By Possession (3 page)

The boy had stayed close to Moira, but now some servant children whom he knew approached and he ran off with them. Moira's presence should reassure the child for a while, but Brian could not stay here, nor in that house outside the village. Addis would have to arrange for his safekeeping, and very soon.

“He looks like Claire,” he said to his brother-in-law, Raymond, who stood beside him. Addis had not even known that Brian existed until several hours ago. The boy's similarity to Claire disturbed him. Seeing the boy evoked old memories, many of them bitter.

Raymond nodded. “He does at that,” he said quietly.

Addis looked back at Raymond's nostalgic expression. They had known each other since childhood, both the eldest boys of two old friends who traded sons for fostering and training. He had served Bernard as squire and Raymond had served his own father, Patrick. His marriage to Raymond's sister, Claire, had been foreordained since the day she was born. A perfect match, everyone had said,
and he and Claire had agreed. A beautiful girl and handsome boy fated to live out a romantic poem.

He would not think about Claire now, although he had contemplated her often during the two years since Eufemia had freed him. Had it been thoughts of Claire that delayed his return and led him to take passage up to Norway and sit out first one and then two long winters? Finally he had forced himself to come back, only to find that the problem that had sent him away had been solved by God, and that far bigger ones loomed. Maybe it had not been Claire at all. Eufemia would have said that his soul had foreseen what awaited.

Addis gestured to Moira. She had presumptuously sat in the lord's chair near the hearth, but then there were no stools or benches about. Still … “How did Brian come to be with her?”

“When your father died, Claire had the good sense to leave your family's home at Barrowburgh. She came back to us at Hawkesford. Moira attended her as in the old days, and when Claire took ill she asked Moira to care for your son. When your stepbrother, Simon, usurped your father's lands, we all knew that Brian represented a threat to Simon's hold on the estate, and that he might be in danger. Moira brought Brian here when Claire died. Your stepbrother would not have known Moira well, and never guessed Brian might be with her.”

Servants hustled around quickly, occasionally glancing up at their watching lord. When he had approached the gate during the previous night they had almost refused him entry. They had secretly sent a messenger to Raymond, and Claire's brother had arrived just before dawn determined to throw the impostor out.

He looked down on Moira. She rested her head on the back of the chair and closed her eyes. She had changed
much in eight years, and he almost had not recognized her. Raymond had not told him who had been caring for the boy, but she had looked vaguely familiar as soon as he entered that dimly lit cottage.

Her old green gown hung loosely from the shoulders, but the flowing fabric could not hide her thrusting breasts. If anything the drapery emphasized them. She wore no wimple or veil, and mussed chestnut hair fell over her shoulders, looking like the mane of a woman who had just been well bedded. Her skin wore a light golden bronze from the sun. While she had gaped at him near the hearth he had noticed the incredible clarity of her light blue eyes and their bright, intelligent sparkle. He imagined that if he smelled her hair it would be full of the scents of hay and clover. Her whole appearance spoke of sensuality and warmth and comfort. He didn't wonder that Brian had not wanted to leave the security of her breast.

Moira Falkner. Claire's Shadow. The quiet daughter of Edith, Bernard Orrick's whore. Moira's father had been an Irish falconer who had silently accepted the arrangement until the day he walked away from the estate forever. Moira … the easily ignored and forgotten playmate and confidante of perfect, radiant Claire.

Addis could barely remember anything specific about Moira. He had rarely even spoken to her during those years at Hawkesford while he served Bernard as a squire. But for some reason the buried memories that would not take form floated in their insubstantial way on a peaceful breeze through his spirit. She was the only person besides Raymond whom he had seen since he returned who belonged to the contented past of his youth.

Aye, she had been no more than a shadow to the pale brilliance of Claire. If lovely, lithesome Claire entered the hall right now, Moira would dissolve into a dark blur beside her. It had always been thus with his wife, and he had
been as susceptible as the others. But right now, resting in the chair that he should whip her for touching, Moira looked very womanly and not at all insubstantial.

“She is still a bondwoman?”

