Chapter 9 #2
“She was quite adept at playing the part of a noble lady—she knew the manners, the way to walk, to talk, to carry herself.
When she arrived in England, she was a guest at Kenilworth and a favorite with Lady Eleanor de Montfort, the wife of Simon and the sister of King Henry III, who took an unusual liking to Amicia and allowed her to stay, even when her husband returned to Gascony.
Lady de Montfort even went as far as to encourage the ruse, introducing your mother as Lady de Lairne to her peers, boldly flaunting her about as if it were a great game.
“And while your mother enjoyed the attention and luxury she received at Kenilworth, she was no fool. She was in serious trouble. Very serious. And she knew that it was only a matter of time before Lady de Montfort grew bored with the novelty of her and—” Julian paused. “I’m sorry, Sybilla. I—”
“Go on,” she demanded curtly.
“And she was pregnant,” Julian finished. He gave her a moment of silence. “With you.”
Sybilla wanted to drop her head and close her eyes as the reality of her situation crashed onto her like a weight of stone, but she would not allow a display of weakness now. So instead she looked away from Julian Griffin, through the stones and into the blackness of the night-hidden hills.
“It was a soldier from de Montfort’s army, on the return from Gascony,” Sybilla said calmly, as if speaking about some historical fact from long ago, and yet she could hear her mother’s voice in her ear just as clearly as when she’d first found out.
“Oddly enough, he was her protector. Had she not given herself to him, she would have been at the mercy of the baser men. She would have been raped daily. Probably would have died before gaining England, which would have suited de Montfort at the time, I can only imagine.”
She looked back to Julian and saw sympathy on his face. In a way, it was a relief. He continued the story that Sybilla already knew too well.
“She was in serious trouble,” he repeated.
“And she had heard of the legend of the Foxe Ring. She became separated from de Montfort’s hunting party, but with purpose, desperate to find the old ruins and try it.
When she found Morys Foxe about the ruins, she took her shot, not knowing that she was about to seduce the greatest ally of de Montfort’s enemy. ”
“The king,” Sybilla supplied.
“Your mother was rumored to be a beautiful woman. Young. Morys Foxe was neither beautiful nor young. Perhaps it was the romance of the legend—”
“It wasn’t,” Sybilla said bitterly.
Julian was quiet for a moment. “What I don’t know is if she ever confessed to Morys that you were not his child. For all intents and purposes, he claimed you as his own.”
Sybilla looked away again. “It doesn’t matter.
Even if Edward insists on declaring to the land that my mother was a fraud, without a single drop of noble blood in her veins, he has no proof that I am not of Morys Foxe’s issue, and neither do you.
King Henry awarded Fallstowe to my mother after”—she paused—“after Morys died at the battle of Lewes, defending the Crown against the English barons and de Montfort.”
“He died because once again de Montfort called on your mother to pay more debt,” Julian answered.
“He threatened to out her, to out you as illegitimate, cast a pall on Morys and your sisters. She gave in, and Morys was killed.” He paused.
“It’s treason, Sybilla. Your mother committed treason against the Crown. Against her own husband.”
Sybilla said nothing. She could say nothing over the sounds of her mother’s wails inside her head.
“But she tried to make up for it, didn’t she?
” Julian pressed, a note of intrigue or something Sybilla could not name in his voice.
“She got her revenge on de Montfort the very next year, at Evesham, when she brought Edward word of de Montfort’s son’s unguarded army at none other than Kenilworth Castle, a place your mother knew well, and where she was welcomed.
Because of her intelligence, Edward surprised de Montfort at Evesham under his own son’s banner, and the reign of Simon de Montfort was no more. ”
Sybilla found that she was shaking her head ever so slightly and so she stopped. “You can’t prove any of this,” Sybilla said.
“But it’s true, isn’t it?” She sensed Julian turning more fully toward her.
“No.”
“You’re lying,” he accused her, bitterness high in his voice. “You’re lying to save yourself.”
“No,” Sybilla whispered this time. She turned her head to look at him.
“Then tell me where I have gone wrong,” he insisted, and his gaze was so intense, so sincere, Sybilla felt for a moment that she might just tell him.
But then she saw her mother’s weak body, lying in bed in the days and hours before her death. Heard Amicia’s pathetic weeping alternating with shrill and slurred demands.
Don’t you see now what I have done? You are the fairest, the richest, the most feared in the land.
You have Fallstowe at your command and under your protection.
Fallstowe and your sisters, Sybilla. Think of them!
If you are to keep them, you must do as I say, and if all must be lost, you must take our secrets with you.
There is no cause for Alys’s and Cecily’s lives to be ruined as well.
Do not dare to dishonor the proud memory of the man who was your father.
“My mother . . . was a brave woman,” Sybilla said. “And now I must be the brave one.”
