Fatal Truths (The Anarchy Medieval Romance) (5 page)

“HENRY, WHAT SHALL WE NAME THIS DOG OF YOURS?”
Alex asked.

Henry
’s mouth fell open. “But he’s not my dog,
milord Comte
.”

Romain laughed. “He may as well be. He follows you everywhere. He listens only to your commands.”

Predictably, Henry sought guidance from the nursemaid breaking her fast at a servants’ table. Alex had the feeling that in the last two days the Scots had discussed the matter of the dog privately, and had already given him a name. “Have you a suggestion?”

Claricia nodded. “We call him Faol.”

“You’ve named him?” Laurent asked.

Henry
’s face reddened. “Faol in our language means Wolf.”

“The perfect name,” Alex
declared loudly, wanting Elayne to hear. All eyes in the Hall turned to him. He’d surprised them with his uncharacteristic outburst. He came to his feet, pointing at the wolfhound. “Let all be aware, this dog’s name is Faol, and he is Prince Henry’s dog.”

Faol barked, eliciting howls of laughter.
“Faol, Faol,” echoed around the Hall as the Normans tried to get their tongues around an unfamiliar language. The wolfhound barked all the more. Alex fixed his eyes on Elayne. She clutched the shawl that always covered her hair, her knuckles white. He smiled, wanting to reassure her. He rather liked the uproar in the normally subdued atmosphere of the Hall. Perhaps things had been quiet for too long after his father’s death.

She glanced at him. Their eyes locked. Her mouth fell open. Her face reddened.
“All is well,” he mouthed.

She nodded. The panic in her eyes receded to be replaced by the warmest look of gratitude he’d ever been blessed with. He basked in it, feeling better than he had in a long while.
This was how she communicated with the children—with those expressive green eyes.

~~~

ELAYNE SMILED AT HENRY to let him know all was well. The
Comte’s
silent message had settled her racing heart. She’d feared he’d be angered by the uproar. It was important the children not put a foot wrong in this household. So far they had all been treated well, but things could change.

Alexandre de Montbryce’s reassurance had also done strange things to her insides, sending winged creatures fluttering in her belly. Next she’d be drooling over him. The sensations he caused in her body were something she had no experience controlling.

Henry and Claricia came down from the dais, the wiry hound loping at her son’s heels. When they reached Elayne, Henry commanded the dog to sit.

Faol obeyed,
then rested his chin on Elayne’s lap, gazing up at her with soulful black eyes.

She stroked the dog, smiling in acknowledgment of the good natured laughter of other servants.

“Faol seems to have a liking for Scots.”

The rich humor in the masculine voice took her completely by surprise.
She hadn’t noticed that the
Comte
had left his place on the dais and now stood beside her. The wolfhound growled when she tried to stand. “I’m sorry,
milord
, I didn’t see—”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “There is no need to
rise, Elayne. We don’t want to disturb the dog.”

The warmth of his hand penetrated to
the very center of her body. “
Milord
,” she replied in a voice she barely recognized.

People were watching, curious about what was happening. She was on fire.
They could no doubt tell she was
smitten
with the man. They would judge her a brazen servant with designs on their
Seigneur
.

“Please, call me Alex,” he said, kneading his fingers lightly into her shoulder.

Alex! Not even his full given name! An endearing nickname she’d heard only on his brothers’ lips, as if they were familiar with each other. Close friends. Elation and confusion warred within her. She craved his friendship, his touch, his warmth, but did his actions mean he intended to take her as his mistress?

What else could it mean? A Norman Count
could never embark on any other kind of relationship with a female servant.

Could he tell she had feelings for him?

“You and I must be friends, Elayne, for the well being of the children. Agreed?”

She had let her heart get ahead of her brain. He sought only to nurture his relationship with the children. She should be relieved. Why then did she feel bereft?

~~~

RELAXING IN THE GALLERY
, Alex heard his brother’s voice, but wasn’t paying attention, his thoughts preoccupied with Elayne. She was a mystery. It was becoming clear that she was no ordinary servant.

“You’re not listening, Alex,” Laurent said.

“He doesn’t want to listen,” Romain chided.

It was true.
Since his return home, Laurent had harangued him about changing sides in the conflict between Stephen and Maud. What bothered him was that he was beginning to see the wisdom of his brothers’ and his cousin’s reasoning. “I will listen,” he said. “But your argument will have to be convincing.”

