Chapter Ten
“I cannot imagine that she willingly left,” Gaston said. “Henry’s agents are well aware of our arrival and they are also well aware of your custom of staying with your aunt when you visit London. It is quite possible they staked out Rosehill and abducted your wife.”
“How would they have even known I was married?”
“You said yourself that Terrington’s loyalties have shifted. It is quite possible that all of Henry’s allies know of your marriage to her by now, long enough for plots to be in the works, at any rate.”
A night and day of searching for Alixandrea had left them no further along than they had been the moment they had realized she was missing.
Matthew was positively distraught; it had been Luke who had sent word to Gaston to return to Rosehill at once, and upon his return, he found a man he’d known for twenty years to be in a state he’d never before seen.
Matthew might have been the more congenial of the two, the more benevolent, and, Gaston was sure, the more deadly, and based upon that experience, he’d never known the man to be anything other than perfectly controlled.
This disheveled man before him now was a stranger.
Matthew’s countenance had the usually-composed Gaston unsteady, more in sympathy for his friend than for his display of weakness.
It distressed him to realize that emotions could do such a thing to a man, even one as strong as Matthew.
“But that would not make any sense,” Matthew argued weakly. “Her manservant was supposed to kill me. For all Henry’s people know, I am dead. Why would they stake out Rosehill and abduct my wife to use against me if they are presuming I am dead?”
Gaston’s smoky eyes were hard. “You sent her manservant home with a message. Did you not think that message has been conveyed?”
Matthew shook his head sharply. “That was a week or so ago. There hasn’t been enough time for Lord Ryesdale to spread that word that the assassination attempt was thwarted.”
“So you think.”
Gaston did not agree with him; that was clear, on many levels. Matthew did not have the stomach to argue with the man at the moment. His agitation grew.
“Have it your way; they staked it out and abducted her,” he growled.
“We have searched the countryside for her but the rain has conveniently washed away any trail we might have followed. I would hazard to say that they have not killed her outright and in that I take comfort. Knowing how they think, I am sure that they would rather use her against me. A dead wife will gain them nothing.”
It was the same thought every man in the room had.
Gaston’s gaze moved between Matthew and Luke, sensing their genuine distress.
John was the same, only more naked in his display of sorrow.
Strangely, Mark was the only Wellesbourne brother that did not seem concerned as the rest of them did.
Sitting next to Matthew, he seemed, in fact, rather detached from the whole thing.
It was odd behavior from the usually-loyal Mark.
And with that realization, Gaston began to suspect Mark knew more than he was telling. Though he could hardly believe it, Mark’s body language said otherwise.
But he would not question him in front of Matthew.
The man hadn’t eaten since yesterday; he was edgy and irritable, his face pale and unshaven.
Any disruption might send him over the edge, especially one involving Mark.
He would defend Mark to the death against all accusations and then turn around and kill him all in the same breath.
Now was not the time. But the time would come.
“If she has been abducted, then she is well away from this place,” Gaston finally said. “Any further searching would be in vain. It would be my suggestion that we contact the Bishop of Ely.”
Luke looked at him as if he had completely lost his mind. “John Morton?” he repeated, incredulous. “Why would you contact a man who virtually licks the soles of Henry’s feet?”
“Because he would know,” Matthew answered before Gaston could reply.
He looked pointedly at his brother, his blue eyes somehow dimmer, void of the joy that he had so openly displayed over the past few days.
“John Morton is a man of the Church. Though he has chosen his loyalties, he still must act within the guidelines of the Church and, hopefully, provide us with honest answers. I would trust him over any other of Henry’s dogs. ”
“Exactly,” Gaston finished. “I will ride for Ely immediately. It should take me a few days to reach him, but I will find out what I can.”
Matthew shook his head. “You shall not go, my friend. We have enough brewing here to keep you more importantly occupied. She is my wife. I shall go.”
Gaston would not stop him. Matthew would be useless to him in his current state; it was better that he take care of his personal matters and steady himself.
Without another word, Matthew quit the room, presumably to prepare himself for the long journey to Ely.
