Hellion (29 page)

There was a knock upon the door, and it opened to reveal Rolf de Briard. Entering, he kissed Belle upon her cheek. “Good morrow, Isabelle,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded. “I did, but I miss home, my lord.”

“And you miss our fine bathing chamber,” he said with a smile.

“I do! How do people wash themselves here, my lord?”

“I have arranged for you to have a wooden tub, and when you wish to bathe, you have but to set our men-at-arms to hauling the water,” he told her. “They will bring it from the kitchens, where it is heated.”

“How primitive,” Belle said, wrinkling her nose. “Does even the king bathe like this, my lord?”

“I’m afraid so. He has an enormous oaken tub, bound with straps of iron. It is carried with his luggage when he travels from castle to castle,” Rolf explained to her.

Isabelle shook her head. “A proper bathing chamber is better,” she said. “The king sent me a basket of strawberries last night. I must admit that they were very welcome.”

“He has not come here himself, has he?” Rolf asked her.

“Of course not,” Isabelle said, and then asked, “Do you think he would dare? Ahhh, that is why you stationed our men-at-arms outside my door, Rolf. Thank you. I do not think I am ready yet to cope with King Henry. Damn! Where is Hugh?”

“I will do what I can to protect you, Belle, but you understand I cannot offend the king or directly oppose him,” Rolf said.

“I know,” Belle replied. “I will oppose him, however. I will not willingly give myself to such a lecher. He should be ashamed of himself, using his power and position to coerce a woman into his bed!”

Rolf said nothing further about the matter. Henry would seduce his stepdaughter with charm, and would indeed use his position and power to compel her to yield herself to him. Arguing with Belle would serve absolutely no useful purpose. She would soon learn that a king such as Henry Beauclerc could not be gainsaid. If he decided that he wanted Isabelle of Langston for his latest plaything, he would have her.

Agneatha arrived with the wooden tub, followed by a line of men-at-arms delivering the promised hot water. Rolf bid his stepdaughter farewell and departed. When the men had all gone, Agneatha locked the chamber door from the inside and helped Belle to disrobe. Belle sank down gratefully into the water, a slow smile lighting her features.

“Ohhh, that feels so good, Agneatha. Do we have any soap?”

The serving woman nodded. “Aye!” Then she produced a little cake scented with lavender. “Remember your wedding night, my lady, when your mother perfumed the bathwater, and you made such a fuss?”

Isabelle laughed as she lathered the soap between her hands and began to wash herself. “Aye, I remember! I’ve changed since then, haven’t I? Besides,” she excused herself, “my husband likes the scent.”

“Ohh, my lady, do you think we’ll ever see Lord Hugh again?”

“He’s coming home, Agneatha, I am certain of it.
He must!
” Isabelle said in a strong voice. “Isn’t it just like a man to run off and forget the time? They never grow up, do they?”

“No, my lady,” Agneatha agreed, “they surely don’t.”

When Belle had finished her bath and washed her hair, she was dried and put into a fresh chemise. She wrung the excess water from her long hair, toweling it vigorously. It was foolish to dress, as the seamstress would be here this day, and besides, she didn’t intend to leave this chamber until she could be seen in decent clothing. The men-at-arms removed the tub, first dumping the bathwater out the window onto the earth below.
They had no sooner done so when Mistress Mary, the seamstress, arrived to take Isabelle’s measurements. She was an apple-cheeked woman with a merry smile and an easy manner.

“How do you do, madame,” she said, curtseying. “I have come from Master John, the draper. I understand you will need a small wardrobe for your stay at court. I have been told the lady Mavis of Farnley recommended me. A lady of great taste and style, she is.”

“
Merci bien
, Mistress Mary,” said Mavis as she breezed into the chamber. “Good morrow, Isabelle of Langston. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought you would like my help.”

“Oh, yes!” Belle said, delighted to see her new friend. “I so admired the garments you were wearing yesterday.”

“Well, let’s get started, Mistress Mary,” Mavis said. “You brought the fabrics? Of course you did!”

Mistress Mary smiled at Mavis’s enthusiasm, and nodded to her little assistant. “The mauve silk first.” She turned to Belle. “This is to be for a skirt?”

“Aye,” Belle said.

Mistress Mary set to work. She measured, she cut, she stitched. First a mauve-colored skirt, and then the buttercup-yellow skirt. Next came the tunic dresses that would be worn over the skirts: the gorgeous rich violet damask that was woven through with gold threads, and the delicate lavender with its intricately woven pattern. Mavis suggested that the lavender tunic be trimmed in silver
passemente
, and the seamstress nodded her approval. Copper
passemente
was used to trim the tawny orange brocade tunic.

“That color is so good with your wonderful hair,” Mavis said. “I didn’t realize what glorious hair you had yesterday, as it was hidden under that modest little veil you were wearing. Mistress Mary, does Master John have a sheer material shot through with copper, and perhaps one with gold, and one with silver, that might make pretty veils for the lady Isabelle?” She turned to Belle. “Did you bring a chaplet with you, or perhaps a circlet or two?”

Belle shook her head in the negative.

Mavis looked again to Mistress Mary. “Who would you recommend?” she asked the seamstress. “It can’t cost a fortune, either.”

“Jacob the Goldsmith,” Mistress Mary said without hesitation. “He’s the most scrupulously honest man I’ve ever known. You can always be completely honest with him, and not have to worry that he’ll gossip about your business to any other member of the court. Indeed I suspect he is the keeper of some great secrets. The king has been known to give Jacob his trade.” She smiled up at Isabelle from her position on her knees, where she was pinning the orange tunic. “He’ll find you a pretty piece for your veils that you need not be ashamed to wear before the high and mighty, but you’ll not be forced to mortgage your estate to pay for it.” She chuckled. “There, that one is done. Now, let us cut the last.”

