CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was a fortnight before Piers came to the house, and Isabel was glad of the delay: it gave her time to strategize.
She had nothing of her own to offer him yet - even if Hilda had not cut her off from Constance, she would not yet have had the chance to make enough money to buy the wardship.
Truthfully, she was not at all certain that she would have ever been able to make enough.
Piers cared about money, yes, but his investment in the wardship was a matter of principle: Isabel's (and later Walter's) entrance into his family had robbed him of what he felt was rightfully his, and he wanted to reclaim it.
Money she earned herself would do no good.
But, she thought, if she could offer a restitution of what he felt had been taken from him - that, he might accept.
It was mid-week when he arrived to speak with Ancelin.
Hilda was - mercy of mercies - absent, as were the girls; she had taken them to see the traveling players who had arrived in town the previous day.
Isabel put Walter down for his nap early, with some effort - he fussed for nearly half an hour as she rocked him, entirely indifferent to her need to get him to sleep - then slipped down the hallway to the solar where Piers and Ancelin were speaking.
They had not latched the door, nor did they notice when she pushed it open.
She stood there in the doorway for a long moment, watching them talk.
She had known Piers and his brother for over ten years, and yet she felt she knew them little better than she did Ancelin.
They were both older than her by some years - Piers had been twenty-two to her sixteen when she had wed Geoffrey, and already established in his own household - and had made their opinion of her clear on their first meeting.
She had always wondered if her lack of luck making friends and allies among the women of the town's merchant class had owed something to her stepsons, for they had grown up around these people and had their loyalty - and their wives were both well-connected.
As with so many things about her marriage, she had entered into it believing that she could win her stepsons' good opinion, and discovered quickly that her belief had been naive to the point of stupidity.
Neither man wished for a stepmother to eat up their father's assets, nor half-siblings with whom they would be forced to share their inheritance, and the fact that she was of low origins had merely sharpened the sting.
She had been a thorn in their sides since the day they met, and so she expected no quarter from them when it came to money, or to Walter.
She had to make it worth their while if she wished to walk away from this meeting with a solution that was amenable to her.
Ancelin was the first to notice she was there. "Isabel," he said, sounding bored, "if you've some business with me, surely it may wait until Piers and I have concluded our discussion."
"It is Piers I wish to speak with, in fact," Isabel said. She stepped into the room, her hands clasped in supplication before her. She inclined her head to both men. "And I would not wish to call him forth unnecessarily, so I waited until such time as he was already here."
Piers' gaze, when he turned it on her, was already suffused with irritation. "What do you want?"
"To offer a bargain which I hope will benefit us both," Isabel said.
She was calling on every skill she had cultivated during the years of her marriage - a soft voice, a bowed head, carefully placating language.
It had not worked well on Geoffrey, who had found insult in her insouciance, but it had calmed Hilda from time to time.
Hopefully Piers was more of his cousin's mettle.
"I will take no more of your time than is necessary. "
Piers grunted, leaning back in his chair. "Have on with it, then. I've little time to waste."
Isabel took a deep breath. She had rehearsed this speech all week, carefully selecting each word for best effect.
"By the terms of your father's will, five pounds yearly is paid out for Walter’s care.
You and Mistress Marillac have managed it well -" The flattery tasted odious on her tongue, but she forged on.
"- but it is no doubt a burden that you do not wish to carry.
I propose a solution that will see your responsibilities towards Walter discharged entirely, so that you need not concern yourself with him any further. "
"Ha!" Piers' expression twisted into a sneer. "Do you mean to propose taking all the money for yourself? I assure you, I am not so oafish as to sign over my responsibilities and my money in exchange for a few sweet words. Not when I know you only angle to enrich yourself on my father's corpse."
"It is the opposite I suggest, in fact," Isabel said.
She bypassed the mention of Geoffrey entirely, both because it was better not to engage Piers on the matter, and because there had been a time when his words were not entirely untrue.
She had meant to enrich herself by marrying well.
She just hadn't realized the extent to which she left herself at the mercy of a man who had none when she did it.
"Walter is your ward now. The money from the will is paid for that purpose, and so you have no choice but to pass it on to me for his maintenance.
But if you kept the money for yourself in exchange for permitting me guardianship of my son - full guardianship, by law - we would both be entirely gone from your life.
You would have your father's money, and I would have my son.
It seems a result amenable to everyone."
She glanced at Ancelin out of the corner of her eye as she spoke.
He had been the variable that had worried her most when she concocted this plan.
Had she been able, she would have approached Piers when he was alone - but there was no way to do that except to find him at home, and she would not have been able to get away to do that.
She doubted Ancelin had any strong feelings on the matter of Walter's wardship, but if he thought that keeping him here would please Hilda, then he might fight.
But he was not even bothering to watch the proceedings; rather, he was absorbed in picking at his fingernails. She looked back to Piers.
He was still sneering, but she could see calculation in his eyes.
"I have no objection to being rid of you both," he said, "but how may I be certain you will not come begging in six months' time, once you have exhausted your own funds?
You have no means of earning more, save on your back.
And even that is rather beyond you, now. Few men will hire a skinny whore."
If she were Matthew, she might retort, at least one man found me appealing enough to wed.
She was, thankfully, not Matthew. Besides, she found no affirmation in the fact that Geoffrey had desired her: rather, it was Constance's devotion that made her feel valued, cherished.
And that was not something to be shared with Piers.
"I have my skill with a needle, and have found of late that there are many who are willing to pay for it.
Likewise, I have forged an alliance with a tailor who wishes to partner with me in the making of fine garments.
I will stay with my brother until such time as I have earned enough to find lodgings of my own.
I have earned enough thus far to know that I will be able to feed and clothe myself and Walter, so you need not fear on that account.
" He likely wouldn't anyway, but that didn't matter.
Ancelin sat up in his chair, frowning. "The tailor?" he said. "You mean Rykener?" Both Isabel and Piers ignored him.
Piers was tapping his fingers on the table in front of him. "If I were to agree to this," he said, "then I expect no regret from you, should you find independence not to your liking. You ought never have had my father's money to begin with, and none will be offered to you once the deal is signed."
"I would not expect it," Isabel murmured. Go on, she thought, you're so close to giving in, just a little push, go on. It means so little to you and everything to me.
Piers grunted. He was still eyeing her with suspicion, so she endeavoured to look as blank as possible.
"Well," he said, "if it will see me rid of both of you.
Marillac!" He snapped his fingers in Ancelin's direction.
"Send for a clerk, would you? Better to have this done before she changes her mind. "
A bubble of joy was rising in Isabel's chest; it made keeping a straight face nearly impossible.
She ducked her head so that neither Piers nor Ancelin - who had heaved himself up out of his chair, grumbling, and was going out the door - would see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
She was free. Ten years and untold hurts and humiliations later, she was free.
She was glad there was still the deed to be signed: without that looming task, she rather thought she might lose control entirely and start to leap about like an over-excited colt.
It took all of a quarter-hour for Ancelin to return with a clerk, and only half that for the deed to be written and signed.
Isabel's fingers trembled a little as she wrapped them around the quill, but her signature was steady.
Piers' own signature was a scrawl, and he tossed the quill down as soon as he was done with it, sending ink splattering across the table.
"Off with you, then," he said to Isabel.
"And I'll set the watch on you if I see you sniffing about here again. "