Infamous (8 page)

“All told, the earls and barons here today have with them fifteen hundred men-at-arms.”

“That would be open rebellion.”

“Aye, and he's not sure you or I would come down on his side.”

The king's next opponent was the Archbishop of Canterbury. Edward and Winchelsey had a bitter debate on what the clergy should pay toward the war.

“I go to fight for the people as well as the Church of England.” He paused dramatically. “And if I do not return, crown my son as your king.”

At his father's words, young Prince Edward broke into tears and his mood communicated itself to the archbishop, who immediately capitulated and raised his hands high to show his loyalty.

Warwick and Gloucester exchanged a glance of disgust that a prince of the realm would shame himself by weeping like a girl. The son was only a pale and pathetic shadow of his dominant sire.

During the recess, Roger Bigod approached his son-in-law, Lynx, and John de Warenne. After much back and forth over who would pay the lion's share of the costs, the Earl of Surrey agreed to lead an army into Gascony to secure it along with Guienne, from the avaricious Philip of France.

When the session resumed, Bigod announced that he wished to nominate John de Warenne as temporary substitute marshal, if it pleased the king. Edward Plantagenet was more than pleased and immediately appointed Surrey as head general of the army that would go to Gascony.

That evening when the first day's session of Parliament ended, a crowd had gathered outside Westminster Hall. Edward Plantagenet was shrewd enough to address the common people. With his son and heir on one side and Archbishop Winchelsey on the other, he made a speech aimed directly at their hearts. He told them how the French king was usurping territory that belonged to England and vowed to stop the fishermen of Normandy from stealing English livelihoods. The mass of people listened avidly, then cheered when their monarch ended his speech, showing their admiration for his bravery and pledging their complete loyalty.

 

After supper, Guy de Beauchamp made his way to the Westminster Palace chambers of John de Warenne. He was cynic enough to realize that ambition had prompted the Earl of Surrey to agree to take an army to Gascony, yet he thought more of him, rather than less, for that ambition. Warwick knew it would be expedient to get the matter of Lady Marjory settled without delay. After the two families formed a blood bond, he would not be averse to joining the de Warenne men when they went to fight in Gascony.

When Guy arrived, he was glad to see that Lynx was present.

“Come in, Warwick,” the earl invited. “That was quite a session today. Thirsty work—pour us some ale, Lynx.”

“Congratulations on your appointment, Surrey. Edward is lucky to get a general with your battle experience.” Guy took a chair and half emptied the tankard of ale. “I have come to propose a match between Lady Marjory and myself. I would be deeply honored to make her the Countess of Warwick and have reason to believe the lady is not averse to becoming my wife.”

“Lord Warwick, this is indeed a surprise,” Surrey replied. “I had no idea you were contemplating marriage.”

“I wasn't,” Warwick said flatly, “until I met Lady Marjory.” He made eye contact with Lynx de Warenne. “Your sister has won my devotion. She is a prize beyond compare.”

“A much sought after prize,” Lynx said.

“We are aware of the great honor you bestow with this offer,” John said quickly. “A union between the de Warennes and the noble house of Warwick would be most advantageous and give us much to celebrate. Though we have other offers for Lady Marjory, naturally yours will take precedence. We will give you our highest consideration, and of course we will consult the lady herself regarding her choice of future husband.”

Warwick allowed himself to smile for the first time. “That is all I ask.” His heart lifted and he felt supremely happy. He knew he had made the right decision and vowed to cherish Jory. “Thank you, gentlemen. I look forward to negotiating the terms.”

After Guy de Beauchamp departed, Lynx said, “I had no idea you were such a skillful diplomat.”

“I learned diplomacy in a hell of a hurry when I negotiated the terms of your marriage with Roger Bigod, the irascible earl!”

“My hat is off to you, John. Sylvia's father can be extremely truculent, as he was today with the king.”

“I had the advantage. It was Bigod who wanted you for his daughter's husband—not the other way around.”

 

Each morning when Jory awakened, she hoped that this would be the day that she would be summoned to Westminster Palace. After the third day of disappointment, she became apprehensive.
Perhaps Warwick has changed his mind!
Her fear of rejection made her feel extremely vulnerable. She twisted the ring on her finger, and when she glanced down at the sparkling emerald gem, it reassured her.
No, no, Guy de Beauchamp loves me as much as I love him!

The Countess of Gloucester's seamstress brought the gown she was making for Jory. “This is the loveliest material I've ever sewn, Lady Marjory, but it is so sheer and delicate. I took the liberty of making you a taffeta underdress to help show off its beauty. Would you like gathered sleeves?”

