Swords and Shields (Reign of the House of de Winter) (34 page)

Devereux studied his face, reconciling herself to the reality of his death, before reaching out and taking one of the stone-cold hands that were crossed on his chest. As her sons, husband, and the entire bailey stood by and watched, she spoke to Dallan.

“I watched you come into this life,” she said softly. “You were a lusty baby that wanted to be fed constantly. When you learned to walk, you somehow always ended up in my bed in the early morning before the house was awake. You would crawl in and press against me, seeking warmth and comfort. When you were older, you would still come into my chamber in the early morning until your father told you that you were too old to do such a thing. I became angry with your father and banished him from our chamber for a week. Do you recall how upset he was? I still laugh to think about it. But you were my youngest and I knew I would never have another child. I wanted to enjoy your youth as I was not able to enjoy your brothers and sister. They seemed so eager to grow up and move away from me but you… you wanted to stay with me. I still want you to stay with me but I know you cannot, so I will say this… it has been a privilege to be your mother, Dallan. What a privilege it has been to watch you grow and become the fine man that I saw amongst these walls. I will miss that. I will miss
you
. Godspeed, my son, to fairer halls within God’s heavenly realm. I pray that He blesses you and keeps you close.”

With that, she bent over the end of the box and kissed Dallan tenderly on the forehead. Releasing his hand, she turned and walked away, heading to the keep stairs as her husband and remaining sons watched her go. Davyss, with tears in his eyes, went to the casket to see Dallan for himself, also kissing him on the forehead and stroking the blond hair. Heartbroken to see such grief from his beloved parents, Drake spoke softly.

“I do not know if this will help Mother, but Dallan’s last words were of her,” he told his father. “He asked for her. It was the last thing he said.”

Davyss closed his eyes tightly and the tears spilled. He quickly wiped them away. “I will tell her,” he confirmed. “Mayhap she would like to know his last thoughts were of her.”

“I thought so.”

Davyss turned away without replying, following his wife back into the keep. As his shattered parents retreated, Drake placed the lid of the coffin back on the box and secured it. He opened his mouth to say something to Devon when he caught sight of someone at the gatehouse.

Elizaveta was standing there, tears on her face and hands to her mouth as she watched the scene. Drake stared at her a moment, unprepared for her appearance. He had been so grief-stricken by her actions, feelings that had grown even stronger on the journey back to Norwich, that he wasn’t entirely sure he could speak to her at all and not explode in a shower of cinder. It was a shock to see her, and a devastating one, knowing what she had done and knowing that all of the warmth and fondness between them had been a lie. Drake was wounded by it and wounded deep.

He was hurting as he had never hurt in his life.

But he knew he had to say something to her. He couldn’t simply ignore her and pretend she didn’t exist or, worse still, pretend nothing had ever happened. Pretend that he didn’t know the depths of her betrayal. Jumping off the wagon bed, he brushed past Devon on his way to Elizaveta.

“Take care of Dallan,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “I must speak with my wife.”

Devon nodded, turning to see Elizaveta standing there, weeping. Drake had never told Devon what Davey Maxwell had said, how Mabelle Maxwell had sent information to the Scots so that they would know of the de Winter army movements as it pertained to joining Edward’s army. When Devon had asked him those weeks back what the interrogation of the captives had turned up, Drake had only said that the Scots had moved south to try and disrupt Edward’s army, which was vaguely the truth. But he said no more than that.

Therefore, Devon knew nothing about Elizaveta and her betrayal. Drake wanted to keep it that way because he was embarrassed enough, and shattered enough, not to want his family to know he’d been duped. They had
all
been duped. Maybe someday he would tell them, but with Dallan lying dead a few feet away, now was not the time.

Perhaps it would never be the time.

Standing back by the gate, Elizaveta had witnessed most of Lady de Winter’s encounter with Dallan’s corpse and she could see, quite clearly, the devastation of the de Winter family.

Not knowing what had happened to Dallan, she tried to stave off the hacking stabs of guilt that his death provoked but she knew, in her heart, that she must have somehow caused this. Her missive must have made it through to Mabelle and this was the result. She’d caused pain and she’d caused death with that missive she’d sent those months ago.

She’d caused everything she had feared.

Dear God… what have I done…?

When Lord and Lady de Winter headed back into the keep after viewing their dead son’s body, Drake was suddenly heading in her directly. He was ashen, his eyes dark-circled, and before she could say a word to him, he reached out to her. Elizaveta thought he was going to embrace her but he ended up grabbing her by the arm instead, so tightly that he hurt her. She winced as he began to drag her off across the bailey.

“Drake!” she gasped. “You are hurting me!”

Drake spoke through clenched teeth. “Do not speak,” he growled. “You will not speak until spoken to. Is that clear?”

There was deadly hazard in his tone, quite shocking. Frightened and bewildered, Elizaveta allowed him to pull her across the bailey without a fight and back into the area where the castle garden was. There was a small kitchen yard to the rear with an overhang shelter that protected a butter churn and a few other kitchen implements. Drake took Elizaveta back to this area, as far as he could take her away from the keep, before releasing her. Elizaveta rubbed her arm, gazing up at him with great concern, but she didn’t speak. He’d told her not to. Therefore, she waited with tremendous anxiety.

Drake didn’t speak right away. He just stared at her, his mouth working, as if trying to figure out just what to say. There was sweat on his brow and his eyes were watery. When he spoke, his voice was terribly strained.

