The Pleasure Garden: Sacred Vows\Perfumed Pleasures\Rites of Passions (8 page)

His mother had also noted that Gregory’s betrothed was the daughter of a Gaelic leader of great influence with his people, and so of great value to what alliance he would bring to the crown. Edmund considered that news of Lord DeVerden’s—Gregory’s father’s—recent knighthood by the king may well have played into the union, as England rarely did anything that didn’t also bring them greater political power.

Given what he knew of Gregory, Edmund found it hard to imagine him settling down with one woman. She must be quite special. The thought of marriage seemed so
foreign to Edmund now. Though he still had the desires of any man, he had sacrificed his hope for a wife and family long ago, out of self-preservation. His first year away from home, away from the only woman he would ever give his heart to, had been torture, and yet in some perverse way it was the memory of Cara and their short time together that got him through his darkest hours. Eventually, his dedication to their love turned to a greater love—one that required selflessness. The abbot knew, even as Edmund knew, deep inside, that it was good he should come home to test himself, his priorities.

Edmund took his time walking home. It was a beautiful late winter afternoon, just days before the return of spring…Beltane. The street vendors displayed their wares, and the mingling of familiar scents, of raw fish and baking bread, made Edmund’s mouth water. His heart had a sudden yearning to remain here in the familiar surroundings of his childhood home. But his life had changed, and so, too, had Gregory’s. Edmund was here to make amends so that he could go with his life and give his blessing for Gregory to go on with his own.

Edmund’s family estate was situated near the grounds of the main castle. Compared to the poor villages he’d worked in, it was a palace. He paused at the front door with its austere lion’s head knocker. He reached for it, then, having second thoughts, opened the door and walked in. He was greeted by the sight of his mother standing at the base of the great curved staircase. She wore a stern expression, which explained the scrambling of the servants around her.

“Mother,” he said. He dropped his tattered sack of worldly belongings by the door, dismissing with a wave of his hand a servant who tried to pick it up. Edmund opened
his arms in greeting, but his mother offered nothing more than her cheek for him to kiss.

“You arrived early. How wonderful.” She gave him a stony smile. “You must be hungry.” She motioned to one of the servants. “Prepare something for my son to eat. And bring him some fresh milk and cheese.” She looped her arm through his and escorted him to the front room. “Good heavens, Edmund. You are nothing but skin and bone.”

“Where is Father?” he asked.

She gave him a quick glance. “He is with Lord DeVerden.”

“Just as well. It will give us some time to catch up.” He patted her hand.

“Not until you bathe, Edmund. I’ll not have you at my table. You smell akin to a fish barrel.”

In short order a tub was brought to his room and made ready with hot water. He couldn’t deny the pleasure of sinking into it and lathering himself with the French soap his mother insisted was best for the skin. One of the solemn-faced servants returned twice with fresh hot water.

“Lady Collier has requested that I remind you that your meal awaits and is getting cold, sir.”

Edmund had planned to shave, but decided it was better not to keep his mother waiting any longer. The servant picked up his dusty, brown robe. “You can leave that.”

The man held it between his fingers with a disparaging look. “It won’t take any time at all to place it with the daily wash, sir. We will have it to you fresh by morning, then?”

Edmund knew it was pointless to argue. His mother would steal his clothes away in the dead of night if need
be. “Very well.” He smiled, wondering whether to show up at his mother’s table in the suit God had given him.

“Lady Collier also suggests that you will find extra clothes, preferred for dining, in the wardrobe.”

“She thought of everything,” Edmund mused aloud.

“She always does, sir,” the elderly servant muttered. “Will you require my assistance with your clothing, sir?”

“I’ve been dressing myself for quite some time now, thank you,” Edmund responded. He stood in the tub. “That did feel glorious… What was your name again?” Baths at the monastery were taken in the crystal cold lake.

“Bentley, sir.”

“Ah, Bentley, if you’d be so kind as to hand me that towel and tell my mother I will be down straightaway.”

He nodded once and left Edmund to ponder what clothing choices his mother had provided.

