Where Love Has Gone (7 page)

“What lover?” Elaine trembled with fear as
she spoke. “Are you aware of any particular friendship my sister
has?”

“I’d be the last person to whom Aglise would
confess her misbehavior,” Lady Benedicta scoffed. “I should think
you would know, since the two of you were so close.”

“We
are
close,” Elaine said. “Please,
my lady, do not speak of Aglise as if she is gone forever.”

“She has certainly left Jersey forever,” Lady
Benedicta stated firmly. “I am glad of it. She sorely abused our
hospitality. You may choose to associate with her after you have
left Warden’s Manor. That will be your decision, not mine. I am rid
of Aglise.”

Elaine bit her lip and kept silent, knowing
it was better not to argue with her foster mother.

“Where, exactly, did you ride yesterday?”
Lady Benedicta asked. She wasn’t looking directly at Elaine, for
she was busy distributing sprigs of dried lavender amongst the
sheets to keep them sweet-smelling and to discourage moths or
crawling vermin from making a feast of them.

“We took the road along the cliffs, then
turned south to Saint Ouen’s Bay, and then along the southern shore
back to Gorey.”

“Our men-at-arms searched all of those places
several times,” Lady Benedicta noted with a disapproving sniff.
“They found no trace of Aglise.”

“So I told them,” Elaine said. “They insisted
they needed to see the island for themselves, so they can decide
where to concentrate their efforts.”

“It’s a waste of time, when the silly girl is
already gone,” Lady Benedicta said. She paused, a few sprigs of
lavender still in her hands, and shot an irritated glance in
Elaine’s direction. “Really, I am most displeased with you for
writing that letter. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for
bothering Lord Royce when he has far more important matters to
attend to. You should not have encouraged him to send his men here.
I’m sure they could be put to better use elsewhere.”

“I suppose you are right, if you truly
believe Aglise is gone from Jersey,” Elaine admitted with a
sigh.

“If you will only think honestly about your
sister’s character, you will realize I am, indeed, right. Aglise is
a foolish, troublesome girl. Now that Lord Bertrand has determined
she is not on Jersey, the problem of finding her rests on your
mother’s shoulders, not on yours – nor on my lord Bertrand’s
shoulders, or even upon our two visitors.”

“Yes, my lady.” Elaine did her best to sound
meek, though she was angry enough to rip apart the shelves that
were so neatly stacked with clean linens. She didn’t think she
could bear another disparaging word from Lady Benedicta on the
subject of Aglise. Nothing,
nothing
, was more important than
finding Aglise, and everyone who knew her ought to be seriously
concerned until she was found.

“They discovered nothing, did they?”

“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Elaine said. “I
was wool-gathering. What did you ask me?”

“Pay attention when I speak. Your
knights-errant found no useful evidence?”

“No, my lady.” Elaine realized that Lady
Benedicta’s persistent queries weren’t aimed solely at criticizing
Aglise. She suspected Elaine of knowing more about Aglise’s
disappearance than she was telling, and she saw it as her duty to
discover what that knowledge was. Doubtless she also felt compelled
to do all she could to guard Lord Bertrand’s honor as designated
protector of the sisters and, thus, to safeguard her own good name
as well. The possibility of a scandal brought upon them by Aglise’s
conduct must be deeply troubling to Lady Benedicta. Though Elaine
experienced a stirring of reluctant sympathy toward her foster
mother, she was not going to betray her sister. She thanked heaven
that she could answer Lady Benedicta’s last question honestly.

“If Desmond and Cadwallon had discovered
anything at all to do with Aglise, I would have told you and Lord
Bertrand at once. They learned nothing that I am aware of.”

“Well then, we may dare to hope they will go
away and leave us in peace.”

“I believe they are only waiting for the ship
that brought them to return for them,” Elaine said. She tactfully
refrained from pointing out that on any given day Lord Bertrand’s
men-at-arms, many of whom were frequently drunk, did far more to
disturb the peace of Warden’s Manor than Lord Royce’s two men.

“They needn’t wait at all,” said Lady
Benedicta. “Any ship leaving Gorey Harbour for Normandy can take
them along as passengers.”

