Blaze Wyndham (9 page)

“Now, try to remember all I have taught you, my child,” Lady Rosemary began.

“Indeed she will! Indeed she will,” said Lord Morgan, understanding Anthony’s impatience. Grasping his eldest child by the shoulders, he turned her about. Giving her a loud kiss upon the cheek, he then gently pushed her out the door of the hall to where the horses were waiting. Before she realized what was happening, Blaze found herself being boosted into her saddle.

“But, Papa!” she protested.

“You are a married woman now, Blaze. We love you. We bid you Godspeed, but if you linger much longer your mother and sisters will begin weeping and wailing. Besides, we must get back to the fields, for Master Garth says it will rain within another day or two. You know it is impossible to harvest and store wet grain. Go home to your husband, daughter.”

She understood her father better than even he realized. A soft smile touched Blaze’s lips. “Farewell, Papa,” she said quietly. “I love you.” Then, kicking her horse, she moved off away from her family, away from Ashby, away from everything she had ever known; toward a new identity
and
a new life.

I
n her entire life Blaze had never ridden more than a few miles from Ashby Hall. Within an hour the landmarks well known to her disappeared, and the countryside became unfamiliar. Her childhood home was located within clear sight of the Malvern Hills on the east side of the River Wye. They traveled northwest, for RiversEdge was set upon the west bank of the Wye with a view of the Black Mountains. The land was overripe and lush in the September sunshine; the green pastures with their grazing cattle and sheep giving way to greener fields of ripening hops and golden fields of ripening grain. The road wound through ancient orchards of apples ready for the harvest, whose fragrance perfumed the air to the point of excess.

It was a peaceful land. There was little serious need for the escort of armed men who accompanied them other than the fact that they did the bride honor. Blaze had been given a lovely white mare to ride. Master Anthony rode beside her upon a dappled gray stallion with Heartha behind them upon a fat brown pony. Their pace was easy, but not leisurely, for they had some seventeen miles to go using the roads between Ashby and RiversEdge. They would ford the Wye some four miles below their destination.

The sun was at its zenith when to Blaze’s relief Anthony Wyndham called a halt to their journey. She was starving, as the marriage ceremony had been in the early morning. She had not eaten before the Mass. After her health had been drunk in the Great Hall she had been dressed and hustled off. No one had thought to offer her some food before her departure on a day’s ride to her new home.

Easing himself gracefully from his saddle, Anthony walked over to Blaze’s mount. Lifting her down, he felt her stiffen as his fingers tightened about her narrow waist.

She moved away from him as quickly as possible, saying as she did, “I am ravenous, sir. I hope this halt is so we may eat. I am certain the Ashby cook has not let you get away without providing food for our journey.”

“The halt is mainly for the benefit of the horses and so that the men may relieve themselves, madam,” he said wickedly, enjoying the deep blush that reddened her cheeks.

“Ohh, you are insufferable!” she cried.

“Perhaps you would like to relieve yourself,” he said, continuing his gibing. “We will not stop again until we reach RiversEdge.”

“Cease your teasing, Master Anthony!” said Heartha, who had managed to dismount her pony by herself. “Ohh, he’s got a wicked reputation for such behavior, my lady. Pay him no mind. There’s a lovely spot over there by those trees for you to rest and eat. Poor lamb,” she rattled on, “ye’ve had naught to eat today, have ye? Well, the Ashby cook did pack a fine basket, which is in the coach. As for you, Master Anthony, ’twill be up to the countess as to whether you gets anything to eat or not.” She led Blaze to the spot she had so quickly located. A small narrow brook not clearly visible from the road tumbled over its rocky bed just past the trees where Heartha ensconced her mistress.

“Oh, how lovely,” said Blaze as she knelt down to bathe her face and hands in the crystal cold water. Then, spreading her skirts, she sat down, her back against a tree.

Heartha, who had gone to the coach to fetch the basket of food, now hurried back with it. Blaze motioned her servant to sit, and together they rummaged through the contents. Within the basket were two loaves of freshly baked bread, each loaf carefully wrapped in a linen napkin with a small slab of marble that had been heated to keep the bread warm, which it still was. There was a small pat of butter, and a wedge of hard yellow cheese. There was a broiled rabbit which had been cut into several pieces, a little plum cake, several apples, a few pears, and a small corked bottle of sweet golden wine.

“Eat!” Blaze encouraged her tiring woman as she tore into a loaf of bread, spread it generously with the butter, and topped it with a slice of cheese she cut off the wedge with her own knife. “Ummmm,” she said happily, and reaching for the wine bottle uncorked it. Heartha held out a cup, which Blaze filled while chewing happily upon the bread and cheese. Swallowing, she reached for the cup and quaffed down a deep swallow. “Oh, that tastes so good! Heartha, eat something yourself. I can’t finish this all.”

“What of Master Anthony, my lady?”

Blaze looked toward the road where Anthony Wyndham stood amongst his men speaking while they appeared to be eating something. “What are the men eating, Heartha?”

“They carry wine and bread with them, my lady.”

“Does Lord Anthony have a ration?”

“I do not know, my lady. I believe he expected to dine with you.”

Blaze frowned. “I cannot let him go hungry as he leads our party,” she said. “Take him some food then, Heartha.”

“ ’Twould be unkind before the men, my lady,” Heartha gently advised her young mistress. “You should really ask him to join you.”

Blaze’s pretty mouth made a moue of annoyance, but she nodded to her servant. “Very well, then, Heartha. Ask him to join me.”

