Chapter Fifty-Five #4
He left and Christopher turned to his brother. “What say you?” he asked.
David shrugged. “I am encouraged,” he admitted. “Darren is a fine swordsman and will make an outstanding knight in a few years. If we cannot be there to protect her, then I am comfortable with him in our stead.”
Christopher agreed. “He is an intelligent, quiet boy and not given to rash judgments,” he observed. “He can think for himself.”
David stood up and stretched the knots from his legs. “If you want my advice, let him go,” he said, rubbing at his neck. “I think it would ease your mind to know that Dustin and Christin are not entirely alone.”
Christopher nodded vaguely. “But if they discover him, they will kill him.”
“That is a risk we all must take.”
Christopher thought on it a moment longer before replying. “I must seek out Edward on this matter. If he gives approval, then I will agree to it.”
“What of Richard?” David asked.
“Richard will concur with whatever I decide,” Christopher said confidently.
They rose and went their separate ways. Christopher felt a good deal of comfort with Darren’s suggestion and was more positive with every step he took.
Christ, if it were only that easy. Surely Darren could enter Nottingham unnoticed, for it was a large keep, but to find Dustin and stay with her would be nearly impossible.
Especially if John had tight control of her, as he suspected he did.
But he was desperate. He knew what John was capable of, and if anything happened to his wife and child, he would surely die himself. He would not want to live without them.
*
Dustin was surprised when dresses of every color and flattering style began arriving in her room.
But she was shocked when expensive jewels and shoes began arriving, too, and clothes for Christin, as well.
She could not believe that Gabrielle had ordered all of these fine clothes for her and wondered furthermore who was going to pay for them.
Surely the prince was not so inclined to spend his money on her, his enemy’s wife, and she was deeply curious.
She would refuse to touch them until she knew all of the details.
Gabrielle arrived later on in the morning and immediately fawned over the new clothes. When she tried to dress Christin in one of the outfits, Dustin stopped her.
“Nay, Gabrielle, she stays as she is for now,” she said firmly.
Gabrielle looked perplexed. “But why? Her clothes are soiled and she could use a bath.”
Dustin was firm. “Because I do not know who has sent all of these things,” she explained warily. “I will not touch them until I know where they came from, and why.”
Gabrielle looked at the piles of surcoats. “I ordered you three coats and paid for them myself. They are the ones on the chair, I think. The pale silks,” she stood up, holding Christin. “But truthfully, Dustin, I do not know where the rest came from.”
Dustin eyed her treasures. “They came from someone who doesn’t know me very well,” she said, picking up a luscious sapphire and diamond necklace carelessly. “Now, what am I going to do with this? Caesar would love to play with it.”
“Caesar? Who’s Caesar?” Gabrielle asked.
“My cat,” Dustin replied, letting the necklace fall to the table with a clank. “My old, fat, spoiled cat who keeps to himself these days. I took him with me to Somerhill, but he made himself scarce. He did not take to Marcus very well.”
Dustin sat in a chair, her pregnant belly looking as if she were harboring a pumpkin underneath her surcoat. Her beautiful face was rested and rosy with her condition, not looking like a woman who had spent a night and day traveling alone.
“When is your baby due, Dustin?” Gabrielle asked, as Christin chewed on her fingers.
“October,” Dustin replied. “I have still got a good deal of time to go.”
“It is nearly July now,” Gabrielle said. “You do not have that much longer.”
Dustin sat back in the chair and stroked her belly. “Believe me, Gabrielle, come the heat of August, October will seem like an eternity.”
Gabrielle smiled. “And you know it to be a son?”
Dustin nodded firmly. “A son for Christopher,” her face suddenly went distant and mournful. “I wonder if he will ever know his son.”
“What will you name him?” Gabrielle asked softly.
“Curtis,” Dustin murmured. “Curtis Arthur.”
“But what if it is another girl?” Gabrielle asked with a twinkle in her eye. “Then what?”
Dustin shrugged. “One girl is all I need,” she smiled at her daughter. “But if it is, then I do not know. I cannot think of any female names.”
“My mother’s name was Arianna,” Gabrielle said. “I have always liked that name.”
“My mother’s name was Mary,” Dustin said. “Too plain and too common. Nay, I must think of a wonderful name such as Christin’s is.”
They took the nooning meal in Dustin’s room.
In fact, it was sent up without even being ordered and Dustin suspected that she was not such a guest after all.
Either that, or John did not want to see her face at his table and spoil his appetite.
