Chapter Six #3
Guy instinctively looked at the closed panel. “I see,” he said. “Nothing serious, I hope?”
“A sick headache.”
“I see,” he repeated. Then, he quickly stood. “I do not want to disturb her with our conversation. Perhaps I should leave and come back at another time.”
Alys was quick to assure him. “We will not disturb her unless we shout. The walls are thick.”
He smiled weakly and sat back down. He was coming to suspect that the Lady Alys wanted him to stay and chat. But he was uncomfortable with the look in her eye; sort of as a cat watches a mouse. She was ravenous. His gaze began to dart about nervously, unsure what to say, now wanting to leave.
He was saved by Neely throwing open the antechamber door. Neely’s face was ruddy from the chill weather outside, but a fire of annoyance blazed in his dark eyes. He was about to vent his frustrations on Alys when he caught sight of Guy. Respectfully, he saluted.
“My lord,” he said. “I apologize for my hasty entry; I did not know you were here.”
“No apologies necessary,” Guy said, moving for the door. “I was just leaving. Lady Alys, thank you very much for your hospitality. If you will give my compliments to Lady Sheridan and wish her a swift recovery.”
Guy was at the door before Alys could protest. He almost seemed panicked to leave. But he wasn’t clear yet; in his haste, he opened the door and ran headlong into a small man with unkempt white hair and a gnarled face.
“Forgive me,” Guy apologized. “I did not see you, my lord.”
The old man brushed at the front of his tunic for no real reason. In his hand, he held a big leather satchel.
“I am Lott Gilby, the physic. I have come for the Lady Sheridan.” His sharp eyes fell on Alys. “You there, lady. Where is the Lady Sheridan?”
Alys recognized the physic who had bandaged her wrist. She motioned him inside. In the course of the exchange, Guy slipped out without being noticed.
“In there,” Alys pointed at the bedchamber door.
The little man shuffled in, very business-like. Neely, having been gone since sunrise, had no idea Sheridan was ill.
“What’s wrong with her?” he asked Alys.
“Sick headache,” she told him.
It wasn’t a new story with Sheridan. Neely had seen many of these episodes. He opened the chamber door for the physic, immediately spying Sheridan on the floor. He burst into the room, almost knocking the old man down in his haste.
“My lady,” he knelt beside her. “Can you hear me? Are you all right?”
She stirred and the puppy jumped up, trying to lick Neely’s face. “I have not hurt myself, if that’s what you mean,” she said quietly. “I just need to be left alone.”
Neely was about to tell her that a physic had been summoned but the old man pushed forward and knelt beside Sheridan.
“My lady,” he said. “De Lara sent me. Can you tell me what is wrong?”
Sheridan peeped an eye open, looking at him. “A sick headache. There is naught you can do for me. This has happened before.”
The physic grunted, digging in the satchel he brought.
He pulled out some phials of liquid, pouring some of this and some of that into a small pewter cup.
As Alys and Neely watched curiously, he tossed a measure of white powder into it and stirred the concoction.
It was like watching a witch make a brew and they were properly awed by the mystery.
“Drink this,” he instructed to Sheridan.
With Neely’s help, she sat up and drank the bitter brew. As she wiped her mouth and made a face of disgust, the physic turned to Neely.
“Put her on the bed,” he said. “She will sleep like the dead for a day and night, but it should cure her.”
Neely picked her up and lay her gently on the bed. Sheridan was still wiping her mouth. The puppy jumped up on the bed beside her, wriggling happily and burrowing in her covers.
“Sleep now, my lady,” the physic instructed. “I shall return tomorrow to see how you are faring.”
He was concise and business-like. And it was apparent that he had no time for pleasantries now that his task was complete. Neely escorted the physic from the apartment. When he returned, his expression was guarded. Sheridan was on her back once again, a cool cloth over her eyes.
“My lady,” he began hesitantly. “I must ask you a question.”
“Neely…” she was exasperated; would no one let her sleep? “What is it, then?”
Neely glanced at Alys, on the opposite side of the bed, and noted her bandaged wrist. His jaw began to flex.
“May I ask what has gone on this morning?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
He lifted an eyebrow, speaking mostly to Alys.
“I am not a fool. I know I was sent on a ruse because Lady Alys apparently did not want me around. I will not argue the point, as it is my duty to serve the House of St. James. However, upon my return I find Lady Sheridan huddled on the floor in distress and Lady Alys with an injured hand. I would appreciate a logical explanation of why I was sent away and why everyone seems injured.”