Jory donned the lustrous taffeta, then tried on the new gown. “Oh, it's exquisite! You have done a superb job.” She twirled before the mirror, thrilled that the pale green silk floated about her like gossamer. “I think I'd like trailing sleeves, please.”
I love it so much! This will be my wedding gown.
She twirled about, then curtsied to her reflection.
Marjory de Beauchamp, Countess of Warwick!

When morning turned into afternoon, Jory's doubts crept back. As she laid out the clothes that Joanna would wear to dinner that night, she sought to reassure herself. “Is Parliament still in session? It's been four days.”

“Yes, they'll be at it for some time. Gilbert informs me that Father is pressing for money for the French wars, and extracting gold from the barons is like squeezing blood from stone.”

“Will the Earl of Gloucester go to fight in France?”

“Nay, Jory. The king relies on Gloucester to safeguard Wales. Gilbert had me in stitches last night. Apparently Roger Bigod and the king almost came to blows. The Earl of Norfolk refused to take the army to Gascony and my father threatened to hang him.”

Roger Bigod is Lynx's father-in-law!
“Did the marshal finally agree to do the king's bidding?”

“Nay, the irascible old devil appointed your uncle, John de Warenne, to lead the army instead.”

No wonder I haven't been summoned to Westminster. They have been completely occupied with preparing to fight a war in France!

 

John de Warenne and his nephew, Lynx, paid a late call on John de Bohun, Earl of Hereford. The Constable of England's son Humphrey was with him when they arrived.

“Come in, Surrey; de Warenne. I'm delighted to see you both. Since Humphrey is a party to this match, I warrant he can be present while we negotiate?”

“By all means.” Both de Warennes took the chairs they were offered and accepted tankards of ale.

“We have come to advise you that we have received another offer for Lady Marjory. Without revealing his name, I feel it only fair to let you know that the noble is an Earl of the Realm.”

De Bohun's brows drew together, and though Humphrey did not frown, the de Warennes saw that they had his undivided attention.

“Marriage with Humphrey will not make Lady Marjory a countess immediately,” Hereford conceded, “so let me offer a substantial incentive. I will deed my castle of Midhurst, Sussex, to my heir upon his marriage to Lady Marjory, with the stipulation that it become the legal property of the firstborn child of the union, should my son predecease me, God forbid.”

The de Warennes exchanged a guarded glance that was noncommittal and immediately John de Bohun added, “And of course it goes without saying that no dowry is necessary for a lady as highborn as Marjory de Warenne.”

“That is most generous, Hereford.” Lynx turned to Humphrey. “I warrant you are an excellent match for my sister. We will inform her of your offer and feel confident that Lady Marjory will happily assent to the union.”

The Earl of Surrey softened his flinty demeanor. “A blood bond between the de Bohun and de Warenne families will be advantageous for us all, and for England.”

As the pair returned to their own chambers in Westminster Palace, John said dryly, “Lady Marjory will assent to the union, happily or otherwise, only if she receives no other offers.”

“Jory is as elusive as quicksilver and more willful than a dozen men-at-arms. If given the choice, she will unswervingly pick the
infamous
Earl of Warwick.” Lynx let out a resigned breath. “I warrant you are right. The only way to keep her safe from making a rash decision is to keep silent about de Beauchamp's offer.”

W
arwick bathed and took special care with his wardrobe. He had often been told that his pride was indelibly etched on his face, and as he glanced into the mirror, he could not deny it. He brushed an invisible speck from his black doublet.
I am what I am, nothing more, nothing less.

As the fifth session of Parliament had drawn to a close, the Earl of Surrey had asked Guy de Beauchamp to join him after dinner. Warwick bid Brutus, “Stay!” He locked his door and his long strides soon brought him to John de Warenne's chamber. His mood was high; he was actually looking forward to negotiating for Jory.

The first thing he noticed when he entered the room was that Lynx de Warenne was conspicuously absent.
Why is Jory's guardian negotiating without her brother? Do they disagree on terms or do they believe two earls of equal rank will deal better one-on-one?

Guy took a seat, stretching his long legs to the fire. He knew that a worthy negotiator would point out all the disadvantages to the union in order to gain the upper hand.

John sat down opposite him and cleared his throat. “The de Warennes are most honored by your offer for Lady Marjory,” Surrey began, “but I hope you'll not object to my being blunt, Warwick.”

He's going to bring up the death of my wives.
“By all means, Surrey, let us speak plainly. I would have it no other way.”

“My niece is an eighteen-year-old maiden, while you are past thirty. In both age and experience you are worlds apart.”

“True. I cannot deny either my age or my experience; nor do I intend to.”

“You have been married twice before, which would make Lady Marjory the
third
Countess of Warwick.”

Surrey's words set Guy's teeth on edge. “You have a penchant for stating the obvious.”

