What She Wants(25)
Author: Lynsay Sands

"I see."

Hugh felt wariness creep over him at the displeasure obvious in those two short words. "You see what?"

"That you shall keep the secret from me as well," she said quietly.

"There is no need for you to be upset by – "

" ‘Tis about me, my lord. About who would see me dead and why. Do you not think I have the right to know its contents?"

Hugh hesitated. He would rather she didn’t know the letter’s contents. At least not until he’d read it himself. Perhaps not even then if it would hurt her. But, peering at her face, he had the sneaking suspicion that if he did not allow her to read it now, he could be in for some misery later. She would probably refuse him her bed. That was a woman’s most effective weapon. He winced at the mere thought. Aye, it was effective alright. His body was cringing at the very idea.

Cursing, he tugged the letter from his waist and handed it to her.

Chapter Sixteen

Willa stared down at the letter in her hand, almost afraid to read it. Her gaze slid to her husband. Hugh had moved to stand at the window overlooking the bailey. Lord Wynekyn shifted, drawing her gaze. He seemed both anxious and a touch impatient. She supposed he was wishing he’d read it before giving it to Hugh. They were all anxious to know what it said. But Willa was afraid, too.

Her gaze slid to Baldulf. The man was sitting up in the bed, reclining against furs someone had rolled and set behind him. When her old friend nodded, Willa took her courage in hand, settled on the edge of the bed and opened the scroll. The state of the parchment was somewhat surprising to her. It was obvious someone had opened and read it many times. She doubted if that had been Lord Hillcrest. The person who had hit Baldulf over the head must have read and reread it. There were smudges and water stains, as if some clear liquid had been dropped on it. Tears? she wondered.

"My dearest child, Willa," she read aloud, aware that Hugh was now turning from the window to look at her. She supposed he hadn’t expected her to read aloud, but it seemed only fair. It also seemed more expedient than each of them taking turns reading the letter.

Willa cleared her throat and continued.

"First, I should like to say that I love you. I could not love you more had you been of my own seed. I love you as a daughter, and as such, it breaks my heart to tell you the sad tale to follow. Pray, forgive me for being too much a coward in life to hurt you with the telling. I am hoping that Hugh can somehow soften the blow to come. He is a good man, Willa. I have followed his progress through life. Give him the opportunity and I believe he could be the best of husbands."

Pausing, Willa glanced toward Hugh. His face was expressionless, carved in stern lines. She glanced back at the letter.

"Now, to the sad tale of how you ended up my daughter. Willa, the secret is in your name. I named you Willa because you were, in effect, willed to me. Your mother gave you to me with her dying breath and begged me to keep you safe. I told you that your name was Willa Evelake. Forgive me that lie. I will tell you your proper name later, but first, your mother was Juliana Evelake. She was a beautiful woman. In all ways. You look very like her except for your coloring. Your mother had long chestnut tresses. Your fiery blonde coloring comes from your father.

"Juliana’s parents sent her to my brother’s wife to be trained. My brother, Pelles, and his wife, Margawse, were much in demand for training while at Claymorgan. Pelles was one of the best warriors England has ever produced and Margawse was as accomplished a wife as could be found anywhere. As I say, they were much in demand. I even sent my own son, Thomas, to train with Pelles and this is where Juliana and my son met.

"I do not know all the particulars of their friendship, but I do know that there was nothing in it to shame anyone. Their affection for each other was like that of a brother and sister. They were the dearest of friends for nearly ten years as Thomas trained to be a warrior and Juliana was trained to handle her wifely duties. Then, shortly after her sixteenth birthday, came her wedding day. The match had been arranged for years. Ten years. Her betrothed was Tristan D’Orland, a fierce and much lauded warrior. He was nearly twenty years older than she, and Juliana – Thomas later told me – had feared that she might find him an abhorrent old man. I smile even now at this memory. To the young, someone twenty years older often seems ancient. But Tristan was far from old. At five and thirty, he was in the prime of life, a strong and healthy specimen. He was a handsome, skilled warrior and carried himself with confidence. I believe Juliana fell in love with him the moment she beheld him. ‘Twas a very auspicious beginning. Everyone assumed they would do well together. Everyone but me."

