Bliss(19)
Author: Lynsay Sands

"Mayhap I should bathe before I see Lord Templetun," she suggested.

Aunt Nell hesitated briefly, then shook her head while continuing to work on Helen’s hair. "There is no time for that, now. You will have to go as you are and hope he does not notice."

Helen snorted at that possibility, then realized she was scratching one hand with the other and forced herself to stop. She would send for Joan after this meeting, she decided. She would cleanse the stinkweed away and get more salve. Perhaps then she would feel more human.

"There. That is the best we can do for now," Aunt Nell announced, pulling Helen’s hair into a ponytail and tying it back. Once her relative had finished and stepped away, Helen turned and hurried for the door, aware that her aunt was on her heels. They were starting down the stairs before Helen glanced over and saw that her aunt had not removed the chemise from around her face. Grimacing, she gave the bottom of it a tug to remind the woman, shaking her head when Nell paused abruptly to remove it.

"Go ahead," her aunt said. "I shall just return this, then catch up to you."

Helen continued down the stairs. Much to her relief, Lord Templetun was still seated at the trestle table finishing the last of his meal.

He wasn’t the only one, of course. A good half of her subjects had already finished and returned to their work, but that left many still breaking their fast as she started across the great hall. They did not stay long.

As soon as she was spotted, the talk in the room died, each person nudging the person beside them to point out her presence. News of her little problem must have spread, because Helen was barely halfway across the great hall when there was a sudden mass exodus. Rising almost as one, her people left their meals behind and fled as if for their very lives.

Helen thought, a bit irritably, that she had never seen them so eager to get back to their work. Not that her people were sluggards, but they enjoyed the morning meal as much as the next person. Not today, apparently. At least not if they had to suffer her ill wind….

Glancing up with a start at the sudden sound of shuffling feet and hurried whispers, Lord Templetun watched with amazement as the great hall cleared. Helen was halfway across the chamber before he glanced around and spotted her. The man immediately got to his feet, a smile of greeting replacing his confusion.

"Ah, good morn, my lady. I am glad you decided to join me ere I leave. I – " He hesitated, his nose twitching; then his eyes widened incredulously as she drew nearer. When he took a nervous step back, Helen promptly stopped, aware that an embarrassed flush was rising along her throat and spreading across her cheeks.

They were both silent for a moment; then a high-pitched whine sounded behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, Helen spotted Goliath asleep by the fireplace. Ducky had warned her the dog had taken up position there since the little stinkweed incident. Now he whimpered in his sleep, covering his nose with both paws.

Heaving a sigh, she turned back to Templetun. He had a sympathetic expression on his face… for the dog. "My lord?"

Giving a start, the old man turned to her politely, then seemed to hold his breath and take another step backward. Realizing that she had unconsciously advanced again as she spoke, Helen made herself stop and gave the king’s messenger a crooked smile. She meant it to be reassuring, but she suspected it came out as pitiful.

"Uh… I was just breaking my fast," Lord Templetun announced stupidly, using that excuse to move back to the table and take his seat – a good distance from her. Helen hesitated, then moved to the table as well, sitting what she thought would be far enough away to avoid overwhelming him with her stench.

She’d thought wrong, apparently. The man promptly shifted to sit sideways, then perched his elbow on the table and moved his hand before his nose in as nonchalant a manner as possible while he eyed her.

"Er… You appear… Is that a rash?" he asked suddenly, his hand lowering briefly to reveal a concerned expression. After one breath, though, he replaced his hand over his nose.

"Aye." Helen sighed. "I had a bad reaction to something in my bath."

"Your bath?" he asked with surprise, then realized what he had said and grimaced. "I mean, you reacted badly to something you bathed in?" He tried to make his words sound like a legitimate question, but it was a poor save. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised that he found it difficult to believe she had bathed. The facts did not exactly support that assumption.

Deciding it was best to leave the subject alone for now, she cleared her throat and said, "My aunt tells me that you are leaving us today."

"Aye." He seemed to cheer somewhat at that thought. Helen tried not to be insulted.

