Chapter Twenty-One
The night was cold and the dark clouds that had gathered that day had finally started to shed some of their freezing rain.
As Kathalin sat at the window, overlooking the now-dark herb garden, the wall of Hyssington beyond that, and then the landscape in the distance over the wall, there was so much in her heart that was frozen like the clouds and the rain, an indefinable coldness that had settled into her soul.
She was numb against what was to come, numb against a future that would be determined on this night.
Gates wouldn’t fight for her.
That was all she could think of. He refused to run, refused to take her and marry her.
He gave his reasons and although, in theory, she understood him, the truth was that her heart was damaged and all she could see was that his honor meant more to him than she did.
Or the honor of Alexander, and the entire houses of de Lohr, de Lara, and de Wolfe.
So many people he was concerned with over her, or perhaps it was as he said – he’d never done anything truly honorable with regard to his personal life and felt strongly that he had to start somewhere.
So he started with her and in choosing this situation with which to regain his honor. Maybe it was true what she said, that he didn’t love her enough to take her and flee. That was what it boiled down to, she thought.
He simply didn’t love her enough.
Therefore, she sat and brooded, thinking back to the day she had first met him in the kitchen of St. Milburga’s.
She had been attracted to him, then, the very big man in the red de Lara tunic, fighting off the Welsh raiders who had invaded the priory.
But that attraction had turned to hate when he had captured her, bound her hand and foot, and carried her off towards home.
But the night before they’d reached Hyssington, when she’d seen the soldiers fornicating through the hearth and her wrists had been so terribly chaffed by the rope, he had softened his harsh stance against her and brought her so many lovely things.
A peace offering, she knew, but she didn’t care.
It was then that the hatred had left and the emotions sprouting up in its place had turned into something warm.
Those warm emotions had turned into adoration for the man.
He was strong, wise, humorous, at times, and honest. God’s Bones, he was honest to a fault.
She’d learned things about his past she probably didn’t want to know, but in the course of honesty, he had told her.
She knew a great deal about him and she still loved him, and he loved her.
… so why was this honor he spoke of worth more to him than she was?
Kathalin didn’t know. She was muddled and distressed, too distressed to eat the food that the Tender of the Keep had brought her earlier in the evening.
It now sat, cold and congealed, next to her bed.
She couldn’t even think of food at the moment, knowing that Stephan had ridden for a priest. A priest for her wedding.
It had grown dark some time ago and she was coming to wonder if the priest would even come this night, as she’d been told.
The answer came soon enough.
A soft knock on her chamber door roused her from her thoughts. Timidly, Kathalin called out.
“Who comes?”
“’Tis Lady de Lohr,” came a heavily accented Germanic voice. “Will you please admit me, Lady Kathalin?”
De Lohr. Kathalin knew that Alexander’s parents had arrived so she could only assume that it was his mother.
She seriously considered sending the woman away but she knew it would be foolish to do so; it wouldn’t delay or prevent anything.
Even if she was to fight back, and perhaps grossly offend Lady de Lohr, that was no guarantee they would back out of the marriage contract.
Even if they did, she could only imagine that Jasper would still not allow her to marry Gates and they’d be right back where they started.
Many thoughts and many possibilities, rolled through her head, but none of them viable.
It all came down to the truth of the matter –
She was trapped.
Her father intended marriage for her regardless of what she wanted, so if she wanted to look at the positive side of the situation, at least she knew Alexander.
It would be horrific to be married to someone she did not even know, perhaps an old, smelly man or even a young, foolish heir, someone she could not stand to be around.
At least she could stand to be around Alexander.
Perhaps this was the best she could hope for.
Resigned, she climbed off of the windowsill and went to the door. Throwing the old iron bolt, she pulled the door open.
A handsome woman with blue eyes, fair skin, and a pristine white wimple was smiling back at her. “Lady Kathalin?” she asked.
Kathalin nodded. “Aye.”
