Chapter Eleven
Two days later
“Papa?” Lysabel rapped on her father’s open solar door. “Are you busy?”
Planted in a big chair and wallowing in the residual smoke from the previous night’s fire, Matthew had been looking over a map of Warwick boundaries when his daughter knocked on the door. Immediately, he waved Lysabel in.
“I am never too busy for you,” he said. “In fact, I was hoping someone might come and visit me. With Cinny and Cissy riding their ponies all day long, they do not come to see me. I am a lonely man.”
Lysabel laughed softly. “You can always go outside and ride ponies with them.”
Matthew shrugged. “I did,” he said. “I took them in the meadows around Wellesbourne yesterday, but I cannot play all of the time. There are a few things around here that require my attention.”
Lysabel could see all of the maps and documents spread out in front of him. She pulled up a cushioned chair, looking at everything.
“Why all the maps?” she asked, pointing. “What are you looking at?”
Matthew looked down at the large map of Warwickshire, with little marks on it he’d made with his quill. He pulled the bank of tallow candles closer so they could both see better.
“Warwick lands,” he said. “With Warwick Castle now belonging to the king, Henry is hoping to make some money from me.”
Lysabel looked at the lines drawn, outlining the shire she’d grown up in. “Why? Does he want you to buy Warwick?”
Matthew nodded. “That is exactly what he wants,” he said. “I am thinking on it, too. It would be a grand legacy for Thomas.”
Lysabel thought of her younger brother, a man who was dark-haired and dark-eyed, unlike the rest of the blue-eyed Wellesbourne brood. “And how is Tommy?” she asked. “I’ve not seen him in a very long time.”
Matthew sat back in his chair, his attention on her.
“No one has seen you in a very long time,” he said, smiling.
“Tommy and Rosamunde and James and the rest of your siblings have been here from time to time and, of course, I cannot seem to rid myself of Willie, but they all miss you. They will be happy to know you have come home to stay.”
Lysabel smiled also, but it was a weak gesture. She’d come to her father with a great deal on her mind and she wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up.
All of this – conversation about her siblings and small talk on what her father was doing in his solar – was a stalling tactic.
For the past two days, she’d tried to come up with a way to discuss the situation of her and Trenton with her father, but anything she could think of sounded cheap and ridiculous.
She didn’t want to sound like a foolish, love-struck girl.
Now, she was struggling, afraid she would lose her courage and leave before she spoke her mind.
She had to bring up the subject, somehow.
“And what of Uncle Mark and Uncle John?” she asked. “Are they well, too? I cannot remember when last I saw either of them.”
Matthew nodded. “They are well,” he said. “You know that your Uncle John commands my outpost at Kington and your Uncle Mark now occupies Rosehill Manor near London. That used to belong to Aunt Livia years ago. Do you remember her?”
Lysabel’s smile turned real. “That old bird with the shrill voice,” she said. “She used to terrify me as a child. All I remember is her hugging me and somehow, my face always ended up in her bosom. It was horrifying.”
Matthew laughed, low in his throat. “She never had children, you know,” he said. “All she wanted was grandnieces and nephews, and when you were born, she never forgave me for not naming you after her. She had to settle for Rosamunde bearing her name as a middle name.”
Lysabel snorted. “She left a goodly inheritance to Rosamunde as her namesake.”
“But she left you Rosehill, as my firstborn.”
“How fortunate. I get the house, but Rosamunde gets the money.”
Matthew simply shook his head, grinning. “I am fortunate that all of my children will have large inheritances or dowries,” he said. “You, your sisters, your brothers, and, of course, there’s Audrey. She has been well provided for even if he has been in a convent for the past twenty years.”
Lysabel reflected on her eldest sister, who was actually her father’s bastard, born nine years before Lysabel was born.
In truth, Audrey hadn’t spent much time with her siblings, as Audrey’s mother had her own family and kept Audrey with her, but Lysabel remembered a polite young woman who looked exactly like her father.
Audrey had never married and instead had chosen to join the cloister, which was where she remained today.
“As long as she is happy, that is all that matters, isn’t it, Papa?” Lysabel said, rather leadingly. She saw an opportunity to broach the subject she’d been so very afraid to bring up. “I think that as long as your children are happy, that should be the most important thing.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair, putting his hand behind his head. “That is all I have ever wanted for my children,” he said. “If Audrey is happy praying all day, then that is her choice.”
