Wages of Sin (15 page)

‘And I've got just the salve for her,' he leered, heading towards the door. ‘One dose and she'll be on her feet again - or on her back!'

‘A fine performance,' said Sir Edmund, chuckling, as he stepped aside to let Oswald pass. ‘A pity we cannot see the next act.'

‘Wh-what do you want?' stammered Jane, flushing guiltily as she realised he must have watched the entire sorry episode.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘What do I want?' he asked in mock hurt. ‘Have you forgotten so soon, my lady? We have a bargain.' He gestured towards the door, through which Oswald had just carried Mother Ursula. ‘And that little scene puts me in the notion to begin collecting on it.' He ran his one good eye over her, gleaming lustfully. ‘I have been neglectful, my sweet,' he purred. ‘But my affairs are almost settled. There is time now for a little dalliance.

‘I shall attend upon you tonight, mistress,' he said, with a mocking bow. ‘And I trust I shall find you waiting - ready and eager.' Turning, he sauntered off, leaving Jane staring fearfully after him.

His words had been a threat rather than a promise - and why should witnessing Mother Ursula's beating seem to excite him so? An icy finger touched her spine. Perhaps her ‘bargain' would prove harder than she'd thought.

 

 

 

Once Sir Edmund had gone Jane turned away, fear gnawing at her stomach. The mirror caught her eye and she stared at her reflection, seeing only a terrified face. She smiled ruefully, a smile that was nearer a grimace. Hardly the vision of a girl awaiting her lover, was it? A thought struck her of a sudden, and she brightened. She might not be able to put off Sir Edmund's attentions indefinitely, but perhaps she could postpone them a little?

She looked wistfully at the dark green velvet gown already laid out on the bed. Green became her, intensifying the colour of her eyes and showing her auburn hair off to its best - and the snug fit of the gown would emphasise her tiny waist and high breasts to perfection. Still, her intention was to repel, not to attract. Sighing regretfully, she carefully folded and laid it aside.

Raking through the chest, she dug out a gown she had relegated to the bottom as never to be worn. Shuddering, she held it up. It was truly hideous. Who knew what had possessed its previous owner to choose such an unprepossessing colour - unless it was to conceal the dirt. Made of coarsely woven linen it was the same yellowish-brown as a diseased turd. Even a roll in the farmyard would be more likely to improve than detract from its appearance. As a final delightful touch, the cloth beneath the armpits was stained in wide circles with old sweat.

She sniffed cautiously. Thank goodness the dress was so old that the odour had dissipated long since - though perhaps it might have been better had it not. Surely Sir Edmund would be less keen to touch her if she stank like a polecat?

Slipping the gown over her head, she regarded her reflection with satisfaction. She had never looked uglier in her life. The colour drained her complexion, making her appear sick of the jaundice - and the gown only fitted where it touched. In fact, it was so big that it concealed every curve and made her look positively scrawny.

Seizing her hair she drew it back from her forehead and twisted it into a bun, so tight that her eyebrows were pulled up, giving her a look of pained disapproval. She regarded the apparition in the mirror. God's teeth! She had seen better-dressed creatures set in the fields to scare crows! Her eyes sparkled and a dimple appeared beside her mouth. She could not wait to see whether Sir Edmund was so eager to bed her now. With a final mischievous glance in the mirror she swept out of the room to go and break her fast.

The word ‘swept' was highly appropriate. The gown was so long that it trailed after her, the hem becoming grubbier with every step. Jane tossed her head, caring not a jot. A few more tasteful stains would simply add to the effect. Pausing dramatically at the door of the great hall, she made her grand entrance. Sir Edmund's eyes ran over her without recognition and, for a few moments he continued his conversation with Oswald between mouthfuls of bread and cheese. Then his gaze swung back, and he almost choked.

‘God's blood, girl!' he spluttered as Oswald pounded his back. He stared at her in horrified disbelief. ‘What have you done to yourself? I've seen better looking corpses dragged out of the Thames!'

