Music for My Soul (24 page)

A sudden chill froze Madeleine’s heart. Somehow, she knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I traveled to Chateau Brasnais, near the Garonne River, only last year for the first time. I spent time there with the man and his son who manage the estate for me. They’ve done so for years, and they do an excellent job. Why,” and she could hear amazement in his voice as he put it together, “their name was Bouchard, just as yours is.”

“’Tis a common name in France, my papa told me,” she replied quickly. “Much as Baker is in England.”

He seemed excited. She could feel it in the sleek muscles that rested next to her. “But the wife, I can’t remember her name, she bore a resemblance to you,” he exclaimed. “Madeleine, I might have stumbled across some of your distant relatives!”

She was thankful that it was the dead of night and the light of the candle had long flickered out. If he could have seen her face, he would see her unraveling as he spoke.

Madeleine tried to keep her voice calm. “That could certainly be a possibility.” Thoughts of home coupled with her nagging fear of Henri discovering her here at Stanbury brought a deep uneasiness to the pit of her stomach.

“We will visit these Bouchards when we marry, sweetheart. I would love to show you France. ‘Tis a beautiful country.”

But not as beautiful as England
, her heart cried out. “Mayhap,” she said, pretending to stifle a yawn.

“Oh, my love, I’ve droned on and bored you.”

“No, I’m not bored, just a bit tired.”

He kissed her brow. “I must take you back to your own bed. Here, let me help you dress.”

He replaced her tunics, chatting lightly as he did, and then dressing himself. “I’m to have a visitor from France at the end of this week, coincidentally.”

The overwhelming sense of dread crashed full force upon her. Tamping down her alarm, she inquired, “’Tis someone coming to conduct business?”

“Yes. An odd, rather cranky fellow named Henri de Picassaret. He wants to negotiate a land deal. De Picassaret would award me a portion of his champagne vineyards in northern France, close to Reims.”

A low roar sounded in her ears and the pit of her stomach turned to ice. Her hands began shaking, so she started fussing with the folds of her tunic to hide her distress.

“And what does this Frenchman want in return?” she forced out, relieved that she sounded so natural.

“That my ships would carry his own wines to certain ports I frequent, in particular the Hanseatic ports and the Low Countries.” Garrett snorted. “We had quite a falling out in London, April last. To be honest, I thought the old man had gone half mad. But Ash saw him at Lord Ancil’s this week, and he brought a letter to me from de Picassaret. The writing was fluid and intelligent, and the arrangement he proposes is far sweeter than what he offered before.” Garrett shrugged. “I suppose whatever troubled him then has now been resolved.”

Garrett continued speaking, but Madeleine heard no more. Panic welled up inside her like a pot boiling over. Henri, here, this very week.

If he found her here, he’d kill her, he’d kill Garrett, he’d kill anyone who’d had knowledge of her.
She must escape
.

She composed herself. She could give nothing away. She must protect Garrett at all costs. Involuntarily, she shivered.

“Are you chilled, love?” He wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back. “Let us get you to your bed.”

He lifted her and carried her down the hall to her chamber. He placed her in bed, pulling the covers high.

“Sleep well, my love,” he said, his voice a soft caress before he padded quietly out the door.

But Madeleine knew sleep would elude her the rest of this night.

What had Garrett done with her jewels
?

He was the last one with her clothes, and she was positive he’d found the precious stones. The day after her fall, she’d spotted her freshly washed tunics neatly placed across a chair—no jewels concealed in them any longer. Garrett must be behind it, but he’d made no mention of them. She’d been too frightened at first to ask since she was in no physical position to bargain or demand anything. Now, so much time had gone by she didn’t know how to approach him, especially with all the tenderness he’d shown her. She also didn’t want him forewarned in any way of her planned attempt to flee Stanbury.

Thank the Sweet Lord that Elspeth had left her bundle of things when the troupe had moved on. Annie brought it to her, and Madeleine checked it immediately when she was alone. Several pieces were still in those garments. Between those, and the brooch Lady Sanvale had gifted her with, she knew she could get to a port and sail for France and Chateau Brasnais.

