Chapter Five #2
They had parted ways a couple of hours before Vespers so that each could dress for the ceremony.
Jezebel had been nowhere to be found when Alixandrea arrived in her chamber, but the maid made her appearance shortly thereafter with a big copper tub and servants bearing hot water.
After her mistress was bathed, she brought her mistress honeyed wine in an effort to calm any nerves she might be feeling for the evening’s events.
The wine was very sweet. Cup in hand, Alixandrea stood in front of a large bronze mirror that she had brought with her from Whitewell. The reflection gazing back at her was confident, relaxed. She was rather pleased with the way she looked and hoped Matthew was pleased also.
“I wish my mother could see me,” she murmured, smoothing at the skirt. “She would have been blissfully happy. This was her gown, you know. She married my father in it.”
“I know,” Jezebel watched her as she twirled and posed. “Ye look lovely, m’lady.”
“Do you think so?” Alixandrea put the goblet down to fix a ribbon in her hair. “What do you think of the hall? I had them clean it up. Does it look much better?”
“It does, m’lady.”
“I hope Sir Matthew thinks so. I hope he…”
She was interrupted by pounding on the chamber door.
It was loud, almost angry. Jezebel flew to the door and opened it.
Mathew stepped into the room, with Mark standing in the doorway behind him.
Alixandrea noticed right away that both men were still dressed in the clothes they had worn earlier, certainly not clean or ceremonial garments that one would expect for a wedding.
By the expression on Matthew’s face, she could sense his ominous mood from where she stood.
She was about to ask him if anything was amiss when he spoke.
“Something has come up, Lady Alixandrea,” he said, his voice deep and cold. “I am afraid that our nuptials planned for this evening will be indefinitely postponed.”
Alixandrea felt as if she had been hit in the stomach. Indefinitely postponed? She could feel the blood draining from her face and it was a struggle to maintain her composure.
“Is there a problem, my lord?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
She did not believe him. “My lord, if I have done something offensive.…”
“I did not say that you did.”
“Even so, your attitude clearly demonstrates that I must have done something. Why else would you cancel our ceremony?”
He cut her off. “I will repeat my statement that it is not your concern. And you will ask no more questions on this matter until such time as I decide it is a subject worthy of further discussion.”
Alixandrea did not say another word. She stared at him, her sultry bronze eyes asking a thousand questions that her lips could not.
He was absolutely final in his manner, a brutality and harshness emanating from him that she could never have imagined he was capable of.
She simply lowered her head in submission.
Before she could lift it again, the door slammed and he was gone.
She stood a moment, shocked and sickened.
She could not imagine what she might have done to offend him so.
Everything had been so pleasant between them, up until just a few hours ago.
Then she remembered the hall, now devoid of dogs and feces, now cleaned as she had insisted.
Perhaps he did not want it cleaned even though he told her that she could do as she pleased.
Perhaps he was really hoping she would leave it alone, but like a meddling female, she had not.
She had insisted the hall have her signature upon it as the new chatelaine.
Aye, that must be her mistake. There could be no other.
Slowly, she turned from the door, the dress swishing as she moved to the nearest chair. Jezebel still stood near the entry, her brown eyes wide with astonishment at what she had just witnessed. It took her a moment to find her tongue.
“M’lady,” she began hesitantly. “I would not be too upset. Perhaps there are more important things happening right now and he cannot think on a wedding.”
Alixandrea waved her off weakly. “’Tis all right, Jez,” she said quietly. “He did not want to marry at all. Perhaps… perhaps he has come to fully realize that. Perhaps I have done something so horrible that he can never forgive me.”
“He has to marry ye,” Jezebel insisted. “He has a contract with yer uncle. To break that contract would be to bring about your uncle’s wrath.”
“I understand that. But he does not want to marry right now.”
“Demand yer rights, m’lady. Don’t let him put you off like this.”
“I will not force him.”
Jezebel watched her lady slump in her chair, like a silken dove whose wings had just been clipped.
It was only a matter of moments before the tears came.
The mood of the room was heavy with sorrow and disappointment, so thick that it was palpable.
It was suffocating. The little maid turned to the door.
