Chapter 5
Keelington Court’s appearance hadn’t improved in the intervening years, Edward thought as they approached. The place looked shabby and tired. The defenses had not improved either, he observed with growing displeasure.
The family waited in the courtyard to greet them. Stanbury and his two rangy sons, his wife, and three of her ladies. Lily, he noted wryly, was absent. The older daughter also. None of them looked any happier than Edward felt.
“Your welcoming party, M’lord,” said one of his knights cheerfully.
“Aye, and you can smell the bloodlust from here,” said Edward. He did not hide his scorn.
He felt an impatience to get the thing done. He should have looked forward to it. Negotiation was his strong point. This, however, could only be called paltry stuff. No actual contest. He resented having to spend time with these incompetent jesters. It had to be done, but it riled him.
A few stable hands came forward to take the horses, but one of the knights waved them away.
“No need to stable them. We’ll not be here long. Water them, and ‘twill be enough.”
Edward dismounted, as did his guard. “Keep a close eye out here, Mathew,” he said. His two senior knights fell in beside him, Sir Lanval and Sir Dunstan.
“Lord Stanbury,” Edward called as they ascended the short flight of stairs that fronted the sprawling manor house.
“Greetings, Lord Ravensworth, I trust you had a good journey?”
“Excellent.”
“Not too tiring, then?” He sounded disappointed, and Edward heard Lanval stifle a laugh. “Even so, one can restore oneself speedily out here in the country. How long will you be staying?”
“Alas, no time at all. We are pressed. His majesty insists I return with all speed.” Not altogether a lie but perhaps not altogether the truth, either. The less his soon-to-be relatives knew of his movements, the better.
Stanbury puffed out his flabby cheeks. His sons looked equally affronted. Lady Elizabeth, he noticed, had no expression on her face at all. She might as well have been a carving instead of a living, breathing person. He speculated on Lily’s interaction with her lady mother but came up blank.
It struck him again where Lily got her looks. There the similarities ended. At face value, Lady Elizabeth was a beautiful woman and possibly the coldest female Edward had ever seen. Everything on her face was either dead or hissing.
Plastering a cordial smile on his face, Edward gave a cursory bow, as did Stanbury. Formal introductions were made.
The sons were plain. Dull brown pennies, these were, while Lady Elizabeth had the same rich chestnut hair and midnight eyes of her daughter. She managed to greet him without spitting her venom. But barely so.
All the Keeling men had their hands on the pommels of their swords. They did not hide their hostility. Edward mimicked the gesture, as did his knights, but maintained a veneer of indifference.
”Well, well, you did say it was urgent,” said Stanbury petulantly.
“So it is, but I assure you, Stanbury, I will endeavor to take as little of your time as possible,” said the earl.
Stanbury ushered him up the steps. “And I will do my best to accommodate you, m’lord. Although I had no idea that meant you would turn right about and leave. Nevertheless, we will accommodate you as we may.”
“Kind of you, I daresay. As subjects of his majesty, we have that duty, do we not?” said Edward. “The demands of a royal master are not always easy.”
“And how does the king?” asked Lambert in anything but polite tones.
Edward eyed him sharply but did not reply.
The Great Hall at Keelington Court matched the worn look of the outside.
A dark, cavernous place, to be sure, full of wavering drafts and discomfort.
There were no soft fabrics of any kind to be seen, only stone and poorly mortared columns beneath a wooded ceiling that had seen the best part of a century of dirt.
Edward felt unclean just looking at it. The single fireplace was insufficient, and there were no tapestries that might have dulled the chill.
Stanbury sat in his great wooden lord’s chair before the fire. He looked like an overripe pear, ruddy and uncomfortable. Edward, in an equally uncomfortable chair, sat across from him.
He’d managed to convince Stanbury that his purpose would be better served in private. He’d phrased it in a way that discouraged objections, and he almost succeeded.
Unsurprisingly, Lambert agitated. It clearly did not suit his purpose for Edward and his father to converse alone. The fool was fixing for a fight.
“I trust, Ravensworth,” said Lambert, “that you will call for help, should you have the urge to draw that pretty sword from its scabbard?”
The words instantly brought alive the memories of the hunting visit and the stolen missive event. Again, Edward allowed his displeasure to show, but his manner remained polite. He would not allow this pup to have the upper hand. Not now. Not ever.
“It is my express wish that we should respect the peace of your father’s hall, Lambert,” he said, emphasizing the insult by using the man’s given name.
“His majesty, who approved this visit, is one reason. For another, your lady mother is present. I imagine all arguments can be delayed until we are outdoors, should there be a need, don’t you think? ”
“Go, get you away, son,” said Stanbury, more nervous now than testy. “You’re no more value to me with your gibes and tosh. The lord chafes to get away himself.”
Lambert scowled at the rebuke, but all the same, he followed the rest of the welcoming party to the far corner of the hall where the morning’s trestle tables had yet to be cleared. With him went Edward’s men, a steady pace behind.
Edward wasted no more time. “You do not have to speculate any longer, Stanbury. My intention here today is to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage,” he announced.
“My what?” shouted Stanbury with a laugh. “Nay, nay, you are too late. She is already wed, these four months past.”
Edward cocked an eyebrow. He felt a strumming in his temple. He had to fight to keep himself from drawing his—what had that fool called it—his pretty sword.
“To whom?” he asked in clipped tones.
“Lord Mowbry. ‘Tis no secret. My little Beatrix.”
“The other daughter, Lily, I believe you call her. Elizabeth.”
“Uh, that one. Can’t let you have her, Ravensworth. Not a fine specimen of a daughter, in any case. No dowry. You’d be doing yourself a service by finding someone else. Believe me.”
