Rexanne Becnel (21 page)

It had been more than a week since the wedding and all of the guests, including Odelia and Tullia, had departed. Lady Verone had not felt up to traveling, and she and William had lingered awhile longer at Orrick. But Lady Verone had not improved. Then this morning the pains had begun.

They all knew it was too soon. Grendella had come at once, much to Lilliane’s relief. If anyone could prevent a too-early birthing, surely it was Grendella. Using her hands more than her eyes, the wisewoman had examined Verone.

“We must prevent the birth, else the babe will not survive,” she had mumbled, more to herself than to Lilliane. “Yarrow is the thing. Mayhap it can stay the pains.”

To everyone’s relief, it had indeed seemed to do the trick. In the early afternoon when Verone finally fell into an exhausted slumber, Lilliane wearily descended the broad stairs.

In the main hall only a few people were about. Two maids cleaned the tables so that the men could stack them aside. A boy clambered into one of the massive hearths, cleaning away the ashes and soot. At a table under one of the few windows at Orrick that boasted glass, her father and Sir Dunn sat with a chess board spread between them.

“Ha! If your strategy against the infidels was as poor as your strategy today, ’tis a wonder you made it back alive,” Lord Barton crowed as he took another of Sir Dunn’s pawns and stymied his opponent’s plan to move one of his bishops. “Look to your defense, man, else I’ll soon threaten your king!”

“I defended my king in the East. I’ll defend this stone piece equally well,” Dunn muttered as he searched the inlaid board for his best move.

It was a wonder to Lilliane that the taciturn Sir Dunn, of all people, should be the one her father most enjoyed. Both men professed to mistrust each other, yet every afternoon once Lord Barton’s business had been attended to and Sir Dunn’s daily exercises with his men were complete, the two would settle down for a game of chess. Amid much grumbling and constant accusations they would challenge one another, and yet Lilliane clearly recognized her father’s delight with the contest.

With a tired sigh Lilliane turned toward the far hearth. After her long vigil at Verone’s side, she needed a bit of broth to restore her energy. But she was halted by William’s sudden appearance.

“Have all of you then succumbed to Colchester?” he asked sarcastically.

Annoyed by his constant ill temper, Lilliane brushed past him. “There’s no harm in a game of chess,” she snapped in irritation.

“And what of the game of love?” He barred her path, forcing her to face him.

Lilliane sighed again. She was exhausted and hungry, and she was tired of dealing with William’s constant sniping at her. “Love is no game,” she began. “If you—”

“Ah, but that’s how he views it, Lilliane. He will woo you to his side and use you to his advantage.” He took her hands in his. “But a woman like you deserves to be loved. To be idolized. I would have idolized you. I would do it still if you’d let me—”

“Stop it! Stop it, William!” Lilliane tugged her hands free of his grasp and looked at him, appalled. “What are you saying!”

Lilliane could hardly believe her ears. How could he presume to say such things to her? she wondered. Had he no loyalty or honor left?

“Are you mad, William? You should be thinking of Verone who even now struggles with bearing your babe!” Then thoroughly disgusted with him, she broke away and fled the hall.

At her sudden departure Lord Barton and Sir Dunn looked up. Barton was vaguely annoyed by William’s presence at the far end of the hall, but Sir Dunn was clearly angered.

“Yon pup seems hardly concerned with his wife’s confinement.”

“William is concerned only with himself; neither his wife nor child, nor even his own holdings have value to him beyond the wealth and comforts they provide him.” Lord Barton hunched his massive shoulders and reached to move his bishop. “It was for that very reason I denied him when he would have married Lilliane.”

“He hangs after her yet. Can you be sure she does not encourage him?”

Lord Barton brought his fist down so hard on the ancient oak table that the chessmen jumped. “Watch what you say!” he said with a fierce growl. “She is my daughter—your mistress—and the chosen wife of your liege!”

Dunn’s scowl deepened and he pursed his lips. “She has my loyalty because she is wed to Corbett and he is bound to see this valley at peace. But William … he is one I will watch closely.”

Lord Barton was somewhat mollified by Dunn’s words. But when the game at last ended, his face was pale and he held his side. After Sir Dunn left he lingered a long while just sitting in the hall.

