Chapter 3 #4
‘That is all too evident,’ Sir William said.
He sat down. A frown had descended on his brow again and Marris wondered what he was thinking.
Thank God she had been spared trying to understand the moods of men these past ten years.
She ignored him and started to eat the stew, which was surprisingly tasty as well as warm and filling.
She tried not to bolt it down too quickly.
‘I feel responsible for you,’ Sir William burst out. He sounded angry, though whether with her or with himself for caring, Marris was not sure.
‘Why?’ Marris asked, equally blunt. ‘It was not your fault that the King made me homeless.’
Sir William gave her a look of half-amusement, half-irritation. ‘That was not what I meant.’
‘I know,’ Marris admitted. ‘But there is no reason for you to feel you have an obligation to me just because we—’ she paused, searching for the right words ‘—were intimate with one another.’
‘Is that what you are calling it?’ For a moment, amusement chased the anger from his face and Marris felt her heart lift in response, but she was not going to be drawn into a discussion on what had, or had not, happened between them. It was done.
‘At the least you are not telling me to forget it.’ He sounded moody again. He leaned towards her. ‘Have you thought about it since – thought about me at all?’
She almost laughed at his need for masculine reassurance but when she raised her gaze to his, all humour fled at the look in his eyes. It was fierce with desire and her throat dried.
‘Of course I have…’ She looked away from that intensity.
‘But William.’ Her voice caught on his name, for it still felt so strange to address him informally.
‘It was…’ She stopped again. She, who normally had such a fluency with language, could not find the right words.
‘I was in a strange place in my mind,’ she said at last. ‘I was not myself. I needed to escape for a while. And you…’ She hesitated.
‘Well, I am sure you considered it a mistake after—’
He stood up so violently that his chair toppled over backward.
‘Pray do not impute feelings to me when you know nothing of them, madam.’ His voice was thick with emotion.
‘It is bad enough that you turned to me only because you were not yourself.’ There was a savage bite to his words as he strode across the room then turned sharply back again.
‘Would you rather that I had said I was the sort of nun who held her vows of so little importance that she would leap upon the first man she sees?’ Marris was starting to feel as annoyed as he was.
‘It was something that happened between us and now it would be best to forget it. Are you going to eat your stew?’ she added.
‘Or may I have it? I have hunger enough for two and it is too good to go to waste.’
‘You sound very wifely,’ Sir William said sarcastically. His tone eased a little. ‘You take it,’ he continued. ‘You look as though you need it.’
‘Thank you.’ She pulled his untouched bowl towards her.
There was a brief silence and then Sir William gave a short laugh. ‘I do not understand you, Marris. You are like no other woman I have ever met.’
Marris looked up. ‘Did we not establish that you had not met many nuns?’
‘You are no longer a nun.’ He was still pacing the room. ‘Why did you leave me without a word? Had you forgotten that I had promised to find a place for you at the court? I could have rented a house for you and your sisters until such a time as you go to London.’
Marris put her spoon down. ‘I could not let you provide us with lodgings, William. People would say that I was your mistress; that you had taken me along with the priory.’ She ignored his furious gesture of denial.
‘Besides – forgive me – I felt I could not depend on you finding us a place at court. It was all too unlikely. I had to make my own way. Do you not see?’ Her eyes pleaded for his understanding.
‘Our situation was precarious enough. I made it even more so by lying with you. I cannot rely on anyone else to help me—’
‘You mean that you will not.’ He was frowning hard. ‘Marris, you need not be so damnably independent.’
‘It is true that I do not like to be beholden to anyone,’ Marris admitted. ‘I have had my own way for too long to change.’
‘So, you will make life twice as difficult for yourself as it needs to be.’ To her surprise he went down on one knee beside her chair and took her hand in his. His felt warm and rough and strong. ‘Marris, promise me you would at least seek my help if you were with child?’
Heat washed through her. ‘I am not.’
‘You are certain?’ She thought he sounded disappointed.
‘I am. I suspect I may be too old to bear children now.’
‘You look about twenty.’ She was not proof against the tenderness in his voice or in his touch against her cheek. ‘How old are you anyway?’
‘I am two and thirty.’
‘Young indeed.’ He was smiling at her. She felt dizzy, as though she had drunk wine. ‘I am three years older than you.’
‘It is different for men,’ Marris said. Her late husband had already fathered a brood when he had taken her as his second wife and had commented sourly more than once that she must be barren not to have conceived by him since he was so fecund.
She repressed a shudder. Those loveless couplings had been nothing like the bliss of lying with William.
