Lady Thief
Page 70
I opened the door.
The chamber were empty.
Relief and rage bubbled up in me. Were this a trick? A game? Had he left for Leaford already? If he suspected or knew where I’d been the night before, God only knew how he’d react.
I called for Mary, and she changed my dress in silence.
Perhaps he were drinking somewhere. Surely that didn’t count against me.
Feeling along the shutter, I took the last knife I’d hidden there and slid it into my bodice.
I stood in the chamber for a long time, adding a log to the fire to stoke it up, shivery fear climbing inside me with every breath that failed to bring him to our chamber.
Something were desperately wrong, and I didn’t know if it were good for me or not.
Time slid by and the sun rose higher. I knew I couldn’t miss Eleanor, but I didn’t dare risk Gisbourne’s wrath. Finally I told Mary to wait for my husband in the chamber and tell him I were attending the queen.
With a shaking sigh, I left the chamber and made for Eleanor’s. It were hard to miss; servants were swarming in lines like ants, carrying out her coffers, her furs, the things she would need in the carriage. She were in the center of it all, her hands poised on a bejeweled cane like it were a weapon.
Which, if needed, I were sure would be formidable in her hands.
Her severe face folded when she saw me, breaking into a smile. “My dear,” she greeted. I saw one of her ladies cut me a glare for the endearment, but Eleanor didn’t care who knew of her like of me. She came to me and hugged me, and one of the women made a sound that sounded much like I had punched her in the belly.
“My lady Eleanor,” I greeted. “Can I attend you in any way?”
“Yes,” she said. She gestured with her cane to a lush fur cloak, and I picked it up from the coffer, draping it carefully on her shoulders. It attached with a long string of sapphires the size of my fist. “Oh,” she said. “That reminds me. I saw this piece and thought of you,” she said, casting about for it.
The lady who served us wine the night before handed her what looked like folded velvet. Eleanor nodded her thanks and slowly peeled back the layers of velvet.
It were the largest moonstone I’d ever seen, surrounded by small emeralds, strung on a long silver chain. It stole my breath. “There’s quite a bit more green in it than your eyes, but I think the comparison stands,” she said. She lifted the chain and slid it easily over my head, and the jewel sank down to sit between my br**sts.
I picked it up, marveling. My mouth were dry. “E-Eleanor,” I stuttered.
She lifted my chin with her knuckles. “Not a word, my dear. It’s quite unbecoming to challenge a gift from a queen.”
Water pricked at my eyes, and I nodded. “Thank you,” I whispered, terrified of crying in front of her.
“You’re welcome. An early Christmas gift.”
I couldn’t care about jewels and finery, but it were her careless generosity what squeezed round my heart. She thought of me. Something reminded her of my eyes. I flung my arms around her, not minding the pain in my hand to do it. “Stay,” I said to her ear. “Please. Stay here.”
“Oh,” she said in my ear, and the noise sounded twisted and caught. “Oh, my girl, I wish I could. I will return. Very soon, as soon as I can. Things in London are … tense. John’s going and I cannot leave him … well, unattended.” She pulled back and pressed my face in her hands. “But you will be welcomed as soon as I convince you to come to London. And we will see each other soon.”
I nodded, gulping fast to keep from pouring out water like a spout. “I will come to London. Soon. I fear I may need your help with something.”
She smiled. “You shall have it.”
She took my hand and I gripped hers in return.
“Come,” she said. “Walk me to my carriage.”
Nodding again, I took her arm, and the servants made way for us to move.
Eleanor’s ladies were flapping orders, their arms flying like bird wings as they said this should go there, that there. Eleanor ignored it all as we walked together to the open carriage door. “You will write to me, of course?”
“If you wish.”
“I do. I like a healthy correspondence.”
We crossed the open courtyard, and I laughed to see Much and John stumbling from the Great Hall, long-eyed with sleep. They must not have made it to the barn at all.
“Your friends?” she asked.
I nodded. “As close as I’ve ever had to brothers.”
Much tripped and John caught him, and Eleanor chuckled. “It seems we are leaving Nottingham in very good hands.”
We were at the coach, and she embraced me once more. “I hope so,” I told her.
“I cannot say I regret your discovery, my dear, but I do wish it had happened in less dramatic fashion.”
I frowned. “Do you? You had plenty of opportunity to tell me, and you never said a word.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Well. I do wish you never found out at all. The secret matters less now that Richard is king, and married, but secrets are often better for staying such.” She smiled. “But now you know. And I’m not upset.”
“Neither am I,” I told her.
“Good. Good-bye, Lady Marian,” she said, her voice tripping a bit. “We shall speak soon.”
She swallowed and gave me a weak, fond smile, and she took her footman’s hand to climb into the carriage.