“Forgive me,” Surrey said expansively. “All these objections could be overlooked if it were not for one glaring obstacle that can neither be ignored nor changed.”

Warwick remained silent. There were numerous obstacles from which Surrey could choose.

“You already have a son, Rickard. Any male issue from a union with Lady Marjory would not be the heir to Warwick.”

“Any child of mine, male or female, will be well provided with Warwick castles and land, as will their mother.”
Christ, that sounded defensive!

“But not the title—not the Earldom of Warwick,” Surrey said.

“We are back to the obvious.” His voice was like silk and steel. “I have made certain that Lady Marjory is aware of all the disadvantages connected with marriage to me, Lord Surrey. I am content to abide by her wishes.”

“I am relieved to hear it, Warwick. Lady Marjory has accepted an offer from the Earl of Hereford's heir, Humphrey de Bohun. The Constable of England's son is close to her own age.”

Warwick rose to his feet, towering over Surrey. His black eyes blazed with accusation. “This is
your
fucking decision, not Jory's!” He knew he should not lose his temper, the temper that was reputed to be blacker than the devil's own, but in that moment Warwick could not control himself.

“You are quite mistaken. Lady Marjory has no desire to cause you pain, but her decision to wed Humphrey de Bohun is final. She asked me to tell you that she has quite made up her mind.”

Guy felt stunned, as if a stone wall had fallen on him. These were Jory's own words and no others would have convinced him. A picture of her came to him full blown, tossing her silvery hair. Pride rose up in him. It was the only thing that stopped him from committing an act of savage violence upon John de Warenne.

Warwick masked his emotions instantly. “I shall abide by her wishes.” He nodded curtly to Surrey and departed.

He unlocked his chamber door and slammed it shut with a force that broke its iron hinge. He emptied the wardrobe and threw everything into his bags. He clenched his jaw and his fists, lusting for vengeance, wanting to kill. His glance fell on Brutus, who sat quietly, watching him with knowing yellow eyes. Warwick went down on his knees and gathered the wolfhound in his arms. He rubbed his face in the wiry coat and, though his wound remained raw, he felt some of his black fury melt away.

“You know she has saved herself from a fate worse than death,” he told Brutus. “The full moon stole my senses and turned me into a lunatic.” His wolfhound nodded in agreement. Warwick laughed at his own folly.

He went to the barracks where his men were housed and found his lieutenant casting dice. “Pack up; we are leaving.”

“Tonight, my lord? I didn't realize Parliament was over.”

“It's over for me. We leave for Warwickshire in an hour.”

 

At long last, Jory received the summons from her uncle John to attend him at Westminster Palace. She was so excited that she changed her outfit three times before she was satisfied with her appearance. She wished to appear mature, dignified, and above all, confident that she would fit the role of Countess of Warwick.

The Earl of Surrey had sent a de Warenne escort to accompany her from Clerkenwell to Westminster, and she rode her new white palfrey with great pride. She arrived in the afternoon, and since her uncle was attending Parliament, she decided to visit with Lynx's wife until the session was over.

“Marjory, you are looking very elegant today.”

“Thank you, Sylvia. You know why I'm here, I warrant. It's a momentous occasion for me.”

“Indeed. An offer of marriage is very exciting. I remember exactly how I felt when it was my turn.”

“Are you enjoying Westminster?”

“Not really. I'm counting the days until Lynx and I can return to Hedingham. I am quite homesick.”

Jory searched Sylvia's face.
Does she not know that Lynx will be going to France to fight a war?

“I thoroughly enjoyed my stay at Windsor and my visit with Queen Eleanor, and the royal wedding, of course. How is the bride? I hope Joanna finally realizes how fortunate she is to be wed to Gloucester, the highest peer in the realm.”

“They seem to get along famously. The age difference is no longer a bone of contention.” Jory's mouth curved. “I firmly believe that age has nothing to do with happiness. The best husbands are always a few years older than their wives.”

Sylvia called for refreshments, and the two ladies chatted amiably as they sipped their wine and enjoyed a variety of fruit tarts. When they were done, it was time for the daily session of Parliament to be over and Sylvia took Jory to her uncle's chamber. “You must stay with us tonight. I shall order you a trundle bed.”

“Thank you. Ah, here comes Uncle John,” she said breathlessly.

“Hello, Minx.” He gave her an appreciative glance. “You grow lovelier every day.”

“It's because I'm happy,” she confided.

“Come in, child, and make yourself comfortable. Is there anything I can get you?”

“No, thank you. I had dessert with Sylvia.”

John sat down at the table and shuffled some papers on it. “So, my dear, I believe you are quite aware that we have had an offer of marriage for you?”

“Yes. I thought you'd never send for me!”

