The Rose at Twilight (18 page)

Madeline shrugged. “Mayhap you have the right of it, but I have been of age for seven years now and still am unwed, though I know of at least one heiress who was married for the third time when she was only eleven, a full year
before
she came of age.”

Alys shook her head in amused exasperation. “Yes, and Anne Mowbray was married to Prince Richard of York when she was six and he only two. But fortunately, neither of us is so great an heiress as that. Indeed, my wardship would be a good deal less bearable if I were, because the Tudor would use it to his own benefit by awarding it to one of his supporters, who would use my fortune as if it were his own until duty commanded him to see me properly provided with a husband.”

Madeline grimaced. “If my father ever threatened to sell my wardship to anyone, I
would
enter a convent, for I have heard awful tales of such things. When a girl is sold like that by her parents she has no recourse until she reaches her majority. Then she might be permitted to sue her guardian for disparagement if he has forced her to wed below her degree. However, she can say nothing even then about what he might have done with her fortune in the meantime. I think it is disgraceful that wardships can be bought, sold, and fought over like precious jewels while the poor ward is passed from nobleman to nobleman with no more say in the matter than a bolt of cloth. Father would never use me so.”

Before Alys could point out that any female who attempted to foretell what a male might do was asking for trouble, a familiar, albeit quite unexpected, masculine voice sounded behind her.

“Lady Alys?”

She turned sharply, and found herself face to face with Sir Nicholas Merion. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and when his gaze swept her like a caress, she called down blessings upon Lady Margaret’s seamstresses. Her gown of sable-trimmed, emerald-green velvet over an underdress of gaily embroidered white satin, fit her slender body like a second skin from her shoulders to her hips, where it flared gently to soft folds around her feet. Green-satin slippers peeped out when she lifted her skirt to walk, and her hair was concealed beneath a simple matching veil. She knew the costume became her, but she had not known it would please her so to see appreciation in his eyes.

She had not thought of him for nearly a day, nor had she expected to see him, for when Ian had last mentioned him, only days before, it was to say that he was in Shropshire and that Ian did not know when to expect his return. He was dressed as magnificently as any man present, in tawny velvet and blue brocaded satin. The hard muscles in his thighs flexed beneath his tight tan hose when he shifted his position, and feeling telltale warmth leap to her cheeks at the pleasure of seeing him, Alys hastily found her voice and introduced Madeline, whose gown of violet-colored damask Sir Nicholas did not appear to notice.

When he bowed over Madeline’s hand, Alys bent closer to him so that he would hear her over the noise of the crowd and said, “She has been my fellow prisoner, sir. I must tell you we were released from the Tower only today, for these festivities. ’Twas said the order to free us came from the Tudor, but ’tis my belief ’twas the command of the Lady Margaret, for she commands the very air we breathe here, does she not?”

Sir Nicholas straightened and glanced hastily around, muttering sternly, “Will you never learn to keep your tongue behind your teeth, you foolish wench? Should such words as those be repeated in the wrong quarter, you would find yourself right speedily back whence you came.” His deep voice carried easily to her ears, though she doubted anyone else could hear him.

Nothing daunted—in fact, rather pleased to have aroused him again—she replied sweetly, “I have no objection to returning to Wolveston, sir. Perhaps I shall even be so fortunate as to be accorded your escort for the journey.”

“Believe me, mistress, I did not mean Wolveston,” he retorted. “Nor would such a journey be pleasant, for I have no wish to spend more time as a lady’s maid or guardian.”

“Why, how unfair, sir, when ’twas not you but your squire and one of your Scottish mercenaries who did attend me.”

He fixed her with a basilisk eye and said with calm intent, “I approached you just now, mistress, because you appeared to be without escort, and now that the marshals have begun to seat everyone, I had thought to offer to accompany you to table. However, if you would prefer to look after yourself—”

“On no account would we prefer such a fate, Sir Nicholas,” Madeline interjected, laughing and sweeping her train up over her arm in a broad gesture that threatened to flatten a gentleman moving past her. Unaware of his peril, she added merrily, “Before Alys can be so absurd as to send you away, pray allow me to inform you that we were hustled from the Tower before we had dined and have not been offered a single bite since our arrival at Westminster. Therefore, since I at least am in danger of perishing from starvation, you may certainly take us to table.”

