Chapter 8 #2
The forest mocked her. She could hear the ugly laughter of the boughs. He cares not, he has abandoned you, it seemed to say in voices croaked and cracked like dried-out sticks in the wind.
What would become of her?
Strangely, just at her lowest moment, a thought came to her out of nowhere. Would the Black Raven come looking for her, perhaps? Even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to find her hiding place. In any case, he was not due back until tomorrow morning for their betrothal. That had been the arrangement.
He had found her once before in Glumfell, she reminded herself. Yes, he had. She shuddered, imagining his fury at finding her gone. She could hear him, the clipped inflection of his speech, the unqualified certainty that every one of his commands would be obeyed.
“Do not cross me in this,” he had told her. But she had. She quailed. His wrath would be black.
She grew impatient with herself, and again she asked, why bother with thoughts of him?
She should not care a whit about him. He was a wicked man, she reminded herself. ‘Twas knavery to do such improper things to her as he had. He ought not make her feel such things. Surely?
“All these questions,” said Lily, holding her aching head. The answer, she knew, made her more miserable still. You lied, Lily, she told herself. Twisting words are lies, and you know it.
But I promised I would not hide in my chamber, I said naught of forests, she cried softly. “He is father’s enemy,” she whispered, but the words sounded hollow in her ears.
* * *
Edward stewed in a mixture of anger, frustration, and reluctant admiration. A diminishing amount of the latter as the day crept on, he told himself, but it was not the truth.
He saw in Lily’s gesture of defiance the same spirit she’d shown him on several other occasions. That fact, over and above all else, whetted his appetite for more. It called his interest as la mort called the hunting hounds.
If possible, he was more determined than ever to snare his particular prey.
But for the moment, he had a problem. Having arrived ahead of time, he found Keelington Court in an uproar and Lily missing! He’d hardly been surprised at all.
His problem was his style of intimidation worked too well.
He had managed to terrify his in-laws’ entire household to the point that they were rendered mute.
Every time he singled out a retainer for questioning, the poor unfortunate simply dissolved in a heap of stuttering, stammering incoherence.
And those were the males. The females either swooned completely or became so hysterical as to render their information gibberish. Much of a muchness.
Not good. Certainly not productive.
Naturally, it did not help that his knights were highly entertained by the whole thing. Disgusted, Edward stood by while his men took over the laborious task of questioning. This they did with the characteristic thoroughness of one of their more daring military campaigns.
Lounging against the wall, he watched Lanval question his father-in-law and found himself clenching and unclenching his fist. He had to fight the urge to smash the man’s pugnacious, sweating face. The thought that Stanbury might never become his father-in-law didn’t enter his mind.
The man espoused views that Edward found objectionable. He did not, however, seem to be complicit. No, it appeared that Lily had managed this piece of disobedience all on her own.
She could not be far away, he felt certain.
After all, a smallish female alone, how far could she possibly have run?
No horses were missing. There had been no lie on the stable master’s tongue.
Of that, Edward felt sure—he’d put such a fear of retribution on the wretch he’d barely managed to doff his cap.
Lanval suggested that Lily might have had help, Cheshire being a magnet for the disaffected. That was entirely possible and aggravated him more than anything else. Witting or unwitting, he had determined to discover the truth of it.
The nurse had been discomforted, certainly. He did not believe her tale about visiting Farley Chase for purely social reasons, whether or not she had a sister there. However, Edward felt he had accurately identified the real culprit of this mischief.
“It’s all her,” he told Lanval.
“I hope you are right,” Sir Lanval replied.
Edward grunted. “Are you done questioning the gate guards?”
“Yes, as you directed. We’re going through each and every retainer, servant, merchant, peasant who went through the gate between dawn and dusk of yesterday and today.
“Get the questioning done as quickly as possible, it grows late. I’m going to see how Dunstan and Mat are doing with the brothers.”
In one corner of the Great Hall, Dunstan Bolt was questioning the youngest Keeling son, Hub.
It was not going well. But then, no one expected better from the Keelings. They were decidedly in short supply when it came to intelligence. The young man’s sullen face did not deter his questioner one iota.
“You say you cannot recall if you saw your sister yesterday or today,” said Dunstan. “If you did, where was it that you saw her?”
“Am I her keeper?” asked Hub.
“Mercifully, not. But it is to be hoped you would want to see her safely returned.”
Sir Dunstan could not be described as a pretty man. He had uneven features and a prominent nose. His appeal lay in charm, and of that commodity he had an abundance. He also had a virile physique. His imposing size and weight made Hub look like a scrawny boy.
A sorry specimen for a twenty-year-old, Hubert whined more than he spoke. Listening to this exchange, Edward tried to recall some of the uncharitable speculation bandied about at Henry’s court concerning the youngest Keeling’s parentage.
He seemed to have been dropped into a pot of brown tincture.
His expression matched his weedy personality.
Apart from Lily, the Keeling siblings were plain at best and lacked her cheerful disposition.
From what he’d seen, none of them were terribly kind to their little sister, whose beauty they seemed to resent.
Edward leaned against the wall; his arms crossed over his broad chest. He looked almost disinterested, but his men knew the dangerous focus that lay behind the fa?ade.
A commotion near the entry distracted him, and he looked up. Lanval hurried across the hall with a young peasant girl at his side. Actually, she ran alongside him in order to keep up with his ground-eating strides. He had the girl’s upper arm firmly in his grip, another reason for her speed.
“This young woman is named Agnes, my lord. A laundress. And she has an interesting tale to tell, don’t you, Agnes?”
Edward came away from the wall and indicated that Hub could go.
Hub spluttered as if he couldn’t believe his ears. “But you don’t get to order me from my hall. I’ll have you know—”
“Son,” said Edward blandly, “you are within an inch of getting the hiding deserved of all who disobey their betters. And if you would like to recuperate in a nice, comfortable hall like this one that currently belongs to your father, and not in a more unpleasant place, then I suggest you listen. Get. Out.”
“Right, Agnes,” said Edward, his huge presence swooping down over the girl, “let’s hear what you have to say.”
Agnes promptly fell to her knees as a robust wail emanated from her mouth. The sounds had all the vigor of a nursery full of babes whose mothers had forgotten to feed them.
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” said Edward, disgusted. His men chortled, taking no notice of his scathing glare. “Can somebody do something with this calamity? I am in haste,” he yelled.
“Best leave this to me, my lord,” said Lanval, wiping the amusement from his eyes. He courteously assisted poor Agnes to her feet. “Now, now, you have naught to fear, Agnes. Come sit beside me and tell me your tale. We’re all of us keen to hear it. Such a brave tale from so modest a teller.”
* * *
In sharp order, Agnes showed the nice Sir Lanval the very path that Lady Lily had taken into Glumfell Forest so she could play a prank on her brothers and enjoy a laugh or two.
It was the proudest moment of Agnes’s young life. She beamed at the imposing rows of Ravensworth soldiery with the formidable Black Raven at their head as they vanished along her path into the gloom of the forest.