Laurent paced, raking a hand through his hair. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Our father swore an oath to support Maud.”

Laurent stopped pacing and glared at
Alex. “Everyone swore, but it was done under duress.”

Romain pounded his fist into his palm. “If Papa were still alive, he would have switched his allegiance to Stephen. Maud has demonstrated by her actions and her manner she is not suited to be Queen.”

Alex bristled. Being lectured as to what his father might have done didn’t sit well in his gut. “And what has Stephen accomplished in the six months he’s been king to warrant our support?”

Laurent braced his legs, hands on his hips.
“He marched north almost immediately after his coronation to fend off the attacks by King David of Scotland on Carlisle and Newcastle.”

“But we
’re allies of King David. We have his grandchildren as our guests.”

Laurent rolled his eyes.
“The point is, Stephen quickly organized a strong defense of the kingdom our Conqueror won for us.”

Alex threw his hands in the air.
“But the King of the Scots still holds Carlisle. He gave up only Newcastle, and will attack Northumbria and Cumberland again when Maud invades England. He has sworn it, and we hold Henry and Claricia as a guarantee. What will become of them if we change sides?”

Dread filled his heart. The silence in the gallery was deafening. Maud would quickly take charge of the hostages if
Alex changed allegiance. He would never see them or Elayne again.

Laurent put a hand on his shoulder. “Therein, I believe,
lies the crux of the problem. What would your decision be, brother, if King David’s grandchildren and their nursemaid were not hostages in our castle?”

Alex
pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fend off a pounding headache. His brother had spoken true. He was allowing his feelings for the Scots to influence his decision.

Laurent talked on, his hand still on
Alex’s shoulder. “I didn’t tell you this, but I accompanied Gallien to Stephen’s Easter Court.”

Alex
narrowed his eyes. “At Westminster?”

Laurent nodded. “
A wide range of nobles gathered for the event, including many of the Anglo-Norman barons and most of the higher officials of the church.”

Alex
shrugged off his brother’s hand and came to his feet. “You had no right to go. There are spies everywhere. Word will have reached Maud and Geoffrey that you were in attendance. They will believe you had my permission.”

“I’m not that important, Alex. You’re the
Comte
, not me. People paid me no mind. You would have been as impressed as I was with the new King. He
issued a royal charter, confirming the promises he had made to the church, pledging to reverse Henry's hated policies on the royal forests and to reform any abuses of the legal system.”

Alex
shrugged, feeling his determination slipping away. “Anyone can make promises.”

Laurent persisted.
“Stephen portrayed himself as the natural successor to Henry, and reconfirmed the existing earldoms in the kingdom
.”

Alex
thought of his cousin. “Gallien would be happy about that.”

Laurent’s face glowed.
“It was a lavish event that must have cost a king’s ransom. Hah! Of course, he’s a wealthy man. He also gave out grants of land and favours to those present, including our cousin.”

Alex
fisted his hands at his sides. “Though his coronation has not yet been ratified by the Pope.”

Romain shook his head. “But it will be. Stephen’s brother
, Bishop Henry has that matter well in hand, and Louis of France is also pushing Innocent to ratify Stephen. He likes the idea of Stephen as a counterbalance to Geoffrey of Anjou. Geoffrey cannot be King in his own right but craves the power he’ll wield if his wife becomes Queen.”

Laurent grasped
Alex’s shoulders. “We will be alienated from our kinsmen if we continue to support Maud. Montbryces have always presented a unified front. Do you want to face Gallien and Étienne on the battlefield?”

Alex
sank back into his chair. It was an argument he couldn’t win. “We have to consider that we could lose Montbryce Castle if Maud decides to retaliate. Geoffrey has already attacked and burned a number of castles in Normandie.

“
I will ponder the matter. Leave me now.”

ALEX STARED IN DISBELIEF AT THE MISSIVE
Bonhomme had handed him. “
Zut!
Just when I thought things couldn’t get worse.”

Frowning, Romain strode away from the hearty fire in the gallery where he’d been warming his backside, his hand held out to his brother. “What is it?”

Alex thrust the parchment at Romain. “
Merde
. As if there isn’t enough to cause concern.”

Romain scanned the document,
then laughed. “Good old Marguerite. Our sister has a knack of turning up at the worst time. How did she find out we had Henry and Claricia here?”