"Aye, well…" She hesitated, unsure, now that she was talking to him, exactly how to state what she had to say. After a moment of consideration, during which Lord Templetun turned his face to the side to breathe in deeply through his mouth, she decided that the fastest way possible was her best bet. Perhaps he would appreciate her consideration regarding the trauma through which she was putting him, and she would be more sympathetic to her cause.

"I want you to petition an annulment from the king," she blurted.

Lord Templetun stiffened at the request and began to frown. "I do not understand, my lady. Surely you realize that a marriage cannot be annulled once it is consummated."

"Aye. But the wedding wasn’t consummated."

Templetun blinked at her pronouncement, then shook his head. "But I was given the proof. Lord Holden gave me the bed linen."

"He gave you a bed linen," she corrected. "It was not from my bed. And it was not my blood on it."

Helen did not really know what reaction she expected, but it surely wasn’t what she got. Lord Templetun froze up entirely at her claim, his expression tightening, his eyes narrowing to slits that examined her rather icily. She had never really thought of him as intimidating, but for one moment, she had a sudden urge to run away and hide. Instead, she began to babble.

"I am sorry, my lord. But I simply cannot stay married to him. He is – Well, just smell me! He did this to me," she announced with sudden inspiration. "And he caused the rash, too. The other day, he laughed when I fell out of the boat and into the river. He – "

"The river?" Templetun interrupted sharply.

Helen felt herself flush guiltily. "Aye. We… er… He thought a little row about in the river would be nice, and – "

"Lord Holden does not like water. He has not since he was a child." Templetun repeated what she already knew. "I do not see why he would suggest a row about in the river."

"Ah, well… Perhaps it was my idea," she mumbled, peering down at her hands.

Templetun was silent for a moment, then asked, "And this odor you exude? How did he cause that?"

"Hmmm? Um…" She shifted guiltily on the bench, her gaze shooting everywhere but on him. "He…

er… put a lot of different scented oils in the bath with me. Conflicting scented oils."

"On your wedding night?"

Helen’s eyebrows shot up with her surprise. She hadn’t seen Lord Templetun since the wedding night.

The alleged stinkifying by her husband could have occurred anytime since then. "Yes. How did you know?"

He stared at her silently for a moment, then proved he was no fool. "I noticed a faint unpleasant odor when Lord Holden opened the door to shove the linens out on the morning after your wedding. It was this odor ." He waved his hand vaguely to indicate the invisible cloud surrounding him; then his eyes narrowed. "There was also an odor the night before, when we brought him above to place him in your bed. I wondered about it then, and the fact that you were wearing furs under the linen, but the room was chill and everything seemed fine the next morning." He shrugged impatiently, then fixed his eyes upon her.

"The odor in the room the night of the wedding was faint. Still, I am sure it was not this one."

"Oh?" she murmured nervously.

"Why did he pour oils and such in your bath?"

Helen struggled briefly for a viable lie, then sighed and confessed the truth. "I rubbed stinkweed all over myself to dissuade him from consummating the wedding." Seeing the outrage and fury appear on the king’s man’s face, Helen went on the defensive. "I did not want this marriage. I still don’t. I will do anything to get it annulled. I – "

"Enough!" Lord Templetun .stood. "I suggest you find your maid and have her pack a small satchel.

Enough for a day or two, I should think. Then come back down here and be ready to leave."

"Leave?" Helen peered at him in alarm. "Leave for where?"

"For Holden. It is closer to where the king and his men are fighting the earl ofLeicesterand his Flemish mercenaries. I shall leave you there, then go on to fetch Lord Holden back to complete what should have been done on your wedding night. If we leave quickly enough, we may catch him before he joins the battle."

"Oh, but – "

"There will be no buts, my lady," the old man snapped, silencing her. "The king entrusted me with seeing to this, and I will see the deed done – whether you like it or not."

"Damn him!" Helen cursed, pacing her room furiously as her aunt and Ducky looked on sympathetically.

"The stupid, stubborn irritating old man!"

Pausing before one of her chests, she kicked it viciously and began to pace again. "This time, Lord Templetun will not be satisfied until he has seen for himself that the marriage has been consummated. He is leaving me no way to annul this union. I shall be stuck with that… man till death parts us!"

