The Order of the Lily (53 page)

A physician may know well the workings of the anatomy, but he can perceive nothing of a woman's heart, thought Cécile as she and Minette climbed aboard a vegetable wagon before dawn the following morning. She feared that once Gillet examined their conversation he would return, and she could not take that risk. It had taken every ounce of her strength to turn him away this time. She could not do it again. ‘'Tis better that he should despise me,' she murmured to her babe as she settled him beneath her cloak. ‘Let him marry and have his own heirs.' Minette lay on the straw, curled into a ball, her tears dried upon her cheeks.

An amethyst brooch had secured them passage as far as Arras. Cécile planned to go to the Mesdames and regain her health. Then she would find a way home to Larressingle. Since learning she was barren she had not known what to do. But how could she deny any man the right to his own heirs? Oddly enough, it was a question Gillet's brother, Arnaud, had posed to her in Chilham which had made up her mind. ‘How much do you love my brother, Cécile?' he'd asked her. ‘Do you love him enough to let him go?' She inhaled a deep breath of air as they hit the open road.

Yes, she did.

A courier arrived the following morning, a missive from Cécile clamped within his grasp. He had been redirected to Dover by the innkeeper at the Port Royal Inn. After reading it Catherine collapsed against Simon, sobbing with anger and grief, unable to comprehend the callous treatment of her sister by the Albret brothers. Roderick also received word he was needed at home and agreed to drop into Broughton on his way to Shalford, to inform the Lady Matilda of her brother's death.

‘It does not make any sense!' Simon grumbled to himself. He delayed their journey for a further day, concerned by Catherine's unhappiness. He had thought she would express a desire to return to France to locate her sister. However, it was quite the opposite. Catherine had demanded that he take her to Chilham. Simon's first attempt to dissuade her was neatly pushed aside, his second encountered stony silence. Catherine did not speak to Simon again until the impressive gates of the estate came into view.

‘I would prefer to take you to London and return here myself to deal with Gillet's brothers,' Simon offered.

‘No, I want to see their faces with my own eyes when they learn the truth,' Catherine uttered, vengeance in her voice. The great oak doors were opened by a maid, who gasped audibly at their appearance.

Catherine drew breath and steadied her voice. ‘I
demand
to see Amanieu d'Albret.'

‘I … I am not sure he will see you, Lady d'Armagnac,' the young woman replied. Catherine watched as the maid's eyes darted fearfully to a door behind her. ‘Announce us anyway and I will see whomsoever is in reception hall,' she said, pushing her way past, ‘for I will have words with someone!' Simon followed and offered his name to the steward.

Gabby chose that moment to let out a loud wail. The door to the hall flew open.

‘What are
you
doing here?' demanded an older version of Gillet, striding towards Catherine with a look of disgust.

Catherine clutched Gabby protectively and resisted the urge to retreat. She jutted out her chin and reiterated her request, deducing the man before her to be Arnaud. ‘I demand to see Amanieu d'Albret.'

‘You are in no position to demand anything,' he replied arrogantly.

‘Who is it, Arnaud?' A female voice screeched from within. ‘Tell them we give alms around the back of the manor
.
'

‘It is impolite to leave your guests standing at the door.' Catherine handed Gabby to the maid and entered the hall. A second man rose from a high-backed chair, his face awash with surprise. A woman stood by the fire, her pinched features highlighting the haughty, royal nose. She wore numerous ropes of beads around her neck, bangles clanged at her wrists, and her fingers were weighed down by an assortment of rings. It was as though she had worn her entire jewel collection to display her status but Catherine found her appearance to be both farcical and sad. The woman may have rank but she decidedly lacked class.

‘Ghillebert is not available at present,' explained the more pleasant looking of the two brothers, his smile strained but polite.

‘You might decide differently once you hear what I have to say.' Catherine struggled to keep the trepidation from her voice.

