt to the proceedings and find his bed.

He must be seen as hearty and able to defend what was his. Scavengers could smell weakness and he would not bring them to Greystone. A lord not able to carry out his responsibilities did not deserve to have them. And his honor, already assaulted and trampled upon, would not allow him to surrender in this.

Christian dragged his weakened body up the several steps and sat down hard on the large chair at the center of the table. Lucky for him, a large pillow cushioned his descent and did not cause him further harm on landing. An efficient servant handed him a goblet of wine which he drank in one long swallow. A platter of cheeses, cold meats and bread followed, but he could
not decide if he was more tired than hungry and so he sat for a few minutes just trying to stay upright.

Some villagers gathered in the hall in anticipation of his hearing of grievances. Christian fought to appear awake, but the effort simply added to his exhaustion. Fitzhugh’s approach forced him to turn.

“My lord, would you prefer that we cancel today’s proceedings?”

Christian, in truth, would have liked nothing better, but his headstrong nature would not let him. “Nay, Fitzhugh. We will hold the manor court this day as planned.”

Fitzhugh did not argue with him, but he bowed and nodded to several other servants standing nearby. A few guards drew near to the dais and took positions on either side of the steps leading to the table.

“My lord?” Fitzhugh stood next to him once again and leaned down. “Would you like to eat before we begin?”

Christian could hardly believe the words that left his mouth, but he could only blame his fatigue. “Nay, Fitzhugh. Let us begin now, for the sooner begun, the sooner finished.” He roused himself and held out his cup for more wine. This time he tasted the vintage and found it wanting. Mayhap he would send word to his estate and have them send several barrels of his best. Putting the cup down away from the documents that the steward laid before him, Christian examined the parchments in preparation.

There were a few requests from villeins and freemen regarding proposed marriages, grants of land and disputes. He had watched his father hold court many times and felt at ease. A young man sat at the end of the table, quill, knife, parchment and ink at hand to record
the decisions as they were made. Fitzhugh had a guard go to the door of the hall and call out the announcement that the lord was present and would hear from those who had grievances.

As a throng of people entered, Christian wished he had canceled this. He was nigh to passing out and wondered if his decisions would be sound ones. A passing thought to call for Emalie tickled his mind, but he motioned for Fitzhugh to begin.

Two hours and two dozen decisions later, Christian finally gave in to the demands of his body and told Fitzhugh to end it. Although he thought he had made logical and fair settlements and resolved many questions brought to him, he did not want to continue and lose his ability to reason.

He now faced another challenge—getting up from the table and walking from the room. He had never felt so alone and nearer to defeat than this. Christian stood and the chair beneath him was immediately pulled away by an attending servant. Taking a deep breath, he walked the few paces to the end of the dais and, in spite of a stalwart effort, stumbled down the steps. When he thought he would fall to the floor, Fitzhugh called out.

“My lord? I know you are still unfamiliar with Greystone. Please allow Henry to show you the way back to your chambers and serve you as you need.”

A boy, young but strong looking for his size, appeared before him and Christian decided that laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder for support was far more appealing than landing on his face among the rushes on the floor. Christian made it out of the hall and down the corridor, but was almost daunted by the sight of the stairs before him. If he placed more of his weight
on young Henry than he wanted to or more than he could bear, the boy never gave any indication.

As they approached his chamber, the hallway began to swerve and sway around him. Even his death grip on Henry’s shoulder did him no good, for his legs began to shake and his vision blurred. Finally they reached the door and Christian entered. He took hold of a chair and waved the boy off.

“Henri,
pardon moi,
Henry. Please tell my lady that I wish not to be disturbed.”

Henry bowed and backed out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. Just as he thought to tell him not to close it tightly, the darkness surrounded him, pulling him into the void.

Emalie sat at the table, hands clasped in her lap, waiting for Christian to arrive for dinner. She was feeling quite proud of her self-control and of the accomplishments of her people today. Her cook had prepared delicacies sure to please her husband’s sophisticated palate, recipes gleaned from Eleanor’s own cook who had recently held sway over Greystone’s kitchens. After the initial clash for power, the two cooks had become fast friends and exchanged many formulas for culinary masterpieces.

Control over her own behavior had come at a high cost today. After watching him return with Sir Walter and Fitzhugh and seeing him begin the manor court without even inviting her to be present, Emalie had returned to her chamber. Witnessing him in her father’s place had ripped a hole in her heart and forced her to her bed, incapacitated by tears and grief. How long had it been since she had held her father’s lifeless body in
her arms and known that her life was now going to be so very different than when she had awoken that day?

Due to her father’s unexpected death she went from daughter to orphan, from partner in the management of her estates to ward of the king and from lady to countess. And she liked none of the changes, then or now.

And the pressure was changing her—from confident woman to an emotional creature who cried at any small upset. Would she ever feel as though she was herself again? After seeing this man begin to take over her duties and her power, she instinctively knew the answer.

Now she found herself resentful that he could not arrive at dinner on time. Alyce had urged her to go easily with him, to allow him time to accommodate himself to Greystone and their way of doing things. In truth, it was a difficult thing to do while under the close scrutiny of those living within the keep.

Murmurs filled the room about his obvious absence and Emalie endured the curious stares of those closest to the dais. Sir Walter and his wife Rosalie were seated near her at the high table and they looked just as uncomfortable as she felt. Emalie motioned to one of the servants and whispered to him to seek out her husband and “invite” him to dinner now.

She lifted her goblet to her lips and hoped the wine would soothe her nerves. Instead, a bitter taste flowed over her tongue and she grimaced. Immediately, her attentive steward was at her side.

“Milady? Something is amiss with your wine?” Fitzhugh’s brows gathered in a frown. He took all complaints very personally and the wine was his particular area of expertise.

