Chapter 8

Warwick bathed and took special care with his wardrobe. He had often been told that his pride was indelibly etched on his face, and as he glanced into the mirror, he could not deny it. He brushed an invisible speck from his black doublet. I am what I am, nothing more, nothing less.

As the fifth session of Parliament had drawn to a close, the Earl of Surrey had asked Guy de Beauchamp to join him after dinner. Warwick bid Brutus, "Stay!" He locked his door and his long strides soon brought him to John de Warenne's chamber. His mood was high; he was actually looking forward to negotiating for Jory.

The first thing he noticed when he entered the room was that Lynx de Warenne was conspicuously absent. Why is Jory's guardian negotiating without her brother? Do they disagree on terms or do they believe two earls of equal rank will deal better one-on-one?

Guy took a seat, stretching his long legs to the fire. He knew that a worthy negotiator would point out all the disadvantages to the union in order to gain the upper hand.

John sat down opposite him and cleared his throat. "The de Warennes are most honored by your offer for Lady Marjory," Surrey began, "but I hope you'll not object to my being blunt, Warwick."

He's going to bring up the death of my wives. "By all means, Surrey, let us speak plainly. I would have it no other way."

"My niece is an eighteen-year-old maiden, while you are past thirty. In both age and experience you are worlds apart."

"True. I cannot deny either my age or my experience; nor do I intend to."

"You have been married twice before, which would make Lady Marjory the third Countess of Warwick."

Surrey's words set Guy's teeth on edge. "You have a penchant for stating the obvious."

"Forgive me," Surrey said expansively. "All these objections could be overlooked if it were not for one glaring obstacle that can neither be ignored nor changed."

Warwick remained silent. There were numerous obstacles from which Surrey could choose.

"You already have a son, Rickard. Any male issue from a union with Lady Marjory would not be the heir to Warwick."

"Any child of mine, male or female, will be well provided with Warwick castles and land, as will their mother." Christ, that sounded defensive!

"But not the title—not the Earldom of Warwick," Surrey said.

"We are back to the obvious." His voice was like silk and steel. "I have made certain that Lady Marjory is aware of all the disadvantages connected with marriage to me, Lord Surrey. I am content to abide by her wishes."

"I am relieved to hear it, Warwick. Lady Marjory has accepted an offer from the Earl of Hereford's heir, Humphrey de Bohun. The Constable of England's son is close to her own age."

Warwick rose to his feet, towering over Surrey. His black eyes blazed with accusation. "This is your fucking decision, not Jory's!" He knew he should not lose his temper, the temper that was reputed to be blacker than the devil's own, but in that moment Warwick could not control himself.

"You are quite mistaken. Lady Marjory has no desire to cause you pain, but her decision to wed Humphrey de Bohun is final. She asked me to tell you that she has quite made up her mind."

Guy felt stunned, as if a stone wall had fallen on him. These were Jory's own words and no others would have convinced him. A picture of her came to him full blown, tossing her silvery hair. Pride rose up in him. It was the only thing that stopped him from committing an act of savage violence upon John de Warenne.

Warwick masked his emotions instantly. "I shall abide by her wishes." He nodded curtly to Surrey and departed.

He unlocked his chamber door and slammed it shut with a force that broke its iron hinge. He emptied the wardrobe and threw everything into his bags. He clenched his jaw and his fists, lusting for vengeance, wanting to kill. His glance fell on Brutus, who sat quietly, watching him with knowing yellow eyes. Warwick went down on his knees and gathered the wolfhound in his arms. He rubbed his face in the wiry coat and, though his wound remained raw, he felt some of his black fury melt away.

"You know she has saved herself from a fate worse than death," he told Brutus. "The full moon stole my senses and turned me into a lunatic." His wolfhound nodded in agreement. Warwick laughed at his own folly.

He went to the barracks where his men were housed and found his lieutenant casting dice. "Pack up; we are leaving."

"Tonight, my lord? I didn't realize Parliament was over."

"It's over for me. We leave for Warwickshire in an hour."

At long last, Jory received the summons from her uncle John to attend him at Westminster Palace. She was so excited that she changed her outfit three times before she was satisfied with her appearance. She wished to appear mature, dignified, and above all, confident that she would fit the role of Countess of Warwick.

The Earl of Surrey had sent a de Warenne escort to accompany her from Clerkenwell to Westminster, and she rode her new white palfrey with great pride. She arrived in the afternoon, and since her uncle was attending Parliament, she decided to visit with Lynx's wife until the session was over.

