Chapter Ten

A fter ripping out the stitches she’d placed for the fourth time, Isabel knew her mood could find no peace in needle and thread. Royce had said he’d return by midday to bring her to meet Lady Margaret on the road from Thursby and that time had passed. And another hour and then another. She looked around for something else to do to fill her waiting.

The blankets of her pallet had already been shaken, aired out and now lay folded on the storage chest. Royce’s bowls and cups and jug were back on the shelf in the cupboard. All was in order and there was no sign that she had ever been here.

None.

She’d brought nothing here and took but the clothes on her back with her. This lack of a marking, this lack of presence, bothered her in some way. But, within knowledge of herself, what could she leave behind?

The sound of horses approaching drew her attention and Isabel made her way to the window. ’Twas Royce, riding one horse and leading another. She pulled the door open and walked out to greet him. A fretful feeling passed over her, her heart beating in anticipation and her hands sweating with nervousness. Wiping her palms on her skirts, she tried to put a smile on her face but could not.

The sight of him on the huge stallion took her breath away. He was born to it, she had no doubt. He guided the horse with his knees as he tugged a smaller horse along with them. He reached the clearing and dismounted in one smooth motion.

No matter how he denied it, he was a knight by training and probably more. It was in his bearing; it was in his ease with the horses; it was even in the arrogant smile he wore at times when he was in his element, as now. Yet, he said only he was in the service of Lord Orrick. A man in service could not afford this magnificent horse and its care.

He tied the horses’ reins to a tree and strode over to her. “Did you eat something bad?”

Puzzled, she shook her head.

“Does your leg pain you? Oh, wait…”

Before she could answer, he turned and walked back to the smaller horse. She watched as he loosened a leather satchel and a small wooden stick and brought them to her.

“This is why I am later than I said I would be. Wenda said the crutch was slowing you down and so Corwyn made this instead. Try it.” He held out the stick to her and she traded him the crutch she held under her arm for it. “Wenda said use it in your left hand so you have your right arm to balance with.”

Nodding at his instructions, she grasped it and leaned on it. ’Twas truly much easier to walk with than the crutch. And her leg did not pain her when she used it to support her weight.

“So, ’tis as Wenda said?” He watched her every move.

“Aye, Royce. Much easier.”

“Will you smile now?”

His soft words caught her unaware and she tried to smile.

“’Tis as I thought, you ate something bad.”

She laughed at his silly words and tried to banish the worry from her thoughts. “I admit to some small measure of fear at this moving.”

“Isabel, I would expect that. Try to look upon this as a good thing.” He tilted her chin up and looked at her closely. “Lady Margaret will be there to help you.”

When tears began to gather in her eyes, he turned his face to the sky. “Here now, we will miss her at the appointed place if we do not hurry a bit. She said that all you need is in this bag.”

She followed him back into the cottage and watched as he emptied the bag on the table. A longer shift, a dark brown gown, a leather belt, and some head coverings. Lifting the veil and inspecting it, she realized that her hair had been uncovered all this time. A woman’s hair should be covered at all times. What other rules had she conveniently forgotten or disregarded in her blissful ignorance here?

“Necessity dictated your garb, Isabel. Do not fear that you have shamed yourself in this.” He’d read her thoughts again.

“I should ready myself for the journey. Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Certainement.” He nodded and pulled the door closed.

She exchanged her old gown and shift for the new ones and felt different once she wore them. The material was far superior to the gown she’d worn. This new one was not a servant’s dress. The belt fit around her waist twice and she draped the second loop down lower near her hips. Then she reached up to fix her hair.

With a familiarity of years of doing so, she braided her hair tightly, twisted it and tucked the end inside so that it stayed wound around in a bun. Isabel took the barbette and wrapped it around her chin and fastened it on the top of her head. Then the veil went into place and she felt somehow at ease.

Covered.

Proper.

Protected.

Folding the gown and shift she’d worn, she left them on the table. Isabel walked the few steps over to the door and pulled it open. Taking a deep breath, she crossed into the clearing and waited for Royce to see her. It was a moment or two at most before he turned to look her way.

Had there ever been a moment when he had doubted her noble birth and place within society? Now, faced with a properly garbed lady, he knew what he had known from the moment she first spoke to him upon awakening—she did not belong here in this peasant cottage. Any more than he did.

William walked to her side and extended his arm to her. “Let me help you onto your mount—”

He stopped the words “my lady” just before they escaped. He felt her unease from where she placed her hand on his arm to the way she held herself away from him, careful not to touch anywhere but their arms. Reaching the horse, he did not ask, but only lifted her over it so that no undue weight was put on her leg. She sat as one practiced at riding and arranged her skirts.

“Isabel?” He wondered if her memory had returned as well as her manners.

“Aye.”

She looked down at him and he saw the same fear and sadness, the same Isabel, just dressed in something different. He decided that any reference to her clothes would embarrass her so he simply handed her the reins of her mount and climbed onto his.

“The ride will not be long or strenuous. You must tell me if your leg pains you.”

