The Silent Touch of Shadows (10 page)

‘Damn the girl! I shouldn’t have let her go, but how could I have done otherwise?’

Sibell watched him through the crack between the door and the wall as he continued his pacing. Clearly impatient, his face was turning scarlet with anger now and she shrank back. She wanted to escape, but there was nowhere to run to.

‘I cannot afford to offend Presseille and his wife,’ he was mumbling. ‘Not yet. It’s too soon.’

Sibell shivered behind the door, the fear spreading through her once more. Her father was cursed with a temper he couldn’t seem to keep in check these days. She had an awful feeling it would lead him to do something truly dreadful. The mere sight of her was enough to set him off sometimes, although she did her best not to goad him in any way.

‘Where the hell is the little shrew?’ she heard him say and knew that she couldn’t delay the inevitable. Squaring her shoulders, she silently retraced her steps to the front door. She opened it as quietly as she could, then shut it with force before walking down the hall to face her father’s wrath.

Melissa stretched lazily in her new bedroom at Ashleigh with a small smile on her face, pleased that her knight had visited her again last night. She had stopped worrying about it. After all, what harm could it do? It was just a fantasy and a lot easier than a real-life relationship. The fact that the dream was becoming more vivid only added spice to it, and as she snuggled up under the duvet she caught the faint odour of horse and leather again. And man.

She closed her eyes and saw his face clearly, then tried to remember more. What had the rest of him looked like? She wasn’t sure. There was only a blurred image of someone big, solid and golden. Never mind, she would see him again, she was certain. A warm feeling of contentment spread through her body.

Getting up at last, she dressed quickly before padding over to the window to gaze at the breathtaking view. An enormous smooth lawn, bordered by a perfectly clipped hedge, was followed by an endless vista of rolling fields, all ploughed and ready for the spring sowing. In the distance to one side, she could see an old orchard, yet again of huge proportions. She leaned on the window sill and counted at least thirty trees. Their branches were bare now, but soon they’d be filled with blossom. Melissa wondered idly what on earth Dorothy did with all the fruit they must yield every autumn.

The main building was flanked by a stable block to the right and a huge barn with an oast house on the left. A small pond, surrounded by weeping willows and bushes, was set between the barn and the gates. At present, all the trees had stark, leafless branches. The only flashes of colour were the dark green leaves of ivy, interspersed with the occasional glint of yellow from a late-flowering winter jasmine. Later during the spring, these would be superseded by the profusion of climbing plants that grew all over the walls of the house – roses, wisteria, honeysuckle and more. No doubt those provided a riot of colours and scents.

Melissa flung open the casement and breathed deeply of the fresh country air, closing her eyes to savour the moment. It was a relief to finally have a home again, without having to worry about the rent or renewing the lease. Now they had the time to look around for a house of their own without being under pressure. Dorothy had been so good to them and wouldn’t hear of accepting any payment. To think that only a few weeks ago they hadn’t even met her.

‘You’re doing me a favour, my dear,’ Dorothy had protested when Melissa wanted to pay rent and no arguments could sway her. So Melissa backed down, but insisted on paying for all the food and half the bills instead. She didn’t want to lose her new-found independence. It made her feel better to know she was contributing in some way, apart from being here for Dorothy if she needed help.

‘Sweeting.’

The unexpected word startled Melissa and she turned around to scan the room. There was no one there.

‘Oh, God, I’m hearing things again.’ She put a hand to her brow and bent her head, shaking it slowly.

‘Sweeting,’
the voice whispered again and at the same time Melissa felt something caress her cheek. She gasped and put a hand up to her face, her eyes searching the room once more.

It must have been the wind.
A small laugh of relief escaped her as she realised her mind was playing tricks on her. Of course it had to be the wind. She closed the window with a bang and walked on slightly shaky legs over to the bed, where she sank down and drew a deep breath to calm her erratic heartbeat.

‘My love
 
…’
This time the voice was stronger, and Melissa almost choked on her hastily indrawn breath.

‘No, this isn’t happening.’ She shook her head again. ‘Whoever you are, go away.’

She heard laughter, deep and rumbling, echo round the walls and then felt another soft caress on her cheek. For a moment she remained motionless on the bed, petrified into immobility. Then the urge to flee overcame everything else and she found she could move her limbs once more. She jumped up and headed for the door, her legs moving faster than she had ever thought them capable of. In her haste, she stubbed her toe on a loose floorboard. ‘Ow, ow, ow! Damn!’ she swore, trying to ignore the flash of pain shooting through her foot as she rushed out onto the landing.

She ran down the stairs as if pursued by demons. The strange laughter was still ringing in her ears when she slammed the front door shut.