Sir Nicholas had not taken his eyes from Alys, and he continued to hold her gaze with his when he said gently, “Does my suggestion meet with your approval as well, my lady?”

Something in his expression stirred the imp that lurked beneath the surface of her well-practiced ladylike demeanor, and she said saucily, “A man who truly desired to escort us would have been more chivalrous in his approach. Such a man would have paid us compliments before he begged the honor of our company.”

“I’ll warrant he would,” he replied calmly, still looking directly into her eyes.

Her bosom swelled with indignation. “If you do not wish to escort us, Sir Nicholas—”

“I did not say so. On the contrary, I said—”

“Have mercy on a starving woman, the pair of you,” Madeline exclaimed. “I shall swoon from hunger right here on the spot if I am not instantly granted sustenance.”

With a glint of amusement lighting his eyes, Nicholas turned to her at last and said, “Forgive me, mistress. Will you take my arm?” Holding out his right forearm, he glanced at Alys again when Madeline had placed her hand upon it, and said dulcetly, “Do not get lost in the crowd, my lady. If you stay close behind us, ’tis possible you may yet get your supper.”

Rendered speechless, and sorely tempted to stay where she was just to teach him a lesson, Alys nevertheless had no desire to be left on her own in the increasingly boisterous throng. Snatching up her skirts, she hurried after them, repressing a compelling urge to grab hold of Madeline’s skirt. She did not want to lose them in the crowd before a marshal could find places for them at one of the long trestle tables.

The whole company was seated at last. Throughout the hours of feasting they were entertained by jesters, singers, players, and musicians, who performed in a clearing in the center. Alys enjoyed them all, but she was conscious the whole time of Sir Nicholas beside her, talking mostly to Madeline. He made no effort to engage Alys in conversation, although he made an occasional polite comment and checked from time to time to be certain she had what food she needed. The gentleman on her other side spoke to her often, and politely passed sauces when she required them, but the hours passed slowly. She was glad when at last it was time for the royal couple to depart.

When the king stood and extended a hand to his bride, Madeline, who had been conversing gaily throughout the evening both with Sir Nicholas and the gentleman at her other hand, said suddenly, “Are we all expected to follow them, do you suppose? At home, when we have a wedding, everyone crowds around the marriage bed to drink toasts, shout advice, and fling gloves at the bride and groom. The first man who hits the groom’s nose is said to be the next to marry, and the same is said for the first lady to hit the bride anywhere at all.”

Speaking across Sir Nicholas, Alys said tartly, “The same customs prevail in the north, Madeline, but one does not throw things at royal persons. ’Twould be unmannerly.”

“’Twould be treason,” Sir Nicholas said, grinning at one and then at the other. When they had risen to their feet with the rest of the company, he added, “The king has decreed that there shall be no unseemliness tonight. All men are to be barred from the bedchamber as soon as his bride arrives. She will be brought to him by her women—only the married ones, of course—and he will receive her in his shirt, with his gown wrapped around him. She, too, will wear a gown. Then the bishop and chaplains will enter to bless the royal marriage bed, after which every man but the king must leave the room. Harry has also decreed that there shall be no posset-drinking in the bedchamber.”

“Goodness,” Alys said. “I hope he will not be disappointed if his orders are not obeyed. Many of the men are ape-drunk already, and I have never heard of a wedding where there was not a great deal of drunken foolishness to be tolerated. If the men are barred from the bedchamber, surely they will dance and carry on in the gallery and pound on the door of the chamber.”

“All will be as the king commands,” Nicholas said calmly, raising his cup when everyone else did to drink a toast to the bride and groom.

“I suppose it will,” Alys replied with a sigh, setting down her cup. “Do you go with the king’s men to the chamber, sir?”

He nodded, looking at her a little more sharply. “’Tis part of my duty to see his orders obeyed. You look tired, my lady. When do you take up your duties with the princess?”

“We join her ladies in waiting on the morrow.”

