“I liked you better wearing nothing,” said Nicholas, holding his cup out for a refill. “But I’ll buy you whatever you want once life gets back to normal. Not that having you around will seem normal of course. My family has always been profligate, and I’ve no intention of changing. So spend what you want. I always do. Money and property’s never been a problem, and you bring a fair purse with you too.”
“That’s vulgar,” Emeline mumbled, eyes on her platter.
“Truth – that’s all,” said Nicholas, the smile fading. “Something you seem to have a problem with, madam. As you’ve pointed out, romantic dreams don’t suit me at all. I don’t have the face for it.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said in a hurry, filling his cup again. “But Maman and Papa say that I do speak without – well, never mind what they say. The thing is, I never met anyone until I met Peter. Not men, anyway. I don’t even have any real cousins, except for one in Spain and Papa won’t talk about him because he’s nearly foreign. Our neighbours are just country bumpkins and a few tradesmen who come to the house sometimes, and Papa’s lawyer and his secretary who is rather a silly man, though Avice likes him. Then there’s the local priests and the others in our private chapel and the monastery just a mile away, and sometimes we hear them singing.” She paused, disconcerted by her husband’s glazed expression. “Am I boring you?” she asked faintly.
“I was simply wondering,” remarked Nicholas, “whether all that was a clumsy attempt at an apology, or just an exercise in self-pity?” Since she glared at him and made no answer, he pointed to the wine jug, said, “Help yourself. You probably need it,” and drained his own cup for the third time. “Now,” he continued, “since we both suffer from objectionable fathers, the castle is half in ruins, you have the composure of an affronted flea and the brain of a half-starved sparrow, and now I’m about as useful as a shocked virgin, I intend taking up an offer from my cousin. Adrian is a pompous little prig and probably has even less intelligence than you do, but his suggestion is fairly sensible. So in about six or seven days or as soon as I’m capable of riding, I’ve agreed to take you to Nottingham where they have a reasonably comfortable house with a few spare bedchambers. There I’ll get a decent night’s rest in a comfortable bed, get a doctor who can think of more interesting medications than spreading me with putrid lard while shoving his fleam in my groin, you can get your hands on some more flattering clothes, have your own bedchamber, and enjoy some more congenial company while comparing Peter’s more saintly qualities. Sissy thought she was in love with him too. The female capacity for self-delusion can be quite amazing.”
Emeline sat with her spoon in one hand and her cup in the other, her mouth slightly open, and eventually muttered, “Sissy?”
“Sysabel,” nodded Nicholas. “My cousin. Adrian’s sister. I’ve told you who she is several times before, but no doubt your attention was floating around elsewhere at the time. You were probably busy planning your next escapade into the nearest pile of cinders.” When she still did not answer, he continued, “Of course, there won’t be too many cinders available in Nottingham, except the usual fireplaces. But don’t worry. There’s a nice wide river for you to throw yourself into when you get tired of talking to me. The River Trent, if I remember rightly. It’s waiting, just for you.”
Emeline straightened, put down her spoon with a clatter, and said with dignified menace, “If that is a threat, my lord –”
“Oh, good Lord,” muttered Nicholas. “Why do you insist on seeing threats everywhere? No, I’ve no particular desire to tramp along the damned riverbank in the snow, looking for my wife’s corpse.” He managed to reach the wine jug, and refilled his cup with only slight spillage. “Now,” he said with a renewed smile, “Have some apple codlings. I notice you seem particularly fond of them, and indeed, they’re very good. The kitchens may have burned down, but luckily the cook himself did not.”
Emeline ignored the apple codlings. Besides, she had already eaten six of them. “Since we are invited to visit your cousins, I am clearly pleased to accept, my lord,” she said with the quiet dignity she was carefully practicing. “I trust you will tell me when the journey has been arranged. I merely wish to point out that I have no travelling clothes, nor any other possessions left to take with me. Is it a long way from here to Nottingham, sir? I do have my own little palfrey in your stables, though I cannot be sure Papa will let me keep her. I certainly have no wish to be an – inconvenience.”
Nicholas grinned suddenly. “Too late,” he said. “As for the journey, it’s just a few hours as long as we have no wretched litters or carts to drag along with us. I’ll fix you up with some clothes before we go. There’s a tailor and a couple of seamstresses somewhere in the castle, and there’ll be time enough since I doubt I’ll be able to ride for a few more days. Just make sure you don’t choose some frumpy juvenile nonsense such as you’re wearing now. You can talk to Sissy in the morning and she’ll explain whatever you need to know.” He stretched, winced, drained his cup again, and sighed. “Now I feel I’ve suffered enough, and I need to get to bed before I fall. I assume you won’t want to share my bed, since you’ve a predilection for sleeping in some very odd places. Mind you, this bed is fairly odd too, but there’s nothing I can do about that for the moment. But apart from anything else, you smell of lavender, which I dislike intensely.”
Emma clenched her fists and stood, flinging her napkin onto the little table. “The bath water was scented with lavender, my lord. I didn’t choose it. But my hair is still wet so the perfume remains.”
“I might even put up with the smell if things were different,” said Nicholas. “But they’re not, and I’m not, and you’re not. And while I think of it, I should warn you I’m naked beneath this wretched grease smeared bedrobe, so if you wish to preserve your maidenly modesty, madam, you‘d do well to let me stagger to my bed alone.”
“I most certainly intend to leave you entirely alone,” said his wife. “Indeed, I shall keep as distant as possible until it is time to travel to Nottingham. At which time, I expect you will inform me of your demands, which I shall dutifully obey. In the meantime, my lord, I wish you a good night.”
Chapter Nine
The castle did not feel in any way her home, nor did it welcome her. So Emeline was sad to wave her family goodbye, although she had claimed beforehand that she would be glad to see the back of them. She expected to miss her mother a little perhaps, but was not prepared for the black hole of loneliness that swallowed her thoughts after only a brief absence.
The last two days with her mother and sister had involved a late bustle, materials brought from the town markets and spread for inspection with the tailor and the seamstress awaiting each breath, each exclamation. Avice had said, “You must choose that green satin, and the pale grey velvet. What grand gowns you’ll have. And oh, Emm, that glorious gold damask. Gold embroidered in gold all shot with gold, and the whole gown laced in gold ribbons. Perhaps with a black satin stomacher? You’ll be walking sunshine.” Sighing, “I do so hope Papa finds me a very rich husband one day.”
With her nose buried in the swathes of luxury on offer, Emeline had replied, “Really Avice, that’s exceedingly shallow of you. As St. Francis said, riches are just extraneous interruptions and have no real importance. Clothes can’t make anyone happy.”