Archangel (37 page)

Settling back against Gart as they rode through the night, Emberley’s apprehension did not abate.  As the lights of Bellham Place came into view, the anxiety only grew worse.

***

Lady Emilie de Lohr was as sweet as she could be.  She wholly embraced Emberley upon her arrive to Bellham and immediately whisked the lady and her son to a chamber where they could bathe and rest. 

The warmth and charm of Bellham welcomed the weary woman and her equally exhausted child, and Emberley was introduced to the Earl of Hereford.  David greeted her fondly and she responded in kind, remembering the baron from his visit to Dunster.

After the introductions were finished and Lady Emilie appeared, Emberley panicked when she realized that she would be separated from Gart, but Gart had gently assured her that he would not be far if she needed him.  As Gart went with David and Christopher behind closed doors, Emberley and Romney followed Emilie up the stairs.

Bellham was a truly luxurious place with big, spacious rooms and comfortable beds.  With Romney in the next room being tended to by a pair of servants, Emilie tended Emberley personally.  She helped the lady strip off her bloodied, dirty clothes and climb into a massive copper tub of steaming water. 

With the help of a few young maid servants, Emilie proceeded to wash Emberley from head to toe, using valuable and expensive products on her hair and skin. The heady scent of lilac filled the room as Emberley relaxed in the tub, scrubbed and soaped and scraped. She felt better than she had in days, listening to Romney in the next room as he argued with the old female servant about not wanting to get out of the tub. But along with her son’s voice, she could hear others.

The chamber they were in was directly above the solar and through the floor she could hear raised male voices.   Mostly, she could hear David’s voice as if responding to something he didn’t much like.

Emberley had been relaxed against the back of the tub but as the voices grew louder, she sat forward in the cooling water, listening to the arguing with increasing trepidation. Someone even said something about arresting Gart – she heard it clearly.  Even Emilie, inspecting some of her garments to loan to Lady Emberley, could hear the raised voices and the threats of discipline.  She glanced uneasily at Emberley and their eyes met.

“It seems to be a lively discussion,” she smiled weakly at Emberley.

Emberley listened as they threw more threats around, hearing Julian’s name mentioned more than once.

“They are angry with Gart,” she said softly. “They want to punish him.”

“Nay,” Emilie shook her head. “They would not dare.”

But Emberley wasn’t convinced. “They are angry that he rescued me.”

Emilie wasn’t sure what to say to that so she said nothing. Instead, she busied herself and pulled forth a soft lamb’s wool sheath and a soft, billowy sleeping robe in shades of yellow. Emberley was taller than she was, rounder of the breasts and bum, and only Emilie’s most flowing garments would fit the lady.  She also set aside a pair of surcoats that were too big for her but would fit Emberley well.  One was a mustard yellow linen and the other was a dashing scarlet, both well made pieces. Satisfied, Emilie went to the tub to collect the huge piece of drying linen that had been laid before the hearth to warm.

She held up the linen. “Would you like to dry off now?”

The water was rather cool. Still listening to the shouting below, Emberley climbed out of the tub and Emilie wrapped her up in the enormous towel.  Emberley moved to the hearth to warm up and dry off as Emilie collected a phial of lilac scented oil. But as Emberley stood there, drying her tender skin and listening to the raised voices on the floor below, her apprehension bloomed.

The voices were growing angrier.  After the harrowing flight of the past few days, compounded by the early pregnancy, Emberley’s emotions weren’t as strong as they normally were. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing Gart to punishment. It was too much to take and she suddenly broke down into great heaving sobs.

“Gart,” she was sobbing so hard that Emilie could hardly understand her. “Please… I want Gart. Do… do not let them send him away.”

Concerned, Emilie went to the woman to comfort her but Emberley collapsed on the floor in a fit of panic and tears.  She was sobbing loudly and Emilie knelt down, hugging her gently.

“He is only downstairs, my lady,” she said soothingly. “He will not leave this house, I swear it. He will….”

“Please,” Emberley grabbed one of Emilie’s hands and squeezed hard. “Please… I want Gart.
Please
.”

Stricken with sorrow and sympathy, Emilie clutched Emberley’s hand. “I will bring him to you,” she assured her softly. “Please do not cry. I will bring him right away.”

Emberley was far gone with tears and panic.  As Emilie fled the room, she could hear the angry male voices even from the staircase, descending to the dark first floor and heading towards the solar.  The voices grew louder, mostly David’s and Christopher’s, and she knocked loudly on the heavy chamber door.  The voices instantly quieted and, after a long moment, the door creaked opened and David’s face appeared. 

He was not pleased as he focused on his wife. “What is it?”

Emilie was not pleased in return at his gruff greeting.  She gave a shove, pushing the door open, something out of character for the normally docile woman.  Her frowning gaze was on her husband.

“I hope you are satisfied,” she said in a low tone. “Your shouting, angry voices have been heard all over the house and have greatly upset Lady Emberley.”

David sighed heavily, running a hand through his blond hair. “We did not….”

Emilie cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand, something under normal circumstances she would have never done. But her dander was up and she was bolder than usual.  Her eyes found Gart, standing over near the lancet windows.  She waved him towards the door.

“Gart,” she said softly, firmly. “Go upstairs to Lady Emberley. She is hysterical and has asked for you.”

