Chapter 11
Isabella jumped at the sound of a key in the lock of the door. She had been dozing in one corner, her knees pulled up against her chest and Amaury’s cloak wrapped around her. She was cold, stiff, hungry – and regretting her decision more with every passing moment.
If only she could choose again!
She rose to her feet as the heavy portal was flung open, revealing Mallory. His boots were mired and his manner impatient.
The priest slipped into the chamber, ducking around the formidable barrier of Mallory, quietly murmuring prayers. Denis was arranged in his finery, his hair combed and his features calm, his innards as close to where they belonged as Isabella had been able to manage.
She yearned for a hot bath. She guessed she had been secured in this chamber for at least two days.
“Your father seeks you,” Mallory said curtly, as if Isabella had chosen to absent herself. He glanced toward Denis, then turned away, his quest completed.
“He can scarce have been uncertain where to find me,” Isabella said, indulging her foul mood.
Mallory turned to glare at her, his eyes narrowed. “You are impertinent. Would you rather I secure the door again?”
“I would rather be treated with a measure of courtesy, but that clearly is too much to ask in my own home.”
“It will not be your home for long.”
“So, I have been given to understand. Perhaps that is no bad thing.” She halted alongside Mallory. “I do not suppose I might break my fast? I have not eaten these two days...”
“And you have missed the morning meal already. Hasten yourself, if you mean to join us at the board at midday.” Mallory sniffed with disdain. “You truly have need of a bath and a change of garments, for you are more foul than a peasant.”
“I have been washing the dead, not picking lilies.”
“You have become tart.” He almost smiled, his eyes glowing with anticipation. “Your father will be unimpressed, given the tidings he has to share with you.”
Isabella’s blood ran cold but she strove to grant no sign of her reaction to this odious man. No doubt he had contrived a reward for himself out of the situation. Mallory was like a cat, always landing upon his feet. “Then I had best have a bath and change my garb, the better to please him.”
Mallory gestured gallantly toward the stairs. “One awaits you in your chamber.”
Isabella could not keep her brows from rising. What tidings would her father share? Could Mallory and her father have ensured Amaury’s demise? Eliminating the heir of Montvieux would undoubtedly give her father satisfaction – as it would not please Isabella.
She ducked past her uncle, determined to take advantage of that rumored bath with haste.
She was more than glad to put distance between herself and Mallory, though she wondered where he had been.
She was aware of an unusual bustle of activity, as if some great matter was afoot, and heard unfamiliar voices.
The hall had been draped in dark colors, and the rushes had been changed.
Many stood awaiting the lord’s pleasure, their manners somber.
Mallory entered the hall and bowed to a lady Isabella did not know, a young woman with golden hair and rich garb.
She carried a small dog and two unfamiliar older men in similarly rich clothing stood behind her, their expressions proud.
The Lord de Marnis was smiling at the maiden, as if she was a favored child.
Though Isabella yearned to know what transpired, she wished more heartily to be clean. She hastened up the stairs.
There were three chambers at the top of the stairs: the solar occupied by her father flanked by two smaller rooms. The room of middle size had been used by Denis and shared of late with Mallory, while the smallest of the three, was claimed by Faydide.
Once, Faydide had shared the solar with the Lord de Marnis, but the days (and nights) of such intimacy were behind that couple.
She had moved into Isabella’s chamber, ousting Isabella from her own bed, after the death of her last son in childbirth, and had never left. Isabella had a pallet in that chamber.
To Isabella’s relief, there was a full tub steaming in that room, with braziers lit beside it. Mallory had not lied. Nor had he shared the fullness of the truth, for Faydide lounged in the bath, her two maids waiting in attendance.
Of course, she looked inclined to linger there until the water was as cold as ice.
Isabella’s temper was dangerously thin, but she kept her tone even. “Mallory says Father is impatient to share his great tidings.”
“What tidings?” Faydide snapped, gripping the sides of the wooden tub and twisting to face her. “What is happening?”
“I thought you would know. I do not even know what day it is.”
“Do not tell me you have lingered in that chamber two entire days?”
“How should I have left it when the door was secured against me?”
“You are singularly devoid of initiative, Isabella,” Faydide complained. “Tell me of these tidings.”