Madeleine pondered where to travel. She was afraid to go the way of Sussex, in part because she might feel the need to stop and see Evan. Garrett would think of that and follow her, preventing her from leaving England by that route.

She’d go to London. The stories trickling out from there spoke of a raging typhus that consumed the city. Garrett’s reeve, Stephen, who went to London on business for him sometimes, had returned last from there with horrible tales. He’d regaled the Hall one night with talk of the many bodies he’d seen stacked in the streets awaiting burial. His lurid descriptions sickened Madeleine. She’d asked Coster to take her to her room instead of listening to all the gruesome details.

What better place for her to run? Garrett would never think she’d be foolish enough to go there. Hopefully, she’d be able to get a ship bound for France as quickly as possible now that she was more familiar with the waterfront area and there was no Bertrand to prevent her from doing so.

If she succumbed to this disease, so much the better. Death seemed a welcomed blessing compared to Henri finding her. That would be a living hell on earth, one she didn’t think she could survive again, not since she’d known Garrett’s love and compassion.

Madeleine busied herself the next few days with the necessary preparations to make her way from Stanbury to London. It was hard to keep a serene outward appearance, but she’d become skilled in her playacting, so no one seemed to catch on to her skittish mood inside. She thanked the Virgin daily for the business that kept Garrett away from her for several days. She was unsure she could have hidden her anxiety from him.

While keeping up her lessons with Lissa and spending time with Edith, Madeleine found a purse in which to place the coins she’d collected from the guests who’d rewarded her for her storytelling. She also located Stanbury’s sally port. It had been hard to explore Stanbury as she searched for the port. Her leg pained her terribly. Once she’d found the port door, apprehension filled her when she thought how she’d have to sacrifice her nerves one more time in order to use this method of escape. She lived on the knowledge that she’d done it before. She felt confident she could do it again.

The one thing she regretted was that she’d need to take one of Garrett’s horses. Walking to London was well beyond her endurance. Her injuries had healed remarkably, though, thanks to the immediate attention they’d received, but it would be impossible to make it the many miles to London. She decided to leave one of her pieces of jewelry in exchange for the horse she must take. Perhaps the brooch from Lady Sanvale would do. Garrett had told her he was fond of the dowager duchess.

But how was she to get the animal outside the walls without drawing attention?

Madeleine decided to engage Coster’s help with this part of her plan. Though married and true to his wife, the man was batty over her and a bit simple. Madeleine had never traded on her looks, but this case offered an extreme exception.

Later that day, she waylaid Coster in the outer bailey. “And how are you today, my fine gallant?”

He broke out in a huge grin at her friendly greeting. “A good day we be having, Madeleine.”

“Yes, Coster, ‘twould seem so.” She cast her eyes down and shuffled glumly. “I wish I could say the same.”

“Something be wrong wi’ ye, Madeleine?”

She raised her head, her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Coster, I’m so upset.”

He titled his head at her. “Why’re ye bothered, Madeleine?”

“’Tis my mother. Oh, but you wouldn’t understand.” She turned to walk away, knowing he’d scurry after her, which he did.

“What’s wi’ yer mum?”

“I’m so worried about her, Coster. She’s all alone, down Sussex way. She must be terribly anxious that I haven’t returned home by now.” She paused, trying to gauge his reaction. He did appear concerned, so she continued. “I would be home already if I’d stayed with Farley’s troupe since they always disband for the winter. She must be frantic, what with her only child missing.”

Coster scratched his head. “How can I help ye? Say the word and I’ll make it happen, Madeleine.” Coster stretched to his full height, his chest ready to burst with pride in coming to her aid.

“I would like to borrow one of Lord Montayne’s mounts and ride to see her.” She batted her lashes for good measure and lay a hand on his arm. “Do you think you could help me?”

“Ha’ ye asked the master?”

“No,” she said quietly.

Coster shook his head. “Dunno if’n that’s a good idea. There be danger on the road—robbers and thieves and mongrels—just waitin’ to eat up a pretty morsel like ye.”

“Oh, Coster,” she cried, “I must go! I love my mother more than anyone in this world. I need to see her.”

He patted her on the back. “There, now, Coster will help ye. Tell me what needs be done and ‘twill get done.”