With a look of great concern, Gart pushed himself off the wall and walked towards Emilie. “Is she all right?”

Emilie waved him through the door. “She is exhausted and upset. Go and comfort her.” As Gart passed a questioning glance at David, Emilie put up a hand as if to block their view of one another. “Enough of this  - Gart, do as I say and go to your lady.  David, you and Christopher will continue this conversation at another time when you will not upset the entire house and hold. You are loud and rude with your shouting and I will no longer stand for it. You have upset everyone, including me.”

It was as much as a stand as Emilie had ever taken.  Surprised, David looked at his normally sedate wife before casting his brother a shocked glance.  In no mood to tangle with his lovely bride, David put up his hands in surrender.

“As you say, sweetling,” he backed down. “I am sorry if we upset you, I truly am.”

Christopher, too, was rather shocked at Emilie’s demanding behavior. He would have expected it from his own wife, a spitfire of a beauty he was madly in love with, but Emilie had always been exceedingly submissive and sweet. She was as passive as a woman could be.  Realizing they must have indeed been overbearing and loud, he, too, supplicated.

“I am sorry, Emilie,” he said softly. “We did not mean to upset everyone.”

Emilie was righteously upset, her brow furrowed at both her husband and brother-in-law.  She pointed a finger at Christopher.

“She heard you,” she told him. “She heard you speaking of arresting Gart. How could you say such a thing?”

Christopher sighed heavily, looking at his brother for assistance.  David should be the one to deal with his angry wife because he was better suited for it. Christopher was more geared towards his own wife, a woman who would take a swing at him if she was so inclined.  David saw his brother’s imploring expression and took the hint.

“He is not going to arrest Gart,” he assured her. “Chris simply does not know the situation as you and I do. He does not know what Gart has been through with the lady. I was attempting to explain it to him.”

Emilie looked at her brother-in-law. “With all of the yelling you have been doing, have you bothered to stop and listen to what David and Gart have been trying to tell you?” she asked. “Gart is in love with a woman whose husband has beaten her mercilessly since they were married.  You know Gart Forbes and you know what kind of man he is. He is strong and virtuous, not given to whims of passion.  I have known him for four years and I have never caught wind of the man paying inappropriate attention to a woman. He is not the kind.  He is trying to save that woman from hell and all you can do is speak of punishing him because of it. What kind of man are you that you would say such a thing?”

Christopher quickly found himself on the defensive. He held up a calming hand to his lovely sister-in-law. “Emilie, I am not trying to be cruel, but the fact of the matter is that the lady is married and Gart….”

Emilie cut him off strongly. “The fact of the matter is that Gart is trying to do what a truly virtuous man would do. He is trying to save the woman he loves from the clutches of a beast.” Now she was beginning to tear up, overcome with the sorrow and strife of Gart’s story. “What if Dustin was married to a man who beat her mercilessly? Would you walk away from the woman and consign her to her fate or would you try and do something to help her? Put your wife in Lady Emberley’s position and speak to me again of punishing a man who would save her.”

Christopher didn’t have an easy answer to that. Inevitably, he thought of his beautiful wife, the Lady Dustin de Lohr, in the clutches of a monster and he could see the situation from Gart’s point of view.  He sighed faintly, looking to his brother and seeing that the man was clearly on his wife’s side.  As much as he hated to admit it, Emilie made some sense. He knew Gart and knew what kind of man he was. He was the kind of man that most knights aspire to be. Perhaps this wasn’t simply a matter of lusting after another man’s wife.

Perhaps things weren’t so clear-cut after all.

***

Gart took the stairs two at a time racing to the chamber above the solar where Emberley was. He could hear her weeping a soon as he neared the door.  Bolting into the room, he found her collapsed in front of the hearth.  He went to her, falling swiftly to his knees.

“I am here, kitten,” he threw his arms around her. “I am here. Everything is well.”

Emberley wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tightly, sobbing into his neck.  “Do not leave me,” she begged. “Please do not leave me.”

He soothed her gently.  “I will never leave you, you know that.”

“But… but they are going to arrest you.”

He shook his head. “Nay, they are not,” he murmured. “We are simply trying to figure out what to do. I will not be arrested.”

Emberley’s tears were not soothed.  Gart picked her up off the floor, wrapped up in the damp linen, and carried her over to the large bed.  When he tried to set her down, she refused to let go. In fact, she was holding him so tightly around the neck that she was nearly strangling him. He could feel her trembling in his arms.

“Kitten, let go so I can remove my armor,” he said softly, gently. “I swear I will not leave this room.  Loosen your arms, sweet.”

She shook her head and he tried to gently pry her arms free, but the more he would pry, the tighter she would hold him.   He finally gave up and sat down on the bed, pulling her onto his lap and simply holding her. It seemed that she needed that most of all at the moment.  The armor was cold and undoubtedly jabbing her, but she never said a word. She simply held tight as her sobs faded. Gart did his best to soothe her, saddened that the shouting downstairs had upset her so much.

As he stroked her damp head, calming her, he glanced over and noticed Romney standing in the door of the adjoining chamber.  The boy stood there, wide-eyed as he watched Gart and his mother. Having been through as much as his mother had been over the past few days, he was showing great resilience. Emberley was a wreck yet Romney was not. Gart smiled weakly at the man-child who was growing up before his very eyes.