Chapter Fourteen #3
Remington slept a good deal of the afternoon, especially in the heat.
Dane was in the company of his aunts, leaving Eudora free to tend to Remington exclusively.
Even after she awoke, not a word was said about the night’s events, nor Mari-Elle’s sudden death.
Eudora had heard all of the rumors, of course, but she would not repeat them to her mistress.
The lady had had enough sorrow and woes in her short life, and if she had indeed found a man that cared for her enough to kill for her, then Eudora was happy for her.
Jasmine wandered in toward the waning hours of the afternoon and dismissed the old servant. She seemed pensive and distant and Remington lay on her side, watching her sister’s wispy form as she gazed out over the bailey.
“They say he killed his wife because of what she did to you,” Jasmine finally said.
“She died without his help, Jassy,” Remington replied softly. “It was purely coincidental.”
Jasmine shook her head. “He’s so big, Remi. Does not he scare you?”
Remington smiled faintly. “Nay. He’s as gentle as a kitten. You mustn’t fear him, either.”
Jasmine shrugged, her blue eyes watching the activity below. “I have never seen so many soldiers in my life. There must be thousands, at least.”
Remington shifted slightly, wincing with the pain. “What’s wrong, Jasmine?”
“Wrong? What do you mean?” Jasmine said. “I mean that you are not usually this solicitous,” Remington said plainly. “What are you thinking, sweetheart? Are you afraid because you heard that Gaston killed his wife?”
“Nay,” Jasmine insisted. “If he did, she deserved it for what she did to you and I applaud him. Antonius said he should have killed her long ago for the shame she brought him.”
Remington realized then that Gaston’s secrets were not merely between them. His knights knew of Mari-Elle’s indiscretions and she was not surprised that Jasmine had been told.
“Do not….do not repeat to anyone what you have been told, Jassy,” she said softly. “Gaston is a proud man and what his wife did humiliated him terribly. He hated her a great deal.”
“So did the knights,” Jasmine sniffed. “Just as our household hates Guy. Why couldn’t the hand of God snuff out Guy’s life the way Mari-Elle’s life was taken?”
Remington almost blurted the physical reasons as to why Guy could not have died in the same manner, but she held her tongue. “He’s out of our lives forever, Jassy. That should be sufficient.”
“I know,” Jasmine turned slowly to face her sister, her expression veiled. “Which is why…are you sure he shall never return?”
“We have Gaston’s word,” she said softly, and then added hesitantly. “And do you want to know why? He’s going to London to petition the church for an annulment to my marriage. He wants to marry me, Jasmine.”
Jasmine’s eyes widened. “Truly? Oh, Remi, is it possible? Can he do it?”
“He says he can, and I believe him,” Remington said, pleased at her sister’s happiness.
Jasmine smiled hopefully. “Then I do, too. Rory and Skye will be so happy.”
“Do not tell them, not just yet,” Remington admonished softly. “The less people who know, the better.”
Jasmine nodded, mulling over the revelation. Then it made what she was about to ask that much easier.
“Remi….since Guy will never again harm us, I….” She struggled with her words, finally deciding to come straight to the point. “I want Mary back. I want to go get her today.”
Now Remington was shocked. “Mary? Well….I see no reason why not, Jassy. But why today? Can you not wait until I am feeling better so that I may go with you? I should, you know.”
Jasmine’s face washed with great emotion and Remington was sorry she had dampened her enthusiasm. “I can’t wait another day, Remi. I want my baby back. It has been nearly two long years and I have never even seen her.”
Remington was not about to deny her, for she wanted the same thing.
Mary’s second birthday was drawing close next month and she knew a day did not pass when Jasmine was not thinking of her baby.
The baby Guy had sired and then forced her to relinquish.
Remington only knew she would die if Dane were taken away from her.
“Very well,” she said softly, gazing at her sister a moment. “Does Antonius know?”
Jasmine shook her head shamefully. “Nay. I have not told him. I have not had the nerve. I thought it would be better to let him see the baby and then explain.”
Remington smiled faintly. “So he has declared his intentions for you?”
Jasmine shrugged, flushing. “He tells me he cares for me.”
“Does he know about Guy?”
“Aye,” Jasmine whispered. “I told him… I had to.”
“Had to?” Remington repeated, and then suddenly understood. “He bedded you?”
Jasmine nodded. “I cried the whole time. I have never….I never knew it could be so tender, so loving. Remi, I have been raped on a daily basis since I was seventeen. I never knew the act was meant to be wonderful.”
