Lady Thief
Page 64
I looked to her. “You knew?”
“I heard of you, after you had left London. I made the necessary inquiries, but no one was sure where you went. Until Gisbourne found you here, and the famous Will Scarlet was discovered to be Lady Marian Leaford.”
“Why didn’t my mother keep me?” I asked quiet.
“I wouldn’t let her,” she admitted. “I wanted you raised a noble, but I couldn’t do it myself. Your mother—Lady Leaford, rather—was a friend.”
My tongue ran over my lips, gone dry. “Where is she? My natural mother?”
“She died,” Eleanor said low. “A few years ago. In childbirth.”
My heart froze in my chest. “I have a-a brother? A sister?”
She shook her head. “No. The child died with her.”
Beats ran through my heart again, but they were heavy and dark.
“Richard does have a son, though.”
“What?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Illegitimate, like yourself. Philip. He lives quite comfortably in France; Richard married him to his ward, Amelia of Cognac. One day, perhaps, you and I can visit him.”
There were so many half promises in her words that I couldn’t much breathe. A brother—France—the faint idea that I might have some kind of friendship with her. My head went light and I gripped her hand.
“Come, my dear,” Eleanor said, waving to a guarded door. They opened the door for us and we entered. She showed me to a chair near the fire and sat beside me. “Lady Leaford and I would like some wine,” she said to one of the ladies that appeared to wait on the queen. They hadn’t followed us from the hall—had they waited in her room? “You look quite pale, Marian.”
“I don’t … I just …” I shook my head, feeling a fool.
“You have royal blood in you, but that has not changed. Your heart is no more noble than it was before. Truly there is nothing to change.”
“I’m …” I couldn’t say the word.
“Royal,” she finished. “Or do you mean a princess? The lovely part of all of this is that now you know, I can finally introduce you to Richard when he returns. He’ll be pleased. He always likes to hear of you—of your welfare. He was quite distressed when you ran off—he accused Lord Leaford of having hurt you.”
“Why did he never make himself known to me?”
“For the same reason I didn’t, my dear. It wasn’t wise.” She waved her hand. “I should like to go to Aquitaine early next year; you shall come with me.”
I pressed my unhurt hand to my heart. Hours ago I would have never thought to leave Nottinghamshire, but if Gisbourne wouldn’t grant me the annulment, I would have to run. There were worse fates than getting to know my grandmother.
Grandmother.
Her eyes flicked down. “My dear, I may have considerable faith in my son, but I also know his faults very well.”
“I do as well,” I answered overquick, holding up my half hand.
She frowned. “Yes. You do. You must know this was not the way he wanted this tournament to end.”
“He wanted Gisbourne as sheriff.”
“He wanted to control one of the largest and most prosperous counties in England. A key point between the north and south. He has lost that. He isn’t pleased. And when he’s displeased, he can be rather … childish.”
“So why does that mean I must go to France?”
She bristled, opening her mouth as the lady returned with wine. She poured a cup for each of us, and Eleanor waved her out. “Aquitaine is not France,” Eleanor said sharp. “Not a bit. Nor is it English. It is Aquitaine. Free from both countries and the richest of all of them. But without you by my side, I don’t know if I can protect you from John’s manipulations, his pettiness. He could hurt you, and I won’t allow it.”
“He’s hurt me,” I said. “But I believe …” I halted, sucking in a breath. “I believe I have more to fear from my husband.”
“Ah,” she said, understanding. She nodded slow. “Well,” she said, “terrible husbands are a difficult problem indeed. But a noble woman must learn her own ways of managing the men that befall her.”
“How?” I asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “It depends on the man, and the crimes he commits against you. But there are ways. If you embrace who you are, my dear, accept the fact that you are, in a fashion, a princess of England—you might find a great many tools at your disposal to soothe his male ego.”
“I won’t soothe any bit of him,” I snapped. “And I won’t leave Nottingham for promise of pain. This is my home.” Were that even true anymore?
“And Aquitaine is mine, yet I had to leave.”
“Hurt is a common thing. Scars, blood, none of it matters in true to me. It’s a pebble beside love, and protecting the people what need it. My place is here, making sure he can’t never hurt the people that can’t protect themselves.” I didn’t have to run, did I? Rob were here. The band were here. I could run from Gisbourne and still do what I were meant—protect the people.
“Marian, you are royal. All of England is yours to protect, especially in your father’s absence.”
I drew myself up straighter. “Then I’ll start with the well-placed, prosperous county between the north and south.”
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Do you love him, my dear?”
