A Knight for the Defiant Lady
Yazar
Carol Townend
Okur
16,6K
Bölüm
18
Chapter One
Lady Allisende lifted the latch and went into the solar. Her mouth was dry with nerves. A shiver ran through her as she braced herself for what was likely to be the most challenging conversation of her life.
Supper had ended and her father and stepmother had retired from the great hall. As was their habit, they were sitting on a cushioned settle. Since it was high summer, the hearth in front of them was empty.
Her father, Lord Michel Galard, Count of Arles, was a formidable-looking man in a lightweight green surcoat embroidered with gold thread. His hair and beard were streaked with grey. Next to him, Allis’s diminutive stepmother, Lady Sybille, looked tiny.
Lady Sybille’s forehead was creased with worry lines. Briefly, Allis closed her eyes. It was horrible knowing that she was responsible for her stepmother’s anxiety. Indeed, she felt so guilty about it that she was amazed when her father gave her a welcoming smile.
‘We were just talking about you.’ Her father’s signet ring flashed as he waved her in. ‘Sybille tells me you have taken her in dislike. Tell her it is not so.’
Allis was certainly unhappy, but Lady Sybille was a dear, she couldn’t be blamed for Allis’s woes. Allis crossed to Sybille and took her hand. ‘My lady, I could not wish for a better stepmother. All our hearts are in your keeping.’
Sybille searched Allis’s face and the lines on her brow eased.
‘There, Sybille,’ Lord Michel said, stroking his beard. ‘I said you were mistaken.’
Releasing her stepmother, Allis went to the settle opposite and tried to find the right words. Her father was the most stubborn of men and even though she had reassured Sybille, Allis was expecting anger. This was her last chance to get him to understand. She could not marry Claude. Swallowing, she opened her mouth only for Sybille to beat her to it.
‘Allis, dear, I was under the impression that we had agreed to discuss which gown you’ll be wearing on your wedding day. I’d like you to have a posy and I need to know which flowers will match it. Yet when I came to join you in your bedchamber, you were not to be found. And then there’s the wedding feast. The hall is at its best with flowers on the tables and we only have a few days to make the final arrangements.’
Allis grimaced. ‘Sybille, I am sorry if you don’t understand, but I’ve been speaking very plainly. I will not marry Claude. It’s not my fault that no one is listening.’
Sybille closed her eyes and let out a faint moan.
‘By the Rood, Allis, not this again.’ Her father scowled. ‘You are the most stubborn young woman. Always harping on the same note.’
‘If I must, Papa, I will repeat myself until the message gets through.’ Allis stiffened her spine. ‘The wedding cannot take place.’
Sir Claude Vaucluse of Carpentras was her father’s godson. Carpentras was roughly forty miles away and despite the distance between Carpentras and Castle Galard, her father regularly invited Claude to stay at Galard. Allis held in a sigh. Papa was the least subtle man on earth. Long ago, she had realised that her father issued these invitations in the hope that Claude and Allis would grow fond of each other. Well, Allis liked Claude well enough, but she could never marry him. Never. The fact that he was the son of Lord Robert Vaucluse, Count of Carpentras and her father’s close friend, was irrelevant. Claude was not for Allis.
‘Be reasonable, Allis.’ Her father’s nostrils flared. ‘It is too late to back out. The match was agreed years ago.’
‘I never agreed to it.’
Lord Michel clenched his fist. ‘You are impertinent, Daughter.’
‘Papa, I am truly sorry to cross you. I would love to marry according to your wishes, but I can’t.’ Allis took a sustaining breath. ‘I will not marry Claude. I’ve been telling you for months.’
That was no lie. Allis had told her father as much many, many times. The last time had been the previous evening.
Lord Michel regarded her through eyes turned to slits. ‘That is your final word?’
Throat tight, for Allis loved her father and hated disappointing him, she nodded. ‘I refuse to marry him.’