Alex snatched back the letter. “
Who knows?
Merci
, Bonhomme. Fetch the scrivener. I’ll draft a reply quickly and let her know it’s not convenient to come now.”

Bonhomme coughed into his fist, but made no move to leave.

Romain was still chuckling. “Waste of time,
mon frère
. Once Marguerite has made up her mind—”

Bonhomme nodded.

Alex rose from his chair to pace in front of the fire, the crumpled letter still in hand. “You’re probably right, but by all that’s holy, she intends to bring her entire brood. There’ll be work to do preparing chambers, Bonhomme.”

The Steward nodded and took his leave,
his mouth curved in a hint of a smile.

Romain retrieved the parchment, smoothing out the creases with his thumbs. “
Bien
, look at the bright side. The younger ones will be good playmates for Henry and Claricia.”

Alex snorted.
“But six of them, brother. Six!”

Romain
sat down, crossing one leg over the other, wagging his finger at Alex. “May I remind you, all six of our nieces and nephews are well-behaved and polite.”

Alex laughed. “They wouldn’t dare disobey Marguerite.”

Romain tossed the letter onto another chair. “Our sister may be overbearing, but she rules her household with a firm hand, and the children are a credit to her.”

“I’ll remind you of that when you’re seeking some place to hide from them. No doubt their father is looking forward to the respite.”

“Listen, you’ve been insisting Claricia needs a noblewoman to learn from. Who better than Marguerite?”

His brother had a point, but Alex felt a twinge of
foreboding for Claricia, and her nursemaid.

~~~

STANDING IN THE BAILEY awaiting the
Comte’s
sister three sennights after their own arrival, Elayne’s mind wandered. She watched Henry, standing with the Montbryce brothers, looking entirely at ease, despite the wind that threatened to steal his hat. She saw less and less of her son these days. When he wasn’t spending time with Fernand Bonhomme, he was studying Latin under the watchful eye of the priest, or out in the training fields with the sons of some of the knights and men-at-arms.

She missed him and fretted about his well-being, though she trusted he would never betray their secret. He
bubbled with excitement relating the details of his days while she prepared him for bed. She convinced herself she should be glad he was content and had found friends in this foreign land.

Elayne still had Claricia’s company for most of the day, except when she too was studying Latin. Unlike her brother, Claricia did not enjoy
the lessons and balked at repeating the monotonous verb declensions set for study by the elderly priest.

A gust of wind buffeted
her, stirring up dust and a sense of foreboding in her breast as Marguerite de Venestre’s carriage ground to a halt in the castle courtyard. It spilled its load of boisterous, excited children, all trying to hold onto their head coverings in the wind. They ranged in age from a toddler of about three to a lanky boy who she’d guess was in his early teenage years.

They calmed as soon as their mother stepped from the conveyance, aided by Bonhomme.

Marguerite tapped her foot impatiently as an open wagon trundled into the bailey. Seven servants, three men and four women, descended from the vehicle quickly and gathered behind the children, assisting with the hat and veil problems. Evidently there was a maidservant for each daughter, a lady’s maid for herself, and three valets for her sons. Not to mention a score of men-at-arms bearing the Venestre devise on their tunics.

Marguerite had
her brothers’ dark hair, though it was heavily streaked with grey. She looked more like Alexandre’s mother, though Romain had told her his sister was only five years older than he was.

Elayne suspected she’d once been
a beauty, but birthing six children had taken a toll. She was pear-shaped—plump hips, belly and
derrière,
with no bust to speak of. Her incongruous shape caused her to waddle when she walked.

She scowled at the wind as if it too should obey her.

It was evident, however, that she had complete control over her children. Each executed a perfect bow when presented to Alexandre. He bade them welcome, though there seemed to be little warmth in his greeting and the only physical contact with any them was a brief handshake with the boys.

The
three Montbryce brothers gave their sister a perfunctory embrace. Elayne itched to throttle them. She missed the strong reassuring arms of her teasing brother, but Beathan was far away.

Her
spirits soared with pride when Henry bowed and Claricia curtseyed politely as they were introduced, first to Marguerite, then to her offspring. The Norman woman immediately paired Claricia off with one of her daughters who looked about the same age, then efficiently matched Henry with a boy the same height.

She lined the children up. The servants fell in behind
. Head high, nose in the air, she led the troop into the Keep, acknowledging Bonhomme’s deferential bow as she strode through the door. Elayne fancied her lips had become permanently pursed after many years of imposing discipline.

Her heart plummeted when the
little girls beamed at each other as they entered the Keep hand in hand. Henry walked stiffly beside his allotted partner.

The Montbryce men brought up the rear.

Noah’s Ark!

Elayne
smothered a giggle, but quickly succumbed to lonely dismay when she realized a few minutes later she was the only person left standing in the windswept bailey.

