Chapter Seventeen #2
“My time,” Lionel insisted, his words overlapping Spencer’s question.
When he saw the look on Spencer’s face, he realized how abrupt he had come across.
He backed down, but not entirely. He put a hand to his chest, gesturing to himself in an impassioned plea.
“My time, Spencer. The physic says I do not have much longer to live. When I die, the House of le Vay dies with me. Now I see a chance to save it and I cannot let it slip away.”
Spencer sat in stunned silence for a moment. “You are dying?”
Lionel nodded. Suddenly, he wasn’t so passionate. He was exhausted. He returned to his stool and sat heavily. After a moment, he sighed.
“You know that I have not been feeling my best as of late,” he said quietly.
Spencer was very concerned. “For at least a year,” he said. “The physic said it was infirmaries of old age.”
“That is because I told him to tell everyone I was simply feeling my years and nothing more,” he said.
“It would seem that I have a mass growing in my belly. It has affected everything about me from my eating to the ability to relieve myself. I do not wish to get into graphic detail but suffice it to say that the mass has grown so much that it is affecting my ability to walk. Soon, I will be crippled and soon thereafter, it will kill me. Whatever it is grows swiftly. The physic thinks it is a cancer.”
Spencer was horrified. But he also understood now why le Vay was so anxious to marry and produce a son before he was unable to move at all. It made perfect sense. After a moment, he simply shook his head.
“My lord,” he said softly, “I do not know what to say to all of this. I take it that Lady Lily does not know?”
Lionel scratched his head. “She does not,” he replied, subdued. “I do not want her to know. She will be a mess, mourning me before I have even passed on. I do not wish her final memories of me to be those of sadness.”
“She will find out soon enough if this cancer overtakes you.”
“Then we shall confront the subject at that time. But until then, not a word to anyone.”
“I swear it, my lord,” Spencer assured him. He eyed the man as he sat on the stool, brushing the dust from his robes. “But I still do not believe marriage to Lady Mara is wise.”
Lionel looked up from his robes. “Why not?”
“Because Kirk loves the woman,” he said softly. “She loves him. Would you ruin her life simply to satisfy your own wants?”
Lionel’s jaw ticked, causing his jowls to quiver. “She is young,” he replied. “I will die soon and all of this will be hers. Kirk can have her when I am finished with her. Meanwhile, I would have you deliver a missive to Edmund when you are feeling better that I accept the terms of betrothal.”
Spencer’s first instinct was to refuse but he knew he could not. “If I must, my lord.”
“You must.” Lionel rose unsteadily from his stool, eyeing the knight on the bed. “For now, I do believe I will attend Lady Mara and explain the course her future is about to take.”
Spencer met the man’s gaze, his disapproval evident. He simply couldn’t help himself. “Would you like me to go with you? She may need comfort.”
Lionel paused by the door. “Let me make this clear, Spencer; from this day forward, the Lady Mara is my betrothed and you will cease any notion you ever entertained where it pertains to her. You will behave perfectly and act perfectly towards her, or I will throw you from the castle myself. Is this in any way unclear?”
Spencer didn’t rise to the obvious challenge. In truth, he had no choice. “It is, my lord.”
Lionel’s gaze lingered on him, cold as ice. “Good,” he muttered. “Spencer, do not pretend that your reaction to this betrothal is on Kirk’s behalf, for it is not. It is simply because you are jealous that I now possess what you wanted. It is envy, pure and simple.”
“Perhaps, my lord.”
“It ends now.”
After the man left the chamber, Spencer sat in silence, mulling over the course the conversation had taken.
He was still in shock, over many things.
But even with his shock, and his contention with Kirk, all he could think about was how le Vay was stabbing Kirk right where it would hurt him most. Certainly there was jealousy there, but surprisingly, it was not overwhelming.
Spencer had always believed le Vay to be a fair and decent man, but in light of the recent conversation, that opinion was now changed.
Dying or not, it didn’t give him the right to take a woman that clearly belonged to someone else. If Lionel had done to him what he was doing to Kirk, Spencer would have killed him.
He knew that if Kirk was aware of the contents of Edmund’s missive, he would do the same.
*
Lionel found Mara, conveniently enough, in Lily’s light and beautiful rooms. He had only sought to speak to his daughter but finding Mara there was a stroke of fortune in his opinion.
He thought perhaps that if he delivered the news with Lily present, Mara would have comfort when the information settled and it would be better for them both.