“That house and a field are hers. You remember, when my father gave Darwendon to you as Claire's dowry, he noted the farms owned by freeholders. That was one, given to Edith, her mother. When Edith died, it passed to Moira.”

“But the mother was a bondwoman, so she is also, property owner or not.”

“She claims my father freed Edith and her descendants on his deathbed. I was not there, and the priest is gone.” Raymond's lids lowered in a predatory way. Addis followed the calculating gaze down to its destination. Well, well. So the son of Bernard had sought to continue what his father began, but with the daughter. He had tried to lure her to his bed, but she had refused him. It explained the lack of comfort in that cottage. Raymond had withdrawn the Orrick largesse until she came to him.

“Unless she can provide proof, she is still a bondwoman and attached to this manor,” Addis said. “With the little left to me, I do not intend to lose any more.”

“There is still Barrowburgh, but you will have to fight for it.”

Aye, he would have to fight for it, and against men favored by the king. A desperate quest, and unlikely of success. According to Raymond, Addis's stepbrother, Simon, was firmly in the camp of the Despensers, the family who controlled the king, and with their aid had managed to take Barrowburgh and its lands upon Patrick de Valence's death. He would not relinquish one hectare easily.

His spirit heaved with exhaustion. He had learned nothing but bad news since he stepped off that ship at Bristol. He returned to a realm torn apart, baron pitted
against baron, laws ignored with impunity by the mighty, the people oppressed by unchecked brigandry. King Edward was continuing his reign the way he had begun it, ineffectually, a weak monarch who was wet clay in the hands of ambitious men who flattered and manipulated him.

An outright rebellion had occurred in his absence, led by his father's friend Thomas of Lancaster. Four years ago Thomas had been defeated and executed, and the taint of treason had smeared Patrick de Valence's name too, making Simon's grab that much easier when Patrick suddenly died.

His jaw clenched. They had all died during his absence. His father. Claire. Bernard. Edith. Even cousin Aymer, the Earl of Pembroke, had been murdered two years ago by men in league with the Despenser family. Only Raymond remained, resisting Simon's claim on Darwendon by arguing it had not been Patrick's land but Addis's, and before that Bernard Orrick's. He had insisted that with Addis dead it should be held by the Orricks for Brian.

His shifting gaze came to rest on the woman below. Nay, not only Raymond had survived.

“She sings, as I remember.” The clouded image of a plump girl filling a hall with a sweet voice took form in his mind.

“Aye, but not for me,” Raymond muttered. Addis raised one eyebrow and almost laughed. A strange sensation, wanting to laugh. “She makes baskets,” Raymond continued. “It is said they are exceptional.” He shrugged to indicate he wouldn't know himself. “She will probably want to leave now that you have returned and taken the boy. She spoke once of selling the house and land and using it for a dowry.”

“She is unmarried yet?”

“Married twice. My father arranged the first. An old man. Gentry, actually. He died right after the wedding banquet. The second was not so old and lived a month.” A leer contorted his features. “She is called the virgin widow. After two such deaths, none has asked for her that I know of.”

“They think she killed them?”

“Nay. They think the sight of her naked body stopped their hearts. She is very …” He made a curving gesture.

Addis looked at the swells beneath the gown's drapes. Aye, she was “very.” She had been, what, five and ten when he left? He couldn't remember noticing before.

She shifted and opened her eyes and looked around peevishly. Rising, she paced in front of the hearth with her arms crossed over her chest. The swaying fabric hinted at a narrow waist and curving hips and long striding legs. He had kept her waiting a long time while he spoke with Raymond and learned the worst of what he faced. She threw up her arms in annoyance and retook the chair.

“I will send word to the villeins and tenants that I will hold a court under the old tree tomorrow,” he said, turning to the stairs. “How many men can you leave with me for now?”

“The six I brought, and I will send six more, but if Simon learns you are here and moves against you, it will not be enough. And I will send some proper garments so you do not look like a barbarian when you meet with your people.”

His people. The few hundred who still served him on this patch of land that was all that remained of the great holdings that were his by birthright.