“But, if you should suggest as much to them,
my lady,” Elaine said, trying her best to sound as if it were an
innocent question, “won’t you seem inhospitable?”

Lady Benedicta did not respond. With her lips
pressed together in a stern expression, she finished counting the
sheets, then stalked out of the room, her skirts swishing along the
floor. Over her shoulder she called a brusque command for Elaine to
see the solar thoroughly cleaned before the morning ended.

At the midday meal Lord Bertrand was even
more emphatic than his wife that Desmond and Cadwallon ought to
finish their work and leave as soon as possible. Again he berated
Elaine for having written the letter to Royce that had brought the
two men to Jersey.

“I’ve a good mind to send you back to your
mother, perhaps in Lord Cadwallon’s charge,” Lord Bertrand
threatened, scowling at her. “After a few days with Irmina, you
will learn to appreciate our kindness.”

“I cannot leave until I know where Aglise
is,” Elaine protested, afraid if she did leave the island, she
would never solve the mystery of her sister’s disappearance. For
reasons she dared not explain out loud, she was certain the truth
about Aglise lay on Jersey.

Upon hearing her words, Lord Bertrand’s scowl
deepened, though he said no more on the subject.

Through all of the trivial domestic
irritations of the afternoon that followed, Elaine pondered the
question she could not dismiss from her mind. Should she confess to
Desmond and Cadwallon what little she knew about the most intimate
details of her sister’s recent life? Was it time to destroy
Aglise’s good name in hope the information, once revealed, would
aid in finding her?

Aglise had not confided in Elaine; she had
chosen to keep silent and she had proven to be amazingly discreet.
But Elaine, knowing and loving her sister so well, had finally
discovered the truth.

Castles and manor houses, crowded and
enclosed upon themselves as they were, especially in isolated
locations such as Jersey, were not places where secrets could
easily be kept for long. Elaine had pieced together snatches of
accidentally overheard conversations, the impression given by
glances exchanged when seemingly no one else was looking, the blush
that often lay on Aglise’s soft cheeks, and she was certain she had
reached the correct conclusions. Moreover, since Elaine had
discovered what Aglise was involved in, it was likely other people
had made the same discovery.

When Desmond and Cadwallon appeared in the
great hall that evening Elaine scarcely knew whether to be glad to
see them or worried that they, too, would soon uncover facts
damaging to Aglise. The question of how much to reveal to them
gnawed at her. She took her seat beside Desmond at the high table
wishing she dared lay her head on his chest and pour out all her
fears.

Then she reminded herself that beautiful
Aglise might have done the same thing and immediately received the
comfort and understanding tenderness she sought. Elaine, who
thought of herself as the plain, quiet, uninteresting sister, knew
better than to expect tenderness from any man.

Desmond noted Elaine’s pale face and
carefully contained manner and wondered what had caused it, and why
she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Before he could pursue the
matter his host intervened, speaking with a heartiness that Desmond
found false.

“Well, good sirs, have you finished your
investigation?” Lord Bertrand asked.

“Not yet,” Desmond answered, doing his best
to sound noncommittal.

“Since Jersey is so small, I am surprised it
has taken you so long to search all of it,” Lord Bertrand
continued. “Though, from what I’ve been told, you have questioned
everyone who lives here in Warden’s Manor and most of the folk in
Gorey village, too.”

“We have been busy,” said Cadwallon with one
of his broad grins.

Lord Bertrand sent Cadwallon a look that
Desmond, watching closely, could not decipher. But the quick glance
put all of Desmond’s senses on alert.

“I have finished dictating my replies to the
letters you brought from King Henry and from Royce,” Lord Bertrand
said. “My secretary promises he will have them ready for my seal
first thing tomorrow morning. So, if you have been waiting for
them, my lord, you need delay your leave taking no longer.”

Desmond felt Elaine, who was seated between
himself and Lord Bertrand, stiffen as if in shock at such rudeness.
She turned from Lord Bertrand to cast a worried gaze upon Desmond,
who smiled in hope of reassuring her.

“How much longer will your investigation
take?” she asked.

“We will need another day, I think,” Desmond
said, careful to show no sign of annoyance with his host. “Two days
more, at most.”

