Shadows and Strongholds (31 page)

Hawise reddened at the words and felt a pang somewhere in her mid-section. Almost without knowing, she laid her palm to her belly. She saw her mother take note of the action and was flustered. She didn't want to think intimately about Brunin in her mother's presence. Again, I do not know,' she said stubbornly.

'But the notion does not revolt you?'

'No.' Her face burned as if she were standing in front of an open forge.

Sybilla nodded and a look of satisfaction entered her eyes. 'You do not have to make your decision now,' she said. 'You have some leeway to think on it.'

Hawise bit her lip. 'What if I refuse? Will you and Papa be angry?'

'Bless you, child, of course we won't!' Sybilla gave her a reassuring hug. It was a release from strain and Hawise leaned briefly into the embrace. She had always known that this moment would come, but until today, it had been a matter on the horizon, not under her nose. A part of her was excited at the notion, which had sent a new kind of energy tingling through her body; but another part still wanted her juggling balls, her toy sword and her mother. If Hawise had to run a household on her own, she knew thai she would never be as wise and capable as Sybilla, and the idea was daunting.

She raised her head from Sybilla's bosom. 'How long would the betrothal be?'

'That would be decided if the negotiations went forth in earnest,' Sybilla replied. 'I do not think that the wedding would be for a couple of years at least.'

'Would we still live at Ludlow?' There was anxiety in her tone. Sibbi and Hugh had gone to live on his family lands with only occasional visits to Ludlow and she never saw her other married half-sister, Agnes. She jutted her chin. 'If I have to live under the same roof as Lady Mellette, I'll refuse here and now.'

Sybilla nodded in acknowledgement of the point. 'You would have to visit her from time to time, and spend part of the year on FitzWarin lands—after all, Brunin is the heir—but it will not be the greater part of your life. The FitzWarins hold more than just Whittington, and there will be your dower estates too. There is no reason for you and the gracious Lady Mellette to cross paths more often than duty requires.'

'No, Mama.' Hawise looked relieved.

'I do not doubt that you can hold your own should the situation arise.'

Hawise screwed up her face. 'I do not doubt it either, Mama. But I'm not sure about the consequences.'

Sybilla chuckled softly and rose to her feet. 'Any birds that came home to roost would do so in Lady Mellette's belfry,' she said. 'I'll leave you to think and return later.' She began to draw away.

'You don't have to leave me, Mama,' Hawise said. 'I can give you my answer now. I will be glad to accept Brunin for my husband.'

She spoke with such a resolute thrust of her jaw that Sybilla frowned. 'You look as if you are bravely swallowing medicine that you dislike.'

'No, Mama. I truly wish it,' Hawise said steadily. 'I will not change my mind.'

An expression—relief?—crossed her mother's face and was gone. 'Even so, leave it until the morrow,' Sybilla murmured. All decisions should be slept on for at least one night if possible.'

Hawise forced a smile. 'I don't think I'll sleep very much,' she said.

'You broached it to her then?' Joscelin looked at his wife and rubbed the back of his neck.

Sybilla studied him in amusement. He was still apt to see his youngest daughter as a little girl, when the truth was that she was fast blossoming into a young woman. He was also fiercely protective and thought that no male, even one he knew and trusted, was worthy of her. 'Yes, I broached it,' she said, the asperity in her tone revealing what she thought of his cowardice in abjuring the discussion.

And?' His palm remained on his neck and his brow wore pleats of anxiety.

Sybilla pursed her lips, deliberately extending the moment. She didn't see why she should be merciful. She considered telling him to go and ask Hawise himself, but she tempered the inclination. 'She says that she likes him, that there is no one she prefers, but she does not know if she loves him.'

'You assured her she did not have to wed if she did not want?'

Sybilla's blue gaze darkened. 'I did, but not in a manner that tempted her to seek a way out. I was the one who said she should have a choice, and I stand by that, but she is of an age now when that choice has to be made.'

Joscelin cleared his throat and went to the window. He lowered his hand from his neck to clamp it around his belt. Sybilla watched him and her irritation softened into tenderness. Going to him, she slipped her arms around him from behind.

His hand left his belt and pressed down over hers. 'She is our youngest,' he said in a low voice. 'It is hard to let her go.'

'You won't be letting her go… well, not immediately. She and Brunin will only be betrothed at first and for much of the time they will dwell at Ludlow' Sybilla rubbed her cheek against his spine, feeling the rough warmth of his linen tunic against her skin. 'I hope that she will cleave to Brunin and he to her, but that does not mean to the exclusion of all else. She loves you dearly and you have taught her to love generously too. There will be room for all.'

He faced her and lifted her hands to his lips. 'Ah, you see through me so clearly that I might as well be made of glass,' he said wryly. 'Did she have anything to say about the others?'

'Enough for me to know that she leaned towards neither le Vavasour nor Leicester's son… and in truth I am pleased. Brunin is the better match in every way… or he will be when he comes into his own.'

Joscelin's gaze sharpened. 'Meaning?'

