Love Everlasting, page 20
Her packing completed, she found Janet and the children and made her farewells. With Sybilla and Alexander she was bright and cheerful, making the journey to Wortham sound like a great adventure and promising to visit them at Hatherford Castle as soon as she could. When she was alone with Janet, she could express her true feelings a bit more freely.
“Royce is far from being a fool,” Janet declared, “but he is acting like one right now. Men! They can be worse than naughty little boys.”
Her friend’s indignation left Julianna laughing through her tears.
An hour later, with grave courtesy she endured her audience with King Henry and Queen Adelicia, accepting their expressions of gratitude for her actions in the queen’s behalf.
Royce was present. He stood beside her, saying not a single personal word to her. He was scrupulously polite and rigidly formal and, so far as she could tell, completely indifferent to her pain.
He did not come to her that night. She’d known he wouldn’t. He didn’t believe that she hadn’t known what Marie and Kenric were planning. Royce thought he was finished with his wife. Julianna knew he was wrong.
At their leavetaking the next morning he was polite and formal again. Their parting words were spoken before the king and at least a dozen curious courtiers. Royce’s lips on her cheek were an icy benediction, as cold as his eyes and his heart. She turned away from him before she could forget her fine resolutions and create an unpleasant scene. She did not look back at him as she rode out of the castle gate and away from Norwich. Unwanted and unloved though she was, still she had her pride.
With a peculiar tightening around his chest, Royce watched her ride away. He told himself for at least the twentieth time that Julianna would be safer at Wortham, and that her absence would make his work easier.
Almost immediately, he began to receive subtle hints, and some not so subtle, from a few noblewomen that he’d be welcome in their beds. He refused them all, politely but firmly, and slept alone. Completely alone. In a cold bed, where the mattress seemed suddenly to have developed a great many uncomfortable lumps that made actual sleep nearly impossible.
Each morning he rose from his lonely bed with sandy eyes and a hollow ache in his heart, which he tried to ignore while he made plans and listened to the latest reports from his agents. No one could find any trace of Kenric, a fact that convinced Royce he was heading north to meet the noblemen who were rumored to be fomenting trouble in an always fractious area.
“If I find Kenric, I’ll feed him a story about your bitter frustration,” Dunstan promised during one of their infrequent meetings on the battlements. “Kenric will happily believe he has outfoxed you.
“Now, see here, my lord,” Dunstan suddenly sputtered, sounding angry, “I wish you would keep your distance from me. I grow weary of your nasty and repeated insinuations against my honor.”
“Do you, indeed?” Royce snarled. He, too, had noticed the squire lurking a short distance away. Spinning around, Royce caught the young man by one shoulder. “Is this one of your spies, Lord Dunstan?”
“Not mine,” Dunstan answered. “I thought he was one of your spies.”
“My lords,” the squire cried, “I am not spying. With your permission, I’ll leave you now. I don’t want to interfere.”
Released from Royce’s tight hold, the squire hurried through a door that opened upon stairs leading to the lower levels. Royce peered through the door for a moment before he closed it.
“He’s gone, most likely to inform his master about what befell him up here,” Royce said, turning back to Dunstan. “You do realize, my lord, that our false quarrel is the only entertainment I enjoy these days.”
“Perhaps our quarrel has gone far enough,” Dunstan suggested. “We don’t want to overdo it and alert anyone. I think we have provided sufficient excuse for me to leave court by the end of next week.”
“You may be right.” Royce took a long breath of icy air. “Let’s keep our distance from each other, as if we cannot stand to be in the same space. If I need to tell you anything, I’ll send word by Timothy.”
“Agreed. I know your squire by sight, so I won’t mistake him.” Dunstan then took a liberty that brought him dangerously close to a real quarrel with his friend. “You’ll soon be desperate for entertainment when I am gone. Perhaps you should have kept your wife at court.”
Royce made a fist, but before he could hit Dunstan, the man had followed the squire through the door and down the steps.
Royce smashed his fist against the wooden door instead of into Dunstan’s jaw.
Then he went perfectly still, staring at his scraped knuckles and knowing he had to get better control over his emotions. Self-control had never been a problem for him before.
Before Julianna.
Royce stayed where he was, growing colder and colder as the winter wind blew across the battlements and sleet dampened his hair and his face. Perhaps, if he remained there long enough, the cold would penetrate his heart and he’d stop feeling anything at all.
Chapter 13
Throughout the journey to Wortham the weather was dreadful. At first Julianna and her companions rode through days of icy rain. Later, as they moved inland and farther north, snowstorms slowed them. Several times they were forced to halt altogether so the baggage carts could be dug out of deep drifts. The torturous journey lasted almost three weeks and by the time they finally reached Wortham, Julianna was heartily sick of riding for long hours each day and of sleeping in unfamiliar beds in abbey guest houses, or in the women’s quarters in castles and manor houses that too often were cold and dirty.
Wortham Castle, which she first saw through a veil of late January snow, looked to be anything but a haven for her aching heart and damaged pride. To her, it seemed more like a ghostly prison. Set on a slight rise with wide meadows all around it and a half-frozen river meandering nearby, the whitewashed stone walls rose so high that Julianna was sure the huge bastion was utterly impregnable...and unescapable.
