Her Bastard Bridegroom Page 11

  “I am lately married,” she said loudly, bringing the conversation back to her rather than about her. “How can I help you Mr Wickers?”

  He cleared his throat. “Well it’s like this milady. Me old Mum she’s had a hard winter and her knees ain’t so good as they was, so she’s fallen behind on her rent.”

  “This hardly seems the time or the place, Wickers,” cut in Sir Chilton sounding annoyed.

  Linnet held up her hand. “That’s quite alright, Sir Chilton. Carry on Wickers.”

  He fidgeted, tugging at his neckerchief. “Well, she used to be the ale-wife up at the castle for nigh on twenty years,” he said belligerently. “Then last winter she had a fall and Lady Jevons told her not to bother coming back when she’d only be a hindrance to her staff!”

  Linnet paused, feeling strangely heartened that her aunt was the villain of this piece rather than it being put on her shoulders. “That seems very unfair after so many year’s service,” she said gravely.

  “S’what we all said!” agreed Wickers roundly. “But that Lady Jevons was a right old bitch, begging your pardon milady.“

  Enid gave a strangled cough and Sir Chilton slammed his cup down.

  “I – er – I’m afraid she was not the most sympathetic of characters,” Linnet agreed hurriedly.

  She took a sip of her ale and was surprised to find it very pleasant. “Did your mother teach you to brew ale?” she asked shrewdly.

  “Taught me and the wife,” he said nodding his head.

  Linnet made a hasty decision. “Well your ale is certainly far nicer than what we have up at the castle now," she said thinking of the bitter ale she had tried. "I shall visit with your mother, Wickers.” She gave him a nod. “And see what we can do about restoring her to her former position with the castle staff. Perhaps in an advisory capacity if her knees aren't up to the stairs. I am sure we can sort the issues out with her tenancy.”

  Johnny Wickers blinked at her. He looked back at Cuthbert quizzically. Cuthbert gazed back at him. “Right you are, milady,” he said finally. “If you’ll pardon the liberty.”

  Sir Chilton snorted. “Fetch us another jug of ale, while you’re about it,” he said. “And look lively, man.” When Wickers bowed his way out of the room he turned back to Linnet with a rueful expression on his face. “You didn’t ought to make promises like that, Lady Vawdrey,” he said clicking his tongue. “Promises you can’t keep!”

  “Why can’t I keep them?” asked Linnet, lowering her ale cup with a frown.

  “Your husband will no doubt overrule any such emotional decision you make about your tenants.”

  “I don’t see why. And I’m not being emotional,” responded Linnet. “Mason himself has told me that the Jevonses were levying exorbitant tithes. He is setting about putting things to rights as we speak.”

  “Is he, by all that’s holy?” asked Sir Chilton, quirking an eyebrow at her. He drained his cup and then wiped the droplets from his moustache. “I must say, you paint a vastly differing picture of him than the one commonly held,” he observed wryly.

  “Chilton!” cut in Enid sharply. She turned to Linnet. “You must excuse my brother-in-law. Ale vastly loosens his tongue.”

  Linnet paused and looked across at Cuthbert whose look of curiosity no doubt mirrored her own. “What do you know of my husband’s reputation?” she asked Chilton slowly.

  He shot a slightly panicked look across the table at Enid. “Oh, er, well as to that…”

  “He knows naught,” cut in Enid smoothly. “Save for that spoken by ignorant and loose tongues at King Wymer’s court.”

  “They call him Wymer’s most savage hound,” said Sir Chilton holding up one finger for attention. “Tis said the king looses him only on his worst enemies in battle.”

  Cuthbert made a choked sound, but when Linnet turned to him, his face was enthralled. “Is my master cunning in battle?” he asked, leaning forward in his seat.

  “Cunning like a fox and just as ruthless. ‘Tis said he broke the siege at Demoyne in just three days and made a terrible example of the traitor lords who had holed up therein.”

  “What example?” breathed Cuthbert.

  Sir Chilton drew his finger across his throat and Linnet bounced up in her seat. “That is quite enough, Sir Chilton,” she said firmly. When Cuthbert protested she added with dignity: “If Sir Mason chooses to share those tales with us we should hear them directly from him. Not from someone who wasn’t even there.”