Lord Michel rose from the settle and came to stand over her. Or rather, he towered. He was a tall man. Allis had inherited her height from him. And, she thought ruefully, her stubborn temperament. Her fair hair and blue eyes she had from her mother. When his gaze shifted to a glass lamp on the side table, he looked as though he was miles away. She ached to reach him. What was he thinking?
‘Please, Papa, tell me you understand.’
‘I understand.’
That distant look had not gone, and Allis felt a pang of doubt. Sometimes, her father looked so sad. Was he thinking of her mother? She knew he loved Sybille, but Sybille was his second wife, and everyone knew that the Count of Arles had been devastated when his first wife had died after Bernadette’s birth. That had been seventeen years ago. Since then, Allis had been told many times that she bore a strong resemblance to her mother.
‘Papa?’
A large hand came out to touch her cheek. ‘Allis,’ he said quietly. ‘Dear Allis. Be assured that I hear you. I shall take your views into account.’
‘You’ll write to Lord Robert?’
‘Certainly.’
Delighted by this unexpected capitulation, Allis sprang to her feet. ‘Thank you, Papa! Thank you.’
Her father gave her a tired, abstracted smile. ‘Goodnight, my dear. May the angels guard your sleep.’
May the angels guard your sleep. From as far back as Allis could remember, that had been her father’s night-time blessing.
‘Goodnight, Papa. May the angels guard you too.’
Giving him a last searching glance, for he really did look weary, Allis gave Sybille a quick curtsy and left the solar.
Several days later, Allis stood on the castle steps with her maid and stared in disbelief at the grand cavalcade—it looked more like an army—snaking over the drawbridge and into the castle bailey. Knights’ pennons fluttered. Hoofs clattered. Harness clinked.
Her gaze went straight to the banner in the centre and her heart dropped like a stone. It was the banner of Lord Robert Vaucluse, Count of Carpentras.
How could this be? Thoroughly bewildered, Allis put her hand to her forehead. She was beginning to doubt her own memory. Father had agreed to write to Lord Robert. He’d promised to explain that she could not marry Claude. Had the letter not arrived?
It was well known that Lord Robert had long wished to unite their two families. Had he decided to ignore Papa’s letter? Was he trying to shame her into marrying his son? If so, Lord Robert would soon discover that Allis would not be shamed into anything.
The procession was winding in past the gatehouse. It looked exactly like a wedding procession, and that was because it was a wedding procession.
‘Unbelievable,’ she muttered. ‘Unbelievable!’
As her mind worked, her anger built. Her first reaction had to be wrong. This might not be Lord Robert’s doing. She had known him for years and she doubted very much he would insist the wedding took place if her father had made it plain that he had changed his mind about the marriage alliance. Her father on the other hand...
She turned to her maid and spoke through gritted teeth. ‘Estelle, did you know this was going to happen today?’
Estelle looked away, which told its own story. ‘Lord Michel is set on this match, my lady.’
Allis clenched her fists and swore under her breath. ‘I’ll kill him,’ she muttered. ‘This time I will actually kill him.’
She stormed back into the keep, so angry that she was through the great hall and up the winding stairs in no time. When she reached the landing outside the solar, she paused, reaching for calm. Behind her, Estelle was muttering and moaning as she rounded the last turn of the stairs.
‘My lady, please be sensible. You cannot fight your father. Remember he loves you. He’s doing this for your own good.’
No, he’s not, Allis thought. Outrage burned in every vein. Her father was doing this because he and Lord Robert had made an absurd agreement when Claude was born. And her wishes were completely irrelevant. Her father had pretended to listen to her—and now this. It felt like betrayal. It was betrayal.
She snatched at the latch and shoved back the door. Her father and his Countess were peering through the window overlooking the bailey, watching the procession. As the door thumped against the wall, her father turned. With a smile, he beckoned Allis forward.
‘Come and look. This is in your honour.’
Allis seethed. Typical. Papa was acting as though he had never made that promise to take her views into account. That conversation, and the dozens that had preceded it, might never have happened. Truly, he was the most pig-headed man in creation.
Sybille was biting her lip—she knew that Allis was beyond angry. Sybille was waiting for Allis to explode.