“I heard of you, after you had left London. I made the necessary inquiries, but no one was sure where you went. Until Gisbourne found you here, and the famous Will Scarlet was discovered to be Lady Marian Leaford.”
“Why didn’t my mother keep me?” I asked quiet.
“I wouldn’t let her,” she admitted. “I wanted you raised a noble, but I couldn’t do it myself. Your mother—Lady Leaford, rather—was a friend.”
My tongue ran over my lips, gone dry. “Where is she? My natural mother?”
“She died,” Eleanor said low. “A few years ago. In childbirth.”
My heart froze in my chest. “I have a-a brother? A sister?”
She shook her head. “No. The child died with her.”
Beats ran through my heart again, but they were heavy and dark.
“Richard does have a son, though.”
“What?”
She lifted a shoulder. “Illegitimate, like yourself. Philip. He lives quite comfortably in France; Richard married him to his ward, Amelia of Cognac. One day, perhaps, you and I can visit him.”
There were so many half promises in her words that I couldn’t much breathe. A brother—France—the faint idea that I might have some kind of friendship with her. My head went light and I gripped her hand.
“Come, my dear,” Eleanor said, waving to a guarded door. They opened the door for us and we entered. She showed me to a chair near the fire and sat beside me. “Lady Leaford and I would like some wine,” she said to one of the ladies that appeared to wait on the queen. They hadn’t followed us from the hall—had they waited in her room? “You look quite pale, Marian.”
“I don’t … I just …” I shook my head, feeling a fool.
“You have royal blood in you, but that has not changed. Your heart is no more noble than it was before. Truly there is nothing to change.”
“I’m …” I couldn’t say the word.
“Royal,” she finished. “Or do you mean a princess? The lovely part of all of this is that now you know, I can finally introduce you to Richard when he returns. He’ll be pleased. He always likes to hear of you—of your welfare. He was quite distressed when you ran off—he accused Lord Leaford of having hurt you.”
“Why did he never make himself known to me?”
“For the same reason I didn’t, my dear. It wasn’t wise.” She waved her hand. “I should like to go to Aquitaine early next year; you shall come with me.”
I pressed my unhurt hand to my heart. Hours ago I would have never thought to leave Nottinghamshire, but if Gisbourne wouldn’t grant me the annulment, I would have to run. There were worse fates than getting to know my grandmother.
Grandmother.
Her eyes flicked down. “My dear, I may have considerable faith in my son, but I also know his faults very well.”
“I do as well,” I answered overquick, holding up my half hand.
She frowned. “Yes. You do. You must know this was not the way he wanted this tournament to end.”
“He wanted Gisbourne as sheriff.”
“He wanted to control one of the largest and most prosperous counties in England. A key point between the north and south. He has lost that. He isn’t pleased. And when he’s displeased, he can be rather … childish.”
“So why does that mean I must go to France?”
She bristled, opening her mouth as the lady returned with wine. She poured a cup for each of us, and Eleanor waved her out. “Aquitaine is not France,” Eleanor said sharp. “Not a bit. Nor is it English. It is Aquitaine. Free from both countries and the richest of all of them. But without you by my side, I don’t know if I can protect you from John’s manipulations, his pettiness. He could hurt you, and I won’t allow it.”
“He’s hurt me,” I said. “But I believe …” I halted, sucking in a breath. “I believe I have more to fear from my husband.”
“Ah,” she said, understanding. She nodded slow. “Well,” she said, “terrible husbands are a difficult problem indeed. But a noble woman must learn her own ways of managing the men that befall her.”
“How?” I asked.
She lifted a shoulder. “It depends on the man, and the crimes he commits against you. But there are ways. If you embrace who you are, my dear, accept the fact that you are, in a fashion, a princess of England—you might find a great many tools at your disposal to soothe his male ego.”
“I won’t soothe any bit of him,” I snapped. “And I won’t leave Nottingham for promise of pain. This is my home.” Were that even true anymore?
“And Aquitaine is mine, yet I had to leave.”
“Hurt is a common thing. Scars, blood, none of it matters in true to me. It’s a pebble beside love, and protecting the people what need it. My place is here, making sure he can’t never hurt the people that can’t protect themselves.” I didn’t have to run, did I? Rob were here. The band were here. I could run from Gisbourne and still do what I were meant—protect the people.
“Marian, you are royal. All of England is yours to protect, especially in your father’s absence.”
I drew myself up straighter. “Then I’ll start with the well-placed, prosperous county between the north and south.”
She drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Do you love him, my dear?”
