The Whispering Night (15 page)

Derica scowled. “That’s
not true.”

“Shhh,” Fergus snapped
softly. “Keep your voice down unless you want those two brutish brothers to
hear you.”

She lowered her head,
trying to make sure every identifiable mark was covered. Her blue gown,
unhemmed and long, trailed out from underneath the cloak.

“My gown,” she hissed.
“They’ll see it!”

Fergus could feel his
apprehension rise; he was close now and to fumble with her gown would be to
draw attention to them. Carefully, he set the cart down and pretended to adjust
his load of straw.

“Pull it up,” he
whispered. “If I touch you, it will look too obvious.”

Derica fumbled with the
gown as much as she could without being too noticeable about it. She was
feeling her panic but forced herself to calm, knowing that it would do no good
to fall apart. With a pull and a tug, she managed to toss a length of cloak
over the escaping pale blue. Fergus collected the handle of the cart, lifted,
and began to push again.

Derica lowered her head
and closed her eyes, saying a soft prayer. Gradually, she could hear Daniel’s
voice. She didn’t dare look over. Peering up from the edges of the hood, she
could see Dixon’s boots as they passed by. It was too close, and too nerve
wracking. Her palms were moist with anxiety.  But they went unnoticed through
the gates and down the road, and Derica lifted her head slightly to watch the
great open gates of Framlingham slip further and further away.  She felt, not
strangely, as if a part of her life was slipping further and further way, too.

“I think we are safe,”
Fergus broke into her thoughts. “I shall push the cart into those trees. My
horse is about a quarter of a mile into the woods.”

Derica was bumped around
as the cart rolled over the grass and into the trees. Fergus set it down and
she slid off.  Her eyes were on the silhouette of Framlingham, half-hidden
through the trees.  Fergus could see where her thoughts lay.

“’Tis difficult to leave
the only life one has ever known,” he said quietly.

She shrugged. “’Tis not
so much that,” she said. “I love and respect my father and brothers, but
sometimes, they cannot be reasoned with. This is one of those times. Although I
am not happy to disrespect their wishes, I feel very strongly that they are
wrong in this case. Garren is a good man with a good heart and to the Devil
with the politics of the king and his brother. I hate politics.”

“Politics are a fact of
life in this day and age, my lady.”

“That may be. But I do
not have to be a part of it. The only reason they will not allow Garren and I
to wed is because someone told them that he was a spy for William Marshall.
They will not tell me who; therefore, I say they are wrong. They are wrong to
destroy my happiness based on their prejudice.” She caught Fergus staring at
her when she had finished her little speech. “Why do you look at me so?”

“Because the peasants
were right; you are a spitfire.”

She made a face at him,
quickly gone. “Am I wrong?”

“I am not sure there is
any right or wrong in matters of the heart.”

After a moment longer,
Derica turned away from the only home she had ever known. She refused to dwell
on the regrets she might have; all that mattered was that soon, she would be
with Garren. Fergus had her by the elbow, helping her walk through the heavy
grass, when they suddenly heard the thunder of hooves.

Fergus immediately
pulled her down, as if they could hide behind the thin green stalks. His
hawkish gaze caught sight of a host of chargers at the gates of Framlingham and
they could hear shouting in the distance.  The men-at-arms were mobilizing. He
knew immediately what had happened.

“Run.”

He grabbed Derica’s arm
and pulled her along with him, the both of them flying through the trees and
into the bramble.

“They’ve discovered me!”
Derica gasped as they tore through the grass.

Fergus didn’t answer
her; he knew their luck had been too perfect. If they guarded the lady as much
as Garren had told him, then they had lived on God’s good graces for all of
this time they had not been discovered. He had taken the chance, quickly, and
now he wasn’t at all sure that had been wise. All he could think of was getting
to his horse and on to Yaxley Nene Abbey before they were stopped.

He prayed that God’s
good graces lasted just a bit longer.

***

“You are pacing is like
the roll of wagon wheels, Over and over again, never ending, never….”

“I get your meaning. I
shall sit if it will stop your complaining.”

Gabrielle suppressed a
smile, listening to her brother’s grumpy mood, and knowing he had a very good
reason for being anxious. She was simply trying to eliminate some of the
tension.

“You should have gone on
to Wales, as Fergus suggested,” she said, her hands feeling at the sewing in
her lap. In spite of her complete blindness, she sewed extremely well by
touch.  “To come back here, simply to wait, will drive you mad.”

Garren glanced over at
her; it was sunset, on the seventh day since he had left Framlingham.  He’d
left Fergus five days ago with the intention of riding to William Marshall to
inform him of the change in his mission. But a day into that journey, he had
turned back for the abbey; he wasn’t so sure the Marshall would allow him to
return for Derica. The man was driven and forceful, and Garren was his vassal.
Whatever the Marshall ordered, he was obliged to follow, and he could not risk
an order that took him far away from Yaxley and far away from Derica. So he had
decided to return to the abbey and wait for Fergus to bring her.  He wasn’t
sure how long that would take, but after four days of waiting, he was beginning
to show distinct signs of impatience.  All he wanted to do was hold a woman he
had never held before.

“I would say the nuns
have been quite accommodating to have me here,” he said. “They’ve not tried to
remove me once.”

Gabrielle grunted. “That
is because you sit with me and cause no problems. But they still force you to
sleep outside at night.”

“It is not been bad.”

Gabrielle fixed a couple
of stitches, running her fingers over her work as if she was playing a harp.
“Tell me again of this castle where you plan to take her, Garren. The place
where kings used to live.”