The road to the castle ran straight through Wortham Village, a cluster of well-kept houses and barns that Julianna scarcely noticed because her attention was fully fixed upon the open gate a short distance ahead. With only a shouted greeting to the guards at the gatehouse, they clattered across the drawbridge and entered the outer bailey.
“Cadwallon! Welcome back.” A plain-faced knight who looked to be in his mid thirties hurried toward the riders, one hand extended in greeting. “And Michael, it’s good to see you again. Where is Royce? Is he following you?”
“Royce is delayed at court,” Cadwallon answered. “He asked us to escort his new wife home. This is Lady Julianna of Louvain,” he finished with a supremely graceful gesture of one big hand.
“Royce’s wife?” The knight’s face went blank with surprise. He stared at Julianna for a long moment. Then, recalling his manners, he lifted his arms to help her dismount. “Forgive my momentary rudeness, my lady. I am Sir William, Royce’s seneschal, and I cannot tell you how glad I am to meet you. My own wife will be even more happy. You must be cold and weary. Come inside and warm yourself. The keep is this way. The squires will see to your horses, and the servants will attend to your baggage. Will you want a hot bath? Yes, of course, you will.”
The seneschal kept talking, which was a relief to Julianna. So long as he was speaking she wasn’t obliged to say anything. She let his words flow over her like a warm and welcoming stream until they reached the great hall. There she halted in dismay.
The hall was large and beautifully proportioned. Fine tapestries hung from the walls and, beneath the tapestries, gold vessels sat upon carved wooden storage chests. Several branched candelabra held thick wax candles to light the place.
But the richness of Royce’s chief residence was obscured by dust and clutter, the air was befouled by scraps of food and rancid rushes on the stone floor and by the smell of damp, smokey firewood. A few overturned benches showed where men-at-arms or squires had arisen hastily and no one had bothered to set the furniture upright again.
Knowing how fastidious Royce was, Julianna could scarcely believe what she was seeing. Surely, Royce would never live like this. She turned to Cadwallon and saw him shaking his head in unconcealed disgust.
“Alice!” Sir William shouted. “Where are you, wife? We have a guest. Oh, no, not a guest. Our lady has come home. Bid the cook prepare a feast. Alice?”
“She’s not here, my lord,” said one of the squires, hastening forward. “The twins are sick again. Lady Alice is in the nursery.”
“Please don’t bother her,” Julianna said quickly. After noting the condition of the great hall, she wasn’t sure she wanted to meet Lady Alice at all. “It would be unkind to take a mother away from her sick children. Sir William, I assume the twins are hers and yours?”
“They are teething,” the seneschal explained. “Both of them at the same time.”
“That seems likely, if they are twins,” Julianna said, though the little she knew about children she had learned while briefly tending to Cadwallon’s son and daughter. “I assure you, Sir William, I will be content with cold meat, bread, and cheese for my evening meal. The welcoming feast can wait until tomorrow.”
“My lady, are you certain?” The seneschal’s face displayed an odd mixture of relief and discomfort as he gazed about the great hall, apparently seeing it for the first time as a newcomer must, in all its dusty disorder.
“Don’t worry, William,” said Cadwallon, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Lady Julianna won’t mind a cold meal. She knows you weren’t expecting us. I suppose we should have sent a messenger ahead to warn you, but the weather has been so miserable that I feared a man traveling alone would be lost to cold and ice and never found again.”
“That is certainly true,” Michael added. “William, I trust my room hasn’t been disturbed since I left?”
“Of course not.” Sir William grinned shamefacedly. “Not a man or woman in this castle would dare to enter your quarters without permission.”
“Sir William,” Julianna said, realizing that she’d have to be decisive in Lady Alice’s absence, “please order a bath prepared in the lord’s chamber, and braziers lighted there for warmth.”
“Uh, my lady,” Sir William began, but Julianna spoke across his stammering protest.
“Cadwallon, I know you have visited here in the past, so I assume you know the castle well. Choose whichever guestroom you want, and tell your squires to demand hot water and candles and whatever else you require for your comfort. Michael, feel free to do the same. Now, if you will kindly excuse me, I have a feeling that you men will prefer an evening to yourselves. Sir William, I will speak with you and your good wife in the morning,” she added.
Not waiting to hear his response, Julianna headed for the stairs. As she crossed the great hall, she noticed a serving girl who appeared to be in her middle teens, not pretty, but with an intelligent face, who was watching her with deep interest. Intrigued by the girl’s neat appearance when everything around her was so dismally untidy, Julianna paused.
“What is your name?” she asked.
“Etta, my lady.” The girl bobbed an awkward curtsey.
“Please show me to the lord’s chamber,” Julianna said. “The woman who was my personal servant died recently, so I have no one to attend me and I require a new maid. If you prove to be quick and loyal, I may choose you for the position.”
“Yes, my lady. I would like that very much, my lady. This way, my lady.” Etta seized a small oil lamp to light the way and pointed to the stairs.
“A little less enthusiasm, if you please,” Julianna said, hiding a smile. “You need not say ‘my lady’ with every remark you make.”