  Sir Chilton laughed as Enid apologized for her brother-in-law’s gossiping tongue. “It seems the Hound of Demoyne has met his match in one just as fierce,” he said with a wink and Linnet found it impossible to remain cross with him.

  It was getting on for three o’clock 'ere they returned home. Gertrude came hurrying toward them once they had alighted from the Jauncey’s litter, made their farewells and were crossing the courtyard.

  “Why you’ve been ever so much longer than we thought you would, milady,” she huffed. “We started to get fair worried when nuncheon came and passed without you.”

  “We had pasties in the Bear & Staff,” piped up Cuthbert. “So you needn’t have worried we would go hungry.”

  Gertrude let out a yelp. “Not that nasty rough place, milady!” She almost tripped on her own feet.

  “Oh but we had a private room,” Linnet hurried to reassure her. “And a gentleman escort in Sir Chilton so all was well.”

  “Well I never,” her maidservant gasped with a sidelong at Linnet. “And you so gently reared!”

  “There were no fights today Gertie,” Cuthbert chimed in. He turned back to Linnet. “Last time I saw Jem Lemmings get a broken pate,” he said with satisfaction. “And a woman with her chests out threw a jug of ale on him after.”

  Linnet blinked. “Her chests out?” she echoed faintly.

  Gertie huffed, her cheeks glowing. “A pretty pickle! Just wait till his lordship hears about this! He won’t be best pleased, I’ll warrant.”

  Linnet drew in a deep breath as she started to unfasten her cloak. “Well, he won’t be hearing about it from you Gertie,” she said firmly. “I shall of course, keep my own husband informed of my day.” She passed her cloak to her surprised looking maid and made her way through to the solar. She had liked going into town today and she had enjoyed both Enid and Chilton’s company. While it was true that The Bear & Staff had been rather rough around the edges, she had enjoyed spreading her wings and saw no reason to curtail her new social life. While her husband might hold some sway on her activities, her servants certainly did not and she needed to make sure it stayed that way.

  She turned her head at a tentative tap on the door and found Nan had bought them a tray of fruit and drinks which she set down with a curtsey. “Nan,” she said before the maid had a chance to melt away. “Could you send for one of the groomsmen to come up to the castle tomorrow morning please? I should like to speak to someone about arranging some riding lessons for myself.”

  The maid stared. “Yes milady,” she blurted and then darted from the room, no doubt to announce this latest development below stairs to the agog kitchen staff.

  “Can you ride Cuthbert?” she asked as her page poured her cordial and plucked some grapes for her plate.

  “Nay milady. Perhaps if his lordship takes me on as a squire one day…?” he said hopefully.

  “We shall take lessons together,” she said decidedly.

  “Truly?” he gasped .

  “Certainly. What good is it for me to be able to ride hither and thither if I cannot do so in my page’s company?”

  A look of dreamy bliss crossed over Cuthbert’s face and he tottered over to her with her plate and cup.

  “Mr Hatton promised I should have my boots by the end of the week so we shall let the stables know our lessons will start then.”

  “Yes milady,” he agreed with alacrity. “And shall I have my own horse?”

  “Eventually I am sure we will both need our own horses,” she agr
eed, dragging out her bag of inks and paper.

  Cuthbert threw a few more logs on the fire and then stretched out before it, his hands behind his head. He knew his mistress would require little whilst tied up with manuscripts and often took the opportunity to take a little nap.

  Perhaps it wasn’t entirely surprising, but after her eventful morning out, Linnet found it difficult to settle to her illustration. It was a task that used to occupy her wholly but today, she felt restless and displeased with her depiction of the hero. She wondered if he would look better with longer, darker hair that curled into his neck? And perhaps a more muscular physique? It wasn’t just that though, she thought sighing as she added pen-strokes to the page. Today, even the hero’s actions in the story struck her as somehow ‘off’. Before, Sir Maurency’s chivalry had struck her as entirely laudable. Now she sneakily suspected him of lacking in spirit. She found herself wondering if she could perhaps beef up the story a little, without betraying the source material? She felt a thrill of daring at the thought. Her father would have been horrified at the very idea of tampering with the text. But Linnet had heard that sometimes monks and scribes added local flavor to legends and ‘embellished’ the tale. She hesitated a moment, before putting her pen to the parchment.

