Beloved Abductor (7 page)

‘Why does she not travel with you?’ asked Dickon, thinking that when Mistress Meriet blushed she was exceedingly pretty.

‘Because ...’ She let out an impatient breath. ‘Because, Master Mortimer, when my brother and father were killed at the Battle of Lewes, my cousin Philip took me to live with him and his wife. He was determined to cut me off from all those who would support me. Has ...’ Her hands twisted on the coverlet. ‘Has Master Edmund told you what he believes of me? I think he might have, from the look on your face.’

Dickon’s expression softened. ‘I cannot believe you a murderer’s accomplice.’ He leaned forward and patted Felicia’s hand.

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. ‘I thank you for those kind words. Master Edmund still doubts me.’

‘Edmund has been through much lately.’ Dickon squeezed her hand comfortingly.

‘But he is oblivious of all that that is seemly or chivalrous!’ Felicia’s sapphire eyes widened with entreaty. ‘Master Mortimer, do you think ...’ A sound at the door caused her to pause and she gave a startled look in its direction and her eyes met Edmund’s which were as hard as flint.

‘I see you are getting better acquainted with each other,’ he said in a clipped voice.

Dickon turned his head and smiled. ‘I brought Mistress Meriet her potion.’ He raised Felicia’s hand to his lips and kissed it with obvious pleasure. ‘She is my guest. I thought I should come and see if she has all she needs.’

‘Of course.’ Edmund leaned against the door-jamb and folded his arms across his chest.

Dickon hesitated. ‘I shall have to leave now, as I have a customer to see to. Mistress Meriet, perhaps I can come and see you again later?’

‘I would like that,’ murmured Felicia, dimpling at him as she withdrew her hand from his grasp. She stared at Edmund defiantly as Dickon left the bedchamber.

Chapter Five

Edmund shut the door firmly behind Dickon before turning to face Felicia. There was a flush on his cheekbones. ‘If you propose, Mistress Meriet, to try your tricks on Dickon, I advise you to think again! He has broken more hearts than you would credit. He was a minstrel in his younger days before he decided to settle down and take life more seriously, and he knows exactly how to woo a lady! I doubt the woman exists who could captivate him, however alluring.’

‘If he is up to all the tricks, I do not know why you need to worry about your friend!’ retorted Felicia.

‘He has a soft heart.’ There was a sardonic twist to Edmund’s mouth as he strolled forward and rested his hands on the carved wooden foot of the bed. ‘Did you look at him out of those beautiful eyes of yours and plead your cause?’

‘He believes me innocent of Matilda’s blood,’ she said angrily, ‘which is more than you do! And if I am the sort of woman you seem to persist in believing me to be, surely your friend will sense it if he is so wise in the ways of women?’ She looked away from him, near to tears. No doubt if she wept then he might accuse her of trying feminine wiles on him!

‘I did not say he was impervious to a woman’s charms,’ he murmured, his grey eyes narrowing as he looked at her bruised profile. The swelling had gone down about her mouth, and the bruise was purpling. He was filled with anger against the man who had done that to her and jealous that she should praise his friend. ‘Perhaps you would be able to—persuade—him to help you. What would you offer him besides your hand—your lips next? And then your body? Is that how it started with your cousin?’ He flung the words at her; some devil forcing them out of him.

Felicia’s face blanched and tears oozed from beneath her lashes. She struggled to sit higher against the pillows, and dashed the tears away with the back of her hand. ‘How dare you! Do you know what it is like to be held prisoner by a man you suspect of murder? To go in fear of your life—to see no way of safety? You begin to think like a hunted animal. You want to run and run, but there is nowhere to go. You hide the real you behind a mask in order not to appear a threat. Hence, no danger to be disposed of!’ She paused and took a shaky breath.

Edmund went to speak, but she held up a hand. ‘When I ran with you, unwilling though I was, I thought that I would be safer with you than with Philip. Yet it seems you regard my feelings as little as he did. You would use me for your own ends. I wish you would go away and leave me alone—I never want to speak to you again.’ She twisted her head on the pillows and closed her eyes tightly.

There was a long silence while Edmund battled with a conflicting storm of emotions: fury at her comparing him to Philip; guilt because some of what she said was true enough to hurt; and an overwhelming desire to take her in his arms and beg her forgiveness. He imagined her reaction if he should do the latter. No doubt she would not believe he regretted frightening and hurting her. Obviously the wisest action would be to leave her alone to recover herself. He walked swiftly from the room, closing the door gently behind him.

