His Fair Lady (31 page)

Royce received the packet and slipped it
inside his leather jerkin, beneath his mail and surcoat. “My
gratitude, Majesty,” he said, relieved to obtain the papers at
last. “Until Christmas at Guildford then.”

Royce bowed, bid farewell to the Countess,
then, stepping forward, held out a hand to Juliana. The maid paused
long enough to receive a parting kiss from the queen on her cheek,
then hastened to join him. Royce led her directly to the palfrey
and was pleased that Juliana seemed as anxious as he to be away.
But in the next moment, she shied from the horse, hesitating to
mount. Having no wish to be further delayed, Royce scooped Juliana
up in his arms and lifted her onto the sidesaddle.

“This is Nutmeg,” he introduced the palfrey.
“She possesses a sweet disposition and her gait is smooth and
steady. You’ll have no trouble staying atop her. The saddle even
has a back like a little chair.”

Royce assured she was properly positioned,
then handed her the reins. Juliana gazed down at the traces,
looking perfectly daunted.

“On second thought, I’ll hold the reins and
lead Nutmeg,” Royce offered. “You concentrate on staying in the
saddle.”

Seeing Luvena needed help to mount her pony,
he excused himself long enough to aid her up. He’d no sooner placed
her in the saddle, but a servant woman rushed forth, calling to the
little maid, a bundle in her hands.

“‘
Tis Lady Juliana’s gown.” The woman
handed the bundle up to her.

“Are you certain?” Luvena knitted her brows.
“I am sure I packed them all.”

“Yes, the laundress has had the dress for
several days,” the woman panted out. “There were so many gowns
needing special treatment, she only now saw to Lady Juliana’s.”

“Hers was left till last?” Luvena’s voice
rose several notes. “Hopefully, ‘twas not because she is the newest
lady at Court.”

“Oh, nay, I’m sure not.” The woman shook her
head.

Royce reached up and relieved Luvena of the
bundle, fearing they’d be here the rest of the morning discussing
the gown. “Here, I’ll see it added to one of the packhorses,” he
promised.

After seeing this done. Royce pulled up his
coif of mail, covering his hair, and mounted Hannibal. He then
caught up Nutmeg’s reins and with a parting nod to the royal couple
and Lady Sibylla, he turned the stallion and led Juliana and their
retinue through the gates of Wallingford.

Emerging from the great fortress, he
directed them south toward Hampshire and Penhurst.

“
Love’s a stern and valiant
knight,

strong astride a steed;

Love’s a thing that pleasures every

longing woman’s need;

Love persists and keeps its heat

like any glowing gleed:

Love puts girls in floods of tears,

they rage and cry indeed.”

—
Anonymous

Penhurst Castle, Hampshire

Ana braced herself against the wind’s frigid
bite as she stood atop the parapet of Penhurst Castle, gazing over
the curtain wall. Below, Sir Royce emerged from the gate astride
Hannibal, three men-at-arms riding behind, as they set out for East
Anglia.

Ana drew deeper into her mantle and hood,
watching the figures move into the distance. She prayed they would
reach their destination safely, before the next snowfall. The sky
did not look promising. Its leaden cast was the same as it had been
just before blanketing the road to Penhurst and slowing the
progress of their little retinue from Wallingford. Fortunately, by
then they’d drawn within five miles of the castle.

Thinking back to their arrival, Ana recalled
the dubious looks that had greeted them, looks that had quickly
turned to ones of grief on seeing his lordship’s banner-draped
coffin.

But as jolting for the castlefolk as news of
their master’s death was the appearance of Penhurst’s lost heiress.
In truth, Lord Gilbert had begun a letter to his seneschal, Edmond
Kovey, apprising him of Ana’s arrival in England with Sir Royce.
But Lord Gilbert had continued to add to the missive and delayed
sending it, until ‘twas too late. Thus, when Sir Royce made their
introduction, he presented both Lord Gilbert’s letter announcing
his granddaughter’s return, plus the document appointing him as
guardian to Juliana Mandeville and all that was Penhurst’s.