Anthony came, silently determined not to offend this prickly new
aunt
of his. That Blaze seemed to dislike him was evident to him, although he did not really know why, for their acquaintance was much too short for her to have formed an opinion. Perhaps because he was Edmund’s heir right now she resented him. Proprietary little witch, he thought, amused. He hoped that once she found he was not really a threat she would like him better. They were a small family, and they should be close, for a close family was a strong family. It was time, he suddenly realized, that he choose himself a wife. Perhaps one of the other fetching Morgan sisters would do him. Gentle Blythe was a possibility, or perhaps the merry Delight.

Reaching Blaze, he was his most charming. “Thank you, my lady, for offering to share your meal with me. May I sit?”

She nodded regally, motioning with her hand to a place opposite her. Then, handing him a napkin with buttered bread, cheese, and the haunch of a rabbit, she said, “Eat, Master Anthony.”

His fine white teeth tore into the meat, and quickly he stripped the bone clean. Fascinated, Blaze handed him another piece of the rabbit, which disappeared as swiftly, to be followed by the bread. Blaze nibbled daintily upon a single piece of meat, her appetite having been eased by the bread and cheese.

“Wine, sir?” she offered him as with her nodded permission he helped himself to more bread and cheese.

“I’ve some of my own, thank you, madam, and there is, I think, just enough for you. I would not deprive you.”

There was little other conversation between them. Blaze broke the plum cake into three pieces, sharing it with Anthony and Heartha. When she had devoured the sweet, a particular favorite of hers, she ate both an apple and a pear. As nervous as she was about getting to RiversEdge—and they were already halfway there—she felt at ease for this break in their journey.

Anthony Wyndham wiped his hands upon the napkin, and arose saying, “We will be on our way shortly, my lady. Forgive my lack of delicacy, but this really is the last opportunity you will have before we resume our journey to, ah, attend to, ah, personal matters for yourself.” Then, before she might reply, he turned and hurried off.

“He is right, my lady, and nothing’s more uncomfortable than riding along when one has to ... well, you know, my lady,” put in Heartha.

“Aye,” said Blaze with a grin, “I know, but ’tis still very annoying to have to be constantly reminded, as if I were a child, Heartha. Keep watch for me now.”

They continued upon their journey, and soon they could see the River Wye before them stretching its silvery self in the warm, golden midafternoon sunlight. When they finally reached its banks a ferryman was awaiting to transport them across the water.

“Is this the bride then?” he asked Anthony frankly.

“Aye, Rumford, this is your new mistress, the Countess of Langford. Madam, may I present to you the keeper of the Michaelschurch ferry, Master Rumford.”

Blaze smiled at the weathered man. “I’ve never crossed a river before,” she said. “It cannot be an easy task to bring the boat safely to the shore each time, Rumford.”

“Aye, m’lady, and a child could do it,” the ferryman replied modestly, pulling his cap from his head and bobbing politely. “I’ve been the boatman for his lordship since my father grew too old for it, and I’ve three sons to carry on after me. ’Tis Rumford business to guide the boats, and yer not to worry, for the old Wye is as smooth as glass today. ’Twill be no more than a glide across a millpond.”

The ferryman was true to his word, and three trips saw them all safely across the river and on the other side.

“You’re now on Langford land,” said Master Anthony. “There are two roads to RiversEdge from here. The more direct one runs along the river, and the house is but three miles away. If you are not too tired, Edmund wanted you to go the long way around, which will take you through two of his villages before you reach RiversEdge. I was to leave it up to you.”

Blaze stretched in her saddle. More than anything she wanted to reach her journey’s end and have a hot tub. She had never ridden so far in her life. She was both tired and sore. Still, it was important that she get off on the right foot with her husband. He wanted her to do this. “We’ll visit the villages,” she said quietly.

“Good girl!” he approved, and though his patronizing tone annoyed her, she was relieved to have her judgment confirmed.

Afterward she was glad that she had done it. The warmth of her welcome and the obvious approval of the villagers in Michaelschurch cheered her, giving her courage for what was to come. They poured from their houses smiling and greeting her with friendly words. A small girl rushed up to her mare to press a hastily made bouquet of Mary’s Gold and asters into her hand. She smiled down at the child, calling her thanks, and received a host of, “God bless yer ladyship,” from the little lass’s family. Her welcome in the second village was even warmer, and her cheeks grew pink as she overheard several groups of goodwives loudly approving her form as a good one for successful childbearing.

“They mean well,” Master Anthony said, “and though they do not wish to embarrass you, they are anxious that my uncle have an heir of his loins.”

“I understand,” said Blaze tightly. “Is that not the purpose of this marriage? Has it not been drummed into my head for the last two months?” She smiled and waved at the last of the villagers as they passed by them by moving out onto the open road again.

“Edmund is a good man,” Anthony ventured. “I hope you will learn to love one another. I believe that love is important to a marriage.”

“Did my lord love his first wife?”

“Aye, he loved Cathy. They had known each other since they were children.”

Blaze grew silent. If he loved his first wife, was he capable of loving her? Oh, she hoped so! She did not know what love between a man and a woman was, but she knew that she wanted to feel that most fabled and desired of emotions. To think of going through life without knowing that emotion was very frightening.

Then suddenly Anthony said, “Look! There is RiversEdge.”

They had climbed to the top of a hill, and below them, the River Wye, its eastern boundary, RiversEdge was placed like a fine jewel within a parklike setting. Its well-tended gardens were abloom with early-autumn color. The house was built in the shape of an H to honor the king who had elevated the Wyndhams to their earldom. It was of dark redbrick, its walls embraced by shiny green ivy. From the gray slate roof at least half a dozen chimneys soared. Blaze could see the busy daily activity about the house as they descended the hill, and her heart began to beat quite quickly.

She dared not look for fear of what she might see. What if she were disappointed in him? What if he were disappointed in her? Of its own volition her mare came to a stop. Strong hands reached up and clamped themselves around her waist, lifting her from her mount’s back and setting her firmly upon the ground.