Felicia raised brimming eyes and stared at the closed door. Suddenly she could no longer bear to lie passive in bed. Painfully she pushed back the covers and with great determination swung her legs over the side. She heaved herself up and stood swaying for a moment in aching discomfort as she struggled to force limbs that seemed as stiff and uncontrollable as the wooden joints of a child’s toy. She shuffled across the floor in slow agony and carefully opened the door. The other bedchamber was empty. Gradually she managed to make her way across, clinging to chest and bed in glad respite until she reached the outer door. She put out a hand and attempted to open it. It gave, and she clung to the door-jamb, breathing in the sweet fresh scent of roses and gillyflowers as they bloomed in the warm evening air. Then she sank to the floor, too weary to move another step.

It seemed an age before she heard footsteps on the stairs, and then it was the running feet of a boy. They looked at one another as he reached the top; Felicia attempted a smile. She was slumped against the door across the threshold, and he could not pass without stepping over her. He showed only the slightest surprise.

‘I felt like a breath of air,’ she murmured. ‘Could you help me back to bed, Harry? I cannot get up again, unaided.’

He made a clicking noise with his tongue and teeth, scrubbed at his chin and screwed up his face. ‘Don’t know, but I’ll try.’ He dropped on one knee and held out a hand. Felicia took it, not sure if he could take her weight. But the thought of sending him to fetch help caused her to grit her teeth, and by edging herself up with her elbows against the door-jamb, and with the aid of his surprisingly strong hands, she managed to get to her feet. Slowly they made their way until at last they reached the further room, and Felicia was able to sink thankfully on to the bed.

‘Thank you, Harry. Can this be a secret between you and me? The others would be angry if they knew that I got out of bed—especially Master de Vert. But it is tiresome lying here with nothing to do but think.’ She dimpled at him, and he grinned back.

‘Master Edmund already has a face as dark as a thundercloud!’ He bounced up and down on the bed. ‘Mother sent me up to ask if you are able to do a little mending. Your surcote is dry, but it needs stitching.’ He sprang suddenly off the bed and did a somersault across the wooden floor. ‘Also ...’ he panted, wobbling slightly, ‘would you like fish for supper—or eels? I caught them in the river with my friend, Sam.’

‘I would like both! I mean the sewing—and the fish or the eels. Is it lovely down by the river? And did you and your friend have a good catch?’

‘I caught six eels and four fish. Sam caught ten eels but no fish.’ He grinned again and she noticed that two of his front teeth were missing.

‘Do you swim?’ Felicia gave a sigh. ‘How I would love to swim right now in cool water.’

‘You swim!’ Harry looked impressed. ‘Uncle Dickon is going to show me how. He would have done so when I was smaller, but my parents were always scared I would catch a fever and die. Oh! Uncle Dickon asked if you would like some wine. He has had a delivery from Bordeaux.’

‘I would. Give him my heartfelt thanks.’

Harry nodded and left the room, leaving the door ajar.

Felicia started to wonder how often the outside door was left unlocked. Or had it been so that evening only because Edmund had left her in such anger? How would she face him when next he came? Perhaps he would not speak to her after her parting shot and stay away.

Edmund did not come that evening, or the next day or the next. At first Felicia was glad. Her feelings were in confusion. She often felt low spirited, but she told herself that that was only to be expected after all she had been through. Nell, Dickon and Harry visited her, bringing food and drink, medicine, and work to do with her needle. Her bruises began to change colour, and her pains eased. Each day, when the others were not about, she would rise from her bed and stretch her limbs, taking short walks through the two bedchambers. She did not ask after Edmund, because Nell and Dickon had mentioned that he was spending time with the almoner at the monastery, and visiting the sick. She had to admire him for his dedication to those less fortunate, even if he chose to ignore her. She did not need Nell to tell her when she had spent time with Edmund. Each evening Nell came to bed with such a “cat got the cream” expression on her lovely face that Felicia felt extremely irritable.

When on the third day Edmund did not come to visit or even send word enquiring after her health, Felicia’s pent-up emotions bubbled over. She determined to escape from the house and make her way across the river to the abbey. She would seek the help of the abbot to reach Meriet. The sooner she was out of Master Edmund’s reach, the better. It would be best to wait until supper-time, when most of the household would be in the hall.

Her supper was brought up; an excellent meal of chicken and herbs, followed by a fruit pasty. With little appetite, she barely touched it. She dressed in her own clothes and braided her dark hair. Her only regret was that she could not say goodbye and thank you to the family who had shown her such warm hospitality. A more painful regret she would not admit to feeling.