“Tell me how your grandmother was able to send information to the Maxwells that my army would be joining Edward’s army in Hexham,” he said. “Tell me how they knew of our movements, Elizaveta, so that they were able to ambush us and kill my brother.”

Elizaveta’s eyes widened.
My God!
She thought wildly.
He knows! Somehow, someway, he knows what I have done! Someone must have told him!

Her heart was beating loudly in her chest, so loudly that it was all she could hear. The
thump, thump, thump
that was driven by Drake’s question and the expression on his face. The nausea in her stomach rolled and her palms began to sweat, and she bent over and vomited up all of the bread she had eaten, spilling it into the dirt.

Dallan’s death is on me!

The words rolled over and over in her mind even as she continued to vomit, even as there was nothing more to come up. Dry heaving, she staggered over to the wall and slumped against it, hand at her mouth.

Drake was unsympathetic. “Tell me!” he boomed.

Elizaveta jumped at the sound of his voice, cringing against the wall. “I… I did not want to do it,” she said, her voice a husky whisper as saliva and vomit dripped from her lips. “I was forced to. I… I had little choice.”

Drake wasn’t in any mood for foolery. “Make sense, woman,” he said. “Who forced you?”

Elizaveta wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. “My grandmother,” she said, unable to look at him. “There is much you do not know about my family, Drake. Much you should have known but I was too afraid to tell you. My grandmother hates the English for what they did to her husband, so much so that she has been very active in supporting the Scots rebellion against the English. She saw me as a great pawn in her game against the English and knew, as the heiress to East Anglia, that I would command a great marriage. She offered my contract to Edward who in turn gave me to you. My grandmother threatened to send assassins after my father if I did not comply with her demands that I should spy on you for her cause. I felt that I had little choice in the matter. I did not want to do it but… but I was afraid of what would happen if I did not.”

He looked at her as if he could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Your
grandmother
forced you to spy on me?” he demanded.

Elizaveta nodded, closing her eyes against his outraged expression. “Aye,” she muttered. “She said she would kill me or kill my father if I did not do as she bade. I believed her. I still do.”

It was astonishing to hear. But at least the question he’d harbored in his mind since that terrible November day had answers. It made some sense in the realm of rationality and he could see what had happened, all of this espionage going on behind the scenes that he had been utterly oblivious to. A vengeful woman whose husband had been killed by the English and a granddaughter who was at the woman’s mercy. Aye, he was starting to understand, indeed.

“You did not wish to marry at all,” he said. “Is this why?”

Elizaveta nodded, so firmly that her hair broke free of its careful braid and slapped against her cheek.

“She wanted to use me to spy,” she said, feeling tears close to the surface. “It was her plan well before you and I were betrothed. I did not want to marry anyone; it just happened to be you. My grandmother was thrilled but I hated her for it. That is why… why when we left Thetford to go to Spexhall, I did not wish to speak with her. I did not wish to see her at all. All she would have done was threaten me again and tell me how it was my duty to gather information from my new husband. She told me that my kin are Scots and I suppose they are, since my mother was born in Scotland, but I do not feel kin with them. I have never felt kin with anyone.”

The tears began to fall, quietly, and Drake began to feel some bewilderment along with his rage. The hurt he had kept so carefully buried began to come forth.

“Yet you did what she told you to do,” he said, sounding hollow and utterly hurt. “You heard everything from de Wolfe when he told me of the plans to join Edward. And then you, coincidentally, asked to send a missive to your mother the next day. You sent her the information that you had heard, didn’t you?”

Elizaveta nodded, the tears dripping off her chin. “Aye,” she whispered. “I had hoped… I hoped that if I sent my grandmother that information then mayhap she might not ask for anymore. Mayhap she would be satisfied. I prayed that the missive would not reach her but then I was terrified if it did not. I was terrified she would send men out to kill my father or me, or even you. You have no idea what she is capable of, my grandmother. She has ordered the deaths of more men than you know. She is capable of carrying out her threats.”

“And you fear her.”

“I do.”

Elizaveta wept quietly as Drake stood there and looked at her, feeling his guard go down. So much of what she said made sense, as shocking as it was. Perhaps he was foolish to believe her, but he did. At least, he thought he did. But there was a part of him that wasn’t so sure – it was possible she was telling him what he wanted to hear in order to save her skin. Torn, indecisive, and grieved, he had no idea what to think.

“Then I was a fool,” he confirmed, turning around and sitting heavily on a chair that was used when churning butter. “I was a fool because I was actually happy about this marriage, convinced I was married to a woman who had decided she wanted to be married to me. We had great moments of laughter and warmth and conversation… I was fool for believing this marriage could be something more than simply an arrangement. Now I know you only married me to use me. Well, it seems you got what you wanted. You devastated the House of de Winter. But you will never do it again, do you hear me? Your days of espionage are finished. If I have to lock you in the vault for the rest of your life, your days of sending information to your grandmother are over.”

Elizaveta broke into soft sobs. “The more I came to know all of you, the more I hated my grandmother for what she was forcing me to do,” she confessed. “With you and your family, there was such joy and happiness. I felt accepted. I have never felt accepted before, ever. I did not want to spy on you, Drake; with God as my witness, I will swear that a thousand times over. There were times when I thought to tell you what my grandmother expected of me, but I was afraid to, afraid you would think me a terrible traitor and afraid you would think everything between us had been a lie. It was
not
a lie! You are my husband and I adore you. Now I carry your child. But I feared my grandmother more than I adored you and for that, I must beg your forgiveness.”