Chapter Five #4
He gave her a crooked smile. “I shall take her myself if it pleases you. But for now, I will arrange to have her interred in Berwick’s vaults. Fair enough?”
She nodded, forcing a weak smile. “Fair enough.”
“Good.” He bent down and kissed her sweetly on the forehead. “I shall see you tonight.”
Her smile turned genuine as she watched him walk away, the biggest man she had ever seen.
But even for all his incredible height, there was nothing out of proportion or strange about the man.
He was perfectly formed in every way. Her heart fluttered as he walked out of sight and she found herself sighing faintly when he was no longer before her eyes but just a sweet, lingering memory.
He was quite a man, English or no.
*
The surcoats that Stephen had purchased for his new wife had nary a scent of smoke once they were washed and dried in the sun.
The serving women pressed the garments to crisp perfection and Joselyn had the unexpected treat of trying each one on so the women could hem the bottom.
Some of the garments were so long that the serving women cut several inches off the bottom, stitching up the extra material with colored thread and creating lovely ribbons for Joselyn’s hair.
Having spent half her life in rough woolen garments, the thrill of new clothing was almost more than she could stand.
These were well-made garments produced from the most wonderful fabric Joselyn had ever seen.
White, dark blue, deep orange, two different shades of green, a soft yellow, a rose color and finally a brocade pattern that had crimson, gold and blue rounded out the expensive booty she had acquired.
Joselyn was giddy with delight as she tried on each one, vowing with each successive garment that it was the most beautiful one she had ever seen.
Nay, this was the most beautiful one she had ever seen.
On and on it went until the deep orange silk was finally finished and she was able to exchange it for the cranberry wool.
With a long-sleeved, silken shift beneath, the orange silk was cool and swishy and delightful to wear in the warm weather.
The wimpled serving woman tied a white ribbon around her waist as a belt and Joselyn had never in her life felt more beautiful.
The contrast of the dark orange against her striking coloring was stunning.
“Ye look lovely, Jo-Jo,” the wimpled woman said with satisfaction. “I have never seen such beauty.”
Joselyn spun in circles, watching the bottom of the surcoat bell. “Thank you, Tilda,” she said. “I have never seen anything like it.”
Tilda watched Joselyn fuss with the ribbon around her waist. She had known the eldest Seton since she had been born and she knew well the tragic life the young woman had led.
There had been a long period of time when Joselyn was at Jedburgh, but she had returned early last year to tend her increasingly senile mother.
She had known little happiness and to see her so radiant did the old woman’s heart good.
“Yer new husband is generous,” Tilda ventured. “I have heard the men talking. They say he is a good man.”
Joselyn nodded, smoothing her hands over the orange material. “Sir Stephen has been very kind to me,” she answered, casting the wimpled woman a sidelong glance. “He has tried to be a good husband and do what is right.”
“He is very tall,” the wimpled woman said helpfully.
“Tall and big,” the other old woman cackled from her stool in the corner. “He’s the biggest man I have ever seen, saints have mercy!”
Joselyn grinned. “He is gentle and kind, Mereld,” she told the skittish old woman. “He is nothing to fear.”
But the older woman turned on her. “How can ye say such things?” she demanded. “He killed yer brothers, Jo-Jo. Does that not mean anything to ye or are ye so blinded by his beauty that ye forget what he’s done?”
“Bite your tongue, you old fool,” Joselyn snapped, her happy mood vanished. “He did not kill Thomas or William. He had no part in that.”
The old woman stood up from her mending stool, hands full of strips of material that she was turning into ribbon. “Did ye ask him?”
Joselyn scowled. “Nay, I did not. But we spoke of Thomas and he would have told me had he had a hand in his death. He has been honest with me from the start.”
“How do ye know?”
Joselyn growled and turned away from the old woman. She tended to be a naysayer even in the best of times but Joselyn was in no mood for her dour views. Moreover, she realized that she felt very protective of Stephen.
“I will not hear you disparage him, do you hear?” she scolded. “He has been very good and generous to me. He has even told me that he will bring the English soldier who raped me to justice. Stephen says he will find him and I believe him.”
Old Mereld could see that her young lady was upset and didn’t push further.
The subject of Lady Joselyn’s rape was something that no one talked about.
It was a dark family secret that went deeper than they would dare acknowledge.
The old woman had been present when a very young Joselyn had delivered the large male child that had nearly killed her.
It had been a horrific birth and the old woman remembered praying continuously as Joselyn, only twelve years old at the time, had moaned and cried through three days of labor.
It had been terrible for all of them and something they never discussed.