Betrayal (Book 2: Time Enough to Love) (2 page)

What on earth could she say? How could she save herself? Mayhap a smaller sin confessed would distract from the larger.

Glaring at Anne, she replied, “Aye, Your Highness. I did have a conversation with a man in my bedchamber last night.
My betrothed
.” She emphasized the words for Anne’s sake. They were all but married—some indiscretion must surely be allowed? And, though Anne had seen her disheveled appearance when she had entered their chamber the night of the banquet, ’twas only damaging evidence, not proof positive of a tryst.

“Sir Geoffrey was summoned home because his brother, Sir Roland, is gravely ill. He came to say goodbye.” Alyse turned back to the princess, recalling to whom she should be speaking. “That was all, Your Highness. And that is why I stayed overlong in chapel this morning, praying for the recovery of Sir Roland.”

Anne, still displeased, said cattily, “You should know better, Alyse. You should be chaperoned whenever in the presence of a man.”

Alyse turned sweetly to the young woman and said, with venom in her voice, “But, Lady Anne, if you were there and awake, you were chaperone to us, were you not?”

The princess intervened. “Ladies, I believe the proprieties were well observed. Sir Geoffrey will shortly be Lady Alyse’s husband and Lady Anne was in the bedchamber. I think perhaps we can find a more pleasant way to spend the rest of the morning.”

They both curtsied to the princess and dutifully replied, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Princess Joanna smiled at them and nodded toward Alyse. “Perhaps we can all add prayers for Sir Roland. I know him as a worthy lord and very gallant in his manner. He is betrothed to Lady Mary Percy, who is my cousin and in my sister’s household. In fact, perhaps we should return to the chapel now, to add our prayers to those of Lady Alyse for Sir Roland and his family.” The ladies curtsied again as Princess Joanna moved past them toward the door, but as she passed Alyse, she paused. “What is that, Lady Alyse?”

Alyse had forgotten the tiny plant she clutched in her hand. Looking down at it, she flushed, grasping it even tighter. “’Tis a sprig of lavender, Highness, sent to me this morning by my lord.”

Joanna raised an eyebrow. “We seem to be in need of more explanation in this matter. Please tell us why and how your betrothed has sent this token.”

Alyse took a deep breath and related the story of her lavender scent, Geoffrey’s knowledge of it, and Sir Thomas’s charge this morning.

Throughout the tale, Anne’s eyes smoldered. The princess’s, however, were kind. “Lady, you have a very pretty courtier for your betrothed. He woos you well, it seems.”

Again, heat rose in Alyse’s cheeks, but she nodded in agreement with the princess. “Aye, Highness. My lord has wooed me with sweet words and kind gestures since our first meeting. And although we have been parted but a short time, I do sorely long for his company again.”

Princess Joanna sighed, a wistful look on her face. “I hope, Lady Alyse, my betrothed may prove to be a like suitor when we come into Spain.”

Alyse’s heart went out to the young girl. “It is my wish for you as well, Highness. I would have your joy in your betrothed exceed mine in Sir Geoffrey twentyfold.”

Joanna smiled gaily at that thought, and the ladies followed her out of the apartment and down the hall to the chapel.

* * * *

With no further word from Geoffrey, the week crept by at the pace of an ancient sinner bound for the gates of Hell. Alyse continued her additional prayers each morning at chapel then attended the princess in her chamber, embroidering a tapestry that would eventually adorn the princess’s chapel wall in Spain.

As she sewed, she fretted at the time they should have had together. The two weeks had been too short, although they had created so many precious memories in that brief time. Their betrothal, their first kiss in the hallway before the chapel, the rose garden, riding in the procession to the joust, their first dance—all played in her mind as she bent to her work. In the privacy of her own bed, however, Alyse allowed herself to remember the night in Geoffrey’s chamber.

“Lady Alyse!” Princess Joanna’s voice finally broke through her reverie. She started up guiltily.

Anne smirked, and Margaret Haversham, the princess’s old nurse, frowned at Alyse’s impertinence.

“Forgive me, Highness.” Alyse made herself small. “I meant no disrespect, but I am distracted.”