Sybille gave an almost imperceptible headshake and something extraordinary happened. Allis’s anger didn’t leave her, but she understood, very clearly, that the best way to get her message across was to speak calmly. Sybille often employed this tactic with her father, and it often met with success. It wasn’t infallible, but it was worth a try.
Calm, Allis. Calm.
She moved to the window and began counting to ten. By the time she’d got to four, she’d spotted her so-called betrothed in the chaos below. Claude was mounted on a vividly caparisoned horse that he seemed to be having difficulty controlling. Claude had a tendency to favour horses he couldn’t control. If Allis hadn’t felt so desperate, she might have smiled.
Calm, Allis.
She gestured at the cavalcade milling about in the bailey. ‘This is in my honour? Papa, I don’t understand. When we spoke the other night, you said that you would take my wishes into account.’
Her father took her hand and enfolded it in his.
‘So I did. I still do. Allis, be realistic. Tomorrow is your wedding day. It’s been planned for months. I could hardly put a stop to it at this late stage.’
Swallowing, Allis took a sustaining breath. ‘You said you’d write to Lord Robert.’
‘I wrote to confirm the date.’
‘You deceived me! You allowed me to think you respected my wishes. I thought you were writing to put an end to the betrothal.’
‘I am sorry if you put that interpretation on my words. As you are aware, it is a daughter’s duty to obey her father.’
Allis felt as though the walls of the solar were closing in on her. ‘Papa, you do know that Claude doesn’t want to marry me any more than I want to marry him?’
Her father drew himself to his full height and his face seemed to freeze. Allis had seen that look many times before. She was looking at Lord Michel Galard, Count of Arles, an illustrious descendent of Merovingian kings. Her father had vanished.
‘Papa, please—’
‘Enough! Allisende, you and my godson will marry. Tomorrow.’
Allis’s heart started jumping about in her breast. ‘Papa, I can’t.’ She backed away, shaking her head. ‘I will not. Papa, I am sorry if this causes the family embarrassment, but I have made it plain. This marriage cannot take place.’
Her father’s face reddened. Veins bulged at his temple. He stalked to a side table and reached for the hand bell.
‘Daughter, you are overwrought.’
‘I am not overwrought. All things considered, I am extremely calm.’
The Count—Allis could see little of her father in him now—rang the bell. ‘I am giving you one last chance,’ he said coldly. ‘Will you greet the wedding guests tonight?’
‘No, my lord, I will not.’
Footsteps in the stairwell announced the arrival of Sir Hugo Albret, one of the household knights. Allis released a quiet sigh of relief. Hugo had been fostered at Galard, and he and Allis had played together as children. Hugo was an ally, the brother she had never had. As was Claude. Of the two of them Allis felt closer to Hugo, their friendship was strong as steel.
‘You rang, my lord?’
‘Sir, Lady Allisende is feeling unwell. She will not be greeting her guests tonight.’
‘I am sorry to hear it, my lord.’
‘No need to look stricken, Hugo, it’s merely wedding nerves. Be so good as to escort my daughter to her bedchamber and ensure she stays there. She must look her best tomorrow.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘And Hugo?’
‘My lord?’
‘Make certain the kitchen understands my daughter is feeling queasy. She is to have bread and water tonight, nothing more.’
Allis hung on to her temper as she, Estelle and Hugo traipsed up to her bedchamber. She remained calm even when Hugo looked apologetically at her and produced a key.
‘My lady, do you recognise this?’ he asked.
Her jaw tightened. ‘It’s the key to my bedchamber.’
The key hadn’t been used since Allis had been a young girl. After her mother, Lady Genevieve, had died, Lord Michel had often confined his eldest daughter to her bedchamber as a means of disciplining her. Happily for Allis, these periods of confinement never lasted—she was invariably released the next day.