He had started out as the vineyard master on one of
her more southerly properties and had guided the cultivation and harvesting of the grapes and the production of the various wines used by her households. He had even created the wine she drank now as a special blend for her to mark the fifteenth anniversary of her birth. And the wine he brought to table had never tasted so badly as it did now.

“Mayhap this is an old keg? It seems to have gone to vinegar.”

He looked for her permission before taking her wine and sipping it himself. Another frown crossed his brow. “It is the same as it was yesterday, milady.”

“I noticed a difference in it last evening as well, but forgot to mention it to you, Fitzhugh.”

A ripple of soft laughter echoed through the hall, and when she realized what last evening had been, she could feel the heat of a blush creep up her neck and onto her cheek. Only the return of the servant she’d sent looking for her husband kept her from reacting to the embarrassment of the moment.

“Well, Henry. Did you find my lord?” Her voice trembled, probably from a bit of resentment and a bit of embarrassment at the ribald comments she could still hear.

“Aye, milady. He is in his chambers.”

“Did you invite him to our meal?”

“Nay, milady.” The boy shifted from foot to foot and kept his gaze lowered to the floor rather than meeting hers.

“Why not, Henry?” Impatience must have entered her voice, for Fitzhugh came forward once more and whispered something to the lad. The boy nodded once and again and then looked up at her.

“Milord said he did not wish to be disturbed.”

“When did he say this, Henry?” She turned in her chair to face him.

“When I escorted him to his chambers, milady. Earlier this afternoon.”

“Well then, Fitzhugh, if my lord husband does not wish to be disturbed, I see no reason to hold up our meal any longer. You may tell the kitchen to begin serving the food.”

Fitzhugh hesitated for only a moment, but it was a moment too many for her in her current state of mind. She glared at the steward until he carried out her order, and it was indeed an order and not to be ignored or misunderstood.

Servants rushed forward carrying platters for those at the high table and those below. Haunches of beef, game birds dressed with seasonings and covered in pungent sauces, roasts of mutton, all crispy and hot, were delivered and the smells of the well-prepared foods filled the hall.

Soon all were eating, except for Emalie, who found that her appetite had fled once more. The enticing smell of her favorite dishes now seemed offensive somehow, as though tainted and unappealing. Breaking off a chunk of bread, she chewed it while the others ate the heartier fare. She sat quietly, not even trying to converse with the others.

This rude behavior on Christian’s part was a puzzle to her. Why was he doing this? Sitting court in her hall, she could understand. It was part of his need to gather everything in Greystone and in her Harbridge estates under his control. Or maybe he was just uncomfortable here? He had arrived under orders of the king and been married within a day. He had no one from
his household with him to serve him and had none of his own vassals or guardsmen.

Emalie took a sip of the ale that now replaced her bitter wine. Mayhap he was just standoffish, as most French and Angevin nobles were to English subjects of the Plantagenets. Putting the cup down, she wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood, waiting for the servant behind her to pull her chair away. When others at the table began to rise, she stopped them.

“I wish to retire early this night. Pray, continue with your meal and enjoy the entertainment I have arranged for your pleasure.”

Although every one of those at the table knew she had made all these efforts to please her husband, they would never contradict her words to her face nor behind her back. Stepping away from the table, she walked down the steps and out through the hall, fighting back more inexplicable tears the entire way. Finally out of the hall, she climbed the stairs to the top floor and made her way to her chambers. Passing her husband’s door, she spied young Henry standing silently before it.

“Has he spoken to you?”

“No, milady. Not since he ordered me from his chambers.”

“Has he not called for food or drink?” She walked closer to the boy to hear his whispered words.

“No, milady.”

“And is he alone?” Another suspicion entered her mind. If she had denied his physical needs would he take another to satisfy them?

“I wouldn’t know, milady.” Henry looked away, clearly understanding her question even at his young age.

“Go to the kitchen and have them prepare a tray for my lord. Bring it here when it is ready.”

“But, milady. He said
you
were not to disturb him.”

She paused, fighting to keep her surprise and hurt contained. She would reveal nothing of what she felt to this boy.

“I have given you an order, Henry. Go to the kitchens now.”

Although he hesitated for a moment, the boy bowed and left, leaving her to contemplate her next move. Emalie leaned close to the door and listened for sounds within. If her husband had mentioned her in particular in his order not to be disturbed, it seemed logical and somehow respectful that he would not want her to know of his assignations. It did not mitigate her anger, but it made her curious about not asking for food. Those involved in bedplay usually needed food and drink to bolster their strength.

She waited for the tray to arrive and, with it, her excuse for entry. But a small, niggling thought kept entering her mind. She shook it off and leaned against the wall. There it was again—a slight shiver ran through her and she knew that something was not right. She lifted the latch of the door even as she knocked lightly on it.

“My lord? Are you within?” she called out in a low voice. “My lord…”

Pushing open the door slowly and quietly, she could see the empty bed first and then, as she stepped within the chamber, she saw him slumped on the floor. Rushing to his side, she lifted his head gently and saw that he was still breathing. The heat emanating from his skin and body told her the problem—he was ill, very ill.

Letting his head rest once more upon the floor, she rushed from the room seeking help. She directed the first servant she saw to bring Alyce and Sir Walter to the chamber and returned to Christian. Turning him until he lay flat on the floor, she then pulled down the bedcovers so that he could be placed there without delay when help arrived.

Although she knew only a few minutes passed, it seemed like hours until she finally heard the clamor of approaching people in the hallway outside the chamber. Sir Walter entered first, followed by Alyce and then others. Within moments, her husband had been placed on the bed and her herb chest was on its way to her, along with other supplies she might need.