“I agree.”
He looked at her. “Now that… well, now that Benoit is gone, what would make you happy, Lys?” he asked. “Have you thought about it? A fine husband, mayhap? A great house and great prestige?”
He couldn’t have asked a more perfect question and Lysabel knew she had to speak her mind. It was now or never. She wanted him to respect her unorthodox choice, so she knew she needed to sound firm and reasonable about it.
At least, she would try to.
“I am glad you have asked me,” she said.
“Truly, Papa, I never thought I would be happy in my lifetime. Of course, I was happy when I was a child. I love you and Mama, and we had a wonderful life here at Wellesbourne. I even loved it when I fostered at Kenilworth. I had a grand time there. And in the beginning with Benoit, I wasn’t unhappy, but I wasn’t thrilled, either.
I suppose I was merely content. But when the trouble started, any hope for happiness was gone. It was like that for so very long.”
Matthew’s expression softened. “I know,” he said quietly. “Though I cannot change the past, know I will do all I can to ensure your future is as happy as it can be.”
Lysabel gazed at her father, into those blue eyes she knew so well. “I know it will be happy,” she said. “Papa… do you think that when a man and woman care for each other, that nothing else should matter?”
He shrugged. “Unfortunately, there are things that do matter, even if a man and woman love each other,” he said. “Your question does not have an easy answer.”
Lysabel sighed and lowered her gaze, thinking on what to say next. It was like playing a chess game; for every move he made, she had to counter until she got her point across in a way that didn’t have her father crawling the walls.
She wasn’t sure that was possible.
“I must tell you something and you must promise not to interrupt me,” she said after a moment. “I have thought very hard about this subject and I must ask you to let me speak my mind before you give me your opinion. Will you do this for me?”
Matthew nodded. “Of course I will. What is on your mind, Lys?”
She swallowed hard before continuing. “You told me that Trenton was married, and he is,” she said.
“But I asked him about his marriage and he told me that it is in name only. Adela is his third wife, and his father forced him into the marriage, and she hates Trenton. He does not live with her, he does not see her. That is why he remains in London with Henry, I think, because he has no real home to go to. Something like that is not fair, Papa. It is not fair to him that his father forced him into such a terrible marriage. Don’t you think so? ”
Matthew was listening to her with a good deal of suspicion, having an idea where this conversation was going. He could feel himself tensing.
“Gaston did what he felt was best for Trenton at the time,” he said quietly, “just as I did what I felt was best for you at the time when I pledged you to Benoit.”
Lysabel jumped on that statement. “Then fathers can be wrong,” she said. “You were wrong about Benoit and Uncle Gaston was wrong about Adela.”
“We are not perfect, Lys. We can only do what we feel is right.”
Lysabel took a deep breath, preparing for her final onslaught, but tears filled her eyes and she couldn’t chase them away.
“Papa, I want to be happy,” she said as the tears began to fall.
“Trenton has made me so very happy. Better still, he has made the girls happy. He is kind and patient and sweet, everything a man should be. He makes me happy, Papa. Is that so very wrong?”
Matthew was blindsided by her tears, coming from his daughter who not once during the time she was married to Benoit had broken down in front of her father, which would have been a hint to her miserable life.
But here and now, she was in tears, the first real sign that Matthew had seen of her true feelings on her marriage to Benoit and her hope for something better.
It was like a dagger to his heart but, considering the subject matter, he was struggling to remain on an even keel.
“It is not wrong for an old friend to make you happy,” he said, trying to stay away from anything romantic. “I am glad he makes you and the girls happy. Trenton is a great friend.”
But Lysabel shook her head, almost violently.
“Nay,” she said. “Not a friend. As a man, as a companion, and as a lover. He has found happiness with me and I with him, and even though he is married, he wants to make a life with me because we make each other happy. Even if you do not agree with me, I want you to at least accept my choice. I adore Trenton, Papa, and I want to be happy. I deserve it.”
Matthew watched her wipe at her tears, struggling to compose herself. God, he hated to see her cry and he felt a tremendous amount of guilt with it. This was his doing, her misery, so a large part of him wanted to agree with her. Anything to see her happy and ease his guilt.