The bread and water penance was another of her father’s favourites, and that didn’t worry her either. Allis had learned her way around that one years ago. Judging by the sympathy in Hugo’s eyes, it wasn’t going to present a problem today either. Hugo was her most loyal friend. They hadn’t just been playmates. Allis had kissed him once behind the stables. It had been a first kiss for both of them and it had been short and sweet and rather clumsy. Afterwards they had agreed that it had felt all wrong.
‘My lady, will you give me your word not to set foot outside this chamber until I get back?’
‘I will.’
Formalities dispensed with, Hugo shoved the key into his purse. ‘Very well. Allis, I ought to convey your father’s instructions to the kitchens. Is there anything you require?’
Allis hesitated. Thoughts were flying through her head at dizzying speed, chief among them the understanding that her father wasn’t going to change his mind. Unless she took drastic action, tomorrow would be her wedding day. And her wedding night. And since that wasn’t going to happen things were about to get ugly. Extremely ugly.
‘Bless you, Hugo. Before you go to the kitchens, I’d like you to find my sister and ask her to come to my bedchamber straight away. I suspect you’ll find her in the chapel.’
Hugo nodded, his small smile telling her that he had anticipated her asking for Bernadette. ‘Anything else?’
Allis glanced at Estelle. ‘We’ll need bread for four.’
Hugo’s eyebrows lifted. His smile wavered. ‘Four? What are you planning?’
‘I am hoping that you two will agree to help. In truth, I am pleading for support.’ When Hugo and Estelle murmured a somewhat reluctant agreement, Allis continued. ‘We’ll have some of that lamb we had last eve and a flask of ale. Wine, if you like. Cheese and fruit too. We won’t want to ride if we’re hungry.’
‘Ride?’ Hugo frowned and took a step closer. ‘Wherever you go, Lord Michel will find you.’
‘No, he won’t. I’ve thought of the perfect place.’
‘Allis, your father has allies everywhere. Nowhere is beyond his reach. Besides, I cannot permit you to put yourself at risk.’
Impatience had Allis gritting her teeth. Hugo was a dear man, but sometimes he irritated her beyond belief. ‘Hugo, it isn’t up to you. If I stay, I will be forced to marry Claude.’
‘Aye, but Claude would never hurt you.’ Hugo jerked his head towards the window slit. ‘Out there, beyond your father’s protection, you could come to real harm.’
Allis smiled. ‘Not where I’m going.’
‘And where might that be?’
‘Avignon. Saint Claire’s Convent.’
Hugo stared.
‘No, my lady, that won’t do,’ Estelle said, shaking her head. ‘You’ll hate being in a convent, particularly Saint Claire’s. It’s fearfully strict. The nuns are like prisoners, they are hardly ever allowed out. Personal possessions are forbidden, and their vows mean they must embrace poverty, remain chaste and be obedient.’
‘Obedient?’ Hugo let out a huff of laughter and gave Allis a look. ‘You’ll have trouble with that one.’
‘No, I won’t. As a guest I shall be exempt from their Rule.’
Estelle’s eyes were huge with anxiety. ‘My lady, the nuns in Saint Claire’s don’t encourage guests.’
‘They will if that guest is accompanying a young lady who has her heart set on becoming a nun. Bernadette is just such a lady and, if she decides to stay, her dowry would soon follow. We will be welcomed with open arms.’
A silence fell. When it was broken by the tolling of the chapel bell, Allis could scarcely believe her luck. What perfect timing. ‘That will be Bernadette,’ she said coolly. ‘Ringing the bell for Vespers, as she does every night.’
Hugo and Estelle exchanged glances and Allis’s spirits lifted. Everyone in the castle knew that all her sister had ever wanted to do was to become a nun. Hugo and Estelle would probably agree to help her, because of Bernadette.
Hugo cleared his throat. ‘Allis, if you insist on going to Saint Claire’s, I can ensure you arrive there safely. But you mustn’t delude yourself, you’ll loathe it. You? In a convent?’
