The Countess Bride
Автор
Terri Brisbin
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Chapter One
Lincolnshire, England August, 1198
She knew that the blood of six young noblewomen would be on her hands. And she knew that she would sinfully enjoy strangling the very life and breath out of each one. If they continued repeating the completely inane comments of the last hour, she would be forced to kill them all.
Catherine de Severin pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and blotted her forehead. She did not suffer the heat well and the day had turned hot after the noon meal. Trying to be discreet, she lifted her hair from her perspiring neck and attempted to cool off before her discomfort was noticed.
Too late.
“Catherine? Are you unwell?” Emalie Dumont, Countess of Harbridge and her benefactress, leaned over and whispered to her. The softness of her voice did not hide her concern.
“I am well, my lady.”
Catherine heard the soft snickers that moved through the small group of women watching the men fight in the tilt-yard. Lady Harbridge had, as well, for her expression was one of distaste. Standing, the countess motioned to those seated to follow her.
“I fear this heat is too oppressive for me today. Come, let us seek a cooler place to gather, and something cool to drink to refresh ourselves.”
No one could remain sitting, or not obey the orders of the countess and the hostess of this keep. Catherine gathered her fan and handkerchief and stood. Before the small entourage could leave the yard, a loud, deep voice called out to them from across the yard.
“My lady?”
Catherine watched as the countess approached the fence and spoke quietly to her husband. The women had been watching the earl and some of his men practice their fighting skills in the yard as an amusement. But knowing that the younger Dumont was on his way here to choose one of them for a wife made the group nervous and excited. The mindless chatter had made the swordplay difficult to enjoy. Catherine turned and observed the earl and countess’s exchange of words.
’Twas times like this when she could see a softness in the earl’s face, an expression of love, that kept her from hating him as much as she knew he hated her. A man who loved his wife as much as the Earl of Harbridge did could not be all bad. When, in his conversation with his wife, he raised his eyes to glance over at her, the coldness filled his gaze once more and Catherine knew that Lady Harbridge had mentioned her name.
A tightening began in her stomach and grew stronger. Unease filled her as his gaze passed over her once more. She had prayed for acceptance of her fate. She had prayed for understanding. And she had prayed for the gratitude that should fill her for the earl’s sponsorship. ’Twas all for naught.
Her weaknesses in character threatened to overwhelm her. Her fears and her inability to carry on conversations in the romantic style of the court forced her to the background in most situations. Her lack of standing and lack of relatives to offer the support usually given to young women of marriageable age were appallingly obvious to those here seeking that honorable state. Even drawing on her inner reserve of practiced quiet and calmness did not lessen her anxiety when faced with outsiders whom she knew not.
The urge to return to the convent, nay, to run to the convent, nearly overpowered her for a moment. Taking in a deep breath, she tried to clear her thoughts. The countess approached and held out her hand. Taking it, Catherine walked next to the woman who offered her everything she lacked, without ever making demands on her time or on her soul.
“My lord has suggested that I seek my chambers and rest there until our evening meal. Catherine, will you join me and bring your prayer book?” Everyone present knew the lord had ordered her to her room. Gossip would begin immediately after Lady Harbridge left their presence.
“Of course, my lady.”
“I fear that this babe makes me sensitive to the heat. My lord is concerned that I not spend so much time outdoors in it.” Her whispers were loud enough for all to hear.
Catherine knew exactly what the countess was doing, and would have kissed the hem of her gown to thank her for it. But that would undo the good being done on her behalf. By announcing the news that she once more carried a babe, another heir for her lord, she drew the attention to herself.
The group behind them fell silent, but Catherine could almost hear the questions and thoughts in their minds. This would be the countess’s third child in just over three years of marriage. Catherine knew those here who sought marriage to the countess’s brother-by-marriage were wondering if he would be as demanding in the physical part of marriage as his brother was. And if they would be as fruitful.