‘Throw her out, Amanieu,' cried the woman, her nose wrinkling in revulsion.

‘You may regret such an action,' warned Simon, standing protectively behind his wife.

Catherine glared at Amanieu. ‘Yes, I understand you are well acquainted with such behaviour, is that not so?'

‘You never did learn to keep your nose out of our business, did you?' Arnaud moved a little closer. ‘You filthy French whore!'

Simon grasped the hilt of his dagger and swung around to face him.

‘There is no need to be rude, brother,' commanded Amanieu, his hand raised against Simon's show of aggression. ‘What do you want here, Lady d'Armagnac?'

‘If I
were
Lady d'Armagnac,' Catherine paused, allowing her remark to sink in, ‘I would demand an apology. But I fail to see how this could possibly be delivered with any real conviction by men such as you. But, as I am not she—'

‘If you are not Cécile, then who are you?' asked Amanieu, confusion flickering in his eyes.

‘I am Catherine, Lady Wexford, daughter of the late Sir Thomas Holland and Joan, the Fair Maid of Kent, who is currently on intimate terms with the Black Prince.' The woman by the fireplace gasped audibly. Catherine shot her a look of repugnance. ‘You, I believe, are the Lady Mary, my cousin.'

Mary's face drew into a pinched grimace and it reminded Catherine of the cantankerous goat at Denny Abbey.

‘Then, Cécile is … ' began Amanieu.

‘My twin. And imagine my mother's displeasure when she learns of your recent actions. I must be sure to tell her of Amanieu d'Albret, the pompous, self-opinionated older brother, whose courage extends itself not only to soldiering but also victimising innocent, expectant mothers!'

Amanieu blanched visibly, his mouth falling agape.

Catherine's gaze settled on Arnaud d'Albret. Her heart beat rapidly as she readied the speech she had rehearsed time and again in her mind. ‘Arnaud d'Albret, I fear for your soul! You torture the defenceless and weak and for this …'

He thrust his face into hers. ‘You cannot frighten me! My priest hears my confessions and I am shriven. My conscience is clear.'

‘I think you have said enough,' intervened Simon, placing his hand upon Catherine's shoulder.

Arnaud glared at Lord Wexford but Catherine was past caring.

‘Your treatment of my sister was despicable! You think it your right to manipulate others to suit your own needs, to use women like coins, to buy and sell, to gain land and settle debts.' She brushed off Simon's hold and stepped towards Arnaud. His fists clenched as she continued. ‘How can you sit comfortably in this home, having treated the previous occupants the way you did? For though Gillet may not have formally given his troth to my sister, he made his promise to her in so many other ways, and he loves her, I know he does.'

‘That is a lie,' screeched Mary. ‘My uncle, the King, will not be happy when he learns of this!'

‘Of what will he learn?' Catherine spun to Mary. ‘I don't see Gillet rushing to be by
your
side!'

‘Mademoiselle, you forget yourself,' declared Amanieu. ‘You may not speak to Princess Mary that way.'

‘Princess,' Catherine scoffed. ‘Mary is no more a princess than I, or Cécile, for that matter. We share the same blood but it takes more than just breeding to make a lady, as my twin has taught me.'

‘I don't have to stay and listen to this,' blustered Mary. ‘You have no right to burst into this house, and speak to me this way. I have no intention of giving up my marriage to Ghillebert. Our contractual agreement is binding, is it not, Amanieu?'

Arnaud moved to Mary's side, his eyes flashing. ‘Yes, it is binding. It would seem, Lady Wexford, that you share the same qualities as your sister. She was nothing more than a wilful, interfering wench.'

‘Because she removed the scold's bridle from your wife's face? And took a dunking punishment, as arranged by you?' Catherine cried with anguish.

‘It is a husband's right to control his wife in any way he sees fit. She should not have interfered.'

‘What else have you failed to share with me, brother?' demanded Amanieu. ‘I begin to suspect that you have not told me the complete story.'

