Gisborne: Book of Pawns (33 page)

This time the nose twitched mightily as she drew in an offended breath.

‘I shall not, my lord. It is most improper for my god daughter to be alone with a man she barely knows.’

‘And yet I understand she travelled from Tours to Moncrieff with Guy of Gisborne and no chaperone. Lesser people than myself could draw some particularly colourful conclusions.’

‘How dare you!’

Cecilia clenched the edge of the table.

‘I dare because I can,’ he replied with insouciance. ‘Now shall you leave or shall I get Cedric to manhandle you?”

Cecilia’s eyes hardened to the colour of pewter as she prepared to whip the man with her tongue but I broke in.

‘Cecilia, I shall be quite safe I am sure. Baron De Courcey knows that I am connected with his liege lord. I doubt he would damage his status by harming me.’ I threw the full force of a cool smile upon the Baron. ‘Am I not right, my lord?’

He studied me hard but there was no reply, just the beginnings of that flush that presaged a temper I knew lurked beneath the facade. Cecilia left unwillingly, Cedric pushing closely behind. I gave her a confident smile and turned back to my gaoler, for he
was
that.

‘What is it that is so important you must keep me separate from my godmother?’

For all that he was not as tall as Gisborne, De Courcey was powerfully put together – stocky with knotted muscle lying beneath the linen and fine wool and a strong face that some women might find deeply attractive. His hair skimmed his collar in a wave and was a curious red wine shade. His suntanned skin colour complimented the unique tint and oddly he had a smattering of boyish freckles upon his nose. In any other, it might be assumed an engaging person was housed inside that framework. Instead, it was like looking at a thundery sky – russet and umber clouded with black intent.

His eyes glinted and he walked back and forth as he began to speak.

‘Lady Ysabel, it grieves me to confirm something you obviously already know – that this castle and the whole Moncrieff domain have been ceded to myself by law for gaming debts sustained by your father.’

Perhaps he hoped to give me the impression he was uncomfortable with this disturbing outcome and he studied me for some sort of reaction. All
I
could think was how fortunate it was Gisborne had forewarned me because it was easier to appear unconcerned, to show no visible emotion.

His brows creased fractionally and he poured himself a wine, pausing to quaff a substantial mouthful.

‘Your father staked everything…’

‘Even my mother’s possessions? I am surprised my father did not think of
me
at all in this time and keep something of hers for his daughter.’

I sat upright, my fingers toying with the stem of my pewter goblet, rolling it and rolling again.

‘He lost everything, madame. Daily he would play at any type of game, staking more and more until there was nothing left.’

I had a vision of my weak father, drunk and incapable, being pushed around a circle of bullies, back and forth until his purse had been well and truly picked and
he
dizzy and confused.

‘Daily sir, he would ride out with his
cronies,’
disgust laced my words
, ‘who lubricated him until he lost all sense and reason.’

De Courcey laughed, a gravelly sound, and replied with a trace of mockery.

‘And you think he was an unwilling playfellow? I fear you are wrong, my dear.’

‘Oh, I dare say he was as willing as any man who has lost his most adored wife and his reason. But it strikes me that other men,
friends
shall we say, would have extricated my father from the sticky bog into which he had cast himself rather than pushing him deeper.’

De Courcey’s eyes had darkened as I spoke, anger rippling his brow. He strode to the table and ripped out a chair to sit directly opposite and we sat like two opponents in a chess game.

‘Pray continue, my lady. What is it you infer?’

His voice was as soft as swansdown, such a contrast to the visible energy that emanated from his very fingertips.

‘I
infer
sir, that you manipulated my father so that he lost the very thing you coveted. How convenient for you.’

Careful, Ysabel.

The square face had hardened, cheeks flooding with colour. He slammed his hand on the table, the flagon of wine crashing to the floor. I blinked as it hit the stone flags but would not be cowed.

‘
Don’t
push your position. You are not above my discipline.’ He leaned close and I smelled wine and food on his breath. ‘Don’t ever tell me what I should and should not have done, Lady Ysabel
.
Your father was an incompetent fool and as for you … by the saints madame, you watch yourself.’

‘Or what, sir? What shall you do to Richard Plantagent’s family?’

He smiled and that was when my heart sank to my boots. Something about his expression, about the innate confidence, made my stomach turn up.

‘Ah, to be sure we shall find out. I have written to my liege lord explaining your predicament and asking what are his wishes in respect of your wardship.’

I stood, my self-discipline flying out the window on the wings of full-blown anger.

‘Wardship? How dare you? Did you know then, when you wrote to the king, that my father had in fact died? Did you? And if you knew that my father was dead, why did
you
not have the decency to inform me the minute this conversation … hah,
conversation! What conversation?’
I yelled at him.
‘Why did you not inform me with what little grace you appear to possess that my father was indeed dead?’

He went to speak but I slammed
my
hand on the table, shouting him down and leaning forward.

‘Do not, Baron. Do not speak! The fact is that my father has been dead these two days and is lying rotting in the dungeons and with each minute that passes as his corpse disintegrates, I shall blame you for the most appalling care of a man who deserves so much better. And before you castigate your men for revealing such a truth, know that I was aware how dangerously ill he was. Daughters do. I felt it here…’ I wrapped my chest hard.

‘Sit!’ he roared, face filled with ire. ‘Hold your tongue! Your father is indeed rotting beneath the soles of our feet, but he brought it on himself and you know it. We shall bury him tomorrow…’

‘
With
my mother. They must lie side by side. And then Lady Fineux and myself shall leave you to your spoils.’

I turned for the door but my wrist was grabbed and I was spun around.