“I am Lady de Lohr, Alexander’s mother.”
Kathalin stood back and admitted the woman into her chamber. “Please come in.”
Elreda came into the chamber but her attention remained on Kathalin. In fact, she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off her. “Sweet Mary,” she sighed. “You look much as your mother did when she was young. Have you been told that?”
Kathalin shook her head. “Nay, my lady.”
Elreda, in just the short few exchanges they’d had, could see how depressed Kathalin was.
Now, the reality of all of the arguing Alexander had been doing against his participation in the marriage now had a face and a name in this lovely young woman.
Elreda well understood what it was to have a broken heart, to be forbidden to marry the man you loved, but she also well understood a sense of duty.
One had to do what one was told to do, especially when one was a woman.
That being the case, it was impossible not to extend some measure of compassion to the girl.
“You look like her a great deal,” she said, forcing a smile. “She was very beautiful in her youth. I have come to extend my welcome to the de Lohr family and to help you prepare for the ceremony. The priest has arrived so the mass will be conducted as soon as you are ready.”
Kathalin’s heart sank at that news. Not that she didn’t know the wedding was coming, eventually, but to realize she was on the cusp of marrying Alexander in a matter of minutes made her nauseous.
Still, there was nothing she could do. She couldn’t fight back and she couldn’t run off. For her, it was over.
Her entire life was over.
“Very well,” Kathalin said, looking down at the lavender wool gown she was wearing. It was the garment Gates had purchased for her and even as she gazed at it, she fought off thoughts of him. “I suppose I am ready. Is there something more we must do?”
Elreda could see that the girl was dead in the eyes.
No glimmer of hope, happiness, or excitement.
A young lady should be thrilled for her wedding, but Lady Kathalin clearly wasn’t.
Although Elreda knew why, she would not say so.
Some things were better left unspoken. Moreover, there was no reason to acknowledge pain that she could not help in any way.
Perhaps it was as Rosamund said; perhaps Kathalin would forget about it, eventually.
Elreda had her doubts.
“Mayhap you will allow me to fix your hair,” Elreda said, trying to sound positive and happy. “You have such lovely hair but it would be nice to dress it. Would you permit me?”
Kathalin had no desire to refuse or protest. She simply lifted her shoulders in a defeated gesture and Elreda took that as an affirmative.
If the girl was going to be so apathetic, then Elreda would simply do what needed to be done.
Gently, she pushed Kathalin down onto her small bed and went to work.
Elreda found the comb and iron pins on the same table that contained the soap and wash basin.
Kathalin’s hair was already in a tight, single braid, so she unbraided the hair and combed it vigorously before braiding it again and wrapping it around Kathalin’s head, creating an elaborate hairstyle of braids that was exquisitely detailed.
All the while, Elreda kept stealing glances at Kathalin’s face, thrilled with the perfect beauty and imagining the magnificent grandchildren she would have from this woman.
For the mother who had desperately wanted her son to marry, it was difficult not to think such thoughts.
But on the heel of thoughts of grandchildren also came thoughts of Rosamund, wondering how the woman could be so cold and callous towards this child.
Surely the disease had something to do with it, but Elreda sensed that there was more to it.
She wondered if Rosamund would ever return to the way she was before and if the compassionate woman Elreda had once known would make a resurgence.
For Kathalin’s sake, she hoped so.
When the hair was finished, Elreda moved to inspect the surcoat Kathalin was wearing and noticed that the bottom of it was quite soiled.
She asked Kathalin if she had any more dresses that would be appropriate for a wedding and Kathalin pointed to the slender wardrobe.
Elreda opened it to find the blue patchwork brocade and the eggshell-colored wool with the fur around the neck and cuffs hanging on pegs inside. She withdrew the pale wool.
“This is a lovely garment,” she said, holding it up. “Will you wear this? It would be better if this was pink or blue for your wedding, but the white will do. Will you put it on, my lady?”