Edward controlled the emotions pouring down on him like a cascade of wild horses. He wanted nothing more than to grab the recreant by the throat and throttle him. What kind of father talks about his daughter like that?
Convinced that reasoning with him could not be done, Edward resorted to a harsher, but quicker, method. He was going to scare the stuffing out of this man. What is more, he would relish doing it.
He rose and placed one foot on the grate, his arm resting on the mantelpiece. A badly fashioned piece of stone, if ever he’d seen one.
“Nevertheless, Elizabeth is the one I want. More importantly, King Henry wishes for this alliance. Strong unions, as you know firsthand, make for a steadfast reign. Now, I am going to tell you why it is in your best interest to bring this about. Let us recollect the late King Henry’s reign.
There was talk of sedition then, Stanbury.
The Chester area was rank with it. As I recall, the stink reached London and, in particular, Westminster.
Many people died. Some, including your relatives, had their properties forfeited to the crown.
A bad time. And your name, alas, was whispered among those of other traitors. ”
Stanbury made a strangled sound.
“Do not compound your error by ensuring that your properties go the way of theirs,” said Edward. “The ones you still own, that is.”
Stanbury struggled to sit up taller in his seat.
His voice grew shrill with agitation. His shout of protest alerted his sons, who looked up, startled.
From across the hall, they began advancing, with Edward’s knights right behind them.
Several of Stanbury’s retainers looked likely to follow as well.
“Tell them to go back, Stanbury, or do you wish for a bloodbath in your hall?” Edward hissed, reaching for his sword.
The old man’s shoulders drooped. Thankfully, his alarm had sharpened his wits enough so that he could grasp the earl’s warning.
He toggled for a minute between temper and wisdom and then waved his sons away.
“All’s well,” he yelled at them. “Do as you’re told.
Cannot a man have a conversation in private?
” he added and slumped down further into his chair.
Seeing their father’s choler, the siblings hesitated a moment, then reluctantly turned and retreated.
“I was cleared of any wrongdoing,” Stanbury said, shrilly. “Cleared, I tell you.”
“Say rather that no proof was forthcoming to exonerate or accuse you. You were lucky; the king was merciful. Your actions were suspicious then. Don’t make them so now.
Make this alliance, Stanbury. You’re going to turn over a new page.
Prove you are a loyal and dutiful servant of King Henry.
And as your son-in-law, I will be watching over you, as a mother bird over a nest, to ensure it is so. ”
This last was said with such mockery that the words fairly sizzled through the air between them.
If looks could kill, thought Edward to himself, he would assuredly be dead.
* * *
“I shall not wed with him!” Lily promised herself.
“Never.” Between anger and desperation, she did not know if she should weep or beg.
She did not expect much from her family.
True to form, they did nothing to alleviate her fears.
If anything, they made things as difficult for her as possible.
They even blamed her for creating the problem.
“I don’t want to marry our enemy,” she’d wailed, but they had refused to believe her.
Loyalty in the case of her parents and siblings had always skewed one way. She tried desperately to win their affection, while they demanded her complete and unquestioning devotion.
But now she faced an intractable problem.
Mol had also turned against her. She refused to help Lily any longer.
Mol had been wet nurse to Bee and Lily. It was to Mol they went to heal their scrapes and mend their tears.
She was the closest thing Lily had to a mother.
Far, far better than her own mother. Lady Elizabeth had an aversion to children in general and her daughters in particular.
Which is why Mol’s deflection had hurt. It is too bad of her, Lily told herself with a sinking feeling. Mol of all people.
Only one solution had come to mind. That involved making an appeal to John. Surely, her doting knight would have the answer to her dilemma.
Lily had faith in his gentle wisdom. She would suggest a meeting with him, but to get a message to him, she needed her nurse’s help. Without Mol’s cooperation, it would be difficult.
It particularly galled Lily that Mol’s defection arose from her belief that daughters should obey their fathers, no matter what. The baron, Mol had told Lily, knew better than she and had her best interests at heart.
But Lily knew that was not so. Without bothering to ask her, he had announced her betrothal to the Earl of Ravensworth. He had not considered her opinion important and assumed she would do as she was told.
That hurt Lily, though it did not surprise her.
For days now, she’d lived in a kind of no-man’s land. Her brothers refused to speak to her. Her parents barely acknowledged her existence, but there was nothing much different about that. They seldom had. Mol’s desertion? She had not expected that.
Lily had tried to appease everyone by refusing the earl’s offer, swearing she never would agree to it. She was then told her disobedience would consign her to hell forever. It was a daughter’s duty to do as her father demanded.
Today, Lily had tried one more time to get Mol on her side. But the woman would not budge.
“You’ll do what every obedient, sensible girl does, my poppet, you’ll marry him,” said Mol, and gave a bawdy wiggle.
“An’ a fine bit of manhood you’ll be getting in the bargain.
He’s a great lord, vigorous, and bonny to look upon.
Aye, to my way of thinking, there’s much of froth and bed sport you’re in for. ”
“Mol!” said Lily, shocked, and her cheeks went crimson. “I won’t listen to you, and in any case, it’s impossible. I’ve all but promised—”
The old nurse’s ears pricked up at once. “Promised what?” she demanded sharply, but Lily turned away with a shake of her head.
The old woman looked at her thoughtfully and frowned.
“Now then, poppet, you put away your childishness, and let’s hear naught more of tears or talk of promises. The baron agreed to your betrothal to this earl, enemy or no. You have a duty, sacred and proper. And you will do it. As my charge and the dutiful daughter of this household, you will obey.”
“Like a lamb to the slaughter,” said Lily, almost to herself. “I don’t suppose feeling sorry for myself will get me out of this.”
No, my girl, so you had better come up with some smart thinking and quickly, said the nasty little voice inside her head. He’s planned a visit a few days hence, and time presses.