Roger couldn’t stop thinking about Sibell of Ashleigh. The hunted look in her eyes and her obvious distress when she mentioned her father had intrigued him and he wanted to learn more about her circumstances. He didn’t want to draw attention to his interest in the young widow, however, so he set Hugone the task of finding out more about her. The last thing he wanted was to make matters worse for her.

‘Now then, Hugone, have you been listening to gossip as I instructed?’ They were exercising their horses on the forest tracks around Idenhurst and there was no one within earshot.

Hugone grinned and nodded. ‘Yes, sir. There’s plenty of tattle about Mistress Sibell so it weren’t too hard to learn a few things.’

‘Go on then, don’t keep me in suspense.’ Roger smiled back to show that he was half-joking. He liked the boy and they had an easy relationship, more like brothers than master and servant. Hugone was hard-working and earnest and not averse to keeping his eyes and ears open on Roger’s behalf.

‘Right, well, to start with, her father, John of Ashleigh, isn’t well liked hereabouts. Thinks highly of himself, but in fact, he’s only of yeoman stock. He has ideas above his station and claims to have Norman ancestors, despite the fact he has no proof of such a connection.’

Roger nodded. ‘It’s not unusual. Mostly these things can’t be proved one way or another.’

‘Oh, but they can in this case, sir. It’s common knowledge John of Ashleigh’s father was but a humble English foot soldier in the recent war with the French. Ruthless, he was, and he got his hands on a small fortune in ransoms and booty. With it, he bought up land around Ashleigh and increased his holdings tenfold. John, the son, was sent to a noble household to be trained in the arts of fighting and manners.’ Hugone smirked. ‘It seems although he learned much about fighting, no trace of the manners remain.’

Roger laughed. ‘I see. And who had the misfortune to marry such a man?’ He was curious about Sibell’s mother.

‘He’s had two wives, sir. The first one died birthing their fifth son in as many years, but ’parently her husband didn’t mourn her much. By all accounts he was much more upset when the oldest boy, named John after his sire, was killed in an accident a few years back. Anyway, he remarried quickly to a woman of gentle birth, but small fortune, p’rhaps hoping this would secure him entry into higher levels of society. He treated his new wife well simply because she was a friend of the Lady Maude, but the second wife died as well and the daughter was boarded out at the age of ten. When the girl turned sixteen and was offered a marriage with Sir Gilbert’s only son, John’s joy knew no bounds, so I’m told.’

‘Hmm, I can see why,’ Roger commented wryly.

Hugone’s eyes danced with mischief. ‘Ah, but alas, his joy was short-lived. The marriage lasted only a year, during which time Mistress Sibell failed to produce an heir to the Presseille holdings. The young man took it into his head to run off and fight for the Yorkists against the King and he was killed, as we know.’

Roger nodded to acknowledge this fact, but didn’t want to think about the way Roland had died. It could so easily have happened to him as well. Hugone threw him an uncertain look, then continued. ‘John’s wrath at hearing this piece of news was amazing to behold.’

‘John’s wrath? Don’t you mean Sir Gilbert’s?’

‘No, sir. I don’t doubt Sir Gilbert grieved for his son, but John of Ashleigh’s reaction was the complete opposite when he was told of it. Bellowed in rage, he did, ranted about what a stupid, young fool master Roland had been. Sir Gilbert wasn’t best pleased to hear his late heir described in such a manner, I can tell you.’

‘The saints preserve us,’ Roger muttered. ‘So I take it tact isn’t the man’s strong point?’

‘You could say that again, sir,’ Hugone agreed. ‘That wasn’t all though. He then turned on his daughter in front of some of the servants. “And you! What have you to show for a whole year of marriage?” he shouted at her. “Not a thing, that’s what! God’s bones, but you’re no damned use at all!” Those were his very words. A shame Sir Gilbert wasn’t there to hear him. He’d gone off to see about his son’s burial by then, or so I was told.’

Roger shook his head. ‘What a fool.’

‘Yes, sir, indeed. Took Mistress Sibell home that very day, and she weren’t even allowed to pack her belongings. Last thing they heard John of Ashleigh shouting was apparently, “I’ll find a use for you, see if I don’t, and this time don’t you dare fail me!”’

‘The man sounds like a complete oaf.’ Roger suppressed a shudder at the thought of what Mistress Sibell must have suffered at the hands of such a man. No wonder she’d had that anxious look about her. He sighed and returned his attention to his squire. ‘You’ve done well, thank you for your efforts, Hugone. Please keep your ears open for more.’

‘There you are, Melissa, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.’

Melissa was still sitting on a bench by the pond an hour later, despite the cold nip in the air, and turned to see Dorothy coming towards her. She knew she should be indoors doing some work, but had been unable to force her legs in the direction of the house. They still shook whenever she thought about what had happened.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled.

‘What are you doing out here?’ Dorothy sat down beside her and peered at her, an anxious expression in her eyes. ‘Is something wrong?’