The Faithful Heart (35 page)

“Yes, my lord.” The guard didn’t seem too
happy about things either.

“STOP!” Aubrey hollered as they reached the
stable doorway.

Jack froze in his steps and shut his eyes. He
swallowed the pain in his throat and opened them, nodding to Tom to
go ahead and ready their horses. When he spun to face Aubrey tears
were streaming down her face.

“How can you go ahead with this, Jack? How
can you do this to her?”

He took a breath but the words still didn’t
come when he opened his mouth. He swallowed and took another breath
before he was able to say, “We just sent all the money in Derby to
London. Crispin hasn’t collected enough to make up the difference
of Derbyshire’s portion of the king’s ransom. I can’t think of my
own happiness when I have it in my power to provide for everyone in
the shire.”

“But if we could just-”

“Aubrey! Enough!” His noble accent came out
of nowhere. “Thank you for trying, but you have to let me do this
now.”

She took a step back. Anger and pity and
sadness contorted her face. “You helped me when no one else would,
Jack. All I was trying to do was help you in return.”

“I know,” he nodded. He couldn’t face her
anymore, not if he was going to do this without bursting into tears
like a girl, like Madeline. A laugh snuck up on him as he turned
and marched into the stable. Madeline always had a crying fit
whenever her emotions were high. He loved it and hated it at once.
She would probably cry for days when she found out Tom spilled the
beans about the priests. She would also forgive Tom. If only she
would forgive him.

The horses were saddled and ready and in no
time Jack, Tom, and the guard were mounted and on their way out of
the castle.

“Right,” Jack’s accent was back to normal.
“Let’s get this done.”

Matlock was no easy ride from Kedleridge. It
was miles away and Madeline had to gallop through the dark along
winding roads and over hills. She pushed on as long as she could
until her horse threatened to give out under her. Then she found an
obliging copse and tied her horse to a bush while she collapsed on
the damp ground and slept.

When she awoke to a groggy, misty morning her
sense of purpose jolted her to full wakefulness. She mounted her
wary horse and shot off along the road that wound ever closer to
the River Derwent and Matlock, closer to the manor that would never
be her home again if she had anything to say about it.

The sight that met her when she rounded the
last bend sent a bolt of fear through her. Memories of the time
when she called this place home, or her father’s wrath and her
mother’s cowering, shook her. They weren’t the only things that
threatened to break her resolve. A dozen or more campfires were set
up in rows in the field leading up to the great manor house. Enough
horses rambled in a make-shift corral to saddle a small army. She
knew her father didn’t have that many vassals or any kind of a
personal army. At least she didn’t think he did. But all of the men
couldn’t be Sir Crispin’s.

She took a deep breath and swallowed her fear
before kicking her horse to a run again. There was no time to waste
being squeamish about riding into an army, not when Jack’s life
hung in the balance.

“Are you Sir Crispin’s men?” she asked the
first soldiers she came across at the edge of the encampment.

A trio of worn men glanced up at her from the
campfire where they were busy roasting their lunch. “We are,” one
of them answered. “What do you want, boy?”

Another quiver of panic slithered into
Madeline’s gut. She’d forgotten what she looked like, and the
chances of running into her father looking like she did were very
high.

“I need to see Sir Crispin. Now. Do you know
where he is?”

The man who spoke to her stood. “He’s at the
house. I can take a message to him for you if you’d like.”

She was tempted. “Thank you, but I need to
speak to him myself.” She nudged her horse forward.

“They won’t let you in!” the soldier called
after her.

“Oh yes they will,” she muttered under her
breath.

She rode for a few more yards before stopping
beside the corral. There were plenty of men on hand but none of
them rushed to take her horse when she dismounted. Stiffening her
resolve, she tied it to the fence, leaving the saddle where it was.
She huffed out a breath as she glanced up at the large house. No
one would stop her from saving Jack, no one.

She raked her hands through her hair a couple
of times in an attempt to look presentable. It was hopeless. She
gave up and marched on towards the house. Two armed men stood on
either side of the door. They had the rough and tumble look of
thugs for hire and watched her with casual readiness as she
approached.