'Meaning that he has yet to achieve his full potential—as has she. Each has it within them to coax the best out of the other. He learns fast and he absorbs knowledge like a wash leather, but he doesn't always do himself justice. Hawise will give him that backbone of confidence. And in his turn he will ride her lightly with free rein instead of ruining her life with bit and curb.'

'You make her sound like a prize mare,' Joscelin said uncomfortably.

Sybilla shrugged. 'When it comes to marriage, that is precisely what women are,' she said, and then relented as she saw his eyelids tighten and his lips compress. He knew the truth as much as she did, but there were some things that were best left unsaid. She laid her hand against the side of his face in a tender gesture and after a moment felt him smile.

'Well, I'm still chasing you with my saddle over my arm,' he said wryly.

Sybilla laughed and bestowed him a suggestive glance through her lashes. 'I could always mount you.'

Joscelin narrowed his eyes and gave her one of his sleepy looks. 'And ride me all the way home?' His palm flattened against her side and smoothed the fabric of her gown. He drew her hip to hip against him.

She set her hands to his chest and gave a small push. 'Go to,' she said, but breathlessly to show that she was not unmoved. 'You have a scribe to see, if the FitzWarins are to have a formal acceptance, and I have things to do of my own…'

Joscelin sighed and dropped his hands. 'I suppose…' he said, but the sleepy look remained. 'Later then.'

'I promise.' She raised one eyebrow. 'I'll even rub you down afterwards.'

Joscelin swallowed a chuckle, made a gesture of dismissal and headed for the door. 'I'll hold you to it.'

Smiling and frowning, Sybilla watched him leave. Men were easy to handle… if you knew how and you got the right one. The former knowledge could be taught and she hoped she had educated her daughters sufficiently well; but the latter ingredient depended more on the whim of fortune and she could only hope Hawise would be lucky.

Marion sat on her bed, her back turned to the world, her head bent and her shoulders hunched defensively.

'Marion,' said Sybilla softly.

The figure vibrated in response but did not turn round.

'Marion, sweetheart…' Sybilla moved closer, one hand outstretched in compassion.

The girl twisted to face her. revealing eyes puffed from weeping and a blotched complexion. 'I hate you!' she sobbed. 'I hate you all. Go away!'

A pang shot through Sybilla, and some of it was guilt, for she and Joscelin were partly to blame for what was happening now. It had been comically amusing to hear Marion lisp as a child that one day she would marry Brunin. But what had been a game of childish nonsense to the adults had been a matter of deadly earnest to Marion. They should have nipped it in the bud.

'I know how you feel—'

'You don't, and even if you did, you wouldn't care! I'm not your real daughter. I'm just a worthless fosterling!'

'Marion, that is neither true nor fair!' Sybilla advanced to the bed. 'You may not think it just now, but you are as dear to me as a daughter. I know you are disappointed, but Brunin was never promised to you. If we were at fault, it was in letting you pretend that he was.' She tried to curve a compassionate arm around the girl, but Marion shrugged her off and jumped to her feet.

'You knew I wanted him, but you gave him to Hawise!' she blazed. 'She always takes things away from me!'

'I gave him to neither of you,' Sybilla said with severity. 'The offer was made by the FitzWarin family and they were specific in their choice. Hawise's inheritance is a half-share in Ludlow and that is at the heart of the issue. I have always said that marriages should be compatible for the couple involved, but compatibility involves many aspects.'

'You think I am not good enough for him—'

'No, child, that is not true. But I do believe that you are not right for him, which is a different thing… and neither is he right for you.'

Marion lowered her tear-spiked lashes. 'Lady Mellette liked me better than Hawise,' she said with sulky spite.

Sybilla mustered her patience. 'Lady Mellette likes the thought of half of Ludlow better than either you or Hawise,' she said briskly. 'There is no point in taking this conversation further. I can see that you are deeply hurt and I am sorry for it, but rail as you will, it changes nothing. Lord Joscelin and I will do our best to find a suitable match for you. Brunin is not the only young man in the world, after all, and I have seen your eyes settle elsewhere on occasion. I have sometimes thought that you considered Brunin your bulwark—a notion to fall back upon should you find nothing better.'

Marion's lower lip quivered.

'Oh, child.' Sybilla rose from the bed and before Marion could dart out of the way, drew her into her arms. 'As you stand here now, it may seem the end of everything, but I promise you it isn't.'

At first Marion stood rigid within Sybilla's embrace, but then slowly, like a fist unclenching, some of the tension left her body, and her forehead touched Sybilla's breast.

'I know it is no substitute,' Sybilla murmured, 'but I was thinking that perhaps you would like to have a new gown and ribbons for your hair.'

'To stand at Hawise's betrothal?' Marion asked in muffled tones that implied she would rather die first.

Sybilla stroked the silky barley-gold braids. 'No, sweeting,' she murmured. 'To make ready for your own when the time comes… and I do not think it will be long.' Sybilla's voice was soothing, but she had wagered with her intellect not her heart that Marion could be cozened by the prospect of a new gown.

Marion gave a loud sniff and wiped her eyes. 'A blue one,' she said in a watery voice. 'Blue silk, and a white veil'

'If that is your wish,' Sybilla replied, managing not to make a face at the notion that Marion had chosen the colours of the Madonna.