Chapter Six #4
Truth be told, she was feeling the slightest bit guilty about their harsh words earlier that day.
The more time passed, the more she was relenting, but only a little.
Isabeth wasn’t usually so cutting or brutal, but Marian had pushed her beyond her limit.
She had been tired and her belly had been upset, making for a brittle combination.
Though she still didn’t excuse Marian’s behavior, or that of her ladies, this was her home and she was chatelaine.
She would be a poor hostess indeed if she didn’t at least try to make peace with her guest before she had the woman thrown out.
Perhaps if she did, and Marian was at least somewhat reasonable, perhaps she wouldn’t need to leave at all.
Considering the woman didn’t seem to have any respect for her husband, she probably wouldn’t listen to Ronan, anyway, so perhaps this was all up to her.
She was going to try.
The interior of the manse was warm as she entered.
There was a hearth in the entry as well as in every room in the place because of the damp climate next to the sea.
Dyce was constantly cold, so every hearth was lit as soon as the sun began to set and sometimes even before.
As Isabeth paused by the fire, holding out her hands to warm her icy fingers, she was met by Odo, who had just come from the kitchens.
A hearty fish stew was steaming away, he told her, but Isabeth already knew about the boiled beef that Lady de Wolfe had demanded so she asked him about it.
That’s when the man’s demeanor changed.
It was difficult for the proud man to be humiliated in his own domain, by guests no less, so he reluctantly told her that Lady de Wolfe had demanded the boiled beef only for herself and her ladies.
They were not to give it to anyone else, she had instructed, putting Odo in a tight spot.
That beef was meant for pies the cook was going to make, so once Isabeth heard about her guest taking food that wasn’t hers, her determination that she should try to make some peace with Marian vanished.
She wasn’t sure why she’d been foolish enough to entertain those thoughts in the first place.
Assuring Odo that he could use the beef no matter what Marian said, she left the majordomo in the entry and headed towards the south wing where Marian and her ladies had been housed.
Smaller rooms, but they were comfortable, although she was certain Marian didn’t think so.
The more she walked, the angrier she became.
Up a flight of steps to a landing and then up another small flight of steps that took her to the smaller southern wing where there were four small chambers.
The first thing she heard was singing.
It wasn’t very good singing, either. Someone was trilling a tune and unable to stay on key.
There were sconces lit along the stone walls, lighting the way as she followed the sounds of the singing, which she soon realized wasn’t singing as much as it was gasps of delight that turned into high-pitched groans. The groans became a tune.
It was all quite strange.
The sounds were coming from the last door on the left.
This was a chamber that had a view of the moonlit sea but it could also be a very damp chamber.
Perhaps someone was ill with all of that strange noise that was emanating from the chamber.
Hearing those gasps and groans had her puzzled, so much so that she didn’t bother to knock.
She simply lifted the latch, which wasn’t locked. More singing, more gasping.
Isabeth stuck her head in.
What she saw shocked her.
God knows, given what she knew about Lady de Wolfe, it shouldn’t have.
But it did. Marian was laying on a small bed, her skirts around her thighs as a man’s head disappeared between her legs.
As she watched in disbelief, the man lifted his head and she could see that it was the knight that Marian had been flirting with on the journey to Ravenscar.
His face and mouth were in between Marian’s legs, clearly feasting on her private parts, and Isabeth only knew that because Dyce had done it to her, many times. She knew exactly what was happening.
Outrage filled her.
The door slammed back on its hinges.
“Shame on you,” she hissed. “Shame on you for doing this… this with a man who is not your husband! How dare you use my home to conduct your unsavory activities!”
The knight, startled, leapt to his feet but ended up stumbling and went down to one knee as Marian sat bolt upright, pushing her skirts down. Her features were wide with shock.
“You!” she gasped. “You were spying! You had no right to spy!”
It was a weak protest at best, but Isabeth was livid.
“Everything my husband told me about you is true,” she hissed.
“He said you had more men in your bed than a London prostitute and now I can see that he was correct. Know that I will not provide a chamber for you to engage in your affairs, Lady de Wolfe. Whatever illicit activities you participate in, do it somewhere else. It will not be here.”
The knight was on his feet again, backing away from Isabeth and trying to make his way around her so he could make a break for the door, but she whirled on him.
“And you,” she seethed. “What is your name?”
The man was young, good-looking, with dark hair and dark eyes. She hadn’t gotten a good look at him until now and she could see that he was handsome. “Gaspard,” he said in a heavy accent. “Gaspard de Maurienne, my lady.”
Isabeth cocked an eyebrow at him. “I want you to go to the stables,” she said through clenched teeth. “Go there and stay there. Do not leave until I come for you. Do you understand me?”
The knight nodded, once, and fled as Isabeth turned to Marian, who was just climbing off the bed. Never in her life had she felt such contempt for another human being and after a moment of staring at her, she simply shook her head.
“Do you know why I came here tonight?” she said, disdain in her voice.
“I came to speak to you about your women and the way they have been treating my servants. I had hoped to have a civil conversation with you and tell you that your ladies are not welcome to abuse my servants, but it seems that the filth they are has trickled down from you. You are pure, disgusting filth, Marian. I want you out of my home immediately.”
Surprisingly, she had nothing more to say. She was so disgusted and shocked from what she had seen that more words of condemnation wouldn’t come. She turned for the door, but Marian stopped her.
“Where are you going?” she demanded. “To tell my husband?”
Isabeth paused, turning to look at her. “Would I be telling him something he already knew?” she asked.
Then, she shook her head. “Nay, lady, I will not dirty my tongue by speaking of what I saw unless I am forced to. But you… you will leave now. You will tell your husband that you are leaving this night. If you do not, then I will tell him that I have banished you and I will tell him why. Therefore, you will tell him that you are leaving voluntarily.”
Marian was trembling with rage, with turmoil.
Her dark eyes narrowed. “What do you know about anything?” she muttered.
“What do you know about me and my life? Of life in general? You live in a pathetic little outpost in a dirty little town and I will not be judged by you. You are nothing more than a peasant.”
“Better a peasant than a whore,” Isabeth said quietly.
“No matter where you come from or how fine your family, you are nothing more than a common whore. You should be ashamed of yourself but, clearly, you are not. You’re no better than the women who service the soldiers.
More than likely, that is where you will end up someday. ”
Marian’s lips were working as if she wanted to say something but she couldn’t quite bring it forth. But that was only momentary. One minute, she was standing a few feet away and in the next, she was grabbing Isabeth’s arm and digging her fingernails into her tender flesh.
“You know nothing,” she hissed at her. “Keep your mouth shut or you will pay the price.”
“Let me go.”
“Do you understand me?”
“I will tell you once more to let me go.”
“You do not give orders!”
Isabeth didn’t stay another word. She lashed out her free hand and struck Marian in the face with an open palm, sending the woman staggering sideways. There was blood on her nose as she brought her head up, her eyes wide with accusation and outrage.
“I give orders in my own home,” Isabeth said steadily. “Touch me again and I will defend myself. Now, I have told you to leave. If you are not gone in an hour, I will be forced to tell your husband what I saw. Is this in any way unclear?”
Marian was cornered. Frightened, angry, and cornered.
She wasn’t used to anyone contradicting her wishes and rather than respond, or attempt any kind of a rational reaction, she grabbed the first thing within arm’s reach and threw it at Isabeth, clipping her on the shoulder.
She’d thrown a pewter cup that still had a little wine in it from earlier in the day.
The cup clattered to the floor and what was left of the wine sprayed onto Isabeth.
After that, the fight was on.