‘That is irrelevant, Bernadette’s been asking Papa if she can test out her calling for years. She will love it there.’ Allis faltered, gripped by a moment of uncertainty. ‘At least I think she will. With luck, she’ll soon find the life of a nun is not for her. We can return home when Papa accepts that I won’t marry Claude.’ She looked pleadingly at Hugo. ‘I’ll crawl to Saint Claire’s on my hand and knees if I have to, though for Bernadette’s sake I would prefer to have your escort. You will escort us, won’t you? If you don’t, we shall go without you.’
Hugo’s eyes begged for understanding. ‘Allis, this isn’t an easy decision. It’s one thing to arrange for food and drink to be brought to your bedchamber, and quite another to deliberately go against your father’s wishes. I have sworn fealty to Lord Michel. It’s an oath I do not take lightly.’
Allis lowered her gaze. ‘Hugo, I do understand. I feel terrible placing you in this position. If Papa discovers you are involved, he is likely to have you in the stocks. But I don’t know what else to do. I am desperate. If you can’t help, please don’t fret. I’m aware I’m testing our friendship to the limit. Maybe one of the stable boys can accompany us.’
‘A stable boy would be useless as an escort.’
‘Then we shall take two, perhaps three. Hugo, I know you’re fond of Bernadette. This is your chance to help her as well as me. She needs to test her vocation and Papa is very much against it.’
Hugo held up his hand, a resigned expression in his eyes. ‘Very well, I’ll take you to Avignon, but don’t think you’re deluding me about your reasons for storming off. This is as much about your dispute with your father as it is about Bernadette.’
Allis bit her lip. She wasn’t being completely honest, and it wasn’t a pleasant feeling. Hugo was the closest thing she had to a confidant and the urge to tell him all was strong. It must be resisted. No one must know about her fall from grace. ‘Hugo, I beg you to say nothing of our whereabouts to my father. If he gets wind of where we are, he’ll have us out in a trice.’
Hugo studied her for what felt like an eternity. ‘Your secret is safe with me,’ he said. ‘We could leave in an hour, just after sunset. In the meantime, I’ll ask Lady Bernadette to join you and I’ll arrange for the food to be sent up.’
‘Thank you, Hugo, you are a true friend.’
Her true friend left the bedchamber scowling.
‘Estelle? Will you come with us? Do say you will.’
‘My lady, you are forgetting, I cannot ride.’
‘How stupid of me, of course you can’t. Never mind, you are probably right about the convent. It sounds ghastly. You’ll be better off here.’
‘Yes, my lady.’ Estelle brightened. ‘I can help you pack. You don’t have long.’
‘Pack?’ Allis snorted. ‘I shan’t need much, just a couple of drab gowns, so I don’t shock the nuns. First, find a dark gown and then help me with my laces. I need to blend in with the night.’
Estelle rushed into action and her fingers were soon moving swiftly down the laces. ‘Will you take your grey cloak, my lady? It’s rather threadbare.’
‘The grey cloak will be fine, it’s a warm night.’
When Estelle’s fingers stopped moving, Allis turned. ‘Estelle?’
Her maid’s cheeks had gone white. ‘My lady, it’s occurred to me, Lord Michel is bound to ask me where you’ve gone. What shall I say?’
‘You will tell him nothing. You know nothing. Tell Papa that you went to sleep as usual at the foot of my bed and in the morning when you woke, I was gone.’
‘Will Sir Hugo stand by me?’
‘Estelle, it’s not far to Avignon, Hugo should easily be back before sunrise. All you have to do is to wait until morning. You will find Hugo outside that door, exactly as my father instructed. I shall ask him to rouse you late. Papa knows perfectly well that the kitchen feeds me, even when I am put on bread and water. The two of you can say you suspect I put a sleeping draught in your ale.’
‘A sleeping draught?’ Estelle looked doubtfully at her. ‘Will Lord Michel believe it?’
‘Papa knows how angry I am, I’m sure he will. Estelle, whatever happens, it’s vital you say nothing of our whereabouts. Vital.’
‘Very good, my lady.’
Estelle resumed unlacing Allis’s gown and Allis closed her ears to the uncertainty in her handmaid’s voice.