  Before she even knew what she’d done, worthy Sir Maurency had ended up in a tavern brawl in which he’d broken a pitcher of ale over some villain’s head and bloodied the nose of another. Linnet stared down at the page in mingled pride and horror. In the original tale, he’d inspired the patrons with his modest and saintly bearing to mend their ways. In this version, he had he’d brawled with the best of them and left the villains nursing their wounds as he carried on his merry way. Her illustration showed an inn floor strewn with broken benches and smashed tables. In the border she drew a cracked jug and an overturned tankard. The dismayed looking landlord looked a bit like Johnny Wickers she realized, biting her lip. And Sir Maurency now seemed to bear more than a passing resemblance to Mason. She rested her chin in her hand and considered him a moment. So ruggedly handsome. What a shame that she couldn’t draw herself as one of the comely tavern wenches! Linnet sighed. But that would never work! She simply didn’t have the abundant charms necessary for a tavern wench. Even with her sheltered upbringing she knew that much! Instead she drew an apple-cheeked and voluptuous figured female with a low cut dress and curling tresses. Then she rebelled and gave her face a smattering of freckles. Linnet glanced down at her own modest neckline and pulled a face. She wondered if Mother Ames could do anything about her meagre bosom. She’d have to ask her. Then she remembered that although she had been climbing the tower steps daily, she had not yet followed her instructions about the amethyst sweat. That would never do. She vowed to remedy that on the morrow.

  XII

  When Mason returned that evening he found their private rooms empty. It had been a long day traversing his new estates and listening to the grievances of his tenants. No doubt they had cause with the inflated taxes Sir Jevons had levied on them, but it had been trying to have to listen to it. Though none had dared voice it, ‘twas plain they blamed the crotchety, unreasonable invalid that owned the castle they owed their fealty to and their eyes had been curious when they heard he had married the supposed termagant. There had been a few murmured ‘wish you joy’s but Mason had been under no illusion that they expected the union to be a happy one. The most they could hope for was that he would rein in the alleged greed of his spouse. He promised an immediate review of the tithes owed to the castle and spoke of new relations being forged between landlord and tenants until he thought their gazes turned a bit more cautiously optimistic.

  “God’s truth Mason,” his brother had said, shaking his head as they left the last farm of the day. “But these people think Linnet a monster.”

  It strangely bothered him considering his usual scorn for the opinion of others and as he washed for dinner and he found himself wondering where his wife was. He vaguely remembered some proposed outing with the daughter in law of one of their neighbors and frowned. He supposed he really ought to meet the people. It was all very well finding occupations to keep his new wife from bothering him, but he knew nothing of these Jaunceys. They could be totally disreputable for all he knew and Linnet was too naive to be any kind of judge of character. Otherwise he thought grimly, she would never have married him. It turned out there were more responsibilities to taking a wife than he'd anticipated. He was irritated to have to go looking for her though. After being out on the estate all day you would think she would have come running on his return! Pulling on his dark tunic, he buttoned his cuffs and started off down the corridor in search of her. As it happened, he found her without too much exertion, hunched over a table in the sitting room she seemed to favor in with a look of fierce concentration on her face. Her page was curled around a velvet cushion and snoring his little blonde head off. Linnet started guiltily when he entered the room, her eyes flying to the window.

  "I hadn't realized the time," she cried, jumping up and hurrying to his side. To his surprise she embraced him warmly. He suffered this and returned it with an awkward pat on her back.

  "Wife," he muttered, clearing his throat. "What's all this?" he said gesturing toward the inks and sheets of parchment spread out on the table.

  "Oh, tis nothing!" she said hurrying back to the table to sweep it into a cloth bag. "Just my scribblings. Nothing to signify." Apparently some of the pages were still wet as she had to leave one page out to dry. He walked to the table edge and angled his head to look at the illuminated page. The writing was fancy like that of a monk and intricate leaf and floral borders decorated it. The main drawing though was of a knight in black armor, kneeling as though making a solemn vow. His eyebrows rose and he glanced at Linnet to find her face fiery red with embarrassment. "It is naught but an exercise my father set me many years ago, to illuminate the Tales of Sir Maurency of Jorde."