Suspicions lingered on the faces of the
castlefolk until Godric and Brodric stepped forward and verified
all that had passed at Wallingford. Penhurst’s soldiery were the
first to embrace Sir Royce and place themselves under his command.
Many were already familiar with his name and tales of his feats
beside the Lionheart in the East. What they’d not heard of the
knight, Guy of Lisors was quick to supply in verse. Still, it
wasn’t until after Lord Gilbert had been entombed in the castle’s
chapel, beside his wife, Thérèse, that the others began to accept
Sir Royce’s authority and acknowledge Ana as Penhurst’s new
mistress.

Ana, on the other hand, felt grossly out of
place. She also found herself the object of intense curiosity. Few
would approach her, though everyone watched her. Or so it seemed.
Ana felt miserably alone, isolated.

To make matters worse, Sir Royce arranged to
depart Penhurst this day — one day following the funeral — eager to
claim his land in East Anglia before winter descended full force.
To her disappointment, the knight refused to take her with him.
Instead, he left her in the seneschal’s charge with instructions to
begin her lessons and training in the basics of reading, ciphering,
and the running of a castle household.

Ana suspected Sir Royce also left warnings
with the seneschal, lest she attempt to slip away. ‘Twas her fault
she knew, for during their journey here, she’d asked again of
returning to Chinon. Where Sir Royce had assumed she’d accepted her
identity and noble station, she’d doltishly revealed she’d not. To
her dismay, Ana discovered she’d traded one prison for another,
Wallingford for Penhurst.

“My lady, come away before you catch your
death!” Luvena’s voice sounded on the parapet’s walk.

Ana turned to see the maid hastening toward
her with rapid little steps. Dear Luvena, Ana thought, she was the
one true friend she had in this place, in this land. Ana sighed
inwardly. How she missed Georges, Marie, Gervase, all her friends
back home. Did they think as much of her, as she did of them?

“My lady, come now,” Luvena urged as she
joined her. “There’s hot stew waiting in the hall. ‘Twill put some
warmth back in your bones. Mine as well,” she added with a decided
shiver.

Ana cast a quick glance toward the horizon.
The landscape appeared empty, the men gone.

“Very well, Luvena.” She smiled at the
petite maid. “Perhaps after our meal we can explore more of
Penhurst. There’s much I’ve yet to see.”

“Perhaps, if the seneschal doesn’t have you
working at your numbers.” Luvena turned and led the way back to the
narrow parapet steps.

Ana followed the maid down and across the
courtyard to the Great Hall. Compared to Wallingford, Penhurst was
a modest fortification. Its stout curtain wall was of rugged
limestone, but all the buildings within were of timber, excepting
the chapel and Great Hall. No mammoth keep loomed in the ward,
though the defense walls bore a series of towers around its
perimeter.

Penhurst had appealed to Ana from the first,
as did its setting in the Meon Valley with its surrounding yew and
beech forests. Though secluded, the castle was in no way cut off
from the rest of the land for they’d encountered numerous little
villages along the river leading here. Then, too, an old Roman road
stretched from the Meon Valley to Winchester.

Ana slowed her steps, unsure how she knew of
the Roman road. Yet, she felt certain of its existence.

Entering the hall, she looked neither right
nor left, but continued to follow Luvena as she directed her the
length of the chamber to the lord’s dais.

“Must I sit here?” Ana whispered, bending
toward the maid. “I’ll be alone. Perhaps you should sit with
me.”

“That wouldn’t be proper, Lady Juliana. You
are the mistress of Penhurst.”

Ana straightened, clasping her hands before
her. “I’ve no wish to sit by myself upon the dais, to be gawked at
by those in the hall.”

“But you cannot leave, my lady. You are
expected to sup with those who serve the castle.”

“Then at least allow me someone to talk to.
What of the seneschal? Would he be acceptable?”

“I believe so, my lady. I’ll ask that he
join you at once.”

As Luvena hastened away, Ana took her place
on the dais, sitting in Lord Gilbert’s high-backed chair. Several
servants hastened forward with a bowl of stew, rolls, and a goblet
of wine. She thanked them — graciously, she thought — then wondered
if ‘twas proper for the lady of the castle to do so.
Self-conscious, she fingered the base of her goblet, aware that
many an eye had begun to drift in her direction, snatching glimpses
of her. What did these people think of her? Ana wondered. Did they
believe her to be an impostor, a fraud, even as she felt herself to
be? Blast Sir Royce for abandoning her like this.