"Marjory, you are looking very elegant today."

"Thank you, Sylvia. You know why I'm here, I warrant. It's a momentous occasion for me."

"Indeed. An offer of marriage is very exciting. I remember exactly how I felt when it was my turn."

"Are you enjoying Westminster?"

"Not really. I'm counting the days until Lynx and I can return to Hedingham. I am quite homesick."

Jory searched Sylvia's face. Does she not know that Lynx will be going to France to fight a war?

"I thoroughly enjoyed my stay at Windsor and my visit with Queen Eleanor, and the royal wedding, of course. How is the bride? I hope Joanna finally realizes how fortunate she is to be wed to Gloucester, the highest peer in the realm."

"They seem to get along famously. The age difference is no longer a bone of contention." Jory's mouth curved. "I firmly believe that age has nothing to do with happiness. The best husbands are always a few years older than their wives."

Sylvia called for refreshments, and the two ladies chatted amiably as they sipped their wine and enjoyed a variety of fruit tarts. When they were done, it was time for the daily session of Parliament to be over and Sylvia took Jory to her uncle's chamber. "You must stay with us tonight. I shall order you a trundle bed."

"Thank you. Ah, here comes Uncle John," she said breathlessly.

"Hello, Minx." He gave her an appreciative glance. "You grow lovelier every day."

"It's because I'm happy," she confided.

"Come in, child, and make yourself comfortable. Is there anything I can get you?"

"No, thank you. I had dessert with Sylvia."

John sat down at the table and shuffled some papers on it. "So, my dear, I believe you are quite aware that we have had an offer of marriage for you?"

"Yes. I thought you'd never send for me!"

"Negotiations take time, Mistress Impatience. This is a marriage between two great noble families. All the details have to be laid out clearly before the contract can be signed. I told the earl that I would inform you of the offer, which is just a formality, of course, and assured him I was confident that Lady Marjory would happily assent to the union."

"Most happily! I've quite made up my mind."

"Splendid! You have made a wise decision, my dear. I shall inform the constable without delay, and all that remains is to sign the papers and set a date for the wedding."

"I didn't realize the constable had to be informed."

"It is the Earl of Hereford who has made the offer for you on behalf of his heir, Humphrey de Bohun."

"Oh heavens…I had no idea! I'm afraid you'll have to tell him my answer is no. It is Guy de Beauchamp's offer I wish to accept, Uncle John."

"We have had no offer from the Earl of Warwick, my dear."

Marjory jumped to her feet. "You must be mistaken! Guy has already asked me to marry him, and I accepted his proposal!"

John de Warenne gave his niece a pitying glance. "Are you sure it wasn't a proposition, Jory my dear? A man like Warwick—"

She raised her chin in defiance and could feel the hot blaze of her cheeks. "I assure you that Guy de Beauchamp will be offering for me. Any other offers are out of the question! When you have received the offer, I will be happy to return to Westminster."

Jory knew that if she didn't get some fresh air into her lungs, she would suffocate. She was furious with her guardian and left him sitting at the table with his mouth open. She walked briskly along the facade of the old palace and stopped a liveried servant. "Could you direct me to the Earl of Warwick's chamber, please?"

"Sorry, m'lady, there's scores of nobles here fer Parliament. I don't know which chambers they're assigned to."

Jory next approached a serving woman wearing a smock. "Do you know where the Earl of Warwick is lodged?"

"Sorry, luv. This old palace is like a rabbit warren."

Under the circumstances, Jory knew she could not go back and spend the night with Sylvia and Lynx, so she went to the stables to retrieve Zephyr. One of Surrey's men who had escorted her earlier in the day was in the stables and she asked him if he would see her safely back to Clerkenwell.

On the three-mile-ride home she clung to her anger, knowing instinctively it was the only thing that would keep her tears at bay. When she arrived back at Gloucester's mansion, she thanked her escort, turned Zephyr over to a groom, and then went upstairs.

Eleanor de Leyburn, who was getting ready for bed, dismissed the maid so she could learn all about Jory's exciting summons to Westminster. "You guessed correctly? It was an offer of marriage?"

"I…Yes, I did receive an offer of marriage," Jory replied.

"Did you accept?" Eleanor asked breathlessly.