Willa paused to clear her throat, murmuring a thank you when Jollivet rushed to refill Baldulf’s meade from the pitcher Eada had brought up, and handed it to her. She took a sip, then another. Then – aware that everyone was waiting most impatiently – she cleared her throat again and continued.

"You may not believe me when I say that I foresaw trouble ahead, but I did. I was there when Tristan arrived for the wedding. Juliana and Thomas had been walking together in the bailey and I had been seeking my son to ask him something. What ’twas I cannot even recall now, but it matters little. What matters is that I was standing perhaps a dozen feet away when Tristan D’Orland rode into the bailey. His traveling party was large, his banner unfurled and he led his party into the bailey as if charging an enemy. ‘Twas obvious he was eager to claim his bride. He had waited ten years. Everyone paused to stare at the spectacle. Even I. I knew the exact moment when he spotted Juliana. Even from where I stood I could see his eyes light up. He knew her at once, so I can only assume that – though she had claimed never to have seen him – he had seen her over the years. But then a dark cloud of fury obliterated the light in his eyes and I glanced toward Juliana in confusion. ‘Twas then I saw that, in her nervousness, she had clasped Thomas’s hand tightly in her own. ‘Twas a common occurrence, they were very close, but that action was what had put the scowl on the man’s face. I think he would have liked to strike Thomas to the ground right then. But of course he could not. I joined my son and Juliana as he rode to them and dismounted. Juliana, too, must have seen his displeasure, for she was quick to introduce both Thomas and myself and explain that Thomas was her best friend, the brother she had never had. D’Orland seemed to relax then and was pleasant to both my son and myself. But I watched him closely during those few days leading to the wedding and though he hid it well, I could see the jealousy in him. He loathed my son. He wished him gone from Juliana’s side. I feared trouble ahead, and I was right.

"Oh, things went well enough at first. The wedding went without a hitch and Juliana and Tristan were very happy as they left for Orland together. Thomas returned to Claymorgan to earn his knight’s spurs and I returned to Hillcrest, and things trundled along. I had meant to talk to Thomas, to warn him to be careful of his friendship with Juliana, that he might cause her trouble did he not exercise caution. Had I done so, perhaps the tragedy that followed could have been averted. However, I got caught up in arguments and disagreements with my brother, Pelles, over the running of Claymorgan and quite forgot the matter, so Thomas became a frequent visitor to Orland. Then came the trouble.

"I swear to you, dear child, there must have been something in the air that day. I rode to Claymorgan to have yet another argument with Pelles over the running of the estate. This time was not like all the others, however. This time I pushed Pelles too far. The disagreement blew up into a battle that ended with his gathering Margawse and Hugh and riding off in search of fortune as a warrior for hire. He would suffer no more because of my petty jealousy.

"I should like to confess now to Hugh – should he be reading this letter – that Pelles was right. There was no reason for these arguments other than jealousy on my part. I lost my wife to the birthing bed with Thomas and was envious of the comfort and happiness your father had found with his Margawse. He accused me of this at the time. I denied it then, but I confess it now. He was right. The faults I found with his running of Claymorgan were the result of petty jealousy. I drove him away, Hugh. I sent him on the quest that made yourself and your mother so miserable and I am sorry for it."

Willa paused in her reading to peek up at Hugh’s face. He had turned away while she read and all she could see was his stiff back. She wished she could comfort him somehow, but Jollivet was pushing the cup of meade at her again, apparently hoping she would continue. She took a quick drink, handed the meade back and read on.

"Pelles had barely herded Hugh and Margawse out through Claymorgan’s gates when Thomas rode in. I was angry and upset after my argument with Pelles, but it took little more than a glance to see that Thomas was more so. We retired to the great hall and he told me the tale.

"All was not well at D’Orland. I knew Thomas had been visiting Juliana and Tristan there, but I had not known just how frequent and prolonged those visits were. It seemed that Tristan’s nephew, Garrod, was D’Orland’s seneschal. He had befriended Thomas on his first visit and encouraged him to stay longer than he had planned and to return sooner than he would otherwise have dared. Thomas had thought himself and Garrod the best of friends. He had enjoyed his visits, but had begun to notice during the last of them that Juliana seemed a little less happy. She still obviously loved her husband, but she seemed anxious and nervous in Thomas’s presence. They had often walked together, always in the open as was proper, but away from others so that they could speak privately. But Juliana was evading such talks. In fact, she evaded Thomas altogether, talking to him only when her husband or Garrod were present and then with a stiffness that left him bewildered.