“I suppose Rolf would purchase me a chaplet if I asked him,” Isabelle said thoughtfully. “I have a pretty one at home, but I never thought I should need it on this trip. Indeed, I thought I should be on my way home by this time. Ohh, that is not the material I chose for the last tunic, Mistress Mary, but my, it is beautiful.”

“I switched it,” Mavis said. “I went back early this morning because I kept thinking how dull that plain cream-colored brocade was, Belle. This fabric is far more striking, don’t you think so?”

Isabelle looked at the creamy brocatelle, a brocadelike fabric with a slightly raised pattern. It had tiny gold-thread stars woven in it. “It is lovely,” she admitted, but her practical soul was bewailing the cost of such fine fabrics that would only be worn during her short stay at court. Still, when they returned to Langston, perhaps she could have some of her new garments altered to fit her mother. Then they would both have beautiful gowns to wear on special occasions.

“Gold
passemente
on this one?” she asked Mavis.

“Excellent!” Mavis enthused. “The gold stars are charming,
but not quite enough for such a pristine color. The trim is just right!”

“Everything will be lined in matching sarcenet,” Mistress Mary said.

The fitting done, the garments cut, Mistress Mary gathered up everything, folding it neatly, and placed it in a basket which she then handed to her assistant.

“How soon will you have something for the lady Isabelle?” Mavis demanded. “She will not show herself, and is confined to her chamber, until she has proper clothing. There are so many people I want to introduce her to, and her time at court is limited. It should not be spent in here.”

“I can have one gown for you tomorrow,” the seamstress said, “the rest, the day after.” Then she curtsied to Isabelle and Mavis, saying to Belle, “Thank you for your custom, my lady.”

“How is she to be paid?” Isabelle wondered when Mistress Mary had finally departed. “I have no money.”

“Rolf will pay her,” Mavis said. “You don’t need to carry coins with you, Isabelle. That is a man’s task.” Then she changed the subject. “Do you play chess?” she asked.

“Yes,” Belle laughed, “but not in my chemise. Let me dress.”

Mavis nodded, and then said, “It’s the dinner hour. I must go, but I shall return this evening and bring a board with me.”

In the Great Hall, Mavis sought out Rolf and told him, “Belle and I have spent most of the day with Mistress Mary. I think you will be pleased by her transformation. She is to have a gown by tomorrow. Jacob the Goldsmith will come to show her chaplets, so be certain to pay him, too, my lord.”

Rolf chuckled. “You are teaching my stepdaughter bad habits, Mavis, my sweet. She has always been a simple country girl.”

“And so I think she would prefer to stay,” Mavis responded. “I could see her thoughtfully assessing every coin she suspected was being expended on her finery; which she thought
might be better spent elsewhere. She must certainly be an excellent chatelaine for Langston. When I have eaten, I will take the pieces and board, and go to play chess with her. I see you have stationed your own men outside of her chamber. ’Tis very wise, although they could certainly not prevent our friend from entering a room in his own house. Still, it is good.”

“Isabelle understands her position, although she is certainly not happy about it,” Rolf replied.

“Perhaps out of sight will be out of mind,” Mavis answered him. “There are many pretty women here at court to take his fancy.”

In their chamber, Isabelle and Agneatha dined on capon, beef, braised lettuces, fresh bread, butter, and cheese. The king’s page appeared with a carafe of the king’s own wine. It was rich and fruity, with a ruby color. Isabelle thanked young Henry Beauchamp.

“The king wonders if he might visit you in your chamber, madame,” the boy said to her.

“Gracious!” Belle pretended to be astounded. “I do not think it would be proper, young sir, and besides, my new court gowns have yet to be made. I could not receive the king in
these
old garments. Please tell the king that tomorrow I shall have a gown, and shall tender my thanks for his kindnesses then. And you might ask him if his messenger to Duke Robert has yet departed for Normandy to ask for word of my husband.”

The boy bowed and left her.

When Mavis returned with the chess pieces and the board, Isabelle told her of Henry Beauchamp’s message from the king.

“He’s certainly determined, isn’t he?” Mavis said. “Well, Rolf has told me you know you cannot refuse him.”

“
Why not
?” Belle asked, her eyes flashing green fire. “Why can I not refuse the king’s lecherous attentions? Why must I
acquiesce meekly with a ‘Yes, my liege,’ and spread my legs for the royal member?”

Mavis of Farnley was astounded. “I … I don’t know,” she said. “Because he is the king, I suppose. Women just don’t refuse a king.”

“
Why don’t they
?” Belle demanded. “A king is just a man. A powerful man, I will grant you, but a man nonetheless. Why should such a man be allowed to compromise the chastity of a respectable woman? You would think a good Christian king would want to protect such a woman, not menace her with his masculinity and his jurisdiction over her as her liege lord. It is wrong, and I shall not allow myself to be bullied!”

Mavis did not think that all of Isabelle of Langston’s determination would protect her from the king, if the king’s lust gained the upper hand. Still, she could see that Isabelle was not a woman to be argued with. It would do her no good to appeal to poor Rolf de Briard. If he learned of his stepdaughter’s attitude when he thought her resigned to whatever happened, it would likely send him into a fit. He already felt guilty for having brought the girl to court.

“You will do what you think is best, of course,” Mavis said, “keeping in mind Hugh’s position, the well-being of your son, and of course, the fate of Langston.” Then she laughed. “I think, perhaps, that Henry Beauclerc will meet his match in you, Belle. I do not believe that any woman has ever meekly said, ‘No, my liege, and go away!’ It should be quite a surprise to him, but beware your adamant refusal does not intrigue him even more than your fresh country charms,” Mavis warned.

PART III

B
RITTANY