Chapter 27
The day came in golden splendor. Clear blue, the sky hung like a wedding canopy over Ravensworth Castle.
Two months to the day of her betrothal, Lily donned a bridal gown of silvery blue silk over an under shift of purest white damask that trailed behind her as she walked.
It looked as if some whimsical wave on the ocean’s edge followed in her wake.
On her chestnut hair, she wore a coronet of blue and purple wildflowers, for summer was upon them and the fields around Ravensworth were ablaze with color.
It seemed to one and all that the land itself celebrated the union.
Lily sailed on a cloud of happiness as she approached the chapel and saw the earl standing on the top step, tall in his magnificent cloak of silver damask.
Emblazoned upon it was the sigil of Ravensworth, a single raven with eyes fashioned out of jet and around its throat a chain cunningly wrought of pure gold filigree.
To her, he looked like one of the knights at King Arthur’s court, and in his hand was power, and in his expression a gallantry that spoke of greatheartedness.
And if she hesitated at the solemnity of his dark and handsome face, then she soon found herself eager, for he turned from the chapel door and came all the way down the stairs to meet her, and himself escorted her before the priest.
The priest smiled and asked them each in turn: “Do you so swear to hold true, before God and man, each to the other, as long as ye shall live?” He looked at Lily, and she answered: “I do so swear.”
And Edward in his turn gave his answer: “I do so swear.”
And with that, the ceremony was complete and they entered the chapel where the masses were held and the blessings bestowed.
As for Lily, the people of Ravensworth and the surrounds delighted in her, acknowledging the gift of her compassion and thinking themselves fortunate to have her live among them. And in time they called her Lady Flower as their lord was wont to do.
* * *
In the Great Hall there was a constant coming and going of folk, villeins, soldiers, anyone having business at Ravensworth.
From the dais where he sat, Edward watched his young countess concern herself with the lives of his people.
He liked to watch the unconsciously provocative glide of her long-legged progress across the hall.
No mincing, ladylike steps for her. Oh no! She’d not altogether lost her youthful coltish grace, which recalled a delightful reminder of their evening together. He’d ridden her well last night, he mused with an inward wolfish grin. And his spirited lady had ridden him equally well.
He found this sharing of power erotic. Like all self-assured men, he assumed it had been his idea. Pleased with himself, he wondered vaguely why it had taken him so long to decide upon it.
There had been so many changes in the last few weeks, but one nagging thought still dampened his pleasure.
His investigation. He brooded on Jessop’s last report.
There was still the question of Pravel and Lily’s miserable brothers to contend with.
Thanks to Jessop’s renegade, they now had Pravel identified as their ringleader.
Edward no longer suspected Stanbury of being anything but a weak-minded cuckold, a fool of a man, incapable of anything as complex as conspiracy.
His sons (if any of his brood were indeed his own) were another matter.
The older one, Lambert, was deeply implicated in Pravel’s scheme as had been his late brother.
He had allowed flattery to seduce him, according to Jessop’s man, and had grandiose ideas of his own importance.
The younger son, Humbert, was merely an idiot.
It appeared that he flirted with the idea of subversion at Lambert’s behest, but so far had not participated in any of Pravel’s bolder initiatives.
Frankly, Edward had expected an attempt during the wedding celebrations.
There, it seemed his strategy had worked.
Preventing them from access to the inner ward had proven a deterrent—that and the fact that the family had been ostentatiously followed by Edward’s men.
But Pravel had not been invited to the wedding, and perhaps that was why there had been no overt move as yet?
Edward and his knights understood the extent of the threat. They had not been idle. Jessop also had been busy. The tracker would be coming in person to report the day after next. It was, Edward thought to himself, time. The board was set, the pieces ready. Now it was a question of rolling the dice.
Certainly, it would not be long.
In his mind’s eye Edward again mused on the land and demesne he’d acquired that had been confiscated from both Pravel, Percy and Stanbury after their defection to Henry Percy.
These acts of attainder were decreed by the old King Henry, the current king’s father, as punishment for flirting with rebellion.
If they but knew it, Pravel and the Keelings were one step away from losing their heads. Hellbent on seeing the estates returned to them, they were blind to anything else and they wanted Edward dead. Either that or ensure he had no legal issue.
Yes, they feared Edward mightily.
With thoughts of his heir filling his mind, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. How was he going to keep his hands off his lily flower until eventide?
Lanval looked up as Edward’s chair scraped suddenly back across the flagstones. “My lord?”
The trencher in front of Edward had not been touched.
Lanval knew full well that a morning dedicated to training new recruits had been planned.
Edward’s idea of drilling tended toward the strenuous, to say the least. He was a perfectionist and demanding as hell.
Which is why he enjoyed a high reputation on the battlefield.
Lanval watched his liege’s progress across the hall and grinned at his friends.
“Mathew,” he said, tilting back in his chair and interrupting the knight’s conversation in rather a brash way. “Mathew, my old dog.”
Mathew turned toward his captain, annoyance wrinkling his forehead.
“What?”
“If you could choose from all the pleasant pastimes you have ever enjoyed, which one would please you best?” asked Lanval.
The knight set down his ale and raised a brow. “What kind of fool question is that?”