Gaston shot Arik, his second in command, a long look, suggesting that Arik accompany Matthew.
The big North man silently slipped from the room in pursuit of The White Lord.
Mark was the next one to quit the room in silence. Gaston walked after him.
Mark went outside, heading for the stables, when Gaston caught up to him.
“Mark,” he called quietly.
Mark stopped suddenly, turning to face Gaston. By his expression, he was clearly surprised. “Gaston, you startled me. What is it?”
Gaston stood head and shoulders taller than Mark; the short, stocky Wellesbourne brother had to crane his neck back to look him in the face.
“Matthew’s wife,” Gaston’s voice was low. “What do you know about her disappearance?”
Mark’s dark eyes cooled. “Nothing.”
“You are lying.”
Mark lifted an eyebrow. “Choose to believe what you will. But I would be lying if I said that I was distressed.”
Now it was Gaston’s turn to lift an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I am not sorry, Gaston. She is the reason why my father is lying on the edge of death.”
Gaston had heard the story of Adam’s mishap from Matthew upon his arrival. It was one more horrific event in a day that had been full of them. But he was at a loss to understand Mark’s point of view.
“Why would you say that?”
Mark’s ruddy face tightened. “You know how father is, how he has never gotten over the death of my mother. Matthew allowed that… that woman to intervene and the result was my father throwing himself in front of a racing carriage.”
“Matthew said that your father told him it was an accident.”
“Pah,” Mark waved his hands at him and began to stomp off with Gaston trailing after him. “He can say that all he wants, but I know the truth. She drove him to it. She tried to kill him.”
“Matthew said no such thing.”
“Of course he would not!” Mark came to an abrupt halt, as did Gaston.
He glared at The Dark Knight. “He’s hypnotized by her, de Russe.
You have known Matthew for twenty years.
Have you ever seen him like this? He’s been completely seduced by that woman and doesn’t have the clearness of thought to realize it. ”
Gaston’s expression remained cool. “You did not do anything with her, did you?”
Mark shook his head. “No matter what I think or feel, I would not lay a hand on her. But I am not going to pretend I am concerned when I am not. She can keep running for all I care. We’ll be well rid of her and back to normal, as we were before she came.”
A twinkle came to Gaston’s eye. “Keep running? Why would you say that?”
Mark’s expression twitched. He seemed to lose his confidence as he averted his gaze. “A figure of speech.”
“You are a very bad liar.”
“Have it your way, then.”
There was something about Mark’s change in manner that made Gaston believe very strongly that Mark was somehow involved in the lady’s disappearance. “You know far more than what you are telling me.”
Mark snorted. “You are mad.”
“I do not think so.”
The veins on Mark’s temple throbbed as he struggled to reclaim some of his poise. “I am only concerned with my father, and he is Matthew’s responsibility. Matthew’s head hasn’t been in the right place since the day that woman arrived.”
“Your father is the concern of all of his sons, including you. Do not place such a heavy burden on Matt’s shoulders. It is unfair. And it shows how unwilling you are to accept any responsibility, yet you are more than willing to blame others for their failings.”
Mark’s response was to turn on his heel and continue to the stables.
Gaston allowed him to go, watching the man until he disappeared from view.
He had known Mark Wellesbourne for many years and had never known him to be a liar.
Still, he was convinced the man knew something he wasn’t telling.
His attitude toward Matthew’s wife bore watching. He wondered if Matthew was aware of it.
He thought one more perusal of the area was in order before returning to Windsor. Even though he had told Matthew it was futile, still, he would do it for his own peace of mind.
*
The lady was very ill.
The monk watched her sleeping fitfully, her head on the old table, and wondered what he should do.
His superior was on a trip to Bracknell and would not return for several days.
Meanwhile, it was the monk and a couple of orphans to take care of the small church.
Now he was faced with the added burden of an ill woman.
The sun was starting to set, signaling the onset of Vespers. He would soon open the sanctuary for the faithful that would come for their evening prayers. The lady was in the small alcove directly off the main sanctuary and he did not wish for her to be seen.