" ‘Twas not until he earned his knight’s spurs and visited to share his success that he was able to corner her alone and ask what was wrong. That was when he learned how little a friend Garrod was to either Juliana or him. Garrod had learned of Tristan’s jealousy. Rather than reassure Tristan, he had been exacerbating his fears. All the time that Garrod had been encouraging Thomas to stay longer and visit more often, he had been using those frequent and prolonged visits to needle Tristan, fanning the flames of his jealousy. He was making Juliana’s life hell.

"Thomas left directly after that conversation and returned to Claymorgan. He was wretched over the misery Garrod was causing Juliana, but the only way he could think to aid her was to stay away and allow Tristan’s jealousy to ease. He determined to join King Richard on crusade. The king and his men had assembled with King Philip and his soldiers in Vezelay in July. ‘Twas September now, and the English were outside Messina in Sicily. The news was that they were expected to remain there for a while. King William II of Sicily had promised to provide a fleet for the crusades, but William had died in November and there was some dispute over the succession. Tancred of Lecce had placed Queen Joanna under house arrest and confiscated the treasure meant for the crusade.

"Thomas determined to sail for Sicily in the hope that the rumors were correct. He hoped to meet the crusaders before they set sail. I did not wish him to go, but he was a man now, and a knight. I could not stop him. My hope was that they would leave ere he arrived. As it turned out, luck was with him – or against him, as the case may be. Both the English and the French were forced to winter outside Messina. Thomas wintered there with them.

"The next eight months passed slowly. I had driven away my brother and his family, and my son had gone on crusade. I had found a new seneschal for Claymorgan, but Pelles was impossible to replace. The new man needed constant attention. My seneschal at Hillcrest had been with me for years and did not need as much supervision. I was spending most of my time at Claymorgan. So it was that I was there when the messenger arrived with the news that my Thomas would not return from the crusade. He had not even made it to Acre. They had set sail from Messina April tenth. His ship was one of two that were wrecked off Cyprus.

" ‘Twas a crushing blow for me, Willa. I had loved my son dearly. I sank into a pit of despair. It seemed to me everything had been taken from me at that point. I had lost all. For days I sat staring at nothing, feeling nothing, concerned with nothing. Then one of my men rushed into the great hall, where I had taken to sitting, staring into the fire. He was shouting that a woman was approaching alone on horseback. A lady. This was sufficiently unusual to stir me from my misery long enough to go out to the bailey to see who ’twas. I recognized Juliana. She was heavy with child and in some distress. She was weeping copiously and her first words were to ask where Thomas was. When I said he was dead, she paled a more frightful white, clutched her belly and whispered, ‘Dear God, we are lost.’ Then, she fell limp from her mare.

"I had her moved inside and laid in Thomas’s room. I thought it a mere faint and that she would recover soon enough, but she woke moments later, clutching her belly and screaming. She was in labor and Lord knows how long she had been. She should not have been riding in that state. I knew no woman would choose to do so. I sent for Eada and, the moment Juliana stopped screaming, asked what had happened. She told me the tale between gasping breaths. Thomas’s absence had eased Tristan’s jealousy… until it became obvious that your mother was with child. Tristan had at first been joyful over the news, but then, quite suddenly, his feelings had changed. He had grown morose and angry, his eyes following her with accusation and glaring at her belly with an unnatural loathing. Juliana suspected that Garrod was behind this change as well, but was helpless to understand. All she knew was that her husband was drinking more each day and that her fear was growing in conjunction with it. Then her maid came to her in a panic. As she had feared, Garrod was behind this latest problem. He had pointed out that her getting with child coincided with Thomas’s last visit and hinted that perhaps it wasn’t Tristan’s child at all. The maid said that Garrod encouraged him to drink, then whispered these evil lies in his ear, turning him against his wife as surely as he could. Juliana had felt indignation and rage grow within her at her husband thinking such a thing… Until the maid had asked uncertainly, ‘They are lies, are they not, my lady?’