“Just answer,” said Lanval with a twinkle in his eye.
“Give me reason to confess such to you?” said Mathew in a voice that clearly said he suspected he was being set up for a ribbing
“Because, my fine friend, I believe we have just been given a morning of mild duty. Mayhap an afternoon too,” and he nodded in Edward’s direction.
They all watched as their liege lord politely had a word with his wife that brought instant color to her cheeks. Then he clasped her elbow and escorted her upstairs, though all about them the light of day shone bright.
* * *
June passed into summer splendor. Lily, to her great surprise and delight, found that settling into Ravensworth took far less time than she had expected. She discovered that although her mother’s household was tiny by comparison to the vast estates of Ravensworth, there were similarities too.
The kitchens, the storage of supplies, assignment of tasks, much of these things were the same.
The big differences were that in Ravensworth, the quantities were vastly different and if something needed to be changed or replaced, improved upon, or discarded, there were resources to see it done.
Also, and this turned out to be dramatically different, the people at Ravensworth were mostly cooperative.
They seemed happy, even proud of their stations.
They fulfilled their duties seemingly with conviction.
Not all, there were any number of cantankerous old retainers who despised change of any kind and balked.
The steward, although he hid it for the most part, seemed slightly put out of joint by her smallest intervention.
Lily readily admitted she did not have her sea legs yet. She simply lacked the background. Lady Elizabeth had barely run her own household and had not been inclined to bother educating her daughters.
Lily often felt at sixes and sevens as to how to approach the difficult ones.
So far, she had tried simply letting them get used to her while quietly asking their opinions and insisting on incorporating the old with the new as much as possible.
There was, she knew, some stirring against her for it.
Some simply resisted; others wanted her to insist on her way alone.
There was no pleasing everyone on all things.
For a few months, at least, she had Aunt Celestria to rely on to help manage the more difficult situations. Her aunt got on well with the steward and believed eventually she would too.
More than anything else, Mol’s presence helped Lily feel at home. If at times Lily found her controlling, she knew Mol had her best interests at heart
The old wetnurse carried on much as she had in Keelington Court, focusing her attention on her charge. The only difference here was that her appearance was a lot cleaner. Edward’s steward did not encourage slovenliness.
This night, however, the old dame looked like a pot about to bubble up over the lip and spill its contents. Her face was bright with crimson splotches of some inner passion, just waiting to be let out.
“Well then, out with it,” said Lily, knowing full well the old dame would not leave her be until the spilling was done.
A bit of fire crackled in the hearth, July as it was.
It put a gleam of gold on Lily’s creamy skin.
She glowed with health—a little odd considering she’d not felt quite herself lately.
She couldn’t describe the why and the what.
It felt more like agitation, a restless curiosity that wouldn’t go away.
“Ah, my dove, ‘tis a shame, indeed,” said Mol as she stroked the brush through Lily’s glossy hair, “but ‘tis a pretty bloom in your cheeks, natheless, and in other places, too, I’ll warrant.”
“What an odd thing to say to me,” said Lily. “I’ve no time for your mysteries. Be done with your chores. I wish to go to my lord’s chamber.”
“But that’s what I am telling you, my dove. You can go no longer.”
“What do you mean, old dame?” asked Lily, her back stiffening.
The old woman sent her a crafty look. “I believe you know what I mean. This is your season. You bloom, mistress.”
“Bloom?” said Lily, twisting round to stare at the dame. “Speak plain.”
“You bloom. Your young lord’s babe quickens in your womb.”
Lily bit down on a gasp. She felt the blood drain from her head.
Had she suspected? Perhaps. But she’d not allowed herself to even form the thoughts in silence.
She had not dared. Certainly, she’d not speak the words out loud, nor hear them from this dame.
The frowsy impudence of her! It was too bad.
Hardening her voice, Lily frowned at the woman. “Be quiet. You have nothing to say here.”
Mol set the brush down. “I know my business, mistress, and you should know yours. I schooled both you and Mistress Bee in this very lesson. There is no place for bed-sport for one such as you. You cannot endanger the heir to this most chivalrous knight of yours, not with such unseemly wildness as is in you.”
“Be quiet,” said Lily, stopping her ears.
“You have always been undisciplined,” said Mol, taking no notice of Lily’s distress.
“You were left to run wild and do whatever you wished. You must make way now for others. The young earl’s a lusty one.
No doubt he’ll seek his pleasure in other places, for ‘tis his right. He’ll risk no harm to the babe, if I read him right. ”
“Be still, I say. Leave me.”
Lily felt a sweep of ice pass through her belly that no fire could thaw. A plague of doubt filled her head.
Is that what marriage demanded of husbands and wives? It did not feel right to her, but then her somewhat unusual childhood did not arm her with much knowledge.
Aunt Celestria had no children, so the only other example was her parents. The baron and his wife had been unhappy. Not only with each other but with everything in their lives. Lady Elizabeth, in particular, but then her dissatisfaction ran in every direction.
All Lily knew for certain was that for the first time in her life, she felt wanted, even needed. Edward made her feel as if she counted. She would not, could not risk being summarily dismissed. He might be willing to keep her at arm’s length.
“But I am not willing,” Lily told herself. “And I have a right to speak.”