The Bride Tournament (13 page)

But staying wed to him would make a mockery of her lifelong dream of marrying for love, of choosing her husband. She’d join countless woman denied the opportunity to make decisions.

And how could she countenance his involvement in alchemy, deal year after year with the same lunacy and devilry her father had put her and her mother through? Eleanor had overheard her mother crying too many times to risk a similar outcome.

This was the moment of truth. Either she laughed and pretended the whole thing was a delightful prank, or she proceeded with her plan. She took a deep breath, feeling as though she teetered on a precipice with a stony ravine yawning far below.

“Does anyone wish to leave?” she asked.

Silence.

“Very well then.” Eleanor fought back unexpected tears as she picked up the parchment on which Alyce had written the tournament rules.

She had made her decision.

“Here are the areas in which you will be judged. One: Wealth. I shall need a verifiable, detailed listing of your gold, lands, rents and other income. Please include any significant jewels and plate. The next area is Beauty, for which you’ll don your finest attire. Three, Embroidery. You will have an hour to—”

Lady Rose interrupted. “Money can be counted, lands documented. How can you measure beauty?”

“’Tis in the eyes of the judges. They shall choose the woman they feel most suitable based on her appearance and the way she presents herself,” Eleanor said. “May I continue? Three: Embroidery. You’ll have an hour to stitch the design of your choice using fabric and thread we will provide. Not that I don’t trust you, but Richard’s hand is a prize of great value, perhaps worth trying to sneak in someone else’s work.”

“Hm.” Lady Rose sniffed, either upset that her integrity might be questioned or because she’d be prevented from partaking in such a deception.

“Four is Music. Richard greatly enjoys music.” The memory of him playing the lute and singing to her flashed through her mind. How she’d melted and smiled. Yet she was handing the opportunity for future songs to another. “Thus he values considerable skill in this area. You’ll each perform two songs, singing or playing the instrument of your choice. The judges may award an advantage to the woman who both sings and plays.

“Household Management is next. This is also a difficult skill to measure. You may choose three witnesses to offer proof of your ability to run a household via a verbal report.

“The last area is ‘Overall.’ The judges may consider the best bride overall, though she may be lacking in a particular area.”

“That’s all? What about falconry?” asked Isabel.

“Or hunting?” This from Rose.

“You must include dancing,” Blanche said.

“And what of religious devotion?” Mary clasped her rosary.

Clearly each woman promoted her finest talent. “There are countless womanly skills we could examine. I have chosen these based on what I know of Richard’s preferences,” Eleanor answered.

“Have you?” asked Blanche, her voice low. “Have you, really?”

Mary paled. Isabel actually licked her lips. Eleanor felt herself blush, but couldn’t think of a reply. Because, even though she was his wife, she didn’t know.

“Shouldn’t you take that into account? A man of his…talents…and enthusiasm is likely to prefer an eager bride.”

Blanche intimated that she knew Richard’s desires. Disgusting.

No matter. For she, Eleanor, would soon be free of him. One of these women would soon share Richard’s bed and suffer any mistresses.

“Here is how we shall proceed.”

At last Richard had a break in his grueling schedule. Though his meetings with Edward and his council proved fruitful, too much sitting made him restless.

All he wanted to do now was find Eleanor. Their conversations made him want to spend more time with her. Even their sparring made him feel more alive. He felt sure they’d consummate their marriage any day now. If only he hadn’t been so exhausted of late. He’d considered waking her each night he saw her sleeping so sweetly, one hand curled under her chin, but knew he, and she, needed rest.

He’d packed a basket for an impromptu meal. But he couldn’t locate his bride. She wasn’t in their room, nor in the main garden. Nor could he find Alyce, and he knew the two were inseparable. Windsor was a very large castle, with Upper, Lower and Middle Wards. He’d squander his respite in fruitless searching if he didn’t find her soon.

As he passed the Round Tower, feminine laughter rang out from a room above his head. He hurried up the stairs. Through a partially open door he saw Eleanor, Alyce and five other women seated in a circle. Eleanor spoke softly but intently. The women he could see from his vantage point listened with quiet concentration.

He stepped forward. “Well met, ladies.”