“I need to see Sir Crispin,” she told them
with as much bravado as she could muster.

The sentries took one look at her and
exchanged amused glances. “The Earl is busy. If you have a
message-”

“I need to see Crispin!” Her frayed nerves
began to snap. “Let me pass!” She tried to charge on but the two
men blocked her.

“Whoa! Hold on there young man.”

“I am not a young man. I am Lady Madeline of
Matlock! Get out of my way!”

The men didn’t step aside, but they did stare
at her with new anxiety. “Well, um, Lady-”

“I don’t have time for this!”

She surged forward, hoping they would be
surprised enough to part. Instead she barreled right into one of
them and bounced off. The sentry shouted but she wasn’t deterred.
She charged the door again, elbow first. The first sentry was smart
enough to step out of the way but the other got an elbow in the
gut. He bellowed as the wind was knocked out of him. The first
sentry lifted Madeline off her feet. He tried to carry her away but
she kicked and screamed, beyond reason.

“Let me go! Put me down! I have to see
Crispin! Now!”

“What is the meaning of all this?” the dark
voice of her father cut through the chaos of Madeline’s impromptu
wrestling match.

The sentry who had lifted her off her feet
held her in mid-air, eyes wide, face pale. “This boy says he’s a
lady,” he mumbled.

Madeline struggled against the arm clamped
around her. It was time to face the hell that had to be paid, for
Jack’s sake. “Put me down!”

Whether the sentry was listening to her or
whether he put her down because her father was glowering at him
Madeline didn’t know and didn’t care. As soon as she was on her
feet she tugged at the shirt and vest she wore to straighten them
and raked a hand through her hair. She swallowed and glanced up to
meet her father’s eyes.

“You!” Fury and disapproval radiated from
him.

Jack, she told herself, she needed to help
Jack. No one would stop her, not even her father. “I need to speak
to Sir Crispin right away.” She stood as tall and solid as she
could.

“I told you to go back to the convent!” He
marched down the front stairs and across to her. She willed herself
to hold her ground. “I told you that if I ever saw you outside of
Coventry again I would drag you back there myself.”

Her knees felt like butter. She swallowed to
keep her stomach from heaving. She was not a disobedient child
anymore. “I’m not going back to the convent, now or ever, father. I
need to speak to Sir Crispin.”

“Impertinent child! Seize her!” he ordered
the sentries. “Tie her up if you have to!”

“No!” She balled her fists and dodged the two
hulking men when they reached for her. “I need to speak to Crispin.
Crispin!” she shouted past her father into the house.
“Crispin!”

“Be quiet!” Her father took a threatening
step forward.

“No! You will not silence me! Never again!”
She turned on him. “I will not be silent when Jack is in trouble! I
love him!”

He struck her before she realized the blow
was coming. His hand smashed across her face and she saw stars. She
would have fallen over if one of the sentries hadn’t caught her.
The shock of sudden pain cleared her head. She took in a breath and
righted herself, standing as straight as she could, and did what
Jack would have done. She slapped him right back.

Matlock was knocked sideways but spun back to
face her. He touched the growing red mark on his cheek as though he
couldn’t believe how it had gotten there.

“Forget the convent, girl,” he growled, “I’ll
send you to the church-yard instead!”

He lunged towards her, hands going for her
throat. There was no time to fear for her life. She dodged him and
bolted through the door into the vast front hall of her former
home. “Crispin!” she called at the top of her lungs, scrambling
towards the far end of the room to the doorway that lead to the
private family chambers. “Crispin! Help!”

“Get her!” She heard her father shout behind
her as Crispin rushed to the doorway at the far end of the
room.

Madeline had never been so happy to see her
friend’s formidable husband in her life. She ran for him as he
stepped into the hall, glancing past her to Matlock. With a
skidding slide she spun to hide behind his back.

“What is the meaning of this?” Crispin
demanded.

“This is family business, Sir Crispin, it’s
no concern of yours,” her father glowered. He tried to side-step
Crispin to make grab for her.

Crispin threw his arms out to protect her and
they moved together to keep the bulk of his body between Madeline
and Matlock. “I will not let you harm her.”

