Chapter Five #2
Avalyn didn’t have anything to say to that.
Somehow, they had wandered over near the White Tower and Avalyn instinctively looked around, wondering if Brogan was still lingering nearby.
Charles studied her face in the moonlight, thinking her to be the most heavenly creature he had ever seen.
He had never hoped to achieve such loveliness or prestige in a marriage, but here it was, in front of him.
It was too much for him to believe. Yet he wasn’t so overcome that he could not see that she didn’t feel the same way.
“My lady,” he brought them to a stop, facing her. “If I may speak plainly?”
“Of course.”
He smiled feebly, summoning the threads of courage.
“I realize that you were surprised by this betrothal and I further realize that I am probably not the kind of man you would see yourself marrying. But I assure you that you will never want for respect or affection. I will be your most devoted servant, always, and any wish you have, no matter how small, shall be unquestionably fulfilled.”
It was a heart-felt statement. Avalyn felt her irritation wane as she looked into small brown eyes, knowing that it was hard for a man to admit that he probably wasn’t up to her standard.
In a way, it was very sad. She tried to muster the will to be kind to him in reply.
She couldn’t tell him how much she was coming to hate her uncle and the politics that had forced her into this unwanted betrothal.
“You are most considerate, my lord,” she said. “I have no doubt that you will be everything you say you will. But in truth, this betrothal is still something of a shock. I fear I shall need time to become accustomed to it.”
“I understand. I should like to help if I can.”
“How, my lord?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “Perhaps… perhaps you will allow more time such as this, where we can talk and become better acquainted.”
It was not an unreasonable request. But her heart was screaming with reluctance; the only man she wanted to spend time with was Brogan, not this sweaty-faced stranger. His mere presence sickened her. Still, until she could figure out a better solution, she had little choice.
“Of course, my lord,” she sounded resigned. “Whatever you wish.”
His fat face lit up with a bright smile. Taking her hand again, he turned them around and led them back in the direction of the bright, stuffy hall.
*
It was an hour before midnight by the time everyone left the feast and retired to sleep.
The events of the evening had sparked enough excitement so that Isobel could barely sleep at all, but eventually she faded off into a fitful doze.
When Avalyn felt her go limp and her breathing grew strong and steady, she knew her cousin would not awaken again until morning.
Isobel tended to sleep soundly that way.
Anne snored softly in the other bed. Avalyn sat up in the darkness, only a hint of silver moonlight streaming in through the window to illuminate the black room.
Her gaze moved to the massive wardrobe against the wall, the one that held all of her garments and valuables.
She’d had to dress for bed, pretending to lay down for sleep just as the rest of the house was.
Uncle Richard himself escorted her back from the feast, along with the rest of the de Neville women tagging along behind.
He’d made small talk, not unusual for her uncle who rarely said what was on his mind, instead preferring to throw out leading questions and then glean his information from the answers received.
He had asked about her evening, her health, and finally what she thought of Aubrey.
All Avalyn could think to say was that he seemed kind enough.
Uncle Richard was looking for her to thank him for the smart marriage which, of course, she wasn’t about to do. She wasn’t thankful at all.
In the darkness, she quietly made her way across the room to the wardrobe.
It was partially open, Isobel’s garments from that evening strewn across the door.
Since she did not want to go digging for clothes, she took Isobel’s soft pink shift and slid it over her head, followed by the deep purple surcoat her cousin was so proud of.
It was a truly lovely garment, but Isobel was shorter and smaller than Avalyn, so the surcoat clung almost indecently to her stunning curves.
She could feel the snugness of the garment even in the darkness.
Her own hose were on the floor near the wardrobe and she slipped them on, tying them with the ribbons also strewn on the floor and not even caring if they were of the same color.
Sliding on the matching slippers, as Isobel’s feet were indeed her same size, she fumbled for a cloak on the pegs near the wardrobe and came away with the heavy dark blue damask with the gray ermine lining that belonged to Anne.
Now, Anne was taller by a few inches over Avalyn, and the cloak drug along the ground as she walked.