“I shall go get ye a good draught of ale,” she said firmly. “Ye need something stronger than wine.”
Alixandrea did not even have the strength to respond. She continued to sit in the chair, wiping the tears that streamed down her cheeks, wondering if she would ever be able to right what she had apparently wronged.
*
Matthew and Mark were in their father’s chamber, just off the third floor landing. Adam sat in the corner, silently, watching his two sons as they peered from the cracked door. It was like watching two cats lie in wait for a mouse.
After several long minutes of watching and waiting, Matthew apparently saw something.
He sank back against the wall nearest the door, his massive frame hidden by the shadows of the dark room.
Mark was peering through the crack between the doorframe and the joints that held the door.
They all heard shuffling on the third floor landing, a wisp of a shadow that passed through the light and was just as quickly gone.
After what seemed like an eternity, Matthew finally moved out of the shadows.
“There she goes,” he whispered to Mark. “Luke and John will catch her downstairs and follow her to see where she goes.”
“She’s going right for that manservant to tell him that the wedding is off,” Mark said quietly. “You can bet on it.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“What do we do in the interim?”
“We wait. Our commanders know what is going on. They’ll keep an eye on the Whitewell troops.
The next few hours should be very confusing for them when the church bells don’t peal.
” Matthew pushed the door open wider, eyeing the stairwell to make sure the maid was gone.
“I want you out on the wall to keep an eye on what is going on in the ward. I will join you shortly. But right now, I do believe I have some explaining to do.”
They both knew what he meant. Mark wriggled his eyebrows. “Best of luck.”
“I may need it.”
Matthew mounted the stairs to the fourth floor two at a time until he reached the top floor. Softly, he rapped on Alixandrea’s door. He waited a nominal amount of time for her to answer and when she did not, he carefully pushed the door open.
The small room was warm and cozy. His blue eyes found Alixandrea seated in front of the hearth, her head in her hand.
Gazing at her, he felt extremely guilty for what he had done.
But it had been necessary. There was a spy in their midst, something he did not quite understand yet but soon would, and he had to deal with it on a moment-by-moment basis.
Until he had a better grasp, there was no other choice.
He only hoped that the lady could forgive him.
“My lady,” he said softly.
Alixandrea nearly jumped from her seat. The sight of her red-rimmed eyes nearly drove a knife through his heart. She was on edge, her bronze eyes eager, anxious, and sad.
“My lord,” she said quickly. “I thought it was the maid. I apologize for not answering the door.”
He put up his hands. “No apologizes, please,” he said. “For ’tis I who must apologize to you. What I said earlier… I am very sorry if I upset you. But if you will allow me to explain, you will see that it was necessary.”
He could read the emotions rolling across her face. Shock, surprise, relief… and finally curiosity. She shook her head, puzzled.
“I… I do not understand, my lord.”
“Matthew.”
Her expression folded into one of extreme confusion and a little frustration. “Matthew?”
His easy smile sparked. “Aye,” he said softly. “Would you sit down? I should like to speak with you.”
Woodenly, she obeyed. He pulled up the small three legged stool that lay propped against the hearth, settling his massive body atop it.
As he looked at her, they were eye level and he could read the distress in her face.
With regret for having caused it, he reached out and took her soft, warm hand in his great palm. Alixandrea watched him warily.
“I must ask you something,” he said quietly. “I would appreciate an honest answer.”
“Of course.”
“How much do you know about the politics of Richard and Henry?”
Her confusion did not ease. It only grew. “I know that they are bitter enemies and that both lay claim to the throne, and that this war between York and Lancaster has been going on since the days of my grandfather.”
His smile broadened. “Very simply, and very well, put. Whom does your uncle support?”
“Richard, as you do.”
There was no hesitation in her answer. Gazing into her eyes, he sensed total truth, or at least, what she believed to be the truth.
John said that the maid had mentioned that Alixandrea had no knowledge of the subversion going on.
It was the one thing that truly vindicated her.
He’d seen some smooth liars in his time.
Had the maid not unknowingly supported Alixandrea’s lack of knowledge of the situation, he could have had a devastating circumstance on his hands. He was very glad he did not.