They reached the keep, where Emalie guided Catherine in one direction while the others entered the great hall. The consummate hostess, Lady Harbridge would have servants aplenty waiting to serve her guests whatever they needed.
Catherine followed the countess up the stairs in one of the towers until they reached the earl and countess’s chambers. The countess did not stop yet, but led her through a doorway and up another flight of stairs until they returned the battlements. Walking along the top of the wall that surrounded the entire keep, Catherine could see the lands around Greystone Castle, almost to the sea in the east. The countess stood at her side, eyes closed, facing into the breezes that buffeted them.
“If I could spend my days here in the wind, I would, dear Catherine.”
“Aye, my lady. ’Tis much more pleasant than the heat of the bailey.” Catherine remembered hearing some gossip about the amount of time the earl and his countess spent high up on these walkways, and she could feel a heated blush climb onto her cheeks. It was even rumored, if one wasted time listening to that kind of talk, that the child carried by the countess had been conceived here one stormy spring night.
“They can be cruel, Catherine. I urge you not to take their words to heart.”
“Aye, my lady.” What else could she say?
“Geoffrey should arrive by this evening. He will enjoy seeing you, as he always does.”
“And I him, my lady.”
Lady Harbridge gave her the strangest look and then patted her hand. “You may seek out whatever diversions you’d like this day, Catherine. I am truly headed for my chambers now.”
“As you wish, my lady.”
Catherine was still trying to figure out the meaning of her glance when Lady Harbridge added, “This babe makes me hungry and tired, and I battle between both feelings now. Could you seek out Alyce and have her send food and drink to me?” At Catherine’s nod, the countess continued. “It will be an arduous task to suffer the company of these empty-headed ninnies and their mothers over this next week, so get some rest to prepare yourself.”
She laughed with the countess at her words. They were her exact thoughts about this group of visitors. Catherine curtsied and turned to leave. The countess spoke once more.
“Geoffrey will be pleased to see you here.”
Geoffrey will be pleased to see you here.
The words swirled around inside her head as she sat in the cool stillness of the stone chapel. This was her one place of safe haven within Greystone. Not many of its inhabitants were spiritual in nature, so most times she had the quiet church to herself. Even old Father Elwood was absent now.
Wrapping her shawl tighter around her shoulders, Catherine paced the back of the chamber. Although marriage was never part of her accepted future life, she knew that it was a must for Geoffrey. Between the two Dumont brothers, they had much land and many titles to protect, both here in England and back in Poitou and Anjou.
She knew the French king was constantly testing the borders of his lands and that of the Plantagenets, and the Dumont lands sat between. Only an established marriage and an heir would serve to settle some of the tension. The current earl had supplied both, as was appropriate, but most did not know that Geoffrey stood as heir to all the earl’s Continental possessions and titles.
Catherine had discovered much about the Dumonts’ unusual arrangements with King Richard while here at Greystone and back at the convent. A second son did not expect to inherit family estates and titles, but Geoffrey would. Upon marriage—a marriage that required the consent of his brother— Geoffrey would take over control of Château d’Azure and all the Dumont holdings surrounding it. And he would be invested as the Comte de Langier.
If these “empty-headed ninnies,” as the countess called them, had knowledge of his true worth, they would have been after him long ago. But the earl kept these arrangements quiet even as he’d kept Geoffrey under control. Until now. Catherine longed to speak with Geoffrey to discover what had changed to make marriage now necessary.
Geoffrey. Her best friend. And now soon to be married. She had not laid eyes on him in almost a year, although his letters kept her entertained and informed of his progress in overseeing the workings of the many Dumont estates. When she’d last seen him he’d been maturing at an alarming rate, and Catherine could only imagine how handsome and tall he would be now.
She sighed as she struggled to accept what was to come. Her heart was heavy with the knowledge that this would be the last time she saw him. For once the question of his marriage was settled, she would begin preparation to take her vows.