He watched her face as she gathered the reins into her grasp and then threaded them between and over her fingers. As he’d suspected, putting her into situations that she might have been exposed to in her life brought her past to light. Oh, she might not consciously remember it yet, but it was there for all to see. She nodded and he led the way to the path that would take them toward the road to Thursby.

It took about an hour of riding to reach the place where they would meet Lady Margaret’s party as they returned from Carlisle. William slowed his mount and directed her to a shady spot under some covering where they could not be seen from the approaching road. He lifted a water skin from next to his saddle and held it out to Isabel before taking a drink himself.

His mount sidestepped, moving his leg and hers together. When he would have edged his horse away, she stopped him with a stroke of her hand on his thigh. Her eyes met his and she offered him a smile as well as the soft touch.

“I would thank you for all you have done for me, Royce. Somehow my words do not seem enough for all of your kindnesses.”

He could say nothing in reply for his throat tightened and burned. A simple touch and soft words of thanks from her and a rip began in his core that threatened his very existence. He could not let this happen and yet his hand moved on its own to claim hers. Did his flesh hunger so much for the touch of another?

He covered her hand with his, lifted it from his leg and brought it to his mouth, turning it as he did. Without releasing her gaze, he placed a kiss on the soft inside of her wrist. ’Twas as much of a touch and a taste that he could allow for himself, though his body clearly wanted more. He noticed that she held her breath but she did not pull away or object. Only the sound of horses interrupted the moment.

William remembered himself and the role that had been designated for Isabel. With more regret than he thought possible, he placed her hand on her own lap and guided his mount a few steps aside.

She blinked a few times and then reacted to the impending arrival of Lady Margaret and the others by turning away from him. The loss twisted in his gut, but it was made worse as he watched her steel herself for the meeting.

The group, with two of Orrick’s men-at-arms in the lead and with Richard riding next to Lady Margaret, came around the bend in the road and William touched his horse’s sides to move forward. Hailing them, he raised his arm in greeting and motioned Isabel to move with him.

If he could get through the next few minutes, he could turn her over to Lady Margaret’s attentions and begin to resurrect the life he wanted. He would go back to the routine he set for himself, back to the safety of being solitary. Away from the temptations of life.

Away from her.

Away from the constant wanting her presence had encouraged in him.

He never looked back. She waited and watched his face, but he did not meet her eyes once the others joined them.

The ache and wanting caused by his kiss were strong within her when Lady Margaret arrived. With few words, Royce greeted the traveling party, introduced her to her new hostess and rode off alone. His haste to rid himself of her was unseemly and noticed by those around her.

Isabel didn’t trust herself to say more than was required of her and the rest of the ride to Orrick’s keep was accomplished in silence. After days of anticipation of seeing the village and the keep and meeting those about whom she’d heard so much from Royce and Wenda and the others, her enthusiasm dimmed as she faced them without him.

With little explanation or hesitation, Lady Margaret gave orders to the servants about her care. Prompt and efficient, the servants carried out her instructions and placed Isabel in a small room of her own, delivered trays of food at appropriate intervals and presented her with a young maidservant to see to her other needs. The next days sped by without her even noticing.

On the morning of her fourth day there, she received a summons, or invitation, to join Lady Margaret in her solar. Isabel, now well rested and ready to seek out clues to her previous life, followed her maid down a hall to a corner room in the tower keep.

Upon knocking, the door opened and she stepped into a well-appointed room, complete with a table, four chairs and a hearth that filled half of one wall. Lady Margaret occupied the grandest and most comfortable of the chairs and worked on a large tapestry to her right. Isabel drew nearer, careful not to block the light that streamed in through an impressive window set high in the wall. Lord Orrick was quite wealthy to have such expensive features in his keep. The image that Lady Margaret embroidered was a garden scene, with two lovers seated on a bench.

“Good day, Isabel. Are you well?”

“I am, my lady.” She dipped into a polite curtsy and rose again. Lady Margaret nodded and, with a wave of her hand, dismissed both servants. Once alone, Isabel waited for the true subject to be raised. She was more startled by the manner in which it was raised.

Lady Margaret began speaking to her in the language of the Plantagenets—Norman French! Unsure at first whether she should respond to her question in it, Isabel waited.

“Royce told me of your knowledge of the Norman dialect. Do you know Latin as well?” She had switched into Latin with the question and Isabel understood her.

“’Twould seem that I have learned Latin as well, my lady,” Isabel answered in that tongue. “I can read both and write them fairly well.” She only just remembered those abilities.

“Your use and skills in these bespeaks of education, Isabel. I think that either your family is well-favored with wealth or you were in a convent, perhaps? Or both?” Lady Margaret raised an eyebrow at her question.

“I do not believe my education came from a convent.”

“Pray, be seated and tell me why.” Guided by the lady’s motion to one of the other chairs, Isabel sat down and tried to explain.

“’Tis more of a feeling than certain knowledge, my lady. I do not believe my temperament is suitable for a convent.”

“Many noblewomen retire to the convent after they have completed their duties to family. ’Tis not so uncommon, Isabel.” Lady Margaret shifted in her chair and her eyes became unfocused. “My sister is one such lady.”