Edmund picked through the wardrobe and settled on a shirt, long breeches and a pair of his old boots, but it felt strange, almost decadent, to be wearing ordinary clothes. He entered the dining hall and found his usual chair ready for him. His mother clapped her hands, summoning a flurry of servants, who lined up one at a time to offer an array of culinary delights on silver platters. Edmund eyed the feast and smiled at his mother. “I could no more eat this much food in a week. At the abbey we have but two meals a day.”

She waived away the servants and eyed him with a tolerant sigh. “What title are you given at this…abbey?” She passed him a basket of bread. “Are you sure you want nothing more?”

Edmund chuckled as he broke off a piece of homemade bread. “I’ll take one of those apples.” He gestured to the
bowl containing the red fruit he suspected was meant for display rather than eating.

His mother rested her hands in her lap. watching him from where she sat but he sensed she might as well have been miles away. She didn’t understand his vows of poverty. Edmund could only hope in time that her disappointment would lessen. “Well, to begin with, Mother, I will always first be your son.”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. From the look on her face, Edmund could see she was preparing to lecture him about his choices, and how they’d caused them insurmountable grief. He’d received such comments in the letters they’d sent in the beginning, when they thought they could change his mind. Still, with such a short time before he must return to the abbey, he did not wish to argue. He stood, taking a sip from the fine goblet before him.

“I’m still your Edmund, Mother. I’ve not yet taken my vows.” His need to see his old friend and make things right between them weighed on his heart. “I think I’ll go visit Gregory. Let him know I’ve arrived, in case he needs my counsel, or perhaps just a willing ear.” Edmund leaned down and kissed his mother’s cheek, finding the chalky taste of her face powder still the same.

She didn’t look at him. He knew that she didn’t approve of his disobedience, but over the years, he’d managed to get past the guilt of his family’s disappointment. Now it was a matter of hoping they would accept him, if not his choices. “I will be back soon, and hopefully, with Father. If I know the two of them, he’ll need an arm to steady himself after partaking of Lord DeVerden’s port.”

“Edmund?”

He paused at the arched entrance and looked back, noticing concern on her face.

“Be careful, Edmund. It has been some time since you and Gregory parted ways and, as I recall, not on cordial terms. Though I have him to thank, I suppose, that you are not rotting in some English jail. Remember that because of his father’s knighthood, he, too, has a position of great influence over our family.”

Edmund knew what she meant was be careful and don’t cause a public spectacle. “Thank you, Mother, for your concern. But I imagine since it was Gregory himself who invited me to this happy occasion, it would indicate that he is willing to place the past where it belongs—in the past. And I wish to do the same. It is better for both of us to do so.” He offered her a short bow and departed for Dublin Castle.

 

Cara had never seen anything so grand. The walls of the castle were as high as the cliffs standing over the sea, and washed with bright colors. Massive paintings hung high and low on the walls, set in exquisitely ornate frames. Upon her arrival she was taken immediately to her room, where she was told she needed to prepare properly before meeting Gregory’s parents. She’d been given a maidservant, who waited dutifully at her side while Cara gawked at the size of her quarters. She was astounded by the opulence and wealth, more of it displayed within these two rooms alone than the entirety of her village back home.

“May I pour your tea, milady?” The young servant girl moved to the table and picked up the fine teapot.

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Cara responded, remembering every manner her mother had taught her.

The young girl ushered her to a seat, snapped open a cloth and lay it over her lap. She handed her a cup and
saucer, folded her hands in front of her and looked at Cara with a no-nonsense look in her eye.

“After tea, you are to rest. Your bath is scheduled at five. You are to be dressed, and then meet Master DeVerden in the formal dining hall promptly at eight.”

Cara cradled the fragile teacup with the care she’d use gathering the hens’ eggs back home. She had much to learn about the new life she was about to marry into. The saving grace to many of her concerns was a promise by Gregory that after they were wed, he would arrange for her whole family to be brought to the castle to live. She was glad to see that the tradition of family ties was as important to him as it was to her.

She had not yet told him about Moyran, but still pondered what her mother had said about him wanting to have his own children. Still, it did her heart good to know that she would have a greater say in offering her daughter a quality upbringing if she was under the same roof.