“Why so long?” demanded Lord Bertrand,
frowning at him. “Have you found some indication of where Aglise
has gone? I cannot think you have; my men-at-arms overlooked
nothing. I supervised their search, myself.”

“You were most thorough, which is surely why
we are unable to detect any sign of Lady Aglise,” said Cadwallon.
When Lord Bertrand swiveled in his seat to glare at his other
guest, Cadwallon continued, “We have, after all, merely been
following in your careful footsteps, my lord. Since we have so far
uncovered no trace at all of Lady Aglise, and if the last few
people to whom we want to speak can offer no suggestions for
further investigation, then we must conclude that she has departed
from Jersey, just as you and Lady Benedicta have said from the
first.”

“But -” Elaine must have seen the slight
shake of his head that Desmond gave her, for she stopped whatever
she was going to say.

“Speaking for myself,” Cadwallon went on,
extending his smile from his host to Lady Benedicta, “I will be
grateful if Desmond and I reach King Henry’s court to find Lady
Aglise ensconced there, with all the squires and young knights
tripping over themselves to dance attendance on her. Everyone does
say she is wondrously lovely. Despite the distress her unexplained
absence has caused to her sister, and to you, my gracious lord and
lady, I think we will all be happy at such a conclusion.”

“Certainly, we will,” said Lady Benedicta,
though her mouth was hard and the glance she bestowed on Cadwallon
was cool.

“We do appreciate your generous hospitality,”
Cadwallon said, continuing his pretense of bland cheerfulness.
“We’ll not intrude upon it longer than we must. My lord, if you
will grant us two more days in which to complete the thorough
search Royce commanded us to make, then we will depart and you’ll
not see us again, unless we have the pleasure of meeting you and
your lady at court, at some future time.”

“Two days, then,” Lord Bertrand agreed. “I’ll
not countermand my old friend, Royce’s, orders. But, what of the
ship that brought you here? Isn’t it supposed to reach Gorey Harbor
on a particular day?”

“I believe the
Daisy
is presently
berthed in Normandy, at Lessay,” Desmond spoke up, unwilling to
leave all the arrangements to Cadwallon, though the two of them had
agreed in advance on how they would handle Lord Bertrand. Desmond
was beginning to see how useful Cadwallon could be when he employed
his lazy, cheerful manner. No one would suspect such a slow-witted
fellow of devious motives, not even when he invoked the powerful
name of Lord Royce. Still, in spite of his comrade’s deceptive
cleverness, Desmond was in charge of the mission and he didn’t want
Cadwallon to forget it. “We can send a message to Captain Piers by
way of one of the fishing boats, asking him to sail here and lay
just off Gorey Harbor until we signal our readiness to leave.”

“Yes, that makes sense.” Lord Bertrand
nodded. “You shall have your two days, though what you will do with
them, I cannot imagine.”

“My lord,” Ewan said to Cadwallon as soon as
the men and their squires were back in their guest chamber, “I
believe I’ve learned something important this evening.”

“You mean, you deliberately overheard it,”
Richard accused. “You were listening outside the armory door. I saw
you.”

“We are supposed to listen to anything that
might provide helpful information,” Ewan defended himself with some
heat.

“What did you hear?” Desmond asked. He held
up one hand to silence what would certainly be further criticism
from Richard.

“There’s a tale being whispered around the
castle that Lady Aglise was deeply involved with a man,” Ewan
revealed. “
Very
deeply involved, if you understand me, my
lord. I’d rather not repeat the scandalous remarks the men-at-arms
made about her.”

“Aha!” Cadwallon exclaimed. “So, Lady
Benedicta’s conjectures have some base in fact.”

“Ewan said it was a whispered tale, which
means it is merely a rumor,” Richard objected. “Rumors can’t always
be trusted. Men-at-arms are worse gossips than washerwomen.”

“Who is the man?” Desmond asked of Ewan. “Do
you know?”

“I didn’t hear a name,” the squire answered.
“I couldn’t stay outside the armory door long enough to learn
anything more, for fear I’d be seen and questioned. This is not a
particularly friendly manor; I’d rather the other squires didn’t
take me in dislike for snooping where I shouldn’t be. Not to
mention, I didn’t want to offend the men-at-arms I was listening
to, or Lord Bertrand, either.”