"No…I…Nothing is settled yet. I'll likely be returning to Westminster in a couple of days." Jory pretended to yawn. "I'm exhausted, Eleanor. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Once Jory was abed and the room lay in darkness, her thoughts flew about like caged birds colliding with each other in a panic to escape. Why did Guy not make a formal offer for me? Perhaps he spoke with Lynx and my uncle doesn't yet know about it? I didn't dream it—Guy did ask me to marry him! Jory twisted the ring on her finger. A ring is a promise. She heard Sylvia's voice: Men's promises are forgotten the moment they are uttered! No, no, he gave me Zephyr as a gift. Surely the white palfrey wasn't a parting gift?

Jory's fear of rejection fed on itself as she remembered the things Joanna had said about Guy: The Wolfhound is a notorious womanizer, Jory. Once he takes your virginity, you'll never see the lecherous swine again. No, no, Guy was too honorable to take my virginity once he knew I was a lady. He lives according to his motto: Not without right!

Jory conjured his image and gazed intently into his purple-black eyes. Please, Guy, please! She saw his fingers touch his lips and then his heart and hope returned. There is a valid explanation why he hasn't yet offered for me. They will call me back to Westminster very soon.

As she drifted to the edge of sleep, she slipped into the vulnerable void between a dream and a nightmare. She heard a voice in the distance laughing: I cannot believe your na?veté. It's Warwick for God's sake!

Jory opened her eyes before dawn and instantly a feeling of dread descended. She dressed quietly without waking Eleanor and went down to the library. She wrote a brief note that was a cry for help. Humphrey de Bohun has offered for me. She put only her initial J beneath the seven words and addressed the envelope to: Guy de Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, Westminster Palace, London.

Jory made her way to the reception hall and waited by the front door. It wasn't long before Gilbert de Clare came into view.

"My lord earl, I know this is presumptuous, but would you kindly do me the service of delivering this to your friend?"

Gilbert read the name on the note. "Lady Marjory, I will gladly deliver your note if Warwick is at the session today. He was absent yesterday." The look of vulnerability on her face prompted him to reassure her. "He'll likely be back today."

She smiled with relief. "Thank you, my lord."

Jory went back upstairs. Her head had begun to ache and she lay down quietly on her bed, determined to ban all thoughts of rejection. She pretended sleep when Eleanor arose and dressed, and she sighed deeply when she heard the chamber door close.

Half an hour later, Eleanor returned. "Jory, thank heaven you are awake. Joanna is asking for you. She doesn't want anyone else." Eleanor lowered her voice. "I think she's ill."

Jory jumped up from the bed, her own plight momentarily forgotten. She encountered Blanche Bedford in the hall outside Joanna's chamber. "She has refused her breakfast. She won't even let me go in there. All she wants is you."

"Thank you, Blanche. I'll find out if anything's wrong."

Joanna was sitting on the edge of her wide bed; a grayish pallor had replaced her usual high color. "Jory, I've been sick." She indicated the chamber pot, now covered with its fancy lid.

"Do you feel ill?" Jory went to the bed and put her hand on Joanna's forehead to see if she was fevered. "You're not hot." The princess enjoyed good health and was never ill. "Perhaps you had something last night that upset your stomach."

"I was sick yesterday morning, too, after Gilbert left," she whispered. "I think it's morning sickness."

"Oh, Joanna, do you think it possible? It's so soon."

Joanna took Jory's hand and clung to it tightly. "What if it isn't…Oh God, what am I saying? Of course it's Gilbert's!"

Jory shivered and her arms became covered with gooseflesh. "Stop, Joanna. You are being fanciful. Stay still until the nausea passes. I'll get rid of this. No one else needs to know."

"Thank you, Jory. What the hell am I going to do without you?"

Joanna continued with her morning sickness and her menstrual flow was late. The two friends concluded that the Countess of Gloucester was indeed with child. The pair of conspirators had an unspoken understanding that the child was Gilbert de Clare's. "I don't want anyone to know until the first month has passed. I hope I can count on you, Jory, to keep my secret."

"My lips are sealed. You alone will decide the time to reveal your wonderful news." Jory took a deep breath. "I have a secret of my own that I don't want to share with anyone but you." She lowered her voice. "Warwick didn't offer for me yet. It was the Constable who made the offer for me on behalf of his son."

"De Bohun?" Joanna's face blanched.

"Yes, they want me to marry Humphrey de Bohun."

Color came back into Joanna's face. "Well, he's certainly a tall, attractive young noble. Most ladies would be ecstatic."