He was silent for a long moment, gazing at her as though he would speak again, as though, she thought, he meant to warn her to behave herself. The thought irritated her, but when she stiffened defensively, intending to give as good as she got, he merely nodded again and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her with her emotions in a tangle. One moment she hated him, the next she was annoyed when he paid her no heed. She reminded herself that he was only a Welshman, a henchman of the enemy, but this time, the familiar phrases seemed to have no meaning.

Knowing that it would be unwise to remain with the revelers without a gentleman to protect them, she and Madeline retired soon afterward. They had each been assigned a tiny chamber on the ladies’ side of the palace, and they arrived first at Madeline’s, where Elva was waiting. Alys reluctantly bade her friend good night. Though she was glad that all the ladies in waiting did not sleep in a common room, as the girls at Drufield had done, she was not looking forward to the loneliness of a solitary bedchamber after weeks spent in Madeline’s company.

When Alys turned away, Madeline said, “Shall I send Elva to help you when she is finished with me?”

Looking back, Alys shook her head. “I have been assigned a chambermaid who will undress me. Elva can stay with you.” Suddenly she missed Jonet more than she had in months, and turned swiftly away again, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

The maidservant who awaited her in her own chamber, farther along the gallery, had taken the liberty of lighting a tallow candle and the little room was filled with the acrid odor, and full of shadows as well, for the candle cast but a dim glow, and was neither welcoming nor as comfortable as the rooms she had shared with Madeline in the Tower. Still, it was better than what she had had at Drufield, where the two other young women who fostered there and shared her bedchamber had made no secret of the fact that they disliked her as much as their mistress did.

When she entered, the maid scrambled up from the pallet on the floor where she had been sitting. “There be water for washing on the stand, m’lady,” she said in a hushed voice.

Alys scarcely had had time to note more than the girl’s plump figure and fair complexion earlier, for she and Madeline had dressed at the Tower and, upon their arrival at Westminster, had been shown to their bedchambers only long enough to note their location before being hustled down to the hall where the festivities had already begun. Alys had not even had a chance to learn the chambermaid’s name. She asked now.

“I be Molly, m’lady, Molly Hunter. I’m ter see t’ yer clothes and ter fetch and carry fer ye. They did say ye’d no servants o’ yer own. Ladies in waiting mostly have dunamany servants, ’n some even have ter send some away. ’Tis a pity ye’ve none, but I’ll do what I can fer ye.”

“Thank you, Molly. Will you sleep here?”

“Bless you, mistress, but I’ve me own pallet in the servants’ hall. I’ll be back here come mornin’, afore prayers.”

Alys nodded. She had mixed feelings about the arrangement. She did not really want the girl to stay, but neither did she want to be left alone. It was the first time she had ever had a bedchamber all to herself, although she knew it was no longer such an odd thing for a person to sleep alone, not so odd as it had been in her father’s youth, at all events.

Taking what comfort she could in knowing that Madeline was not far away, she allowed the maid to undress her and prepare her for bed, then dismissed her. Blowing out the lone candle was difficult, however, for it plunged the room into a blackness far beyond what she expected, and she realized then that the only window was high up in the wall and very small. With a sigh, she lay down, pulled her quilt up, I tucked her hand beneath her cheek, and let the tears come. Not long afterward, she slept.

Molly woke her early in the morning with a ewer of water for washing and an offer of ale and beef to break her fast. Alys assented gratefully, and when the maid had gone again, jumped out of bed, shivering when her bare feet touched the stone floor, and raced to splash water on her face and to wash her hands.

When Molly returned with a wooden trencher piled with beef and bread, and a mug of ale, she placed them on a low boxlike table she dragged away from the wall. Ladies in waiting were not provided with such luxuries as chairs, but there was a joint stool, and Alys, wrapped in a warm pink woolen robe, sat upon the stool to eat, watching while Molly searched through her things to find appropriate clothing for her.

Her belongings had been unpacked and placed in a large chest near the wall opposite the door. Molly first shook out an apple-green wool kirtle; then, placing that carefully on the narrow bed, she got out a darker green velvet gown trimmed with lynx. Both were garments Alys had had for some time, but their lines were simple, and the colors became her, so she made no objection to Molly’s choice, merely asking her to find a clean smock as well, since she had slept in hers and it was no longer fresh.