He settled back in the
old chair, crossing his massive arms. He was without his armor this day, as the
nuns refused to let him wear it, or bring any weapons, deep inside the abbey.
All of his protection was by the front door. He felt a bit naked without it,
but he also felt very free.

 It is called
Cilgarren,” he tilted his head back, closing his eyes wearily. “As I told you,
it was built for the princes of Dyfed. But the wife of the first prince died
and now the place is supposedly haunted. Fergus tells me that it has been
vacant for years.”

“Is it big?”

“I am told it is
massive.”

“Cilgarren,” Gabrielle
repeated softly. “So you intend to take her there?”

“I do,” he muttered. “Do
you know that I have never even kissed her?”

“Who?

“Derica.”

No matter how Gabrielle
had tried, for days, to speak of other things, the conversation always came
back to the lady.

 “’Tis well and good
that you haven’t,” she chided gently. “You are not married to her yet.”

“But we are betrothed.”

“Of no matter. You have
no rights to her until you are properly wed.”

Garren opened his eyes
and stood up. His pacing started anew. “My entire life, I have lived by the
sword and the code of Chivalry. I have been in the service of the most powerful
man in England and have done some things during that service that I am perhaps
not so proud of. But I have always been confident in my decisions. I can
truthfully say there is nothing I look back upon that I regret, knowing that I
made the right choice at that point in time.” He stopped pacing and looked at
his sightless sister. “But I cannot know for sure that what I do now is the
right thing. To love a woman so much, to be consumed with her to the point of
madness. I cannot know for certain that the choices I have made over the past
several days have been the right ones, with surely more choices to come. How do
I know that in a month or a year she will not come to hate me for taking her
away from her family and forcing her to marry me?”

“You cannot know,”
Gabrielle said quietly. “Be good to her, treat her well, and love her. That is
all you can do.”

Garren was having a
tough bout with indecision at the moment. His anxiety was getting the better of
him. He sat down again, next to his sister, and patted her hand.

“I am sure that I am
driving you mad with my incessant whimpering,” he said. “I thank you for your
patience and advice.”

Gabrielle smiled. “I
envy you. You have such a wonderful future ahead of you, with happiness and
children, married to a woman that you love. How many people in this world are
fortunate enough to experience that?”

“I feel extremely
humbled,” he admitted. “Never did I imagine my life would take the turn it is
apparently taking and my happiness would be complete but for one thing.”

“What?”

“I still must face the
Marshall with what I have done.”

Gabrielle didn’t say
anything for the moment. “Perhaps you should not,” she murmured. “Perhaps you
should simply take Derica to Wales and stay there for the rest of your lives.”

Garren smiled
ironically. “As much as I would like to, I cannot. I am a knight and I am sworn
to serve my king above all. I must confess all to the Marshall and pray I have
not caused over-much damage to Richard’s cause. There are other agents, of
course, other men who can infiltrate and uncover information, but the Marshall
had high hopes for my mission. I am, after all, the best he has.”

“But it wasn’t your
fault your mission failed. Someone told the de Rosas who you are.”

“I know. But I am making
somewhat of a mess of it by abducting the Bertram de Rosa’s daughter.”

Gabrielle shrugged; she
couldn’t disagree. “So you plan to continue working for the Marshall and
Richard’s cause even after you wed her?”

“Eventually, after the
de Rosa’s have cooled and I can safely travel England again without the threat
of them on my tail seeking vengeance.”

“What of your wife,
then?”

“What of her?”

“She doesn’t know that it
is true.”

“What’s true?”

“That you are an agent
for her father’s most hated enemy.”

Garren inhaled deeply,
regretfully. “I will have to tell her and pray she can forgive me.”

The conversation died
after that. Gabrielle was left to wonder what would happen to her brother if
his ladylove did not forgive him.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Derica had never been
out of the walls of Framlingham without her brother, father and uncles riding
close escort. On those occasions, which had been rare, she had looked at it as
something of a grand adventure.

But her harrowing ride
with Fergus de Edwin was no grand adventure. It had been terrifying. Fergus had
ridden north for the rest of the day to elude the search parties from
Framlingham; when nightfall came, he had dared not risk putting her up at an
inn and, instead, made camp in a small vale outside the village of Thetford. 
Although he tried to make it as comfortable as possible for her, it was
nonetheless cold and damp and he would not light a fire for fear that the
search parties might see the smoke.  Derica was cold and wet, wrapped in her
new gown and Fergus’ old peasant cloak, and tried not to let her misery show.

Fergus built a little
shelter for her to keep the damp off and she had slept fitfully. For warmth’s
sake, he lay close to give her some of his body heat and in the morning they
had made jokes about not telling Garren of their improper proximity. Derica was
kidding, but Fergus was mostly serious. He’d seen Garren in battle too many
times not to fear the man greatly, especially where a woman was concerned.

It was slow going once
they turned west for Yaxley. Fergus estimated it would take them at least three
days to reach the abbey.  They stayed to the untraveled roads and footpaths,
and Fergus slipped into a small town on the second day to buy bread and cheese
for the lady. So far, she hadn’t complained, but he knew she was cold and
hungry and uncomfortable. He felt very badly about it.

The second day blended into
the third and, even though their travel had been slower than he had estimated
due to the fact that they had swung far to the north, they had nonetheless made
good time.  The closer they drew to the abbey, however, the more relieved
Fergus was becoming. It was certainly no offense to the lady that he was eager
to drop her off and return to Longton; he simply didn’t like feeling of being
hunted.