"But he's not Warwick," Jory whispered miserably.

"Dearest Jory, do you really wish to marry a man rumored to have caused the death of, not one, but two wives?"

She answered silently, Yes. I'm hopelessly in love with Guy de Beauchamp, in spite of all the rumors.

"I don't give a fig about his reputation," she defended. "If he offers for me, I shall accept. I've quite made up my mind."

That night when Gilbert de Clare returned from Westminster, he sought a private word with Jory. "Lady Marjory, it seems my friend returned to Warwickshire two days ago. I immediately forwarded your letter by courier along with one of my own. He should receive it by tomorrow."

Jory's mouth went dry. She licked her lips. "Thank you, my lord earl. That was most kind."

Hope refused to die. When Guy learns that Humphrey de Bohun has offered for me, he will contact my guardian immediately.

Two days later when Jory was again summoned to Westminster, her heart lifted with incurable anticipation. She firmly pushed all doubts away, resolutely refusing to acknowledge any uncertainty.

Only when she was face-to-face with her uncle and heard his words, did hope begin to drain away.

"Jory, my dear child, I am afraid you must accept the truth and put away your daydreams. Guy de Beauchamp abandoned Parliament a week ago and returned to Warwickshire. Believe me when I tell you there is no chance that you will become the Countess of Warwick."

The word abandoned echoed in her head. The thought of rejection was too devastating to contemplate. She stared straight ahead, her face a cool mask, determined to display no emotion.

"Marjory, Lynx and I are going to France to fight a war. It is our responsibility to get you safely settled before we depart."

Her heart contracted. I hate being my brother's responsibility.

"Both of us are convinced the match with Humphrey de Bohun is right for you in every way. The Earl of Hereford would be like a father to you, and his son will make an honorable husband. Can I tell them that you accept?"

"No! No. I don't even know Humphrey de Bohun!"

"That can soon be remedied. I'll tell you what—Parliament should be over tomorrow, so why don't you stay at Westminster for a couple of days so you can get to know him better? If you are still adamantly opposed to de Bohun, I'll give him your regrets."

"I don't believe…I need time to think…I'm going back to Clerkenwell." Jory saw the sharp disappointment in his face. "I promise I will consider what you suggest, Uncle John, but please don't be upset if I cannot bring myself to do it."

When Jory got back to the Gloucester mansion, the first person she encountered was Blanche Bedford.

"Marjory, I'm so happy for you. Eleanor told me you had received an offer of marriage. How excited you must be."

"I…I haven't accepted any offer yet. Please don't say anything to the others."

Blanche giggled. "They all know, Jory."

As Jory tried to hurry past the luxurious sitting room on her way to the stairs, Joanna called her name. "Jory, come join us."

She took a deep breath and entered the lovely chamber. She sent a cool look in the direction of Eleanor de Leyburn, thinking she was the one who had told them she had had an offer.

Maud Clifford clapped her hands together with delight. "Congratulations on your coming marriage to Humphrey de Bohun, Marjory. Someday you will be the Countess of Hereford!"

Jory's accusing glance fell on Joanna. She was the only one who knew the offer had come from de Bohun. Damn you, Joanna! You knew that was confidential between the two of us. I would never break your trust, no matter how scandalously you have behaved. Jory quickly protested. "I haven't agreed to the match."

"But you will," Joanna said with emphasis. "Just think how close we will be to each other when I go to Gloucester and you go to Hereford. They are only a few miles apart. We can be wives and mothers together, Jory, when our men go off to war. Becoming part of the constable's family is a high honor, and I know the king will thoroughly approve that the de Warennes and the de Bohuns will be bound by blood."

"Oh, Jory, I envy you so much. The constable's sons are extremely tall and handsome, and fair haired like you." Maude Clifford sighed deeply.

"Indeed they are," drawled Joanna. "Young too. To find fault with such a match would brand you a spoiled, ungrateful wretch."

Jory's heart sank. I realize I am spoiled, as we all are here, but I don't want my brother and my uncle to think me ungrateful.

"Leave us. I'd like a private word with Jory." Joanna waited until her other ladies withdrew. "You're angry with me."

"How could you? You know I love Warwick."

"If they learned such a thing they would think you daft in the head…or worse, they would pity you. You must accept the fact that Warwick didn't offer for you, Jory. I was given no choice. What makes you think your case will be any different?"

Jory swallowed the lump in her throat and lifted her chin.