"Perhaps you will be lucky and he will die during this campaign against the earl ofLeicester."

Helen paused and whirled on her aunt at that suggestion. "Do you think so?" she asked with pitiable hope, then just as quickly shook the thought away. "Nay, I should not be so lucky. The man has survived too many battles to hope that this one will do him in. It would seem that God has seen fit to see me firmly married to the bastard."

She paced the room again. "Templetun will force him to bed me this time and nothing will stop it. No smell, no rash – " She paused at that thought to scratch irritably at her arm, and Aunt Nell took the opportunity to interrupt.

"Then perhaps we had best prepare you for that," she suggested calmly, moving forward to take Helen’s arm and urge her to sit on the end of the bed.

Helen gave up on scratching herself to snort with disgust. "If you mean by ‘prepare’ that I should bathe and powder myself for his pleasure, you can forget that! I am not preparing. Let him suffer my smell. The odious man."

"I do not know if that is a smart decision, dear. It might be best if you made yourself as amenable as possible."

"What?" Helen gaped at her aunt. "Do not tell me that you think I should just surrender gracefully?

Because I will not. I will go down fighting. I will – "

"Nothing can be gained by further battle now," Nell interrupted, giving her arm an impatient shake that startled her niece into silence long enough for her to try to explain the situation. "My dear, I have supported you in each of your endeavors to avoid this marriage before now, but it would appear that there simply is no evading it. Templetun will see this marriage consummated. Any further resistance on your part will only see you hurt."

Rising, Helen waved such concerns impatiently away and resumed her pacing. "I am not afraid of Templetun or – "

"I mean physically hurt – by the joining," Nell interrupted again.

Helen stilled at that, uncertainty covering her face. "What?"

Nell opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, her gaze moving helplessly to Ducky. The two exchanged a glance, then the lady’s maid cleared her throat and tried to help. "You know the essentials of joining, my lady. I know her ladyship explained them to you."

"Aye." Helen’s lips twisted in disgust as she recalled the lecture Nell had given her when she had reached marriageable age. It had all sounded vaguely revolting at the time. It didn’t seem much more appealing now despite those exciting kisses she had exchanged with her husband on their wedding night.

She preferred to think that her response to him had been some sort of aberration. A reaction to the stinkweed. Perhaps it had caused some odd effects. "He will stick his poker in my – "

"Yes, well," her aunt cut her off quickly and cleared her throat. "That is true, and usually you see there is some, er… The woman is prepared, and without that preparation, there is horrible pain. There is pain anyway the first time of course, but damage can be done if… she is not prepared."

Helen considered her aunt’s words carefully, then asked slowly, "So if I do not bathe and powder myself for him I could be damaged?"

"Not… No, I – " Nell gave up and turned to Ducky for help.

"She means that if you fight him, if you don’t bathe yourself and make nice, he may not be gentle with you and will not trouble to prepare you," the maid explained.

"He has to prepare me?" Helen squawked.

"He has to…" Nell began, but apparently couldn’t bring herself to say it.

"You remember last summer and the May Day games?" Ducky asked suddenly. Helen and her aunt both turned on her with bewilderment.

"Aye. What of it?" Helen asked at last.

"Do you remember how the blacksmith wrestled the greased pig?"

Helen nodded her head with a smile. "The pig kept slipping free of his arms."

"Well!" Ducky smiled at her brightly. "You’re the blacksmith and Lord Holden’s poker is the pig and if there isn’t any grease, his pig’s likely to pain you when he pokes you."

Both women were silent as they stared at her satisfied expression, then Helen squealed, "What?"

"Oh dear, Ducky. Please do not help any more," Nell hurried to say as the maid frowned and opened her mouth again. Helen’s aunt then rubbed her forehead briefly, then turned to take her niece’s hands in her own. "For all that Ducky’s explanation is flawed, perhaps we can use it. You see, a man prepares a woman with his kisses and touch. It causes the woman to produce some of the – er – grease, as Ducky referred to it, down there." She gestured vaguely to Helen’s lap, then struggled on. "This eases the way for his, er, pig to – "