It was not much later as Lilliane was stepping from her bath that a maid burst into her room. “You must come, milady! Quickly. ’Tis Lord Barton—”

Lilliane’s heart turned to lead at the panicked tone in the girl’s voice. As she frantically threw on a gown, she was able to determine no more than that her father had been found in his chair, seemingly asleep. But he would not rouse.

Lilliane was unmindful of the chill in the castle as she fled barefoot down the stairs. Her wet hair was wild, streaming down her back and leaving her unlaced gown damp. But all she was conscious of was the crowd clustered at the far end of the great hall.

“Oh, milady … milady.” Ferga moaned at Lilliane.

Lilliane pushed her way through to her father. “Dear God, what has happened?”

He was sprawled back in his favorite chair. His normally florid complexion was pale with a grayish tinge, and his breathing was hardly discernible. His skin was dreadfully cold when she felt his brow. Lilliane’s throat tightened in fear.

“Get him to his chamber. Build a strong fire,” she ordered with far more confidence than she felt. “And find Mother Grendella at once!” Lilliane anxiously followed the four men who lifted Lord Barton between them. “And someone try to find Thomas.”

But even as they worked frantically to make Lord Barton comfortable, Lilliane could feel him slipping away. Still, she could not give up hope even when the wisewoman shook her head soberly. Refusing to believe it, Lilliane blocked the priest as he moved to her father’s side.

“You can’t let him die, Grendella! There must be something we can do!”

“There is a time for each of us. When God calls.” The old woman fixed her half-blind stare on Lilliane. “He needs the priest now more than he needs me.”

Like a blow the wisewoman’s words fell on Lilliane, harsh and punishing. She rebelled against them and would not have accepted them. But it was her father who made her face the truth.

“’Tis done,” he mumbled hoarsely. Immediately Lilliane bent over him and pressed her shaking hand to his brow. At her tender touch Lord Barton managed to open his eyes and smile weakly at her. Then a frown creased his brow and she felt a shudder rack his body. “’Tis done …”

A long slow sigh followed and he seemed almost to shrink beneath her hand. When he did not take another breath she knew he was gone.

“Father! Father!” In desperation she tried to gather him into her arms, to somehow share her strength and youth and health with him. But it was no use. With firm yet understanding hands Mother Grendella pulled her from the still form of Lord Barton.

“He cannot be dead,” Lilliane insisted numbly as the wisewoman handed her over to William. In shock she let him lead her from the chamber. “He cannot be dead, William. Why, he was hale as ever, sitting at chess with Sir Dunn …”

“Sir Dunn,” William scoffed. He turned her abruptly to face him. “Didn’t you hear what your father said? He accused his killer even as his soul departed his body. He said ‘’tis Dunn.’ It was Dunn, Lilliane. Your husband’s man killed your father. Corbett got his revenge as he’d always intended.”

Lilliane was staggered by his accusation. For a moment she could not respond; she could hardly think, her emotional turmoil was so great. Then her father’s words seemed to echo in her ears. “’Tis done,” he’d said. Or had it been “’Tis Dunn”? She stared at William’s angry face as she fought to control her careening emotions. “You can’t be sure of that,” she whispered in dread.

“I’m sure,” he hissed back at her. “Have you become so blinded by him that you can overlook your own father’s murder? God knows it is widely known that the sons of Colchester have long wanted revenge against him.”

Lilliane did not have the strength to answer his accusation, for hadn’t she once wondered if that had been Corbett’s motivation from the beginning? Her father himself had acknowledged that Lord Frayne’s sons still sought revenge. Everyone knew that was so. And yet … and yet somehow it was hard for her to believe it of him.

She put one hand to her head. She was so confused; she needed to think. Yet she was terrified of what the truth might be. Still, she could not rest until she knew. Stricken, she tore from William’s grasp and sought out Grendella. Her eyes were huge as she faced the withered old woman, and her voice trembled with emotion.

“Did … did my father ever consult you for any ailment?”

Grendella peered sharply at Lilliane’s pale face. “He had little use for my talents, although I know he suffered the rich man’s ache—the gout. Thomas had asked for a poultice from me.” She thought a moment. “And I removed a tooth for him this spring past. But nothing else known to me.”

“You see, Lilliane? It is as I said. He was healthy as ever, until that … assassin of your husband’s stole the life from him.”