“No, my lady. I mean, yes, my lady. I mean, yes,” Etta said, gurgling with nervous laughter. “Just, yes.”
The lord’s chamber, located at the very top of the tower keep as Julianna expected, was a large room. Two pairs of windows were set into the thick stone walls at right angles to each other, so one corner of the room would be bright during the daylight hours. Wooden shutters were fastened tight over the windows to keep out the winter chill.
Julianna could not imagine what the room would be like without that protection, for it was freezing cold. It was also completely empty. The light from the oil lamp in Etta’s hand revealed not a single tapestry on the wall, not a stick of furniture, not a candelabra or a charcoal brazier for heat. Just grey stone walls and a bare wooden floor.
“We keep it clean,” Etta said, looking around, “in case Lord Royce should return unexpectedly. Of course, he takes his furniture with him when he travels.”
“Of course,” Julianna said softly. “Is there a guest room with a bed ready, that I could use just for tonight?” She was so very tired that she couldn’t face the prospect of waiting until her belongings were unpacked from the baggage carts, carried upstairs to the Lord’s room, and the frame of her own bed was hammered and bolted together.
“Well,” said Etta, “Lady Catherine’s old room is on the next level below this. After she married, Lord Royce ordered a bed set up in there, so the chamber wouldn’t look quite so bare.”
“That will do nicely,” Julianna said. It took her a moment to remember that Lady Catherine was Royce’s daughter, who had acted as his chatelaine until her marriage during the previous summer. “She married Lord Braedon, didn’t she?”
“Yes, my lady.” Etta’s smile was wistful. “He is such a handsome knight, and kindhearted, too. And very brave. King Henry granted him Sutton Castle for his bravery, and he and Lady Catherine live there now.
“And then, there’s Lord Arden, who is Lord Royce’s son,” Etta continued, leading the way out of the lord’s chamber and back down the stairs. “He lives at Bowen Manor and he married Lady Margaret of Sutton. King Henry took Sutton away from Lady Margaret’s father because he was a traitor. Later, the king gave the castle to Lord Braedon.”
During the next two hours, while Etta oversaw the lighting of three braziers to heat Catherine’s former bedchamber, and located the wooden chest containing Julianna’s trousseau of linens, so she could spread sheets and quilts on the bed, and nagged at the other servants to hasten with the tub and hot water for Julianna’s bath, she kept up a cheerful chatter about the baron of Wortham and his family that Julianna found both fascinating and instructive.
Royce had not told his new wife very much about his childrens’ lives, so Julianna listened avidly to the tale of Arden’s years in the Holy Land and how he returned to Bowen Manor just in time to save Lady Margaret from her treacherous father’s plan to wed her to an old man. This lurid story was followed by a detailed and highly colored account of Braedon’s wooing of Lady Catherine during a grand tournament that was held at Wortham Castle.
By the time Julianna had bathed, eaten, and tucked herself between her own nicely warmed, lavender-scented sheets, she had decided to make Etta her new maidservant. She’d tell the girl so on the morrow, when she was rested enough to be firm and specific about what she expected from a maid. She’d deal with Lady Alice then, too, after a good night’s sleep. It was odd how weary she was; she usually possessed more vitality, even at the end of a long journey.
After she sent Etta away Julianna discovered that she couldn’t sleep in spite of being tired. She lay awake for several hours, thinking of the many duties that awaited her, and trying not to think about how badly she wanted Royce beside her.
* * * * *
Cadwallon stayed at Wortham less than a week. When he rejoined the court at Norwich, he carried a written report from Michael to Royce. He delivered the document immediately upon his arrival. The two old friends met in the room that had been Michael’s, which Royce was currently using as his office.
Royce glanced at his secretary’s report and found nothing unexpected in it. Nor was he surprised to hear Cadwallon’s own pithy, outspoken comments on the situation at Wortham.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself for sending your wife away so rudely, but you were right about one thing,” Cadwallon said. “Wortham is in sore need of a capable chatelaine. Royce, I swear to you, I’ve never seen the place looking so disreputable. It’s even worse than when I was there in November. The guest rooms are cold and dirty, the linens are unaired. The great hall is disgusting. And the food! I could barely swallow the greasy meat, the cheese was moldy, and the bread was hard as a rock. I still think you should have kept Julianna here with you, but she’ll soon set the castle to rights. She has begun already. Alice is so distracted with her children that she gladly handed over the chatelaine’s keys.”
“All of that is just what I expected,” Royce said coldly. “Now, will you kindly warn your wife to cease scolding me? She is making my life a misery.”
“Has she been scolding?” Cadwallon asked with a knowing grin. “I suppose that means the morning sickness has ended and Janet is her usual energetic self again. I’ll not sleep much for the next few nights. Not that I mind.”
“She has accused me of cruelty for sending Julianna to Wortham when I could not go with her, to introduce her properly as the new lady of the castle.”
“You? Cruel? Actually, in this case, you are.” Cadwallon began to laugh, but he sobered when he looked at Royce’s face. “Janet has been a bit snappish, has she? Give me a few long winter nights with her and she’ll settle down and be more polite.”