Jane suppressed a gleeful smile at the success of her ruse. She stared at him with wide-eyed innocence and dropped into a deep curtsy, her gown pooling round her feet like a puddle of bile. ‘I am sorry, my lord,' she said demurely. ‘Do I not please you?'

For a moment he stared, his good eye narrowed to a slit, then he flung his head back and roared with laughter. ‘I see your little ploy, my lady. Well, it won't work.' He gripped her chin and pushed his face into hers so that she felt his breath hot against her cheeks. ‘Did you really think I would be put off by a shabby gown?' His expression became wolfish. ‘You forget I have already seen the sweet body that lies beneath - and a treasure is worth more for a little digging.'

His mouth came down on hers, his tongue pushing its way between her reluctant lips. For a long moment he held her immovable, savouring her sweetness, then he thrust her away so violently that she staggered and almost fell. She stared at him, panting with a mixture of excitement and fear.

‘A little something on account,' he sneered. ‘I shall collect more of your debt tonight. Come, Oswald,' he ordered, and strode off without a backward glance.

She stared after him, rubbing at the white marks his cruel fingers had left on the soft skin of her face. He was like one of the great cats she'd seen at the Tower when she was small: bejewelled and chained - but with the threat of violence and death barely concealed beneath the tawny hide. She shivered. Why did she have the horrible suspicion that he would make her pay for her feeble attempt to deceive him?

Her appetite had shrivelled at the encounter and she sat alone at the high table, her nervous fingers reducing the soft white bread to crumbs, the small beer sour in her throat - and made the sourer by her grudging attendant. Mother Ursula, her cheek marred by a bruise about her left eye, waited on her silently, only her eyes revealing her true feelings. They glinted in her white face with hatred and resentment and she looked at Jane with the expression of a whipped cur who longs to bite, yet fears the consequences.

‘Will there be anything else, my lady?' she muttered through gritted teeth. ‘More beer, perhaps?'

The thought of poison laid an icy finger on Jane's spine and she pushed her tankard away. The woman would dose her with some deadly brew as soon as look at her. Aye, and stand smiling as she writhed away her last breath. She shook herself. She was jumping at shadows. ‘No, thank you,' she replied coldly. ‘You may clear away.'

Leaving Ursula to go about her menial job, she wandered from pillar to post, seeking something to distract her weary thoughts. There was nothing. Everyone had their allotted tasks, from sweeping the courtyard to washing the linen. At her approach they redoubled their efforts and she smiled wryly. It was the servants' creed in halls and mansions all over the land: ‘here comes the mistress. Look busy!'

The smile vanished as quickly as it had come. She was mistress of the castle - and tonight she would become Sir Edmund's mistress in the bedchamber, too. It was not a prospect she was looking forward to.

Her aimless footsteps led her to the kitchen. The usual clattering and chatter masked her entrance and for a moment she stood unobserved. Martha's bowman was comfortably ensconced with his feet under the table and the remains of a handsome meal in front of him. As she watched he washed down his last mouthful, leaned back and rubbed his belly with satisfaction. ‘A fine meal,' he grinned, giving Martha's buttocks a hearty slap. One eye closed in a wink. ‘And a fine woman into the bargain. What more could a man ask?'

Martha fluttered her eyelashes at the compliment, like a village maiden at her first May dance. ‘Get away with you, Gareth Jones,' she chuckled, her formidable bosom wobbling with amusement. ‘You archers are all the same. I'll bet you says that to all the girls.' Still simpering, she hit him a friendly buffet that almost knocked him off his seat.

A pang of envy ran through Jane. Neither Martha or her swain were good-looking - or in the first flush of youth for that matter - but she would lay her last farthing that there would be more wholesome jollity between
their
coarse sheets than between her own silken ones. She sighed as she remembered Ralph, who'd never had the chance to share her bed - and Robin, who'd taken her gently, with only the green sward for a pillow. Damn the woman, but Ursula was right. Gild it how you would, she was nothing but a whore. How had she come to such a pretty pass as this?