William’s words caused Lilliane to shiver in terrible dread. “It was Dunn,” she slowly admitted to herself in horror. But could it truly be? Dunn had befriended her father. And yet that might have only been in order to gain the opportunity to poison him. Then his master, her husband, could rule Orrick free of any opposition and with the satisfaction of having brought down the man he believed had murdered his father.

Lilliane shook her head at such a thought. Still, Corbett was conveniently gone so no blame could rightly fall on him.

She was so confused. If only Aldis was here, she thought. Or even Santon. They would be able to help her defend Orrick from this evil within.

But at least William was still here, she thought in relief. Although she felt awkward around him these days, still she knew he would help her. Nonetheless, Orrick’s defenses now lay primarily with her, she realized, and her heart grew hard within her at the thought.

In the hours that followed, her father’s body had to be prepared for burial; the mourning room had to be prepared and messengers had to be dispatched. Over the entire castle a somber pall had descended. Lord Barton had been well loved, and there was much wailing to be heard. But no matter how beset Lilliane was with sorrow, she could not avoid the words that circled and circled in her mind. “’Tis Dunn,” he had said. “’Tis Dunn.” The accusation was plain. Her father was dead and by Sir Dunn’s hand. And if that were so, then there could be no doubt that it was at the instruction of her husband.

She wanted to succumb to tears, for the hollowness she felt within was close to consuming her. Still, Lilliane knew she could not afford to be so weak. Especially now. She was in charge of the castle, and everyone was looking to her for guidance in this dire time. Even mourning brought her little ease for she had no family there nor even good Thomas to comfort her. He had gone just that morning to visit his son in Sedgewick.

By the time Lilliane finally retreated to her chamber, she was trembling from exhaustion. The room was cold, for Ferga had been too occupied with attending Lady Verone to manage her normal duties. For Lilliane, however, the chilly room was welcome respite. Her head was throbbing and her fingers shook as she undressed for bed. She was too weary to even braid her still-unbound hair. Yet once she had slipped beneath the heavy cover, she could not find the rest she so desperately sought.

As had occurred every night since her wedding, her mind was filled with memories of Corbett and the intimacies they had shared in this bed. But where before the memories were becoming welcome, despite her confusing feelings for her husband, now those thoughts brought nothing but pain. He had made love to her in the most expert and winning fashion, bringing her to an almost complete acceptance of him, while all the time he must have been plotting murder. He’d cozened her father to his side then seduced her as well.

Unable to bear the thought of his deviousness—and her own stupidity—Lilliane pressed her hands to her face. But even that brought haunting memories of Corbett for his heavy ring still circled her finger.

With a bitter cry of frustration she ripped the intricately worked piece from her hand and threw it sharply from her. She heard it clatter across the stone floor to rest somewhere in the dark. But then silence reigned once more, almost mocking her with its empty waiting.

It was only then that her tears finally came. Hot and stinging, they blinded her eyes and choked her breathing. Her slender body was racked by hard, crushing sobs as she mourned her father. He was gone, just when they had finally reconciled. She had wasted two years at the abbey avoiding him. Now, when she at last realized how much he loved her—and how much she really loved him—he was gone.

Lilliane gasped for breath as she wiped the tears from her face. She had never truly shown him her love, she thought sorrowfully. He had wanted what was best for her and for Orrick. It was that fact that had brought him to this dreadful end. Now it was left to her to look out for Orrick’s well-being and to avenge his death.

She sat up in the big bed, still sniffing and gulping for breath. She
would
avenge his death, she vowed. Sir Dunn could not be allowed to escape punishment for such a heinous crime.

It had been easy to avoid Sir Dunn in the bedlam of the past hours, but the morrow would see him instructing the knights and foot soldiers in their duties and she would not be able to bear it.

Lilliane shivered as she pulled the coverlet over her shoulders. Despite the overwhelming presence of the Colchester men, they were still outnumbered by the Orrick guards, she thought. And those guards would follow her lead over an outsider’s.

She paused as she contemplated the enormity of what she plotted. She would imprison Sir Dunn and the rest of his cohorts, but then what? Corbett would return eventually, and what would she do then? Even in the dark she could picture his hard face made even more cruel by a scowl. Fear made her tremble anew. How frightened she’d been at their first meeting. And then again when he’d foiled her escape attempt.