His voice sank low and I knew it presaged something unpalatable.

‘You and the Lady of Upton go nowhere. Not until we receive word from the king.’

‘How dare you!’

‘You, Lady Ysabel, haven’t seen a quarter of what I dare. Now…’ he called for Cedric and the man pushed the door ajar. De Courcey lowered his voice, his words laced with poison.

‘Take the lady to her chamber and lock the door.’

Chapter Twelve

‘Ysabel!’ Cecilia rushed to me as the door slammed shut behind. ‘What happened?’

Perhaps I looked pale that she should react so. But inside I felt hot, blazing … as if the most stupendous fever raged. But it was hate, anger and so many other insidious emotions besides. ‘He admitted Father is dead and has agreed he shall be buried tomorrow. That’s all.’ I turned to the window and stood with my forehead pressed against the cool, cool stone of the embrasure.

How has all this happened? I am sinking into the bowels of some sort of Hell.

‘That’s
not
all. Not by a long stretch.’ Cecilia stayed by the hearth, the fire as dead as I felt inside.

Ashes, dust.

‘Tell me,’ she sighed.

‘He has written to the King asking what Richard would wish for my wardship.’

‘But that’s preposterous! I am your godmother, it is perfectly natural that you would live with me at Upton.’

‘And yet that is not what he would have. He waits in some delight for something else. It would seem he might want me.’

‘Hell and damnation! I worried about this, my dear. He has Moncrieff and I hoped it would be enough. If all he wants is to dip his wick, lord knows there are plenty of noblewomen who would oblige a man as wealthy as he. But…’

‘Cecilia, I know what you will say. You call him an illbred ruffian. Everyone is no doubt aware of his nature – the man who runs a mercenary army, the man who is loyal as long as the monies last. He has a disreputable reputation. How could he remove such a taint from his person? How could he lift himself further in Richard’s eyes? For sure, he has already provided the manpower but it is the trust and recognition he craves and what better way of earning it than to claim he cares for the future of the daughter of Joffrey of Moncrieff, lately deceased. You and I both know that Richard will offer my hand to one of the men
he
most needs to support him in
his
endeavours. It is a plan made in Richard’s and De Courcey’s version of heaven.’

‘Oh my love. Hell, more like! We must write to your royal godmother.’

‘Eleanor, as ever, is involved in her own machinations, Ceci. You know and I know what she is like. And by the time a plea arrived, I fear the King’s answer would be in De Courcey’s hands and the decree expedited.’

‘Then you must get away. Use the secret passage again.’

‘To what endeavour? Do you not think he would find me as easily as I was found this last time? No, Cecilia. I cannot see a way out of this. And to be frank, I just want to bury my father and then…’ I rubbed a forehead that ached with foul intensity. ‘God knows.’

The morning of my father’s burial arrived with a flash of wind-driven cloud across the window. Outside the tower that housed the Lady Chamber, the wind moaned – a dirge to match the spirit of the day. Once again my back ached with such ferocity I thought I should have to lie down, nauseous with the pain.

I hoped Cecilia was unaware that I nibbled at my food and I wondered at how thin I must be as I felt my belly and hipbones. Food was more than I could stomach on this day of emotional torment. I wondered if I would be allowed to speak with Brother John and at least have some say in the progression my father’s burial should take. But it was obviously not to be as the hours passed.

I had dressed in a midnight wool
bliaut
of my mother’s. It reminded me of the sable-edged cloak that had once been mine in another place; a place where I had discovered something of the truth that lay in wait for me at Moncrieff. Cecilia braided my hair into a plait and I let it hang down my back, refusing a veil. Instead, we went through all the chests in the room, eventually unearthing a false bottom in a coffer. Secreted away was a filet of silver, twisted and turned delicately like a wreath of flowers and as I lowered it over my forehead there was something of the gesture of a queen and I wondered if I was pretending to assume an authority I just did not possess. There was also a sapphire studded cross on a chain… the round stone as smooth and deeply coloured as the ocean. It had been my Cazenay grandmother’s and as it slipped over my head I decided it may be worth something should I be in need.

You will be, Ysabel, you will be.

I grunted.

Cecilia and I examined the few possessions left in the room. It was so obvious that Lady Alaïs’ jewels had been taken – all bar the filet and the cross. But her small looking glass lay amongst creams and simples and we found her Book of Hours in amongst wool and pieces of incomplete embroidery. Her frame lay against a wall and it was this unfinished piece – a design of a maid and a unicorn – to which I turned to while away the moments until we would be called for my father’s farewell.

‘You would think he would at least have let Brother John come to give me comfort or to discuss a prayer, a hymn … something. The man is such a piece, Ceci. Poison! I’ll wager he won’t even open my mother’s tomb, that he will cause my father to be buried at the side of Saint Agatha’s with the rest of Moncrieff. Can you imagine how my father must have longed to be laid with Alaïs? It would have been the one warm moment for him, that soon he would lie by the side of his heart’s love.’

I didn’t cry as I spoke. I suspected that any tears had evaporated in the blaze that had lit my body the previous night.

‘We must hope that some honour may be shown, my dear.’ She tutted and sighed. ‘I wish we had heard from Gisborne.’

‘Well I do not and we shan’t. He betrayed me, Cecilia, I have told you. Halsham paid him with coin and a career. I am where I am right now because Gisborne is as tainted as the rest and nothing,
nothing
you say will make me think any differently. I shall tell you, once in our journey he said to me that status is power and put me under no illusion that his plan was to seek such status and thereafter have the power he craved. I think the side you saw and the side I saw were two different beings.’