Carefully, Avalyn opened the door leading into the lavish sitting room.
A fire burned low in the hearth, creating phantom shadows along the opulent walls.
A servant was sleeping on a pallet near her aunt and uncle’s chamber door; Avalyn kept her eyes on the man as she slipped into the room and moved to the door that led out into the hall.
Seeing that he was undisturbed, she very carefully lifted the iron latch, let herself into the corridor, and silently shut the door.
There were soldiers on guard out in the hall.
She had known that she would run into them.
There were four that she could see and probably more, and they all looked at her rather curiously.
She decided the best way to handle it was to act as if she was doing nothing out of the ordinary.
She pulled the cloak about her tightly and focused on the nearest man.
“I cannot sleep and need to clear my mind,” she said quietly. “Everyone else is asleep and I have no desire to wake them. I am going for a walk.”
The soldier was young, obviously fearful of her. “You will need an escort, my lady.”
It was more a question than a statement. She shook her head firmly. “No need. I shall stick close to the halls and will not wander far. If I need assistance, I shall scream. You will be able to hear me.”
The soldier blinked uncertainly, knowing he should probably go with her, but not wanting to dispute her. He simply nodded his head. “Aye, my lady.”
She almost kept walking, but something made her look closely at the man. There was threat in her expression.
“If my uncle or Inglesbatch come looking for me, you will swear that you have not seen me. You know nothing of my whereabouts. Is that clear?”
The soldier’s eyes widened. “Aye, my lady.”
“Good. Betray this promise and you shall regret it.”
With a lingering glare at the astonished man, she moved swiftly down the corridor, disappearing into the distant stairwell. The de Neville soldiers watched her go, each man looking curiously at the other. They had no idea what to make of it. But they let her go.
*
It was quite cold outside as Avalyn made her way from the Beauchamp Tower towards the White Tower.
The moon had shifted positions in the sky, brighter than it had been earlier that night.
She could see things more clearly. As she entered the shadows of the White Tower, someone slipped up behind her.
“Where are you going?”
Fully expecting it to be Brogan, she was shocked to see that it was Inglesbatch. His round face was pale in the ghostly moonlight, his expression nothing short of furious. Disappointed, not to mention rightly guilty, she held her ground against him.
“What are you doing out here?” she countered.
“I asked you a question, my lady.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll not take that tone with me, William. It is not your place to question me.”
“It is when you are deliberately disobeying your uncle and putting your life in jeopardy.”
“How do you know what I am doing?” she fired back at him. “I am not a prisoner that needs to be watched. I am a trusted advisor of Richard de Neville’s inner circle, as well as his niece. I am beyond your suspicion and I resent the implication.”
William drew in a long, deep breath. He eyed her. “Where are you going? Just tell me that.”
“It is none of your affair.”
He pursed his lips, struggling with his anger. “Perhaps not, but can you not see that I am trying to protect you? It has been my duty for ten years; therefore, I will ask you again: where are you going?”
Since Avalyn and William had very nearly grown up together, he would often speak to her more informally than most knights would address their liege, which was both a good and bad thing.
Right now, he was having difficulty walking the fine line between obligation and need.
He was obliged to serve her without question, but he needed to help her as someone who had loved her almost as long as he had known her.
Aye, he loved her.
Avalyn wasn’t oblivious to that. She had known almost as long as William had. But she clearly did not, nor had she ever, returned his feelings. He would often inadvertently cross the line when dealing with her, sometimes acting as a husband would in his concern or close attention.
“William,” she softened her stance. “If you must know, if you must truly know, I am going into town for an entertainment. We are leaving on the morrow and I want to see a play before we go. You know my aunt believes they are vile spectacles unfit for women. My only hope is to see it when she is unaware, for I have no way of knowing when next we will be in London.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you going alone?”
“You do not see anyone with me, do you?”
“That is not an answer.”
“You ask the obvious.”
“If that is true, then I will go with you. You will not do this alone. You need protection.”