“What weighs heavy on your mind, Lady Alyse?”

“I have had no further word from Sir Geoffrey, and I begin to be anxious. We are supposed to be wed in two days’ time. I fear now the wedding must be postponed, for there has been no provision made for it since Geoffrey...Sir Geoffrey left.”

The wedding could not be put off very long. The intricate preparations had already begun for Princess Joanna’s departure for
Spain in early August. It was now slipping into high midsummer. Thinking of the time she had already lost with Geoffrey, Alyse blinked back tears.

Princess Joanna tried to comfort her as best she could. “I will see if any news has come from Longford Manor regarding Sir Roland’s health. I am sure my father would have been informed of a change in his condition. Perhaps by tomorrow there will be good news for you.” Joanna patted her hand in sympathy, and Alyse tried to look hopeful. It was becoming harder and harder to do.

The next morning, as Alyse hurried to the princess’s apartments, she resolved to send word to Thomas Knowlton for news of Geoffrey. She frowned though, for had Thomas any news to share, he surely would have sought her out at once.

She pushed open the door to be greeted by a flurry of activity. Anne, Maurya, and Margaret scurried to count and fold linens and pack them in an enormous, elaborately-decorated chest.

“Welcome, Lady Alyse. So good of you to finally join us.” Anne looked up, her face red with perspiration, as she placed the sheets with care in the bottom of the black leather trunk. “We were wondering when you would grace us with your presence. We are charged with filling this trunk with all the princess’s bed linens by the noon hour, so your help would be appreciated.”

Alyse curtsied sheepishly. “I beg pardon, Anne, but I was at chapel. You know it is my custom these days.” She sped to the trunk and began folding more of the costly embroidered and embellished bed linens. She and Margaret worked to reduce each huge flat sheet, edged with exquisite
Cluny lace, to a small square.

Anne sniffed. “Praying for Sir Roland still?”

“Aye.” Alyse attended to fine pillowcases, tucking and smoothing them into the trunk beside the sheets. “Sir Roland and my lord.”

Anne sent her a sour look. “Well, I certainly pray that whatever Sir Roland is going to do, he gets on with it. Live or die but do something. I am heartily sick of you mooning around because Sir Geoffrey is not here to dance attendance on you.”

Alyse stopped and whirled toward her chamber mate. “That is wicked!” She strode over to the corner of the antechamber where Anne was counting table linens. Boldly, she grabbed Anne’s arm and pulled the slight girl toward her. Her breath came in shallow gasps as the outrage and fear she had tried to keep at bay this week burst forth. “Anne Wythecomb, you are cold and cruel. You are jealous of my lord’s obvious affection for me and cannot stand for anyone to be happy because you are miserable!”

Anne shook her off, facing her down. “Jealous, am I? Do not give yourself such airs! All week long I have listened to your sighs and tears and prayers over Geoffrey Longford.” The scorn in her voice matched that in her face. “I would think you would agree with me and have his
brother do one or the other so
your
precious Geoffrey can come back and we can all have some peace!”

“Ladies! Ladies!” Maurya stepped in to calm them before their unladylike behavior soared completely out of control.

Alyse had a wild vision of herself and Anne thrashing around on the floor, hands in each other’s hair, screaming like banshees. She shuddered. Such behavior would bring down shame on both her and her betrothed.

“Lady Anne, that is quite enough out of you. It certainly has been a trying week for all of us, but especially for Lady Alyse. No wonder she is at her wits’ end, her hearing no word a’tall from Sir Geoffrey.”

“Of course you would take her side, Maurya!” Anne spun around and made for the window seat, ignoring the rest of the ladies.

Alyse burst into tears. Anne’s hateful words had brought all her fears back to mind.

Maurya bustled toward her, placing a comforting arm around her shoulders. “There, there, love. ’Twill be all right soon. Sir Geoffrey will be sending you word any day now, or mayhap come striding in here bold as you please to greet his lady.”

Alyse tried to believe the soothing words, but though she stifled her sobs, her heart remained bleak. “I have tried, Maurya.” She wiped her eyes as she went back to the pile of linens still to be folded. “I have tried to reason out why he has sent me no word, but I can find none.” She turned miserable eyes to her friend. “We were supposed to be married to-to-tomorrow!”

