Marriage Under Siege (6 page)

'No!'

'No, what, my lady?' He
could almost feel the waves of fear issuing from her tense body and knew a
sudden desire to allay them. He allowed his lips to curl into a smile of
reassurance, gentling the harsh lines of his face, and the gleam in his eyes
was soft. It appeared to have no calming effect whatsoever on the lady.

'You do not wish to marry
me, my lord.'

'How do you know, my lady?
I have not yet asked you.'

Honoria could think of no
immediate reply. Panic rose into her throat, threatening to choke her, her
heart beating so loudly that she felt it must be audible to everyone in the
room. She could not possibly marry Francis Brampton, of course she could not.
She must not allow this situation to continue. She could not take any more
humiliation. With an urgent need to escape she pushed herself to her feet—but
then simply stood, transfixed by the power in Mansell's eyes that held hers,
trapped hers. She might have laughed if she could find the breath. She now knew
exactly how a rabbit would react when confronted by a hungry fox.

'There is no need to fear
me, my lady.'

'I do not,' she whispered,
hands clenched by her sides. But she did. And she feared even more her own
reaction to him.

The lawyer looked from one
to the other, struck by the intensity of emotion that had so suddenly linked
them. 'There is no compulsion here, my lord, my lady,' he suggested calmly
after a short pause in which neither of them had seemed able to break the
silence. 'There is no financial penalty if you choose to go your own separate
ways. It is merely Lord Edward's personal recommendation with the best interests
of the lady and of the estate at heart.'

'I feel free to doubt that
Lord Edward ever had anyone's best interests at heart but his own.' Mansell's
words and tone were critical and condemning, but his eyes remained fixed on
Honoria, and they were kind.

'I have to say, my lord,'
Wellings continued, 'that on this occasion I find room for agreement with Lord
Edward. In the light of present events and the uncertainty of war it would be
most unwise to leave a lady without protection. Leintwardine Manor would be
almost impossible to fortify, an easy target for anyone wishing to take
control if its security was not looked to. And a lady on her own...' He looked
anxiously at Lady Mansell. 'As for raising the annual sum from the property,
run-down as it is...' He shook his head. 'I advise you to think carefully, my
lady, before severing your ties with the Bramptons. Unless, my lord, you
yourself are bound into an alliance with a young lady?'

'No.'

Mansell walked across the
room and handed the document to Honoria so that she might read of her proposed
fate for herself. She took the paper in fingers that were not quite steady and
dropped her gaze from his at last.

'If you decide to take the
advice of Lord Edward, I might suggest that you do so promptly,' Wellings
continued. 'To bring the properties back into the estate will give you, my
lord, every legal right to look to the preservation of Leintwardine Manor and
Ingram House.'

'Thank you, sir, for your
time and your timely advice. I believe there is much value in what you say.' He
kept his attention on Honoria's bent head as she read.

'It is my pleasure. I hope
to be of use to you in the future. To both of you.' The business completed to
his satisfaction, Wellings rose to his feet and bowed.

'Lady Mansell and I need a
few private words in respect of the codicil, Mr Wellings. If you wish to gather
up your papers, I will send Foxton with some refreshment. I will see you before
you leave, of course.'

He took Honoria's
unresisting hand, removed the document from her fingers and then drew her hand
through his arm, making the decision for them both.

'My lady, I suggest we
repair to the solar to consider this new situation.'

The solar was warm and
inviting if either of them had been in the frame of mind to give it more than a
cursory glance. The only appreciative presence was Morrighan, banished from
the legal discussions earlier in the day, but now together again with her
mistress. She curled her long limbs before the fire, in pleasure at being
reunited with such comfort.

The solar was well placed,
deliberately so by the Norman-French de Bramptons, who had constructed the
castle principally for their safety rather than their comfort, to benefit from
whatever sunshine there might be in winter. Pale gold beams spilled through the
windows to gild the panelling and the sparse furnishings. The room had been
given a woman's touch. Of all the rooms in the castle that Mansell had
investigated, with increasing disfavour since his arrival, this was the only
one to bear signs of personal occupancy and attention. It smelled faintly of
herbs—lavender, he presumed. The furniture—a chest, a table, carved
armchairs—was carefully chosen from what little the castle could offer and had
been recently polished. A bright rug covered the smoothly worn floorboards
before the fireplace, its colour warming the austere grey stone. Hand-worked
cushions helped to soften a window seat that had a view out over an inner
courtyard. A bunch of brave snowdrops gleamed white and green in a small
pottery vessel on the table. It was clear to him that Honoria had made the room
her own and enjoyed its privacy.

But now they stood facing
each other across the void of the oak table, Lord Edward's final document lying
between them, the black ink stark in the sun.

'Please sit, my lady.'
Mansell indicated the carved chair next to her. He poured small beer for them
both, pushed the pewter tankard towards her and lowered himself thoughtfully on
the seat opposite, hands resting on the table top. He knew that he must tread
carefully. Did he really want this aloof, enigmatic lady as his bride? He was
not at all certain that he wanted this responsibility along with all the other
complications of his now far-flung estates, but did he have a choice? He could
hardly throw her to the wolves of local politics and warfare. And there was
something about her that tugged at his senses, at some chivalric instinct to
protect. Perhaps her vulnerability, her isolation within the community of
Brampton Percy. But marriage! He took a deep breath and a mouthful of Lord
Edward's ale, wincing in disgust as he contemplated his next words.

Honoria found herself
contemplating not her future, but the hands spread masterfully on the table
top. They were wide-palmed, long- fingered and elegant, but with considerable
strength. She noted the calluses along the edge of his thumbs from frequent
friction with sword and reins. They were hands that would take and hold fast.
Was she willing to put her future into those hands? She longed for it, she
admitted to herself in a blaze of honesty, but at the same time shrank from the
prospect. She pushed the tankard aside and waited.