He knew, deep down, that what he was doing was wrong, but he didn’t care.
His sense of self-preservation ruled above all else.
“Greetings, Father,” Lily set her needlepoint onto the table next to her chair and rose to greet her father. “How lovely of you to visit.”
Lionel kissed his daughter’s cheek as he collected her hands. “How fortunate that I have found the two most beautiful women at Quernmore in the same room,” he said, looking around the chamber. “It seems quiet in here. Where are your other ladies, Lily?”
Lily waved a dismissive hand. “Off being silly somewhere, I suppose,” she said. “Today, it is simply Mara and me. We are very companionable.”
Lionel’s gaze fell on Mara. “As well you should be,” he said. “Greetings, my lady.”
Mara, a paint brush in hand and a small palette of paints and half-painted vellum on the table before her, stood up.
“My lord,” she greeted.
Lionel’s gaze lingered on her; she was wearing the same sapphire blue silk that she had worn that morning when Kirk had ridden off into the dawn. The dress had belonged to Lionel’s dead wife, although his wife had never worn it as beautifully as Mara did. He found he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You look quite lovely in that dress,” he told her. “I am so glad you could use my wife’s garments. It seemed a shame to keep them stored away and unused.”
Mara looked down at herself, in the fine dress she could have never imagined owning. “You are very generous to give them to me,” she said. “I can never thank you enough.”
Lionel’s gaze lingered on her delightful rosebud mouth before forcing a smile. “Your enjoyment of them is thanks enough,” he replied. Then he noticed the paint brush in her hand. “What are you doing?”
Mara grinned, somewhat embarrassed. “Lady Lily is teaching me to paint,” she said. “I do not think I am a very good student.”
Lily laughed. “She is a wonderful student,” she corrected. “Mara and I have been here since Kirk left this morning. She was sad at his departure and I did not want her to be alone, so I brought her here and we have been painting ever since.”
Lionel’s gaze moved from Mara to the painting on the table and back again. “She seems to be doing a marvelous job,” he said. “Please; do not let me disturb you. I merely came to see my daughter, whom I have not seen all morning.”
“Sit with us, Father,” Lily insisted, indicating one of her fine chairs. “Please sit and tell us stories to entertain us. In fact, tell us of the days when you used to live in London. Mara, did you know that my father was friends with Henry Tudor?”
Mara was impressed. “King Henry?” she looked at Lionel with some awe. “Was he your good friend?”
Lionel shook his head. “I was friends with Henry only as much as he found me and my army useful,” he said. “I supported him at Bosworth. That was a long time ago.”
“Only thirty years ago,” Lily insisted. “It is not that long ago.”
“You must have been a very young man,” Mara said to him.
Lionel shrugged. “I was young indeed,” he replied, thinking back to that great and bloody day.
“That was the last time I saw significant battle. It was such a glorious and tragic day. In fact, I was near Richard when he was killed. I saw it all. I was also near Matthew Wellesbourne when he lost his hand.”
Mara nodded, enthralled. She didn’t pay much attention to history or battles, but everyone knew of the battle of Bosworth Field when Richard the Third was killed by Henry Tudor’s forces. She had never actually met anyone who had been eyewitness to the event.
“I have heard of Matthew Wellesbourne,” she said. “Was he not a comrade of Gaston de Russe?”
Lionel nodded. “Great Gods, you have never seen such big and powerful men,” he said, reflecting. “In the presence of The White Lord and the Dark Knight, men cowered, including me. I swear the ground shook when they walked.”
He said it so dramatically that the women giggled. “What became of them, Father?” Lily asked. “Did they survive into old age?”
Again, Lionel nodded. “The last I heard they had both survived into old age,” he said thoughtfully.
“They are still alive but very old, and I have heard tale that they both had gaggles of descendants. In fact, Wellesbourne has sons that serve our king and I believe de Russe’s sons have conquered half of the known world. ”
The women grinned. “It is a wonder anyone survived that battle,” Lily said as she collected her sewing. “I am so glad you did, Father. You were not married to Mother at the time, were you?”
Lionel shook his head. “I was barely twenty years and one when Bosworth was etched into the annals of history,” he said.
“I did not marry your mother until I was well past thirty years and she was sixteen years of age. It was an arranged marriage, and advantageous. All good marriages are. Lily, your marriage is also a contract marriage.”