Tears sprang to Remington’s eyes, tears of guilt and pain at what her sisters had been subjected to. She couldn’t stop what had happened and she was forever cursing her helplessness. To hear Jasmine’s confession was both wonderful and agonizing.
“Then get me up,” she said, struggling to sit. “I am going with you.”
“You cannot,” Jasmine rushed to her sister, wanting to stop her but not wanting to touch her for fear of causing her further pain. “You were almost killed last night and…”
“I was not,” Remington snapped gently, fighting to a sitting position as the world around her reeled. “I shall be fine, truly. Just….let me sit here a moment and rest. Get my wine-colored silk from the wardrobe, please.”
Jasmine held onto her sister’s good arm, watching her fearfully. She was far too weak to risk a ride into town, yet she was well aware of Remington’s determination. If she said she was going, then she was going.
“Oh, Remi, I do not think….” she sputtered.
“My wine-colored silk,” Remington repeated patiently, the world rocking a little less. With all the pain that her sister had been through, she could have been on her deathbed and would have still insisted to ride into town with her to pick up the child. She had to do this.
Jasmine let out a little sigh of fear and released her sister, moving obediently to the wardrobe and drawing forth a beautiful silk with gold leafing.
“Good,” Remington said, feeling terribly weak. “Now, send one of the soldiers guarding the hall down to the stables and see that two palfreys are saddled. Tell him to have the animals brought around to the side gate, by the kitchens.”
Jasmine stood by indecisively a moment while Remington struggled gingerly from her torn shift. She glanced up at her sister. “Go. Hurry, for we want to return before dark.”
“You do not have to do this,” Jasmine said softly.
“Aye, I do,” Remington grunted as she reached for her surcoat. “’Twas my husband who caused you this pain, sweetheart, and I must do what I can to make it up to you.”
“You do not,” Jasmine insisted gently.
“I do,” Remington fixed her with a hard look. “Hurry up, now, and do as you are told.”
With great reluctance, Jasmine went into the hall and sent the nearest soldier on the errand. Pausing for a few minutes to retrieve her own cloak and heavy shoes, she returned to her sister’s room.
Remington was already half dressed but could not manage the stays. She stood weakly, gripping the canopy post for support as Jasmine silently did her stays.
“You are too weak,” Jasmine hissed when the last stay was fastened.
“Go find my hose and shoes,” Remington ignored her statement, although she indeed felt terrible. She honestly did not know how in the hell she was going to ride into Boroughbridge and back.
Jasmine had to put her hose and her shoes on for her, as her right arm was nearly useless.
Rastus had actually bandaged it tight against her torso, but she had complained so much about the bindings that he had removed them.
Swinging loose, she wished the arm were still bandaged tight because the pain was excruciating every time she moved it.
Her pain and weakness was making her shake and sweat, and Jasmine was terribly reluctant to let her go.
“How are you going to ride a horse with that arm?” she demanded.
“With my left hand,” Remington said firmly. “’Twill be no problem. Get my cloak, please.”
Jasmine let out a sigh of pure frustration and retrieved the matching cloak. Remington winced visibly when the material was laid across her shoulders.
“Remi,” Jasmine protested at the pained expression.
“Quiet,” Remington snapped. “Let us be gone. The horses should be ready by now and….”
“Nay, they are not,” Gaston stood in the doorway. Both women swung around, startled at the sound of his deep baritone. He did not look pleased.
“Gaston,” Remington exclaimed weakly. “I thought you were with your new troops.”
He entered the room deliberately, eyeing her. “I was until a loyal soldier told me that your sister had ordered palfreys readied. Your palfrey.”
Remington looked exceedingly guilty as Jasmine leaned close to her sister, raging quietly. “That damn soldier ran right to him.”
“Well that he did, madam,” Gaston said sharply, pointing to the door. “I will speak with your sister alone.”
Jasmine bolted, slamming the door in her wake. Remington eased herself onto the bed as Gaston approached her.
“Do not yell at me,” she said softly, avoiding his hard gaze. “’Tis not as it appears.”
“Just where in the hell were you going?” he demanded. “Look at you, Remi. You can hardly stand. How were you going to stay mounted on a horse?”
She hung her head as he loomed over her. “Well? I am waiting for an answer.”
She was reluctant to tell him anything, but decided to inform him of the whole, sordid affair. He already knew the majority of Guy’s atrocities; surely one more would not shock him. For Jasmine’s sake, she must tell.
“Sit down,” she begged softly, raising her face to meet his when he did not move. “Please?”