“Your mother as good as threw you to the wolves,” Julian declared flatly. “And that is why you think you must be brave, why you have adopted such a demeanor as to make yourself intimidating, untouchable. It’s because Amicia feared anyone to know the truth, and now you fear it, too.”
“If I am not brave, Lord Griffin—” Sybilla queried, tilting her head and giving him a curious look, “if I am not brave, what can you promise me? That Edward will be so impressed by my forthrightness that he will give me Fallstowe? Lay the past to rest? Continue to take my money graciously and leave me in peace with my people, to run Fallstowe as I see fit?”
“He will take back Fallstowe, on the grounds that it was entrusted to your mother on a false and treasonous basis,” Julian admitted. “But if you cooperate—”
“If I cooperate,” Sybilla interjected loudly, “he will what? Entomb me in some nunnery with a stipend? Strip me of my title but allow me to marry a shopkeep? Or perhaps he will at last give his temper free rein and have me imprisoned, hanged? Beheading is too good for someone of my station, after all. I should not be afforded such dignity for daring to thwart him for so long.”
“If only you would allow me to—”
Sybilla slid from the stone, her action cutting off whatever Julian Griffin was about to say.
“My mother worked her entire life to ensure that my sisters and I would have the lives that we now enjoy. I will not dishonor her sacrifice by running to London and grasping at Edward’s robes, begging for mercy. ”
“Your mother was a servant who did what she did to better her own station in life. Her loyalty was always for sale. She was not noble, in any sense of the word. She got her husband killed and she used you,” Julian accused her, his brows drawing together. “She’s still using you.”
In two strides, Sybilla was before Julian. She raised her hand and slapped his face as hard as she could.
“Do not speak of her in that manner again, Lord Griffin,” Sybilla warned, surprised to hear her voice shaking, mimicking the trembling in her body.
He had moved from the stone before Sybilla’s eyes could register it, grasping her by her upper arms and giving her a shake.
“I did not do these things to you, Sybilla,” he whispered harshly. “And it is through no fault of your own that you are in this situation.”
“It’s charming how you think me so innocent.” She mocked him, her eyes searching his face, her skin aching where he touched her. “Have you not heard the tales of Lady Sybilla Foxe, who has sold her soul to the devil?”
“I have heard the tales. But the only devil I believe you sold your soul to was a frightened old woman. I am not cowed by you. I am not indebted to you. And if you strike me again, I will turn you over my knee.”
“I dare you to try it,” Sybilla hissed.
His fingers tightened around her arms and he pulled her up against him, his mouth hovering over hers.
“You don’t tempt me, either,” he said in a low growl.
“Obviously,” she smirked.
He let go of her then and stepped away. Sybilla could see that he was moved, regardless of his staunch denial. It was as if the air between them was alive.
“I’m not innocent, Julian,” Sybilla said, noting the breathiness of her own voice.
“I know what you say is true: Edward will not allow me to keep Fallstowe after you confirm that my mother was a fraud. So you tell me: What would you do? What would you do if someone showed up at your gate, poised to report to the world that the life you had was not real? That Lucy was not your daughter in truth? That each battle you fought and survived meant nothing. Your home was to be stolen away from you. Your marriage deemed invalid. Everything you had ever had, or loved, or worked for, would be taken from you forever because it was the law.”
She paused for a moment. “Would you go quietly?”
“No,” he answered in a low voice. “No, I wouldn’t.”
She rushed to him again, but this time, instead of striking him, she laid her right palm boldly against his chest, over his heart.
“Then tell Edward that he is wrong. Tell him you found nothing of import, nothing that would confirm his suspicions. Don’t let him take Fallstowe from me, from my family.
You said when you first arrived that you might be able to help me, so help me, Julian. ”
“I won’t lie to him, Sybilla,” Julian said. “Especially since there are things you aren’t telling me.”
“What can I offer you?” she pressed. “What do you want? Money? My body?”
Julian grimaced. “Don’t lower yourself like that.”
“However much Edward has promised you, I will give you in kind.”
He shook his head. “That’s impossible. You must understand that even if Morys had lived, you could not retain Fallstowe.
He would have seen you married off and away from here.
Tell me what I need to know and come with me to London.
It may not be pleasant, but Edward is fair.
You may not come out of it any worse than what you would have, had the man who claimed to be your father lived. He’ll likely dower you.”
Sybilla let her hand slide away and stepped back, appalled at the tears in her eyes. “You don’t understand. I gave my word.”
“I, too, gave my word,” Julian shot back. “My future is at stake here as well, Sybilla. Not just mine, but Lucy’s.”
“Then we are at an impasse,” she said quietly.
“No. We’re not. I will tell Edward all that I know, with or without your input.”
She raised her hands slightly and then let them fall. “You may as well kill me now, then.”
Julian approached her once more and took her shoulders. “I don’t want to kill you, Sybilla.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I want you to tell me the truth,” he gritted through his teeth. Then he paused. “And I want to kiss you.”
“I thought you weren’t tempted by me.”
“I lied.”