She rested a hand on her flat stomach. It was no sorrow to her that she had failed to conceive his child.
Had she been pregnant it would have been an absolute disaster, one moment a nun, the next an unwed mother.
She already had two sisters to provide for without a third mouth to feed.
And no matter what Sir William said, she could not trust him – or any man – to take care of her, of them.
How many girls had turned up at the priory gates over the years, pregnant and alone, begging for her help?
Sir William sighed and got to his feet, and she wondered what he was thinking, whether he was genuinely sorry that she was not carrying his child or whether he, too, saw it as a lucky escape.
There was a silence in the room now. Marris felt suddenly sleepy, full of food for the first time in as long as she could remember and almost at peace.
Except that she had to return to Wantage now, pull Bridget’s nose out of a book or away from her sketching, make sure that Rose was safely home from the tavern and buy some lye for tomorrow’s wash day if her funds could afford it…
‘I spoke to the King, as I promised I would.’ Sir William was standing by the window, looking out across the courtyard. ‘The marriage negotiations with the Duchy of Cleves are progressing well. The King anticipates that his new bride will be in England by the end of the year.’
Marris stifled a yawn. ‘I see,’ she said. She fought the urge to sleep. The house was quiet and the bustle of the town seemed so distant. Unlike the cottage in Wantage, there was space and warmth and good food…
‘His Majesty agreed with me that you would be the ideal person to guide the Princess of Cleves on her arrival in England,’ Sir William was saying.
‘The lady speaks no English as yet and you have some understanding of the German language, I believe? Am I right in thinking that your mother was originally from Westphalia?’
‘What?’ Marris sat bolt upright as his words penetrated the sleepiness in her brain. ‘I beg your pardon, Sir William? Yes, it is true that I have some ability in foreign languages, though I have neglected it of late—’
Sir William was laughing at her confusion. ‘Your German will still be a great deal better than anyone else’s,’ he predicted. ‘Therefore, if you could be persuaded to change your mind about accepting my help, it would seem an excellent plan…
‘I told you that I would seek a place at court for you,’ he said.
‘I always keep my word. I also spoke to your cousin the Duke of Norfolk, whom I believe you have already approached to provide for your sisters.’ He nodded approvingly.
‘I am glad that you took my advice on that. His Grace has generously agreed to assist. That was what I meant when I said that I would have provided you all with a place to live until you go to court.’
Marris realised her mouth was open with shock and closed it hastily. ‘This is all… a great surprise,’ she said weakly, ‘and… most generous of you. I had not imagined that it would come to pass.’
‘Pray do not overwhelm me with your gratitude,’ Sir William said dryly.
‘I know you did not trust me to keep my word.’ He looked at her more closely.
‘Of course, you should feel free to reject my help once again, should you wish.’ A twinkle came into his eye.
‘If you prefer to be crammed into a cottage in Wantage, taking pennies for writing love letters, with Rose washing pots in a tavern and Bridget doing whatever it is she does—’ He gestured vaguely.
‘Well, that is your prerogative, of course.’
‘Let us not be too hasty…’ Marris scrambled to marshal her thoughts.
Now that Sir William’s plan was suddenly a reality rather than a mere dream of a promise, she realised she felt differently; still uneasy at putting them all so firmly into his debt, but equally a little bit excited that the future was opening up and that Bridget and Rose, at least, would have far greater opportunities than she could have hoped.
‘I am most grateful for your offer,’ she said hesitantly, ‘and I accept with thanks for my sisters’ sake. I shall be happy to see them well settled.’
‘That’s good.’ Sir William looked very pleased that she had fallen in with his plans.
He was so easy to read sometimes, she thought; a man who hated to be opposed and would always be good-humoured when matters were going his way.
For a moment her thoughts skittered to their joint future: she would be at court, near him, often in his company, and that made her glad.
She could not help how she felt. Yet she knew she could not be his mistress. That was both unseemly and impossible.
He has not asked you… a little voice in her head reminded her, and that only served to make her feel unreasonably cross.
To distract herself she stood up, smoothing down the plain russet skirts of the gown that had replaced her prioress’s habit.
‘I should return to Wantage to acquaint my sisters with the good news,’ she said. ‘Thank you, Sir William.’
‘A moment, Marris.’ He took her hands gently in his again. ‘I have another offer to make to you. This is not merely about finding you a new role and seeing your sisters settled. It is about my future happiness as well. Accept my hand in marriage. Come to the King’s court as Lady Sharington.’