‘A scold's bridle?' whispered Mary, her countenance paling.

‘Yes,' Catherine confirmed, ‘so you may consider yourself lucky yet, Mary, for surely you do not wish to align with such a family.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You are aware of the manner in which these men recently disposed of Cécile when she stood in the way of your union with Ghillebert?'

Mary swallowed nervously.

‘But did you know that the bridle was spiked, an instrument of torture?' Catherine added, watching Mary's eyes grow wider. ‘And you might also be interested to learn that your beloved, future husband was present as my sister was dunked, over and over into freezing water, she more than three months' gone with child at the time.'

Mary's complexion faded to white. She blinked several times but a kindling of understanding lit and her eyes narrowed. ‘You lie! Lies! All lies! You covet him for your sister's sake.' She raised her head to Amanieu. ‘Tell me this vile creature is wrong and Ghillebert does not love that other woman. I want your word that all is well.'

The brothers offered nothing, their mouths taut with displeasure.

‘Then I will seek advice from the King! I cannot help but wonder what
he
will say when he hears of this.' She lifted her skirt and stormed out without a backwards glance.

‘Is this all true?' demanded Amanieu of his brother.

Simon slapped his hand heavily on the shoulder of the younger Albret brother. ‘I believe that Arnaud, here, has a great deal of explaining to do. I have the impression that he may have tainted some of the information he has imparted.'

Arnaud pulled away, sneering. ‘You know nothing!'

‘It would appear so,' said Amanieu. A look of contempt passed between the siblings. ‘I may have judged Cécile harshly, and for this I feel a great deal of regret.'

‘Regardless of what you think of my sister, I cannot forgive you your treatment of her. To toss her, unconscious, into a carriage and have her sent across the sea only hours before she was to give birth is despicable. Imagine, if you will, sir, what would happen to you and your family, should my nephew die.'

‘What?'

‘You heard correct. My sister all but gave birth on the docks of Calais, thanks to you and your brother.'

The full impact of his decision was now bearing down on Amanieu's racing mind.

‘Yes, you not only risked Céci's life but also that of her child, a possible future king of England.'

‘Her child would never sit on the throne!' choked Arnaud. ‘He's a bastard!'

Catherine spun to face him. ‘Ah, but it wouldn't be the first time a bastard from France has taken the English throne, would it?' She smiled sweetly, her revenge complete.

‘Shut up, Arnaud!' Amanieu paced in front of the fire. ‘If we find ourselves out of favour because of your stupidity, our name will be irreparably damaged. You need to apologise to our guests.'

‘I do not apologise to English dogs or their bitches,' hissed Arnaud. Simon's took several paces towards Arnaud but Amanieu was closer, dragging his sibling against the wall.

‘Apologise,' he yelled, his grip constricting Arnaud's throat.

‘Release me, brother, or
you
will regret it!' Arnaud wrestled to draw his dagger but Simon was quick to respond, his own blade flashing in the light.

Amanieu let go. ‘Our family shall not suffer because of you.'

‘Oh, you can be sure that my mother and the Prince of Wales will hear of Arnaud's actions,' snapped Catherine. ‘It is my duty, after all.'

Arnaud leapt in her direction but Simon was instantly between them. Glad to give his temper rein at last, his fist flew. Arnaud tumbled backwards, blood pouring from his lip and his grimace revealing a gap. Simon had knocked out a tooth!

‘You have cast shame upon our family!' roared Amanieu. ‘Pack your things and get out of this house!'

Arnaud sheathed his dagger and, wiping his mouth, slunk from the room.

The atmosphere relaxed perceptively as Arnaud could be heard leaving through the main door of the house. Catherine wanted desperately to collapse into the nearest seat, but it was not yet over. There was still the remaining Albret.

‘My brother may not have been able to apologise, but allow me to extend that courtesy. Might I inquire after your sister's health?' he asked.