Ana snatched up the goblet then paused as
she gazed into its contents. There, she saw her reflection wavering
over the wine’s surface, gazing back. What was to become of her? As
she’d feared, the English nobles — believing her to be an heiress —
wished to quickly marry her off, Lord Gilbert had wished it
himself, though out of sincere motives. The king, however,
pressured Sir Royce to choose her a husband, one to the Crown’s
political advantage.

Ana clenched her hand beneath the table. If
only she could convince Sir Royce to not betroth her to another at
all. If she understood rightly, as her guardian, he was entitled to
collect the rents from Penhurst and its fiefs, and keep them for
himself. Surely, that must appeal to him.

The folly of her plan lay in that ‘twas
almost certain Sir Royce and Lady Sibylla would marry. If Ana
remained his ward and unmarried, then she would be forced to live
under the countess’s domination, perhaps even under the same roof.
‘Twould be intolerable, Ana deemed, shifting on her chair. She had
no wish to spend the nights lodged in a chamber nearby the couple,
knowing they took their pleasures of one another, or of watching
Sibylla swell with Sir Royce’s child. And what if he should be
called away? Ana would then be left totally under his wife’s
authority.

Gripping the goblet, Ana downed a mouthful
of wine, then grimaced. ‘Twas as sour as her last thought.

“Is my lady all right?”

Ana looked up to find Edmond Kovey gazing
down on her, concern creasing his eyes. She forced a smile past the
offensive taste in her mouth.

“I believe we shall need to do something
about the castle’s drink.”

“As you wish, my lady. I’ll speak to the
butler at once.” He started to turn away.

“Please, join me. I’d hoped you might answer
a few questions that I have.” She eyed his thinning white hair.
“Did you serve Lord Gilbert very long?”

“Seven years, my lady.”

Ana’s hopes deflated. “Then you wouldn’t
have known Lord Gilbert’s daughter, Lady Alyce, or Sir Robert
Mandeville.”

“I know of your parents, my lady, and of you
as well. Lord Gilbert spoke long and often of you all. Since your
own disappearance, he became obsessed with finding you.”

“So I understand.” Ana studied her hands a
moment, as she considered what question she might ask next.

The seneschal cleared a sudden roughness in
his throat. “On behalf of the others of Penhurst, may I say that we
are all quite happy you were found, Lady Juliana.”

Was she glad? Ana asked herself. At
the moment, she felt overwhelmed and out of place and wishing to
flee before she was forced into an undesired marriage. But how
could she accomplish it? Who would help her? In all the commotion
following Lord Gilbert’s death, their travels, his funeral, she’d
not once found a moment to question Sir Royce of her squire. And
yet to what purpose now? If her squire hadn’t returned from the
East as Lord Gilbert said — whether he be alive or dead — he
couldn’t help her, not from
Outremer
.

Ana returned her attention to the seneschal.
“Do you know of Sir Robert Mandeville’s castle? ‘Twas a Marcher
castle along the Welsh border, I believe. Yet, ‘twas not mentioned
in my inheritance.”

Ana winced at her own words, as they sounded
so greedy. Her question didn’t seem to faze Edmond Kovey,
however.

“‘
Tis a regrettable thing, but as Sir
Robert died without issue or living relatives, his holdings
reverted to the Crown and have long since been awarded to another.
‘Twas assumed you, yourself, were dead, my lady. Lord Gilbert alone
did not give up hope of finding you.”

“I see,” she said quietly, recalling the
mountains she’d seen in her dreams. Were they naught but
fabrications?

Some part of France she’d once viewed? But
when, where? Ana felt certain she’d seen nothing to compare to the
mountains of her dreaming.

“If it pleases you, my lady, Lord Gilbert
kept a trunk containing items belonging to his daughter and
son-in-law. Would you care to inspect it?”

“Very much so. Now, if you please.” Ana set
her goblet down and rose. Motioning to Luvena to join them, she
followed the seneschal from the hall.

In short time, they entered Lord Gilbert’s
bedchamber. Ana hesitated on the threshold, feeling as though she
was about to intrude upon the dead. The room was spacious, having a
large canopied bed hung with silks and an immense fireplace faced
with elaborate carvings. Tapestries brightened the walls, while
small tables and chairs and a number of oaken trunks lined the
walls’ perimeter.