Chapter 13
Thirteen
Emily rode the next day with Simon. Even though she tried to engage Draven in conversation, he refused. The best she could get out of him were curt, monosyllabic responses.
They returned to Ravenswood with the setting of the sun. Exhausted and feeling daunted, she allowed Simon to help her down.
Draven didn’t wait for them. He made his way up the steps to the donjon.
Emily noted the way he stiffened as he paused in the doorway.
Climbing the steps, she stopped behind him and peered around his massive body.
“Gracious,” she breathed as her gaze swept the interior. Denys had been busy!
New tables had been made and stacked against the walls. Fresh paint stung her nose and brightened the formerly drab walls. New tapestries hung and the shutters had been thrown back to show off the brightly colored windows. Fresh rushes had been laid, and a pleasant spicy scent greeted her nose.
“Am I in the right hall?”
Emily laughed at his question. “I believe so.”
“Denys!” Draven bellowed, walking into the foyer.
Denys came running from a side door. “Milord!”
Emily saw the trepidation on the steward’s face as Denys rubbed his hands together in a nervous gesture. “Does it meet with your satisfaction?”
Draven looked to her. “Milady?”
She nodded. “‘Tis wondrous.”
Denys smiled.
“Was there any money left over from your budget?” Draven asked.
“Aye, milord. Quite a bit, point of fact.”
“Then keep it.”
Denys looked shocked. “Are you certain, milord?”
“You’ve earned it. Take the sennight off and rest yourself.”
“Oh, thank you!” Denys headed back out the door he’d entered.
Draven started for the stairs when a stern voice called out, “Not with those muddy boots on your feet, you don’t!”
Emily arched a brow at the daring tone as a plump woman around the age of five-and-two-score entered the hall from Draven’s antechamber.
“I’ll not have you muck up my floor,” she said, her voice even sharper than before. “Even if this hall be yours, milord, it gives you no right to lay waste to our hard work. Now off with those boots.”
The look on Draven’s face would have scared the devil himself. But the woman merely came to a stop before him and met his gaze with an impertinent directness.
“Who are you?” he demanded, his voice lethal and sharp.
“Beatrix. Steward Denys hired me to keep this hall, and keep it I shall.”
Draven opened his mouth, then frowned. “Beatrix?”
“Aye, your mother’s maid. I swatted your backside when you were just a babe, and I can do it now as well.”
Emily’s eyes widened at the woman’s audacity.
Instead of angering Draven, the words seemed to amuse him. There was a softening around his features. “I was told you were dead.”
A tenderness for him burned in the woman’s eyes and Emily sensed a longing in the woman to reach out and touch him. “If I am, then I’m back to haunt you,” she said in a much gentler tone. “Now off with those boots.”
To Emily’s utter amazement, he obeyed.
“Thank you, milord. Your room is waiting for you above. Denys and me moved the lady’s things to the guest chambers.”
“You have guest chambers?” Emily asked.
Beatrix smiled. “His lordship does now.”
“My gratitude for your service, Beatrix,” Draven said gently, then he walked up the stairs in his stocking feet.
Emily stared at the strange sight. Who would have thought the most feared man in England would walk up the stairs in his stockings to please his housekeeper?
Aye, there was a goodness in Draven’s heart.
Smiling, she took a step toward the stairs, but Beatrix’s tsking stopped her dead in her tracks.
“That goes for you as well, milady.”
Emily bit her lip, then removed her shoes. “Forgive me, dear Beatrix.”
The housekeeper nodded in approval. “I’ll send food up to your chambers. I’m sure you’ll want to rest. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your new bower.”
Emily thanked her, then followed her up the stairs.
She paused as they passed Draven’s room. The door was shut tightly, and she heard no sound of him from within.
Reaching out, she touched the hard wood that separated them and wondered what thoughts were on his mind. He’d been so withdrawn today. Much more so than usual, even for him.
She sighed, then rushed to catch Beatrix who led her to the end of the hallway. Beatrix pushed open the door and allowed Emily to enter.
Emily widened her eyes at the sight of the cheery room. The new bed beckoned with clean sheets and fur coverlets. Another set of tapestries covered the walls, and a thick, woven rug covered the cobbled floor.
While she removed her cloak, Beatrix started the fire. “If milady needs anything, please let me know.”
She stood in silence for several minutes, watching her work. “Beatrix?”
The housekeeper paused and looked up at her over her shoulder. “Aye, milady?”
“Have you any idea what might make Lord Draven smile?”
A dark sadness crossed her face. “There is no power on this earth that could do that.”
