Chapter Fifteen #2
Devereux immediately moved back through The House of Hope, dodging people and tables as she headed for the north entrance.
Her father would not use the main entrance, as he feared he would be seen.
He’d spent so much of his time announcing his dissatisfaction with his wife and daughter’s charity that he didn’t want to be perceived as a hypocrite to the townspeople.
He had a station to uphold, after all. So he always came in through the less-used entrance.
St. Paul Allington had been a handsome man in his youth. He had faded blonde hair and gray eyes, and it was clear to all who his daughter resembled. He was standing outside the north entrance with two of his men, old knights who had served him in his position as Sheriff of the Shire for years.
Devereux emerged from The House of Hope, dutifully greeting her father with a kiss on the cheek.
He was a petty, vain and selfish man who struggled to make correct and moral decisions.
If it didn’t benefit him, he was more than likely not in favor of it.
He only cared about his daughter’s marriage so long as it brought him prestige and honor.
He didn’t even care if she was happy and he wasn’t even moderately excited about his impending grandchild.
Devereux had struggled all of her life not to disapprove of the man.
“Greetings, Father,” she said pleasantly. “How may I be of service today?”
Her father gazed steadily at her, an odd expression on his face. “I came to tell you that…,” he suddenly turned to the pair of old knights behind him. “Here now, John; you tell her. You are the one who heard the news.”
For some reason, Devereux was put on her guard by her father’s statement. Something in the pit of her stomach began to rumble unsteadily and she didn’t like it one bit. She looked at the old knight.
“What did you hear?” she asked.
John de Ravensworth took a few steps towards her, bowing respectfully. “Lady de Winter,” he said. “You are looking fine this day, my lady.”
“What did you hear?”
Devereux was in no mood for conversation or pleasantries. John cleared his throat quietly, his gaze moving between Devereux, Stephan and her father. He cleared his throat again.
“I was in town earlier today and several of Norfolk’s knights were riding through on their way to Norfolk,” he said, somewhat nervously. “I met them on the edge of town to know their business, and they told me that de Montfort is now king.”
Devereux’s eyes widened. “What?” she breathed, horrified. “When did this happen?”
“Nearly two weeks ago, my lady.”
Devereux was quickly growing panicked. “What else did they say?”
The old knight shook his head. “They said de Montfort is now king and he is calling all of the barons to London. They were riding for their liege to summon him.”
Devereux could hardly breathe; she put her hand to her breast, feeling her chest heave as it became increasingly difficult to catch her breath.
“What happened to Henry?” she could hardly bring herself to ask. “What of my husband?”
John averted his gaze; he couldn’t even look at her. “Captured at Lewes, they said,” he replied hoarsely. “Edward with him. They made no mention of your husband. Henry is now a prisoner of de Montfort.”
Beyond horrified, Devereux took a step back, tripping on her own feet and ending up in Stephan’s arms. But she pushed him away, struggling to maintain her equilibrium and her sanity. The hands on her chest flew to her mouth.
“’Tis not true,” she muttered, bordering on panic. “’Tis not true, I say. I would have known before now. Someone would have sent me word. It cannot be true.”
St. Paul moved towards his daughter with uncertainty. “Perhaps you should come home and rest, Devereux. We will send word to Lady Katharine and see what she knows.”
“Lady Katharine!” Devereux suddenly burst as if the thought had just occurred to her. “She will know something. I must go to London right away.”
Stephan tried to take charge of her. He went to her, attempting to steady her. “You will not go,” he said firmly. “You cannot risk it. We will send one of Davyss’ men to London to find out what he can.”
He was speaking of the thirty-eight men that Davyss had assigned to his wife’s protection.
Even now, they lingered all around The House of Hope, patrolling for any threats against Lady de Winter, while some were in town at the various taverns.
All in all, they were a seasoned group and very attentive to Lady de Winter.
Stephan began to shout for the sergeant of the contingent, knowing the man was somewhere within earshot. He always was.
His name was Brovus. He was an older man, burly, missing an eye, and loyal to Davyss to the core.
He had been lingering just out of sight when John had spilled his tale and was therefore not surprised when Stephan repeated everything for his benefit.
The old soldier eyed the knight, Stephan and St. Paul, before focusing on Devereux.
He could see that she was clearly distraught.
“I cannot leave, my lady,” he told her steadily, “nor can any of my men. My scouts on the road south have returned to tell me that a large group of knights has been sighted in Welnetham and are heading this way. I will not leave you until I know this threat has passed.”
“A large group of knights?” St. Paul repeated, looking fearful. “Why did you not tell us before now?”
“Because there is nothing to be done. The lady will stay to her charity and the rest of us will stay out of sight until we know their purpose. To prepare with all manner of arms upon their arrival might invite conflict and I will not do that until I know their intentions.”
St. Paul still wasn’t convinced. “Perhaps we should return home. It is far more fortified than this pile of wood.”
Brovus nodded. “It would be wise, my lord.”
Devereux, pale and shaken, shook her head. “I will not leave,” she said quietly. “What if it is my husband returning? I must be here.”
Brovus spoke before the others. “I do not believe it is your husband, my lady,” he replied, somewhat gently. “If it was, my men would have recognized his horse.”
Devereux’s bright gray eyes were fixed on the man. She went to him, her expression imploring.
“Have you heard that de Montfort is now king?” she asked earnestly.
He gazed steadily at her. After a moment, he sighed faintly. “I have been told that Henry was captured, my lady,” he admitted. “It was not my place to tell you. I am a soldier, not a herald. That news should come from those more important than me.”
Her eyes widened. “So you knew this and you did not tell me?”
He appeared both contrite and sad. “As I said, it was not my place to tell you. It could be rumor, after all. I did not want to upset you, not until we know for certain.”
“But you should have told me.”
“To what good, my lady?” he wanted to know. “You would live your days in angst and fear until you received more reliable word. Lady Katharine will tell you the truth, have no doubt. She will tell you what you need to know.”
Devereux couldn’t think any longer. Her mind was becoming overwhelmed with thoughts of Davyss’ fate.
She turned away from Brovus, feeling the world sway beneath her.
If what these men said was true, de Montfort was now king and Henry was a captive.
But the king would only be a captive if Davyss was not there to champion him.
And that would only happen if Davyss was dead.
She hadn’t taken two steps before she lost consciousness.