“Get out of the way!”

“Crispin! Jack is in serious trouble! I need
your help!”

Stuck between two maelstroms, Crispin held
one hand out to ward off Matlock while glancing over his shoulder
at Madeline. “I’ve heard about the money and the woman Lydia.”

“Lydia?” Matlock’s rage was interrupted.

“I know how to stop the wedding,” Madeline
rushed on, explaining as fast as she could. “We need you to come
home immediately to tell Jack he’s been dispossessed in favor of
Simon.”

“What?” Crispin dropped his arm and turned to
face her directly.

“We need you to declare that Simon McFarland
is the true lord of Kedleridge and that Jack isn’t.”

“Is this true?” Matlock narrowed his eyes in
thoughtful suspicion.

“No.” Madeline dared to look at him again,
steely determination in her eyes. “It isn’t. But Simon is the
illegitimate son of the former lord.” She glanced to Crispin,
urgency making her bold. “Lydia knows it. If you make the
declaration then she will let Jack go. Simon agreed to marry her
instead so that she will still hand over the money.”

“What money?” Matlock boomed.

Madeline winced. She didn’t want him to know
anything. “Lydia’s money,” she gave a vague answer.

“That whore has no more money than a
fishwife,” her father scoffed.

Madeline exchanged glances with Crispin. She
could tell he didn’t want to reveal any more either. “We should
leave at once,” he declared, holding her arms and shifting her to
his other side so that he stood between her and Matlock as he
rushed her out of the room.

“I’m not finished with you!” Matlock charged
after them.

He was too quick. Before they could go more
than a few steps he caught Madeline by the arm and wrenched her
back. Madeline yelped and Crispin turned to shout, “Let her
go!”

“This is none of your business, Sir Crispin.”
He rattled Madeline by the arm as he spoke. “You go and save your
filthy mutt from the whore, but my daughter will stay here!”

“I am not your daughter!” Madeline struggled
and broke free from Matlock’s grip. She jumped to Crispin’s side,
turning to face him. “You are no father to me!”

“Hold your tongue or I’ll cut it out!”

“No! No I will not!” Wells of pain that she
hadn’t realized she still held spilled over. “You beat me for being
willful then gave me away when I was a child! You sent me away to a
cold, cruel place and for what?” Her whole body shook as she
shouted. “You gave me up to the Holy Father! You are no father of
mine anymore! You’re nothing but a mean, petty tyrant who bullies
children and heckles true leaders without raising a finger to do
anything yourself!”

Matlock’s face grew pale, his neck splotched
deep red. “Is that what you think, girl? You think I am so
powerless? You think you can speak to me like that? You and your
filthy peasant lover?”

“Yes!” she shouted even as Crispin tried to
stop her. “Yes I do! Jack Tanner is a thousand times the man you
are! And he’ll be my husband by the end of the day if I have
anything to say about it!”

“Sir Crispin,” Matlock’s rumbled, his
expression deadly, “I suggest you remove this piece of filth from
my sight or I will have my mercenaries remove her corpse.”

“Come along, Madeline,” Crispin swept an arm
around her shoulder and rushed her away from Matlock and out
through the front door without pause or question.

Once they were outside in the overcast
afternoon Madeline’s legs gave way. Her breath rushed out in a
panicked sob. Crispin whisked her off her feet and sped towards the
far end of the encampment.

“I’m okay.” She found her breath again when
they were deep in the rows of campfires. “No really, I’m okay,” she
said again when he scowled at her.

“Look around you,” he said in a tight whisper
as he set her on her feet. “Your father has hired an army of
mercenaries. He claims they are for protection in these uncertain
times, but he could set them against us at any moment. He could
have killed you.”

She wobbled as she regained her footing,
tugging at her vest to straighten it. “He wouldn’t dare.” If only
she was convinced.

“Gather my things and have my horse saddled
at once!” Crispin ordered and two of his soldiers leapt into action
while the mercenaries sent them curious looks. He rounded on
Madeline. “I’m not sure if you are the bravest person I’ve ever met
or the most foolish.”