She crept down the steps with a stealthy awkwardness. It was a warm, golden June evening, and its beauty led her to pause. Her heart ached strangely at the sight of all the fertile loveliness of the garden—but she told herself that she could not linger as she must escape before she was discovered. Making her way between beds of roses, gillyflowers, cabbages, onions and herbs, and past a handful of squabbling fowl scratching in the earth, she went out through a wicket gate.

Drawing a shaky breath, she began to walk, rather stiffly, but with more ease as she continued towards one of the bridges that crossed the Severn. Fortunately she had visited Shrewsbury often, and knew her way about its streets. She paused on the bridge and nestled her chin upon her arms, gazing down at the swirling water, trying to shrug off her depression. Then she resumed her walk towards the abbey, and had reached the other side of the river when she heard a splash and a child’s sudden scream, that was abruptly cut off.

She turned round on the path and looked towards the water. As she stared intently, a head broke the surface, and her heart seemed to stop beating as she recognised the wet curls on that head. Without pausing to think, she made for the water’s edge, forcing her muscles to strain and stretch as her hands beat the air.

A lad, straight-haired and with a chubby face, holding a stick, turned as she approached. His expression was strained but resolute, and he had already stepped into the water, obviously hoping to reach his friend.

‘Are you Sam?’ panted Felicia. The boy nodded. ‘Then go and fetch help. You will do little good with that stick.’ Felicia tore at the fastenings on her surcote, kicked off her shoes, and within seconds had plunged into the water, not waiting to see if the boy did as she had bidden.

Already the current was taking Harry away from the bank. Felicia struck out towards him and went with the current. She saw him gasp air before sinking below the surface. She cursed her hampering skirts and dived beneath the surface where the water was green, foaming and swift. She saw a twisting form and struck out towards it and caught hold of an arm. Her lungs were bursting as she made for the surface, dragging her burden with her. She bobbed up like a cork and drew air into her lungs. Feeling with desperate fingers for Harry’s face she turned on her back and they went with the current. She caught glimpses of people on the bank, some running. Then she saw men in a boat ahead.

Within moments she reached the craft, and several pairs of hands grasped her and held her safe as Harry was lifted from her arms. Then she was dragged into the boat and lay there, taking gulps of air, aware of the men bending over Harry.

‘Is he still alive?’ she gasped.

‘Now, missy, you lie still. Half filled with water he is, but still alive,’ said one of the men.

She sent up a thankful prayer as the boat was rowed to the bank. Someone sat her down on the grass, and she began to shiver. An elderly man with white whiskers offered her a flask, which she would have refused, but he insisted. ‘Now you don’t want to go down with a fever, missy. Take a mouthful. It’ll do you good.’

What would Master Edmund say if she caught a fever? She thought frantically. She must get to the abbot. She struggled to rise, but was forced down.

‘Now then—now then! Don’t be so hasty, little missy. You must rest, or you’ll swoon on the way home, I shouldn’t wonder. Now here’s my good woman. She’ll take care of you. Don’t you fret.’

The man moved back, and an ample-bosomed female with several chins and dressed in sensible homespun knelt down beside Felicia. ‘Now, m’dear! It will do you nothing but good to have a little drink of this. It is of my own making.’ The voice was kind and brooked no argument.

Felicia gave in and did as she was told, resting against the plump arm supporting her shoulders. She took a cautious sip of the spicy burning liquor, then several more as warmth coursed through her veins, relaxing her cold body. Within minutes a sweet languor filled her and she ceased worrying. The voice murmuring gently in her ear reminded her of old nurse whispering stories to help her to sleep after her mother had died. What was it she had been worrying about? Felicia found she could not remember. She surrendered to the weariness that weighed down her limbs.

*

Edmund was listening with only half an ear to what Nell was saying. He stared down at the chessboard and boredom overwhelmed him. It was his own fault. He had encouraged Nell to talk and shown her great interest, needing to prove something to himself. She had talked and talked in the last few days, so much so that he longed to escape. Dickon plucked idly at the strings of his lute, and Edmund felt his nerves stretch and tighten. Suddenly he could bear it no longer and rose to his feet. It was no use—he had to make an excuse to see Felicia. He could say that it was time they were on their way if he were to take her to Meriet first. The thought that he was taking her home should please her. Surely she should be up and doing by now? Was she perhaps staying up in the bedchamber purely to avoid facing him?

Nell looked up, obviously startled by his abrupt movement. ‘Where are you going?’

Edmund bit back a curse and smiled at her. She looked lovely in a green gown of cotton embroidered with yellow thread, yet she did not cause his senses to stir. ‘I thought I would go and see how Mistress Felicia is faring. I have been busy the last few days, and would like to see for myself if her condition is improving.’