Chapter 15 #3
“Me, my lord? Nay, ’tis too far to Marnis.” Rosalie dropped her voice to a whisper. “I was told that the lord refused to have a midwife summoned for he believed a woman should manage the feat alone. ’Twas the curse of Eve that we should suffer, so he said, and no one defied him.”
“And his lady died.”
Rosalie frowned with a disapproval Amaury shared. “Lord Gaultier waited five years to wed again, or perhaps he spent those years seeking the most advantageous offer.”
“Was that wife Faydide, who still lives at Marnis?”
Rosalie nodded. “Daughter of the Duke of Sancerre and a beauty in her time. They said the match was cursed though, for she broke an engagement with another man for Gaultier. She bore him a son, Denis, then four more boys, all of whom died at birth or shortly thereafter. They said she brought a blight upon Marnis, but I think it was always there. There is a wickedness that thrives in the sons of that house.”
“But not the daughters?”
“Thus far, my lord, there has been only one. I am inclined to believe that she is her mother’s child.”
“I am inclined to believe as much, too, Rosalie.”
The healer, to Amaury’s surprise, fell silent. He waited, sensing she had some detail of import to share.
“There have been tales, my lord,” she said finally.
“Of my lady wife?”
“Of her father.” Rosalie sighed. “It has been said that his refusal to summon a midwife for Lady Eloise was not the sole time he made such a choice.”
Amaury straightened. “I do not understand.”
Rosalie’s fingertips swept downward, down Isabella’s leg toward her ankle. She gestured, Amaury knew, to the one that was twisted, that compelled the lady to limp. “It was a wicked tale, sir. Wicked, wicked.”
“Tell me, Rosalie.”
“I cannot be certain of its truth, my lord.”
“But you suspect it might be true.”
“It would be a consistent choice.” The older woman studied Isabella intently for a long moment, undoubtedly deciding whether to confess the tale. “It was said that she fell. A child stumbling upon the stairs, a child who could not be caught in time.”
“Such incidents happen.”
Rosalie met his gaze steadily. “But it was whispered that the child was defying her father and he taught her a lesson by breaking the bone.”
Amaury caught his breath, outraged at even the possibility. “I will wager he did not call a healer.”
Rosalie shook her head. “The leg was bound and the girl expected to continue without complaint or assistance. Whether the tale is true or not, my lord, she has become a lady of rare strength.”
A lady who knew better than to defy her father. Amaury believed the tale was true and his heart ached for what Isabella had endured. No wonder she was in no hurry to trust him.
“Do you train an apprentice in these times?” he asked, striving to lighten the mood.
“Given the sorrows of recent years, I have not, my lord.” She surveyed him. “But now that you are returned and wed, perhaps I should do as much.”
Amaury smiled. “My lady and I have spoken of the appeal of filling Montvieux’s hall with sons. I would see her welfare ensured in that endeavor.”
“And I should be honored to be of assistance, my lord.” Rosalie curtsied more deeply than Amaury might have expected she could.
Her knee did creak loudly as she straightened, but he gave no indication of having heard it.
She eyed him and he thought himself caught, but her words surprised him.
“I hear a rumor that you possess a poison stone, my lord.”
“From whom did you hear such a tale?”
“A bird chattering upon the sill,” Rosalie said with a smile.
“It was a gift, though I surrendered it to my lady wife to ensure her safety.”
The healer considered the wounded lady and snorted.
Amaury looked in Isabella’s purse, but the stone was not there. He frowned, troubled that it had been lose, but Rosalie smiled.
“Her stocking,” she said and he eased aside the chemise, noting the lump in the stocking beneath the garter.
“She hid it there,” he said and Rosalie chuckled.
“A wise choice, if it works.”
Amaury surrendered the stone to the healer, watching as she studied it. “It turned black when I placed it upon my father’s lips three days past.”
Rosalie caught her breath and returned the stone hastily to Amaury. She then turned away, muttering to herself as she checked again upon Isabella’s wound. “It is the curse of Marnis come to Montvieux, my lord.”
“Nay, Rosalie, I suspect it was a person from Marnis come to Montvieux, to do wickedness.”
“You must catch him and oust him, sir!”
“I intend to try, Rosalie. Have you any tidings to share with me of my father’s end?”
To his disappointment, she shook her head.
“I was down at the river, my lord. I saw no one and heard no one, save the birds and the fishes. My lord Roland sought me out, though ’twas too late for me to be of aid.
” She crossed herself and surveyed the chamber, as if comparing it now with how it had been then.
Or perhaps she remembered her last sight of his father.
Amaury could not say, and she said no more on the matter.
“She must be kept warm, my lord.” To his surprise, Rosalie granted him a coy smile.
“I suspect a husband might be of merit in such an endeavor.”
Amaury smiled and thanked the healer, ensuring that Roland saw her back to her abode.
He sat with Isabella, hating that there was even a possibility of her father having treated her thus, understanding a little better why she hid her thoughts so very well and trusted so reluctantly.
He could not believe that she summoned him on this day to betray him.
Amaury put the stone into his purse, then called to Philip to aid him in removing his hauberk. He heard the company settle and felt the chill of night falling, but could not still his thoughts. He finally laid down beside Isabella, attuned to her every breath, hoping for the best.
He could not lose her now, not when he felt on the cusp of understanding her, not when they seemed to have a chance of building the life together that he desired above all else.
It was after midnight when Isabella gave a small sigh, then she rolled toward him.
Amaury waited, holding his breath, but she nestled against him with contentment, her hand falling upon his chest. It halted directly over his heart, as if the feel of his pulse gave her solace.
Her brow was cool and he was glad she had no fever.
When he looked down, her lips were curved in the slightest of smiles, and that alone reassured him.
He dared to believe that his lady would recover, and with that, he finally slept.