Sheridan lifted the cloth off her eyes. “I will let Alys explain why her wrist is injured. As for me, it is nothing quite so spectacular. You have seen me like this time and time again.”
“If that is so, why did the physic say that de Lara sent him?”
Sheridan had hoped Neely had missed that part of it, but she wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t. Neely was, if nothing else, extremely sharp. And he was voraciously protective of both her and Alys. Her fury in her sister’s actions returned, for a myriad of reasons.
“Because de Lara once again saved Alys’ foolish hide today,” she snapped. “When he saw that I was ill, he was thoughtful enough to send a physic.”
Neely glanced at Alys, his dark eyes full of doubt and resentment. “What did you do while you had me out running circles for you?”
Alys refused to look him in the eye. “You have no right to ask me such things. I am above your reproach.”
“But you are not above mine,” Sheridan said. “Tell him, Alys. Tell him or I will. Tell him how you went to the royal apartment to see the king because you think he is in love with you. Tell him how the king tried to ravage you and how de Lara saved your life. Tell him!”
Alys was red in the face by now. She stood up, stomping to the door. Neely reached out and grabbed her good arm.
“Not so fast, my lady,” he was as close to furious as either of the girls had ever seen him. “Is this true? Is that why you sent me away, so that I would not stop you?”
Alys yanked her arm away. “You are not my father, Neely de Moreville. You are a mere knight. You have no charge over me. We pay you well, we feed you, and therefore you do as we say. I’ll not have you questioning me.”
Sheridan sat up, shocked and incensed by her sister’s diatribe. “How dare you speak to him like that,” she hissed. “Neely is one of the family. He is part of us. You will apologize immediately or you will suffer the consequences.”
“Suffer what?” Alys was gaining in momentum.
“The both of you have done nothing but spy on me and suppress me for as long as I can recall. But, of course, no one watches you, Sheridan. You are so pretty and perfect. But I know otherwise.” She thrust a finger in Neely’s face.
“Do you know that Sheridan has been sneaking out and meeting Sean de Lara? It’s true! ”
Neely’s head snapped to Sheridan, whose eyes bugged with the shock of hearing such secretive information come blasting forth from her sister’s big mouth. A storm was brewing, bigger than any of them could have guessed.
“Alys,” she snapped. “I will never forgive you for lying about that. I have never done anything of the sort.”
Neely was off of his tirade against Alys and focused on Sheridan now. “Is this true?” he asked. “Have you been meeting de Lara? My God, Dani, you know who he is and what he is. How can you risk yourself like that?”
He called her Dani. He hadn’t called her Dani in years.
There was pain in his voice. Sheridan wasn’t so na?ve that she didn’t know how Neely felt about her.
She’d always known. But it was unfortunate that she could not, and would not, return his feelings.
Still, she couldn’t look him in the eye and lie to him.
It would have been disrespectful to all he’d ever meant to her family.
“I have met Sean on a few occasions,” she said quietly. “He had been kind and gracious and delightful.”
“De Lara?” Neely said incredulously. “The man is terror personified. Are you mad?”
“I’ll not have you speak of him so.”
“Why not? It’s true. I cannot fathom why you have allowed yourself to play games with the Devil.”
“He is not the Devil, Neely. I forbid you to speak ill of him.”
Neely was beside himself, eaten with jealousy and rage. “I have never known you to be stupid, but I suppose I was wrong. You have the weight and trust of the good allies of England upon your shoulders, yet you cavort with the enemy.”
She snapped. “Still your tongue, man. My father has worked harder than anyone to ensure that England sees a new age and my loyalties lie with my father’s work. Question my trustworthiness again and I will send you along your way.”
Neely froze, his dark eyes glittering with ferocity and distress. “I wasn’t questioning your faithfulness,” he said quietly. “I was questioning your sanity in keeping company with Sean de Lara.”
“I know exactly what you were doing. Take care that your jealousy does not consume you, Neely. What you desire can never be and I will not allow you to discourage others who may vie for what you want for yourself.”
That was enough for Neely; like a dog that had been beaten one too many times, he quit the bedchamber with his head down. His injured heart was evident. Alys still stood at the foot of the bed, shocked by the exchange, shocked that the focus had veered away from her so violently.
“Oh, Dani,” she murmured. “You have hurt him.”
Sheridan didn’t want to talk anymore, to anyone. “Get out,” she told her sister. “I do not want to see you again today.”
Alys left the room, but not before she began weeping. She was sniffling as she quit the chamber and softly closed the door. When she was gone, Sheridan lay back down upon her pillows and cried.