'We need to talk, my
lady—without polite pretence or dissimulation.' Mansell's tone was flat and
matter of fact, as if embarking on a business transaction where time was of the
essence, but his eyes were compelling. 'But remember
Wellings's
advice. There is no compulsion here. There is no need to feel that you are
under any obligation but to your own wishes in the matter. I believe that you
will value that—your freedom of choice—more than anything. Am I correct?'

'Yes.' She nodded. His
approach and understanding put her at her ease again, she found herself able to
quell the sense of panic which had begun to tighten its hold, and concentrate
on the practicalities.

'Firstly, then, it is
necessary for you to tell me—is it possible that you carry Lord Edward's child?
If that is so, then the whole of the will as far as my inheritance could be
invalid and we must refer again to Wellings.'

Lady Mansell's eyes flew to
his, all her composure in tatters once more, before she hid her consternation
with a sweep of lashes.
She looks astonished,
he thought.
As if she had never even considered the
prospect.

'No.' He could not identify
the emotion in her voice.

'Are you quite certain?' He
kept his voice gentle.

'I am certain, my lord. I
am not breeding.'

'Very well. Then tell me
what you wish for. Your jointure is secure in all details. You have the manor
and the London property, with sufficient income to allow you to live
independently. I presume the estate is capable of raising it, if it is taken in
hand. Sir William Croft seemed to think so.'

'Yes. It is what I hoped
for. And I have thought about it carefully. If I live at Leintwardine, I do not
believe that I would be in any danger. My neighbours, apart from yourself,
would all be Royalist and most of them connected by family to the Bramptons.
And since I have no intention whatsoever of dabbling in local politics, I think
that no one would threaten my peace or my safety. Leintwardine Manor is small
and insignificant—hardly a key property in county affairs.' She clasped her
hands on the table, fingers tightly linked, as if her determination would make
it so. 'If there was a threat, I should know about it. Eleanor Croft, Sir
William's wife, would ensure that I be warned.'

'You seem very sure.' His
brows rose.

'Yes.' Honoria chose not to
explain her certainty.

'You may be right.' But
why? He tucked the thought away, to be perused at a later date. 'But you should
consider, my lady, the alternative possibilities. What if the Royalists do not
prosper? What if Parliament is able to put considerable forces into the- field
in the west and can overcome His Majesty? A superior Parliamentarian force
might be victorious and see Leintwardine as a jewel for its collection. The
garrison at Gloucester is not so far away, after all, and if Sir William Waller
should bring his forces to strengthen it, well...' He shrugged, rose to his
feet and moved restlessly around the room, his tall frame dominating the space.
'And I am not convinced that your sex or your family connections would
automatically safeguard you from attack.'

'But that is all
supposition, my lord.' She frowned at him as he purposely undermined all her
comfortable planning.

'I know. And I remember
your previous words to me: that you had had enough of betrothals and marriages
to last a lifetime. But consider.' He sat again and leaned forward on his
elbows, spread his hands palm up. 'I believe that national events are likely to
overtake us before we know it and we will all be caught up in the maelstrom of
war and violence whether we wish it or no. If you agreed to the marriage I
would give you the protection of my name, my resources and my body. Your
jointure would remain as it is now, to give you financial security in case of
my death. For the present, Brampton Percy would remain your home and I would do
all in my power to secure your jointure estates from attack.'

It was a very persuasive
argument.
But I hate this place!
The hatred
burned in her throat, hammered in her head. But she did not, could not choose
to say it aloud in the face of such a generous gesture. But did he mean it?
Could he truly contemplate marriage with her rather than allow her to go her
own way and so rid him of the responsibility?

'I would not pressure you,'
Mansell persisted, 'but there is much to recommend the scheme.'

She looked at him at last,
a clear and level gaze, keeping her voice light. 'Perhaps you have not
considered, my lord. My upbringing was under the influence of Sir Robert
Denham, as you are well aware. As a Baron of the Exchequer, he was unswervingly
loyal to the King. And so my own inclination has been formed. Could you really
believe that the marriage of a Parliamentary radical, as I understand the
matter, to a Royalist sympathiser would be suitable?' She caught the quick
flash of surprise on his face. 'Did you think to keep your political leanings
secret in this house? You spoke about them to Sir William after Lord Edward's burial.
You were overheard—so it is now the talk of the servants' hall.' She smiled a
little at his momentary discomfort.

'I see. Then I must learn
discretion and to guard my tongue. But I am no radical.' His eyes glittered
with a touch of humour. 'But, yes...of course it would be foolish to deny that
it is divisive. But is it insurmountable?'

'Would it be possible to
differ on politics, when blood is being shed in the name of King and
Parliament, but yet preserve domestic harmony?' There was more than a hint of
doubt in her voice.

'I have no idea.'
Frustration engraved a deep line between his brows. 'I agree that it is an
issue, but I find your safety to be a more pressing one. Perhaps we could beg
to differ on the powers invested in the monarch, but not be reduced to shooting
each other over the breakfast table.'

'I suppose so.' The doubt
was still very evident. 'But I would not care for you to suspect my loyalties.
As you say, we have no idea of what might develop to split families asunder.'

'Very true. Yet I still
believe that the advantages far outweigh any difficulties that may not even
happen.' Mansell hesitated a moment, hearing his own words, amazed that he
appeared to be talking himself into an alliance when he was by no means certain
that he desired it, whatever Lord Edward's wishes might have been. Why not
simply let the matter rest and let the lady sever all ties with the Bramptons,
if that was her choice? And then a thought struck him. One he did not care for.
'Unless, of course, you would find me objectionable as a husband.'