“I know naught of them. Father is unlikely to confide in me, even if I ask. I am no longer his daughter, if you so recall.”
“Oh, he may repent of that,” Faydide said, leaning back in the tub again. She was well aware that Isabella waited and clearly did not care.
Isabella, though, guessed how to rouse her step-mother. She sank down onto a stool, as if content to wait. “Who are the strangers in the hall?” she asked with apparent idleness.
“Strangers?”
“Aye, three of them, two men and a woman. All richly garbed. I had no notion Father expected the arrival of guests.”
“Nor did I,” Faydide said with avid interest.
“Perhaps Edmund might confide the fullness of the tale.”
“Edmund,” Faydide said with heat. “Is gone.”
“Gone?” Isabella turned to face her. “How can he be gone?”
“He vanished during the night, with nary a word of explanation to any soul under this roof. Your father is vexed beyond all expectation to be so abandoned. He said it revealed the truth of Edmund’s alliances.
No doubt he entered the service of that returned knight, out of some homage to his father.
” Faydide studied Isabella. “Perhaps you know more of his choice than anyone else.”
“Me? Why should I know more of Edmund’s choices? He left Montvieux after our nuptial vows were exchanged and rode here with Denis.”
“Your nuptial vows,” Faydide sneered. “You would be clever to forget they ever occurred, Isabella.”
Yet she was unlikely to do as much.
“It seems as if a feast is being prepared,” Isabella mused. “That will be most welcome.”
“A feast? But Denis’ funeral is on the morrow and the feast to follow.”
“Perhaps it has to do with these mysterious guests.”
Faydide rose from the bath with such haste that water flowed over the sides and onto the floor. Her maid hastened to her side to wrap her in a length of linen, another maid taking her hand to assist her from the tub.
Isabella was tugging off her boots, looking forward to even a tepid and shallow bath. She became aware that Faydide was watching her, that cunning smile curving her lips. “What is amiss?” she asked.
“Naught. I simply had a notion.” Faydide’s eyes lit. “What would you grant to me, Isabella, if I convinced your father to let you remain here at Marnis instead of being dispatched to a convent?”
“I am not certain he could be so persuaded.”
Faydide tilted her head. “He would if you agreed to disavow your match. You could swear that you were forced.”
“Yet I was not.”
“If you will not deny the consummation, then it might be arranged that you could be wed to another.”
Isabella frowned. “I cannot see that it would be advantageous to begin that new match with a lie. Any man is like to realize that I am no maiden.”
“I doubt he will care. His future will be secured as the future Lord de Marnis. That, after all, would be the sole reason any man would accept you as his bride. He can name a bastard as his heir, if it comes to that. Or truly, deny that bastard when he has a son of his own.” Faydide smiled and fluttered as her maid offered her a clean chemise, her sole interest in the fripperies of her toilette.
Isabella no longer saw any cause to hold her tongue. “I cannot see what incentive there would be for me in such a scheme,” she said. “I might welcome the convent instead.”
Faydide laughed. “Then do not expect me to speak on your behalf.” She surveyed Isabella. “Though I should have liked to have you in my thrall. Reflect upon it, Isabella. The convent may not be a place of such tranquility as you imagine.”
Isabella waited until Faydide was dressed in all her finery and gliding toward the door. “Did Mallory escort the guests here? I noticed that his boots were mired, as if he had been riding.”
“He has been gone these two days though no one would tell me where,” Faydide confided, then gasped aloud in realization. “Perhaps these guests come to attend Denis’ funeral. Perhaps they are acquaintance of my son, come to pay their respects.”
Isabella did not note that she found that explanation unlikely. She was certain she had never seen any of the three persons in that party.
“I did not realize my beloved brother had returned,” Faydide continued happily. “He will tell me all!” She beckoned to her ladies and left the chamber with haste, abandoning Isabella to a welcome solitude.
Isabella secured the door after her step-mother and breathed a sigh of relief.
If she had needed a hundred reasons why she should have left Marnis with Amaury, it seemed she was to have them and in rapid succession.
She shed her garments and lowered herself into the bath, which was indeed chilly, and quickly scrubbed herself clean.
For once she was glad to be denied the assistance of a maid, for there was no one to notice the keys she had found in Denis’ purse.