“Negotiations take time, Mistress Impatience. This is a marriage between two great noble families. All the details have to be laid out clearly before the contract can be signed. I told the earl that I would inform you of the offer, which is just a formality, of course, and assured him I was confident that Lady Marjory would happily assent to the union.”

“Most happily! I've quite made up my mind.”

“Splendid! You have made a wise decision, my dear. I shall inform the constable without delay, and all that remains is to sign the papers and set a date for the wedding.”

“I didn't realize the constable had to be informed.”

“It is the Earl of Hereford who has made the offer for you on behalf of his heir, Humphrey de Bohun.”

“Oh heavens…I had no idea! I'm afraid you'll have to tell him my answer is
no
. It is Guy de Beauchamp's offer I wish to accept, Uncle John.”

“We have had no offer from the Earl of Warwick, my dear.”

Marjory jumped to her feet. “You must be mistaken! Guy has already asked me to marry him, and I accepted his proposal!”

John de Warenne gave his niece a pitying glance. “Are you sure it wasn't a
proposition
, Jory my dear? A man like Warwick—”

She raised her chin in defiance and could feel the hot blaze of her cheeks. “I assure you that Guy de Beauchamp
will
be offering for me. Any other offers are out of the question! When you have received the offer, I will be happy to return to Westminster.”

Jory knew that if she didn't get some fresh air into her lungs, she would suffocate. She was furious with her guardian and left him sitting at the table with his mouth open. She walked briskly along the facade of the old palace and stopped a liveried servant. “Could you direct me to the Earl of Warwick's chamber, please?”

“Sorry, m'lady, there's scores of nobles here fer Parliament. I don't know which chambers they're assigned to.”

Jory next approached a serving woman wearing a smock. “Do you know where the Earl of Warwick is lodged?”

“Sorry, luv. This old palace is like a rabbit warren.”

Under the circumstances, Jory knew she could not go back and spend the night with Sylvia and Lynx, so she went to the stables to retrieve Zephyr. One of Surrey's men who had escorted her earlier in the day was in the stables and she asked him if he would see her safely back to Clerkenwell.

On the three-mile-ride home she clung to her anger, knowing instinctively it was the only thing that would keep her tears at bay. When she arrived back at Gloucester's mansion, she thanked her escort, turned Zephyr over to a groom, and then went upstairs.

Eleanor de Leyburn, who was getting ready for bed, dismissed the maid so she could learn all about Jory's exciting summons to Westminster. “You guessed correctly? It was an offer of marriage?”

“I…Yes, I did receive an offer of marriage,” Jory replied.

“Did you accept?” Eleanor asked breathlessly.

“No…I…Nothing is settled yet. I'll likely be returning to Westminster in a couple of days.” Jory pretended to yawn. “I'm exhausted, Eleanor. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”

Once Jory was abed and the room lay in darkness, her thoughts flew about like caged birds colliding with each other in a panic to escape.
Why did Guy not make a formal offer for me? Perhaps he spoke with Lynx and my uncle doesn't yet know about it? I didn't dream it—Guy did ask me to marry him!
Jory twisted the ring on her finger.
A ring is a promise.
She heard Sylvia's voice:
Men's promises are forgotten the moment they are uttered! No, no, he gave me Zephyr as a gift. Surely the white palfrey wasn't a parting gift?

Jory's fear of rejection fed on itself as she remembered the things Joanna had said about Guy:
The Wolfhound is a notorious womanizer, Jory. Once he takes your virginity, you'll never see the lecherous swine again. No, no, Guy was too honorable to take my virginity once he knew I was a lady. He lives according to his motto: Not without right!

Jory conjured his image and gazed intently into his purple-black eyes.
Please, Guy, please!
She saw his fingers touch his lips and then his heart and hope returned.
There is a valid explanation why he hasn't yet offered for me. They will call me back to Westminster very soon.

As she drifted to the edge of sleep, she slipped into the vulnerable void between a dream and a nightmare. She heard a voice in the distance laughing:
I cannot believe your naïveté. It's Warwick for God's sake!

 

Jory opened her eyes before dawn and instantly a feeling of dread descended. She dressed quietly without waking Eleanor and went down to the library. She wrote a brief note that was a cry for help.
Humphrey de Bohun has offered for me.
She put only her initial J beneath the seven words and addressed the envelope to:
Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, Westminster Palace, London.

Jory made her way to the reception hall and waited by the front door. It wasn't long before Gilbert de Clare came into view.

“My lord earl, I know this is presumptuous, but would you kindly do me the service of delivering this to your friend?”

Gilbert read the name on the note. “Lady Marjory, I will gladly deliver your note if Warwick is at the session today. He was absent yesterday.” The look of vulnerability on her face prompted him to reassure her. “He'll likely be back today.”

She smiled with relief. “Thank you, my lord.”