“And you will be married yet, Alyse! It takes little enough to arrange a wedding. As soon as Sir Geoffrey presents himself, we will make all haste to have you wed, and your distress will be but an unpleasant memory.” Maurya patted her back, though her consolation did little to dispel the misery.

“Mayhap he died.” Margaret’s dire assessment, dropped into the middle of an uneasy silence, stunned everyone.

“Sir Geoffrey?” Alyse’s face drained of blood at the thought.

“Nay, child. Sir Roland. If he died, Sir Geoffrey and Lord Longford would be too busy with the funeral and estate arrangements to send word.” Margaret’s matter-of-fact attitude made the scene she painted all the more plausible.

“Margaret, you must not say such things!” Alyse recovered and hastily crossed herself to ward off the horrible thoughts.

From the window seat came a spiteful voice. “But it could very well be true, Alyse.” Anne turned to face the room. “Sir Roland could have died. Or Sir Geoffrey could have fallen ill as well.” Spite ripened into maliciousness. “Indeed, Sir Geoffrey could be dead this minute. You simply do not know.”

“God have mercy!” cried Alyse, sinking to her knees and crossing herself yet again. Anne had given name to the dread she had carried in her heart this long week. She said a hasty prayer for Geoffrey’s health against such a thought. “Speak not so, Anne! Never so.” She sat on the floor, hugging herself as she trembled at the images conjured by the hideous words.

Maurya rushed to assist, snatching up her small fan from the table and fanning Alyse vigorously. “Hold your tongue, you stupid girl, and go fetch some wine for Lady Alyse.” Maurya assisted her to the alcove seat.

Alyse leaned her head against the cool stone. “Oh, Maurya.” She sobbed, tears trickling down her face. “I am so very weary with not knowing how it is with my lord and his brother. To have this waiting over is all I ask. I want to be married!” She continued to sob until Anne reappeared with a slender pitcher.

Both Maurya and Alyse took a cup while Margaret hovered around them, clucking about maids imbibing spirits during the day. But the sweet wine gave Alyse comfort and courage she sorely needed.

She drained the goblet then rose wearily to pack the princess’s trunk again.

Fanning themselves in the now-stifling heat of the room, Anne, Maurya, and Alyse at last sat down, exhausted with their efforts of the morning. Their rest was short-lived, however. The door swung open, admitting Princess Joanna, followed by Thomas Knowlton. The maids scrambled to their feet then dropped into their curtsies.

Alyse’s heart leaped at the sight of Thomas. She rose, trembling, and murmured, “Your Highness,” but looked expectantly at Lord Braeton.

His eyes met hers, distant and cool. Puzzled, she turned her attention to the princess, who was herding her other women toward the door to her bedchamber.

“Lady Maurya, Lady Anne, Margaret,” the princess beckoned them. “Lord Braeton would have a moment with Lady Alyse. Would you attend me, please?” Princess Joanna passed Alyse, caressing her arm as she led the confused women through the door.

At the touch, Alyse sought the princess’s eyes. Fear gripped her heart at the pity she saw there.

“Thomas.” Alyse curtsied quickly then blurted out the fear she had fought almost since Geoffrey had left. “Is my lord well? Have you news for me?” Thanks to Anne and Margaret’s thoughtless comments, she had become convinced Geoffrey had fallen ill with Sir Robert’s ailment and now himself hovered between life and death.

Avoiding her eyes, he answered briefly. “Aye, my lady. When I left him, Geoffrey was well enough.”

While his words relieved her, a shadow still lay on her heart. If Geoffrey was not ill, why had Thomas’s manner changed? What had summoned this aloof stranger? He was withholding something from her.

“And Sir Roland?”

He hesitated, searching her eyes then looking away. He fisted his hands. “Sir Roland is…has…”

Alyse could stand it no longer. She crossed to stand directly before him, laid a cold hand upon his arm, and gripped it. “Tell me.”

That there was something he could not bring himself to tell her filled her with terror. He said Geoffrey was well enough when he left. What about now?