  "I've never heard of them," he replied shortly.

  "Never heard of them?" she echoed in surprise. "Oh but... I thought... my father said they were much celebrated tales of great fame."

  "Likely they are," he admitted with a shrug. "But I never spent much time in a school-room."

  Linnet's eyes grew wide.

  "I can read," he forestalled her. "I just haven't overmuch."

  "Except on manuals of strategy and warfare," put in his brother who had appeared at the doorway.

  "Oswald!"

  He smiled at Linnet's greeting. "Mason eats them up like you wouldn't believe."

  "I need to swap them for books on agriculture and estate management," Mason said glowering at his brother. For some reason he didn't want Linnet thinking he was overly blood-thirsty.

  "Mayhap you should supplement the instructional reading with some lighter material, brother?" Oswald suggested. "Such as Sir Maurency's tales of chivalry and romance." Mason had opened his mouth to firmly refuse the offer, when his brother turned to Linnet. "If Mason is not so inclined, I would myself be very keen to read your illustrated manuscript Linnet."

  Linnet turned even pinker if possible. "Oh, but...." She stared at her feet. "No-one except my father ever read them..." she admitted timidly. "My handiwork doesn't really do justice to the subject matter..."

  “I’ll read it,” cut in Mason swiftly, shooting a glare at his brother. “Put the completed pages by my bedside and I will study them at my leisure.”

  “Very well,” nodded Linnet. “But only if you find yourself so inclined.”

  Mason opened his mouth to reply but Cuthbert's gentle snoring suddenly broke off and he sat up wiping his eyes. "I never done it!" he objected spiritedly. Then he blinked and looked around. "Oh," he said calmly. "Just a dream."

  Little villain had a guilty conscience thought Mason grimly.

  "Sleeping on the job, little man," joked Oswald ruffling his hair.

  "Cuthbert and I have had a very busy day," said Linnet proudly. "I visited my first shoe-maker's establishment, commission
ed a tailor for the first time..."

  "And went in an inn, don't forget," interjected Cuthbert helpfully.

  Linnet's fixed smile wavered a little. "And visited my first inn," she agreed hurriedly.

  "A day of firsts," chimed in Oswald agreeably though he looked a bit shocked.

  "An inn?" Mason said heavily.

  "Shall we all make our way toward the Great Hall?" suggested Linnet breathlessly. "I think it must be supper time indeed."

  "Which inn?" he asked quietly.

  "Um, I believe 'twas called The Bear."

  "The Bear and Staff," Cuthbert corrected her.

  "Just a small place in town," she said twisting her hands in her skirts.

  "Why 'tis the biggest inn in Upper Derring," protested Cuthbert.

  Mason felt the strangest flicker of anger and alarm. "What possessed you to go to an inn, Linnet?" he asked sharply. "Two unprotected females."

  "Oh but..." she gulped. "Well, you will scarcely believe it but Enid's brother-in-law was kind enough to offer to join us and so we weren't unaccompanied at all you see."

  "And I was there," pointed out Cuthbert. "And Sir Chilton's man, Lawton."

  Mason's eyes narrowed. "Sir Chilton?" Now the alarm was fading but the anger was definitely smoldering to a flame. "He accompanied you today?"

  Oswald cleared his throat warningly and Mason glanced up to find two servants stood agog in the doorway.

  "Supper awaits you in the Hall, milords, milady," the stouter one announced hurriedly and they bowed and backed out of the room with obvious reluctance.

  Mason drew in a breath and then extended his arm to Linnet. "We will continue this at supper," he said coolly. She took his arm, her eyes wary. "I did not realize Sir Chilton would be with us until they arrived in the carriage," she told him in a low urgent voice as they walked along the corridor. He could hear Oswald and Cuthbert's steps behind them but did not bother to moderate his tone.

  "But you suspected I would not be pleased," he pointed out coldly.