~~~

ALEX WAS TROUBLED BY THE MEMORY of Elayne standing alone in the courtyard, her skirts rippling in the wind. It seemed wrong. She belonged with the children, yet little by little he was prying them away from her.

Marguerite
slumped heavily into a chair by the hearth in his solar, prattling about the rigors of the journey, the incompetence of the servants, the disobedience of her children gathered around her. They listened open-mouthed and appeared suitably chastened, though Alex couldn’t imagine they’d put a foot wrong during the entire journey.

She turned her attention to Romain and Laurent, warming their backsides by the fire. “How do you expect me to derive warmth when you are standing in front of the
hearth?”

Romain seemed on the verge of responding, then closed his mouth and moved to sit in another chair.

Laurent stepped sideways. “Better, sister dear?”

She grunted,
holding her hands to the warmth of the flames, then rubbing them together.

Henry
and Claricia stood among the nieces and nephews. Henry stared at Alex’s sister as if she were an ogress. Claricia’s eyes filled with unshed tears as she looked imploringly at Alex.

He
shifted his weight in his own chair, wanting to beckon her to his side and explain that while Marguerite may have a loud bark, she didn’t bite.

It would seem odd, especially to his sister.

His niece, Rosetta, who was still holding Claricia’s hand, must have sensed her companion’s discomfort. She leaned over to whisper something in Claricia’s ear, then smiled at her. Whatever she said seemed to calm the Scottish girl’s fears. She returned the smile, then grinned at Alex.

She wants me to know she is fine.

A bond had formed between him and this little girl. She liked him, trusted him, called him
Lix
. It tore at his heart strings and helped him partially understand the relationship between the Scottish children and their nursemaid.

It was a relief when Bonhomme appeared with tumblers filled with the
famous Montbryce apple brandy. He was confident his Steward was savvy enough to offer Marguerite the first tumbler.

“At last,” she complained, glaring at Bonhomme as she sipped the warming liquid.
Then she frowned. “How long has this been in the cask?”

Bonhomme straightened.
“Five years, milady.”

Marguerite sniffed the brandy as though she doubted the veracity of
what the Steward had told her.

Alex held his breath, hoping she was not going to accuse
Bonhomme of lying, but then she turned her disgusted gaze on him. “I see you keep the ten year vintage for other visitors. Your sister isn’t good enough.”

The children jumped collectively when Romain banged his empty tumbler on the arm of his chair. “Tastes fine to me,” he exclaimed, licking his lips.

“Me too,” Laurent echoed.

Things hadn’t changed much in more than twenty years. His siblings loved each other, but quarreling and baiting was second nature. Alex had
rarely played a role in their bantering games. It saddened him that it was too late to start now.

He drained his brandy. “Excellent,” he observed, handing his tumbler to Bonhomme. “Are my sister’s chambers ready?”

“Who was the red haired woman in the bailey?”

Marguerite’s question took him by surprise.
“Red haired?”

Romain coughed loudly.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice. You barely took your eyes off her. Is she your latest mistress?”

Laurent
made a choking sound.

Alex glared at his sister. “Contrary to what you believe, I am not in the habit of taking mistresses. The red haired woman is nursemaid to
Henry and Claricia Dunkeld.”

“Well, you can get rid of her now that we are here. My servants are more than capable of taking care of two
additional children.”

Alex’s heart lurched.

Henry looked ready to launch himself at Marguerite.

Claricia’s lower lip quivered.

Alex came to his feet. His sister’s words bothered him for two reasons. Surely she didn’t intend to stay for a long period of time? The other emotion churning in his gut had more to do with the possibility of not seeing Elayne every day. He’d grown fond of her smile; she aroused his body, but calmed his mind. Life was more pleasant when she was present. “Elayne has been Henry and Claricia’s nursemaid since they were babes. They love her and she loves them. I don’t intend to deprive them of her care.”

Marguerite
stared at him through narrowed eyes. “You’re blushing,
mon frère
. All this talk of love. You’re sure she’s not your mistress?”