He knew what he was expected to do, what his family honor demanded, what his stepbrother, Simon, would anticipate and try to thwart. But he found that he had no
taste for it. He felt unbelievably weary, and bitter that his old world had not been awaiting his return. He had expected to simply step through the gate of his family's castle at Barrowburgh and have those years in the Baltic lands disappear. It would take all of the will he could summon just to hold on to what was left, let alone fight for what had been lost.

He walked toward Moira, feeling sour about the course forced on him. She saw him approach and did not rise. Perhaps she meant no insult, but it annoyed him nonetheless. Her mother's place in Bernard's household and her own place behind Claire may have given her a lady's manner, but she was a bondwoman and should never forget her true place, which, at the moment, was certainly not in his chair.

The temptation to grab those brown locks and force her to kneel almost overwhelmed him. Only the memory of once being compelled to kneel himself stopped his hand. He forced down the rancor and his inner voice chastised that it had not arisen in reaction to her at all, but because of all the other insults and indignities to his person and status.

She met his eyes and he noticed that she did not look away from his face as most women did. Even in the cottage her gasps had come from the shock of recognition and not repulsion. He had grown used to the polite eyes that looked above or below his head or over his shoulder, had come to anticipate the extra coin demanded by the whores. And so her unwavering gaze had been a little unsettling in the cottage but right now, in his present mood, it struck him as insolent.

He looked pointedly at the chair. She flustered and rose. “You bid me wait here for you when we arrived,” she explained. “It has been some hours, and the rushes on the floor are filthy.”

They
were
filthy. The servants had grown slovenly with no lord or lady watching them. His first order had been that the entire manor be scrubbed and they hustled around now doing it.

He eased into the chair and she stood in front of him, her arms again crossed over her chest as if she sought to hide it.

“You will stay here a few days until the boy grows accustomed to me,” he said.

Her cheeks hollowed as she bit their insides. She had not liked his tone. At the moment, with Raymond's tales still weighing on him, he didn't give a damn.

“If it will help Brian, I suppose that I could do so but my house is not far away.”

“You will stay here.”

“I will agree to it, but only for a few days.”

Raymond had been right about her claims of freedom. He might be indebted to her for protecting Brian, but it was best to have it out now. “Your agreement is not required. You will do it because I bid it, and you will do it as long as I say. When I have no more need of you here, you can return to your house.”

Her color rose. “You have been gone many years and can be excused for misunderstanding how it is with me now. I am a freeholder of that house and property.”

“You may hold that property, but you are not freeborn. Your mother was a bondwoman of these lands. When Bernard gave them to me, he gave you as well.”

She visibly struggled to control her anger. Not a beautiful woman, but clearly spirited, and her bright eyes made up for any deficiencies in her other features. As a youth he had never noticed the Shadow's eyes and spirit, but then his own eyes had lingered only on Claire.

“Sir Bernard freed my mother after you left. I was present and heard his words and he included me.”

“Raymond told me you claim this. Are there any witnesses?”

“The priest. The woman Alice who served Claire.
Me
. ”

“Raymond says the priest is gone. Where is Alice?”

“She left … London, I think … after Claire died. There were documents. I remember Bernard signing them. But if the priest took them, they would have been lost when the manor chapel burned a few years ago.…” She spoke disjointedly, verbalizing scattered thoughts and memories. “Perhaps Raymond has them.”

“He did not speak as if he did.”

She still looked angry, but also distraught. It would be an easy thing to accept her claim. After all, she had served him well even when she believed she had no obligation to do so. But something rebelled at the notion of releasing her, and not just his resolve to hold on to what little was still his. Raymond had said she planned to leave the estate. She was of his old world, and he would not permit yet another part of it to disappear.

Her arms unfolded and her fists clenched at her sides. “Ask in the village what I am, who I am. Everyone knows.”

“Everyone knows your mother lived in Bernard's keep and slept in Bernard's bed. Everyone knows that she lived like a lady and that her daughter was treated like Bernard's own. But that is not the same thing as having the bonds of one's birth broken.”