Whatever the reason, she ate nearly all of the food on the table and then demanded hot water to bathe her daughter.
Gabrielle was right; little Christin could use it.
She dressed Christin in one of the little garments she had brought for her and tied a strip of cloth around her head to keep the curly dark hair from getting in her eyes.
Already, the babe had a considerable amount of hair.
Bathed and fed and happy, Christin crawled about and stuck the rushes in her mouth as her mother tried to discourage her.
Gabrielle seemed determined to spend all of her time with Dustin and Christin.
Not that Dustin minded, but the woman seemed desperate for companionship.
She was a sweet, funny girl and even in the short time they had spent together, Dustin had come to know her well.
She was extremely comfortable with her, but she was still wary about trusting her.
Dustin had no idea what her relationship was with the prince and wasn’t sure if anything she said wouldn’t be immediately repeated.
But, lord, if she wasn’t a beautiful, elegant creature.
Everything about Gabrielle reeked of breeding and nobility, from the top of her light brown hair to the bottom of those long, long legs.
She was several inches taller than Dustin, of which Dustin was highly envious, and she had a silly, squeaky laugh Dustin found hysterical.
In some ways, she reminded her a lot of Rebecca.
She was sad when she thought of those days with Rebecca that seemed so very long ago.
They were passing away the afternoon chatting about nonsensical things when there was a sharp rap at the door. Gabrielle set Christin down to open it, bowing immediately to the tall, graying man in the archway.
“Lord Bruce,” she said formally, assuming he was looking for her. “I apologize that I have not been in my room, but …”
He waved her off. “Not you. I have come to see my granddaughter.”
Gabrielle blinked in confusion as Dustin rose slowly from her chair, her eyes fixed on the man whose features were remotely familiar. Frightened and curious at the same time, she openly studied the tall, distinguished looking man.
He smiled at her. “Lady Dustin, of course,” he said, stepping into the room, shoving Gabrielle aside. “Great Lucifer, you look like Arthur. I see nothing of my dear Mary in you.”
Dustin was nervous. “My lord,” she greeted.
“None of that,” he snapped. “I am your grandfather and will be addressed as such. You were probably three or four the last time I saw you and surely you do not remember, but you called me Poppa.”
“Poppa?” Dustin barely remembered the tall, dark man who had been her mother’s father. “I am sorry, sire, I do not remember. But I shall…address you as ‘Poppa’ if it pleases you.”
“It does,” he said firmly. “And where is my great-granddaughter?”
They all turned to Christin, playing with a comb on the floor. She smiled innocently up at her great-grandfather and he went wild with delight.
“At last! A child who looks like a Fitz Walter,” he crowed. “Look at that hair. Only my side of the family has such pleasingly dark hair. All of Arthur’s people were colorless.”
Dustin was uncomfortable with the loud, tall man and scooped Christin up into her arms protectively. Lord Bruce continued to smile and announce his pleasure with Christin’s dark looks.
“She looks nothing like her bastard father, I am pleased to see,” he went on. “God help me, harboring a de Lohr. Well, I am pleased to see that at least my great-granddaughter is indeed a Fitz Walter.”
Dustin was appalled by his words and lowered her gaze, lest he see her angry tears. Lord Bruce, having no idea he had upset his granddaughter, turned to the room laden with expensive items.
“I see you received my gifts,” he said with approval, then looked at her. “Why do you not wear them? I demand to see you in one of the surcoats I selected for you.”
Dustin, shaken and unnerved, nodded. “Aye, mi….Poppa. I shall put one on immediately.”
He nodded curtly. “And jewels. Lots of jewels. My granddaughter will be the best dressed in the keep.”
Dustin nodded, keeping her eyes averted. With a final approving glance, he turned for the door. Gabrielle, still standing with her hand on the door latch, curtsied.
“I would have you service me in my rooms before the hour is up,” he tapped her on the chin. “Do not be late.”
He left with a slam of the door, leaving both women in stunned, embarrassed silence.
Dustin had no idea what to say. She was afraid that Gabrielle would never speak to her again for not divulging the fact that she was Lord Bruce Fitz Walter’s granddaughter, yet she was deeply humiliated for her friend with regard to her grandfather’s last orders.
Summoning her courage, she turned slowly to her friend.
Gabrielle was staring at the floor, her lovely face glazed with shame and shock. Sensing Dustin was looking at her, she met her gaze.
“You are his granddaughter?” she whispered.