She must have made some tiny movement, because Martha looked up, startled, and hurried towards her, her face becoming anxious. ‘What ails thee, mistress?' she asked, taking in Jane's pale cheeks. Deference quickly evaporated, replaced by concern. ‘God's teeth, girl, you're as white in the face as a baker's cuddy! Get your backside on that seat before you fall down.' She tugged Jane towards the settle that had been hastily vacated by her wooer, who now stood, clutching his hat uneasily between two large hands. Martha glared at him. ‘What are you standing there for, you great sumph?' she demanded, shooing him away like a horsefly. ‘Haven't you any work to do? Get about your business and leave me to mine.'

He stood, grinning like an idiot beneath her scolding, before ambling off.

Turning back to Jane, Martha regarded her, hands on hips. ‘Now then, my girl. Let's get something inside you. There's hardly enough meat on you for a sparrow. Here!' A chunk of roast meat, still dripping with juices, was thrust into one hand and a goblet of mulled wine into the other. Comfortingly reminded of old Alice, Jane did as she was told.

She was halfway through her impromptu meal when the kitchen door burst open. A dusty young man stood on the threshold, his clothes showing the evidence of a night's hard riding. Scanning the room, his gaze settled on Jane; he hurried forward and made a sketchy bow.

‘Your pardon, my lady,' he said, ‘but I bring grave news. Where is the master? His uncle lies at death's door, struck down by the sweating sickness. I have orders to bring him at once.'

Jane stared at him, hope bubbling up inside her. She had been reprieved! God must have heard her prayers! But remorse struck her immediately. How could she be grateful that a man lay dying? And yet...

‘The last I saw of him he was in the stables,' she said. ‘If you hurry you will catch him before he rides out.'

With another brief bow the young man hurried out. Jane stared after him, then smiled with guilty relief. With Sir Edmund safely out of the way she could forget her fears for just a little longer.

‘See!' exclaimed Martha with satisfaction, taking in the fresh colour in Jane's cheeks and her renewed appetite. ‘That's all you needed. A bit of decent food in your belly.' She folded her arms. ‘And I was right, wasn't I?'

‘Yes, Martha, and I thank you for your kindness,' said Jane, demurely knowing she could never explain the real reason for her sudden happiness.

Beaming with pleasure at her own cleverness and the vindication of her good food, Martha patted Jane's hand and bustled off to order the kitchen staff about with renewed vigour. Jane laughed at the sound of a brisk slap and Martha's scolding voice echoing in her ears as she left the kitchens.

When she reached the courtyard Sir Edmund was already saddled and mounted, his face black with suppressed anger. Jane bobbed a curtsy and smiled up at him. ‘My condolences upon your ill news, my lord. I wish you a safe and speedy journey.' And a slow and tedious return, she added mentally.

He wheeled his horse round and glared down at her. ‘God rot my uncle. He picked a damned inconvenient time to go about his dying. But do not think you have escaped, madam,' he warned, his good eye glittering menacingly. ‘This merely delays my pleasures. My time will come soon enough - and appetite grows with denial.' He hauled on the reins, dug his heels into his horse's sides, and clattered out of the courtyard with Oswald close behind.

Jane watched until the two figures disappeared over the horizon, then turned away, offering up a quick prayer that his unfortunate uncle would postpone his departure from this world - and delay Sir Edmund's inheritance - for as long as possible.

It was as if Sir Edmund had taken a huge black cloud with him. For the first time since she had clattered beneath the forbidding portcullis on the back of his horse, she felt totally unafraid. It might only be a brief reprieve, but she intended to make the most of it.

With a spring in her step she returned to her chamber, pulled off the horrible dun gown and dropped it in a heap on the floor.

Dressed in the becoming green velvet she tugged her hair out of the tight bun and tossed her head, her auburn curls tumbling about her face. She smiled wickedly at the reflection of the bright-eyed girl who dimpled back, almost unable to believe the transformation in her appearance. She pulled a face of mock sympathy. What a shame Sir Edmund wasn't here to appreciate it.