“I meant no disrespect, my lady.” Isabel stood, worried that her words had caused an insult.

“None was taken, my dear.” She smiled with a look of true compassion. “Besides, a woman would not be beaten near to death in a convent. No matter how unsuitable her temperament was.”

“Royce thinks it was someone I knew.”

“I know of his suspicions and my lord and I share them. That is why we moved you here rather than leaving you in his cottage.”

Isabel had not spoken of him or heard his name in the four days since she’d arrived here and did not know until this moment how much she missed him. Nay, that was not true. She had not admitted even to herself how much she missed him.

“He is a difficult man to fathom, Isabel. Think you not that his manner was in some way caused by your presence or behavior.”

She must wear her thoughts on her face, for Lady Margaret had spoken them back to her. Isabel decided to take advantage of the lady’s knowledge to find out more about her protector.

“Has he been here for many years, my lady?”

“What makes you think he has not lived here his whole life?”

“You two must be related,” Isabel mumbled under her breath. Realizing that Lady Margaret was listening, she answered louder. “You and he handle questions in the same manner, my lady, with evasion and deflection.”

The lady laughed at her comment and pushed the embroidery frame away. “Isabel, a man’s past is his own business and he will tell what he wants known.”

“And a woman’s past, my lady? Whose concern is that?”

“Everyone’s concern, my dear, whether it ought to be or not. And you were correct, for your temperament would not be suitable for a convent, unless you were in charge.”

Isabel knew not how to respond so she looked at the lady. The twinkle in her eyes and the smile that threatened on her mouth told Isabel all she needed to know. It would take much to anger Lady Margaret.

“’Tis time for you to leave your chamber and mingle with our people. Look about you, see and feel the life of the keep. Surely something will assist you in remembering your life before. Edlyn will be a fine guide to show you around my lord’s keep and village.”

“My lady? I would like to do something in return for your hospitality and care. Is there something to which I can apply myself? Some tasks or errands I can do for you? This idleness does not feel right to me and I would earn my place here.”

Isabel looked at the frame of the tapestry. “The only thing familiar to me is working with threads. Mayhap I could help you on this?” She walked over to it and examined it more closely. The work was skillfully done and the results would be a spectacular image to grace the wall of some hall or room. “Or mayhap not since I doubt my skills are as good as yours in this work.”

“Although my lord’s hospitality is freely given and no payment is expected for it, I would welcome the help for I fear I am beginning to lose interest in this one. Let us plan to sit after dinner for a short while and work on it together. We can review your day and determine if any progress is being made. What think you of this?”

“I am pleased by your invitation, my lady. I can see that I will learn much from you.”

“Eat the evening meal in the hall with us, then, and we shall begin your adventure.”

Lady Margaret stood and nodded. After curtsying, Isabel walked to the door of the solar.

“Please send Jehane in to me,” Lady Margaret requested. “And tell no one of the Norman French we spoke between us.”

Surprised, Isabel could only nod. Leaving the room, she found both maidservants in the hallway and sent Jehane into the solar as requested. Edlyn waited for her instructions.

“Lady Margaret has given me leave to move about the keep and village now. Would you accompany me around the grounds now?”

With a curtsy and a nod and a small bit of encouragement, Edlyn took the lead but set a slow pace through the buildings that were Silloth Keep. Isabel found her commentary to be enlightening about the history of the families of the surrounding areas as this part of England moved back and forth from English to Scottish and back to English control over the last century. Edlyn’s family had served the noble family who held this land for decades.

Not overly picturesque, the square-tower keep provided stout protection for the lord and his family from the weather and from any intruders, as well. With four floors, the top floor housed the family, the great hall took over the third floor, the second held the kitchens, storerooms and some small sleeping chambers, and the lower floor, built partially under the ground, was where the lord’s fighting men were housed. Even more important to the safety and security of those living here was the freshwater well that Edlyn told her lay on that lower level, protected from attack by its very location.

She did not go to the lower floors, but instead relied on Edlyn’s very clear descriptions to familiarize her with them. There would be plenty of time in the next weeks to visit all the places within the keep that the young girl mentioned. And although a visit to the kitchen and storerooms would be acceptable, Isabel knew she would never go where the men were housed.

Growing tired after walking so much, Isabel decided there would be time enough to see the village on the morrow, and the two women made their way back to her chamber to rest. ’Twas as she turned into the hallway outside the solar that she saw him. He stood leaning close to the door of the lady’s room, as though listening to someone inside. Her steps, with the clicking of the wooden stick on the stone floor, drew his attention.

Royce looked at her, stared for a moment and turned back to the person he spoke with at the partially open door. Then without any acknowledgment of her presence, he pulled the door closed and walked away down the corridor.

Although she had no claim to him or his attentions, Royce was the only constant in her unstable life, the only one she knew she could depend on. And he was walking away as though she was nothing, without even acknowledging her, without saying a word. She’d thought the world must be a cruel place, if someone could destroy her life and not be held accountable for it. Now, as she felt her heart break, she knew it was true.