The maidservant stood silently next to the table, her gaze focused straight ahead. Cara made the mistake of glancing at her over the rim of her cup.

“Yes, milady?” She straightened abruptly.

Cara wondered if the poor girl ever smiled. “I have all I could possibly need. Surely you have other things you must do.”

Puzzled, the young girl shook her head. “No, milady, my duty is to serve you.”

“Then I give you permission to take your leave, as I am about to rest.”

She curtsied. “I will wait outside should you need me.”

Cara began to protest, but stopped herself, not wishing to create any disruptions for the girl. “Thank you,” she
replied, and realized it was going to take her some time to get used to being waited on at every turn.

Once she was alone, she explored her chambers, testing out the luxuriously thick mattress, big enough, she was certain, for five people. Cara plucked at her dusty clothes, wanting to change into one of the lovely gowns that hung in her wardrobe. But she dared not do so before her bath. She lifted back the heavy red drape and looked below at the bustling courtyard full of horses, footmen and peasants, all crisscrossing paths, going about their chores. She leaned her head against the cool window glass. In a few days it would be Beltane—and her wedding day. It had been at Gregory’s insistence, as that was the day he’d first seen her.

Her eye caught sight of a lone man, his stride determined, his face obscured partially by the courtyard shadows. There was something familiar about him, about the unruly wave of his wheat-colored hair hanging to his shoulders.

The air was sucked from her lungs as she studied his purposeful gait. As he paused at the door and looked up, a shaft of afternoon sunlight swept across his face. Her heart stilled.

Edmund.

Cara grabbed the edge of the curtain and moved quickly away from the window. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind launched into a flight of questions. Why would he come back now? A squeak of laughter bubbled from her throat. Why wouldn’t he? Of course he’d been invited to the wedding; that only made sense. But why was he not in his vestment robes? Surely by now he’d have taken the first of his vows. Cara pushed open her chamber door, startling the young servant dozing in a chair outside the room.

“Milady, I will accompany you—wait!” the girl called
after her. But Cara did not slow down. If anything, she quickened her pace, pushed by a nameless force. She hurried down the wide marble steps, being careful not to stumble as she navigated the many stairs. At the bottom, she searched right and left, unsure of which way to turn. The maidservant, out of breath now, appeared at her side, her hand clutching the curved gold rail.

“Which way to the entrance from the courtyard?” Cara asked, taking the girl by the shoulders.

She looked at Cara as though registering her request, then pointed her finger to the left, down a long hall with an arched, vaulted ceiling.

“Take me there,” Cara ordered, hoping the urgency of her request didn’t border on desperate. She took the girl’s arm and fairly dragged her down the hall.

“No, milady, this way.” The girl tugged at Cara, causing her to lose her footing on the slick tile.

“There now, be careful….”

Strong, capable hands caught her and kept her from taking a nasty spill. She looked up, her eyes meeting a familiar pair of gray-green eyes the color of a stormy sea.

“Cara?” Edmund spoke her name in a whisper.

She could not respond. Her tongue would not permit it and her brain had not a rational offering.

“What are you…why are you here?” he asked, and then it didn’t matter why. He smiled, and joy crept into his eyes.

“Ah, finally! Edmund, my dear friend!” Gregory’s voice boomed across the hall. “I had hoped to present the news more formally at dinner this evening, but since you have already been reacquainted, allow me to introduce you to my betrothed. Cara and I are to be married on Beltane. Fitting, would you not agree?”

Edmund’s face fell as his eyes turned to Cara. She saw him swallow hard, recovering from the obvious shock. Gregory had not told him whom he was to marry. Edmund forced a bright smile and bowed, kissing the back of her hand. “My sincere prayers for your complete happiness, milady.”

Gregory brushed by her, grabbing Edmund in a show of brotherly affection. Cara stood by, silently observing the two friends, curious why Gregory would not have mentioned her name. Edmund’s eyes rose to hers over Gregory’s shoulder. A flash of hurt slid across his face before he pulled back and held Gregory at arm’s length, offering a sincere smile. “Congratulations, my friend. I wish you all of God’s richest blessings.”

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