The chamber were empty.
Relief and rage bubbled up in me. Were this a trick? A game? Had he left for Leaford already? If he suspected or knew where I’d been the night before, God only knew how he’d react.
I called for Mary, and she changed my dress in silence.
Perhaps he were drinking somewhere. Surely that didn’t count against me.
Feeling along the shutter, I took the last knife I’d hidden there and slid it into my bodice.
I stood in the chamber for a long time, adding a log to the fire to stoke it up, shivery fear climbing inside me with every breath that failed to bring him to our chamber.
Something were desperately wrong, and I didn’t know if it were good for me or not.
Time slid by and the sun rose higher. I knew I couldn’t miss Eleanor, but I didn’t dare risk Gisbourne’s wrath. Finally I told Mary to wait for my husband in the chamber and tell him I were attending the queen.
With a shaking sigh, I left the chamber and made for Eleanor’s. It were hard to miss; servants were swarming in lines like ants, carrying out her coffers, her furs, the things she would need in the carriage. She were in the center of it all, her hands poised on a bejeweled cane like it were a weapon.
Which, if needed, I were sure would be formidable in her hands.
Her severe face folded when she saw me, breaking into a smile. “My dear,” she greeted. I saw one of her ladies cut me a glare for the endearment, but Eleanor didn’t care who knew of her like of me. She came to me and hugged me, and one of the women made a sound that sounded much like I had punched her in the belly.
“My lady Eleanor,” I greeted. “Can I attend you in any way?”
“Yes,” she said. She gestured with her cane to a lush fur cloak, and I picked it up from the coffer, draping it carefully on her shoulders. It attached with a long string of sapphires the size of my fist. “Oh,” she said. “That reminds me. I saw this piece and thought of you,” she said, casting about for it.
The lady who served us wine the night before handed her what looked like folded velvet. Eleanor nodded her thanks and slowly peeled back the layers of velvet.
It were the largest moonstone I’d ever seen, surrounded by small emeralds, strung on a long silver chain. It stole my breath. “There’s quite a bit more green in it than your eyes, but I think the comparison stands,” she said. She lifted the chain and slid it easily over my head, and the jewel sank down to sit between my br**sts.
I picked it up, marveling. My mouth were dry. “E-Eleanor,” I stuttered.
She lifted my chin with her knuckles. “Not a word, my dear. It’s quite unbecoming to challenge a gift from a queen.”
Water pricked at my eyes, and I nodded. “Thank you,” I whispered, terrified of crying in front of her.
“You’re welcome. An early Christmas gift.”
I couldn’t care about jewels and finery, but it were her careless generosity what squeezed round my heart. She thought of me. Something reminded her of my eyes. I flung my arms around her, not minding the pain in my hand to do it. “Stay,” I said to her ear. “Please. Stay here.”
“Oh,” she said in my ear, and the noise sounded twisted and caught. “Oh, my girl, I wish I could. I will return. Very soon, as soon as I can. Things in London are … tense. John’s going and I cannot leave him … well, unattended.” She pulled back and pressed my face in her hands. “But you will be welcomed as soon as I convince you to come to London. And we will see each other soon.”
I nodded, gulping fast to keep from pouring out water like a spout. “I will come to London. Soon. I fear I may need your help with something.”
She smiled. “You shall have it.”
She took my hand and I gripped hers in return.
“Come,” she said. “Walk me to my carriage.”
Nodding again, I took her arm, and the servants made way for us to move.
Eleanor’s ladies were flapping orders, their arms flying like bird wings as they said this should go there, that there. Eleanor ignored it all as we walked together to the open carriage door. “You will write to me, of course?”
“If you wish.”
“I do. I like a healthy correspondence.”
We crossed the open courtyard, and I laughed to see Much and John stumbling from the Great Hall, long-eyed with sleep. They must not have made it to the barn at all.
“Your friends?” she asked.
I nodded. “As close as I’ve ever had to brothers.”
Much tripped and John caught him, and Eleanor chuckled. “It seems we are leaving Nottingham in very good hands.”
We were at the coach, and she embraced me once more. “I hope so,” I told her.
“I cannot say I regret your discovery, my dear, but I do wish it had happened in less dramatic fashion.”
I frowned. “Do you? You had plenty of opportunity to tell me, and you never said a word.”
She lifted a shoulder. “Well. I do wish you never found out at all. The secret matters less now that Richard is king, and married, but secrets are often better for staying such.” She smiled. “But now you know. And I’m not upset.”
“Neither am I,” I told her.
“Good. Good-bye, Lady Marian,” she said, her voice tripping a bit. “We shall speak soon.”
She swallowed and gave me a weak, fond smile, and she took her footman’s hand to climb into the carriage.