“But surely—”
“Nay, milady. I promise you, there is nothing that could ever bring a smile to his lordship’s lips. Not after...”
Emily waited, but Beatrix turned back to the fire and added more wood.
“Not after what?” she prompted.
“‘Tis not my place to say.” She rose to her feet and brushed her hands off on her skirt. “But were I you, milady, I would avoid him at all costs.”
“And why is that?”
“Because every lady who has ever lived beneath the roof of Ravenswood was murdered here.”
A chill went up her spine. “Murdered? How?”
“By the hand of her lord.”
Emily was aghast. “Draven’s mother?”
“Killed by the hand of his sire.”
The room seemed to careen around her. She couldn’t imagine anything more horrendous. “And Lord Draven, where was he when it happened?”
“On the floor in a beaten, bloody heap from trying to protect her.”
Her chest constricted and her stomach shrank. Emily crossed herself at the thought of such horror. Dear heaven, no wonder he was so withdrawn.
‘Twas a wonder he ever spoke or mixed with people at all.
And at last, she understood why he never smiled. How could he? How could anyone find humor after having seen something so disturbing?
And in that instant she wanted to reach him even more.
“Thank you, Beatrix.”
Beatrix nodded, then excused herself.
Emily took a seat at the dressing table as her mind came to grips with what Beatrix had told her.
He had witnessed his own mother’s murder.
“Oh Draven,” she whispered, her throat tight. Her heart ached for him. He must have hated his father for it. How could he not?
And she wondered what his mother had done to make his father so angry.
Simon, she thought with a start. It must have been when his father learned Simon was illegitimate. That would make sense.
Still, what a horrible nightmare. No one deserved such a fate.
Closing her eyes, she let her tears fall for the boys and their mother. Tears for the boy who had seen what no child should ever witness, and tears for the man he had become who now refused to love.
For over a fortnight Emily tried to find a quiet moment with Draven, but he ran from her as if she were a leper with St. Vitus Dance.
She’d finally come to the realization that any attempt to be alone with him was futile. He wouldn’t even take his meals in the hall with the rest of them, but rather stayed bolted in his room or didn’t bother to come home at all.
Emily didn’t know what he found to occupy himself. If Simon knew, he told her nothing.
But at least Simon provided some entertainment for her.
“Why do I bother?” she asked herself as she sat in the great hall, breaking her fast.
Several of Draven’s knights were around her, but none close enough to hear. She didn’t know where Simon had gone this morning and she had allowed Alys to sleep late since her maid had been up late doing something Alys refused to share with Emily.
Picking at her bread, Emily sighed.
A shuffle in the hallway caught her attention.
Emily looked up to see one of her trunks being brought down the stairs by two servants. She rose from her seat and followed them outside where they placed it into a waiting wagon.
“What goes here?” she asked one of the servants.
“Are you not ready?”
She jumped at Draven’s voice behind her. Turning around, she saw him in the doorway.
“Where did you come from?” she asked amazed a man so large could move without sound.
“I was leaving orders with Denys.”
She frowned. “Orders?”
“Your sister’s wedding is the day after next. I assumed you wanted to go. Indeed, your maid told me you were packed.”
Joy burst through her. That was what Alys had stayed up so late doing!
“I didn’t think you’d allow me to attend.”
“I’m a beast, Emily, not a bastard.”
She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. “At the moment, milord, you are neither, but rather a wonderfully, sweet man.”
He tensed at her touch, but didn’t move to toss her away from him. It was a small victory, but one she gladly took.
Emily bit her lip and pulled away. “Give me a moment and I shall be right back.”
“A moment or an hour?”
“One moment,” she said, laughing. “I promise.”
He nodded and she rushed up to her room to retrieve her cloak.
In her room, she saw Alys looking pleased. “Are you surprised?”
“Why did you not tell me?”
Alys shrugged as she helped her fasten her cloak. “I wanted you to know ‘twas his lordship’s doing and not mine. He was the one who asked the date of the wedding when we returned from Lincoln.”
“That’s what you were doing last night?”
Alys smiled sheepishly.
“Thank you, now grab your cloak and let us not keep him waiting.”
Draven couldn’t believe his eyes when Emily appeared just a few minutes after she had left. Happiness pinkened her cheeks and there was a lightness to her steps as she drew near him.
She was truly lovely. And though he knew he had no business going to her father’s, he decided her happiness was well worth whatever discomfort he felt.
If there was anything in life he respected, it was those who loved their family.
“Help her mount,” he said to Simon.