Madeleine had learned that Henri would arrive midmorning the next day, shortly after Garrett himself would return. If she could leave after the castle bedded down tonight, more than likely she would not be missed till she was asked to entertain tomorrow night. That would be more than enough of a head start.

She told him where to tie the horse and placed in his palm the brooch that Lady Sanvale had given to her. “I am trusting you to hold this for me, Coster, for safekeeping. Only if it becomes absolutely necessary are you to tell Lord Montayne I borrowed his horse, and you’re not to tell him where I’ve gone, for I don’t wish to worry him.”

Patting his arm, she said, “Of course, I plan to return to Stanbury and bring his horse back safely, but in the event something should go wrong, you may give him the brooch as payment.”

Madeleine could tell even the unworldly Coster was none too sure of this plan, but she believed he would carry it through for her.

“Be thinking of what tale you’d like to hear when I return. I will tell it especially in your honor.”

He seemed to like this idea a good deal. “Do ye suppose it could be a song instead?”

Madeleine laughed. “Whatever you ask for, Coster. If ‘tis a song you want, I’ll be thinking it up on the road between here and Sussex.”

Coster smiled broadly. “Make it a song then, Madeleine. A very good one.”

Henri de Picassaret arrived shortly before the mid-day meal. Garrett had arrived from the south only minutes before. He’d wanted to see Madeleine briefly, but de Picassaret was not a man to be kept waiting.

Garrett was startled by the man’s further deterioration since their last meeting. He was gaunt. His eyes, too, were sunk so far into his skull that he looked like a walking corpse.

Knowing his duty as a host, Garrett greeted him warmly, however. “Monsieur de Picassaret, I welcome you to Stanbury.”

Henri nodded his head curtly in return. “We have much to discuss, Lord Montayne.”

Garrett agreed. “First, though, let us dine. We’ll have the entire afternoon in which to conduct our business. Cook has planned an elegant meal for tonight in your honor, and I’ve provided special entertainment for afterward.”

“I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, my lord,” Henri said as he followed Garrett into the castle.

The two men were closeted the rest of the day discussing wines. Henri’s manner was almost fawning as he tried to convince Garrett to return with him when he left for France.

“’Tis in your best interest, Lord Montayne, to travel with me and inspect the vineyards that will soon be in your possession. ‘Tis a beautiful time of year in my country,” he explained. “Of course, when is France not beautiful?”

“I must agree with you,” Garrett said. “I visited there only last year for the first time. Our family’s vineyards are in Bordeaux. Although I have traded in wines for many years, I had never seen the properties we owned in the south.”

“How unusual. Exactly where are the Montayne vineyards? I have visited the region on occasion.”

“They are located close to the Garonne, surrounding a property called Chateau Brasnais.”

Henri blanched considerably. “What did you say?”

“’Tis called Chateau Brasnais. Why, are you familiar with it? A family named Bouchard manages the estates. The son, Pierre, is most knowledgeable about the grape.”

Henri took a sip of the wine before him. He recovered some of his color. “Yes, I have been in the area before. I may have called upon these Bouchards.”

Garrett smiled. “They are lovely people. The father and son worked well together, and the wife was quite charming.”

“I seem to recall they had a daughter when I visited them some years ago.”

Garrett looked at him blankly. “A daughter? Odd. They never made mention of her. Possibly she died? That might explain why nothing was said. If she’d married, surely her name would have come up in conversation, for I was with them some weeks.”

Henri nodded slowly. “Perhaps I was mistaken. I’m sure you are right, my lord.”

Garrett stood. “My legs are tired from all this sitting. Would you like to see a bit of my property? Then we can adjourn to dine in the Great Hall. You’ll not be disappointed with Cook’s choices.”

Henri gave him a thin smile. “That would be most delightful, my lord.”

It took them close to an hour to conclude their brief tour. Garrett took pride in the farmland surrounding Stanbury and his stock of horses. De Picassaret was complimentary throughout their time together.

Eventually, they made their way into the evening meal. A jester capered as they ate, the bells from his cap tinkling merrily as he wove his way through the crowd. He was followed by a juggler and a man with a pet monkey.