Within the hour we could see a traveling cloud of dust in the distance, winding up the village lane, past the priory, on the way to Allington Castle. The ground shuddered slightly with the force of the oncoming horses. As I stood, I smoothed my hair and my dress, which earned me a rare nod of approval from Father. Thomas was at court and Edmund upstairs with the tutors, so we three navigated our way down to the great hall in which we would shortly greet our guests.
They arrived preceded by a small clutch of attendants, across the brackish moat, and when the carriage door was opened, two men alighted. One was my father’s old friend Lord Blackston, with whom he had fought Richard the Third many years back. The second was his nephew and, as Blackston had no children of his own, the baron’s heir.
My father and Lord Blackston clapped one another on the back and chortled loudly about the gambling my father had arranged for that evening’s entertainment after dinner, though the baron warned my father about cheating him—again. My father, notoriously tight with his money but honest, ignored him. I saw the flash in his eye.
“Lady Wyatt. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” The baron extended his hand toward my mother’s, taking her hand in his and kissing it softly.
My mother lowered her eyes demurely as she withdrew her hand. “Thank you, My Lord. As always, it’s a pleasure to have you as our guest. It’s been too many years.”
He grinned. As he did I could see that whilst he may have won his fortune at the Battle of Bosworth it was clear that he’d forfeited some teeth in exchange.
“And this jewel was naught but a girl at that time.”
I curtseyed politely and heard the man to his side clear his throat.
Lord Blackston turned and urged forward the second man. “My nephew, Simon.” Simon was a good Norman name. Norman blood. Titled. Moneyed. I held out my hand and cast my gaze downward, as gently bred girls are well taught to do.
Simon took my hand in his. My first instinct, which I checked, was to withdraw it immediately. His fingers were long and cool, like recently snuffed tapers. He brought my hand to his parched lips and kissed the back of it. He then let go. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mistress Wyatt. I’ve heard so much about you. But I find that what I’ve heard seems to be untrue.” I looked up at that. Exactly what had he heard about me and from whom?
“You’re far lovelier than I’d been expecting.” With that, he bowed courteously and my mother led the way into Allington.
That evening all the servants were in their best liveries. My father had ordered an entire ox roasted—roasted meat being a sign of wealth—as it showed that we Wyatts had enough money to pay one or two men to do nothing but turn a burdened spit over a hellish inferno all day. There was stuffed swan and pale ale brought from Bruges. And of course, jellied eels. I tried hard not to compare Simon’s fingers to the jellied eels but I found myself unable to enjoy them for the first time ever. Afterward there was music, though no dancing, as dinner was a smallish affair. My mother withdrew and my father and Baron Blackston retreated to a far corner of the great hall where tables had been set up. Several gentlemen from the neighboring properties had arrived to play cards and dice. I wasn’t sure if I was gratified or disappointed when Simon politely declined to join them and instead asked me if I’d ask the musicians to continue to play whilst he and I sat by the fire and kept company.
What could I do? “I’d be pleased to,” I answered, remembering my father’s warning to be kind and submissive to the next man he brought to my side. Scraping hardened horse dung with my bare nails from between the cobbled stones on the path to a Scottish abbey didn’t appeal to me. So Simon and I kept company.
“I’ve heard that your father has seen fit to educate you,” Simon began. I dared to look up at his face. The fire had brought some color to it, which made him more pleasant to look at than he had been in the cool stone dining hall. His smile was not warm, but it was not cruel, either. I was glad of the fact that it would be impolite to look into his eyes for too long. The irises were blue but the whites around them slightly rheumy, perhaps a bit like eggs which had not been cooked quite long enough. They stared at me, however, intently. I became aware that he was expecting an answer.
Would he find my education to his liking? “Yes, my father found my mother’s education pleasing to him and had me educated along with my brothers.” I answered as safely as I knew how.
“What have you studied?” He folded his long fingers over his knee and used the movement as an excuse to move slightly closer to me on the covered bench. I held myself steady so as not to flinch. I looked into his eyes as I spoke, hoping that he wouldn’t misread my desire to gauge his response as a desire for intimacy.
“I studied mathematics and rhetoric, Latin and letters,” I began. His eyes held mine and betrayed no emotion but I thought I saw a slight downward dip in the corner of his mouth.
“And dancing, of course, and needlework. I can play the lute. And my mother has schooled me on household management.” At that he smiled.
“Yes, yes, of course she would have. I am sure you play a fine lute. I’d like to hear it.” He looked as though he were about to signal a musician. I quickly held up my hand.
“Perhaps tomorrow?” My voice was soft as carded wool. “I feel a bit tired now, the excitement of the day….”
“Of course,” he said. He spoke at length about their property up north, which I knew to be extensive, their many castles and land-holdings. Lord Blackton’s sister had been his mother, and when she had died shortly after his father at the Bosworth Field the baron had taken him in and raised him. In spite of having married several times, the baron had sired no child of his own.
“I think you might like the north, mistress,” he said after I’d admitted I’ve never been north of London. “It’s very family-oriented for the lady of the manor. There are serfs and peasants to attend to and alms to give. Servants to attend to, birthings and the like, and quite a bit of needlework, of course.”
“Sounds…. bucolic.” I reached past the first three or four words that presented themselves to me to snatch one that might sound faintly praiseworthy.
He nodded. I wasn’t entirely certain he knew what “bucolic” meant.
“If you’ll excuse me, I must ensure that my mother is well settled for the evening, and then perhaps it is time to retire myself.” I kept my voice soothing and pleasant. I hardly recognized myself. I sounded like Alice. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant sensation, but then again it reminded me of the times when I, as a girl, had slipped into her adult gowns. Mayhap it was time I grew into them. I smiled at him warmly because he truly had been a gentleman in every way. He was very…. proper.
“Of course.” He stood immediately and held out his hand to assist me as I stood. I took it, and he turned it over, kissing the inside of my palm this time, rather than the back of it, which gave me some discomfort. After a careful curtsey to my father and his friends, I made my way to my chamber.
Days later Lord Blackston and Simon led the dust cloud back the way they had come, down from Allington, past the priory, and toward the guesthouse many miles away that would be their first stay on the days’ journey north. It had been no small feat, nor small honor, that they came to Allington to meet me. Of that I was aware. I suspected, however, that I had failed in my mission because from the second day forward Simon had noticeably cooled toward me.
My father called me into his study. Edmund was already there, thumbing through a book, trying to look scholarly, and I had to grant that he had a quick wit. Numbers and accounts, though, they were what he preferred. In that he was as far from my brother Thomas as two brothers could be. My father, now sharing responsibilities for the king’s treasury with Anne’s father, was as miserly with his money as Anne’s father was generous. Edmund took after our father in that way, and our father applauded him for it.