All eight heads turned. All eight faces bore varying degrees of surprise and guilt, especially those of Eleanor and her sister. Blanche also looked smug.

Richard waited in the doorway, hands on his hips. He’d come upon a clandestine gathering spearheaded by his wife.

“Have I interrupted something?” he asked.

A woman he didn’t recognize, with a tall headdress, giggled. Two who looked vaguely familiar pressed their lips together as though secrets could not be pulled from them even under torture. One looked as if she might burst into tears and clutched a rosary so tightly he thought the beads might leave permanent impressions in her palms. Blanche laughed. Alyce looked to Eleanor, who, for once, was speechless.

He’d pursue the matter when he had his wife alone.

What was wrong with him? He faced a room full of beautiful women, yet his thoughts were only of Eleanor. Never before had a woman drawn him so. But then, he’d never been wed before. Marital instinct, legal and religious claims must be what drew his attention to his wife.

“My lady wife, I have but a short time free from my duties.” He indicated the heavy basket he carried. “If you would grant me the pleasure of your company, perhaps we could stroll in the gardens and partake of a light repast?”

Alyce jumped to her feet. “Oh, yes. A most excellent suggestion. We can finish,” she paused, “this later.”

Why was she so nervous?

A mixture of sighs and giggles told him the others approved of his interruption, perhaps wishing they too had a gentleman with whom to stroll.

“Ladies, I shall see you all anon,” Eleanor said. She walked through the circle toward the door.

Blanche blew him a kiss behind Eleanor’s back and flashed a come-hither look.

What was she up to now? And his wife?

Chapter 9

Eleanor had frozen the instant she heard Richard’s voice and hadn’t thawed. He was sure to do one of two things as they walked: ask questions she didn’t wish to answer or pursue her with sweet words and even sweeter kisses. She wasn’t certain which approach unnerved her more.

Denying her interest in him was all the more difficult when they were alone. All he had to do was smile, and she yearned to while away the hours listening to him talk. Trying to make him laugh. All he had to do was kiss her and she yearned to succumb to the wonders of his mouth. And more. Which was wrong when she’d pledged herself to Arthur and vowed to find Richard another bride.

Knowing he’d want to continue where they’d left off as soon as they reached a private corner of the gardens and enduring her body’s traitorous enthusiasm at the thought, Eleanor knew she had to choose.

Kiss, or tell Richard her plan.

Tell. Though he believed duty obligated them to remain wed, as a reasonable man, he had to appreciate the awkwardness of their situation. When offered a bride who’d be better for him and for the king, surely he’d be satisfied.

“I suppose we are equally stubborn,” she began as they strolled into the Upper Ward’s bright afternoon sunshine. She took a deep breath of fresh air and let it out slowly, also releasing the castle’s dankness and the strain of persuading the candidates to her cause.

“In what way?”

“You want me to be your wife as much as I want to…not be.”

He pressed his lips together, which she now knew was his habit when annoyed, revealing the appealing dimple in his right cheek.

“Eleanor, why do you work against me? Why not give us a chance?”

“You know why,” she whispered. Though recently fond feelings for Arthur had been few and far between. She needed to see him again.

“If only we could work as hard together to make everything turn out for the best,” Richard said.

“I hoped you’d wish that,” she said. “I think we can. May I tell you how?”

Eleanor’s cautiousness warned Richard he wasn’t going to like her idea.

After several moments of walking in strained silence, he gestured to a secluded, sun-dappled spot beneath an ancient oak tree and set down the basket. She helped him spread the blanket.

Eleanor made a lovely picture as he opened the bottle of wine, sitting before him with her green skirts spread about, the gauze veil on her tall headdress floating gently in the breeze. The brooch he’d given her gleamed in the sunlight. It pleased him that she wore it every day. He wanted to please her enough to drive thoughts of everything but him from her mind.

As he poured, she arranged the food: strawberries, cheese and more sweetmeats like those he had fed her on their journey to court.

“As an earl, you need a bride equal to you in status,” she said. “As a noble, the king wants you bound to a wealthy family. As a man, you desire a beauteous, gentle wife. How can you satisfy all of these needs?” She took the proffered cup. “My thanks.”

“I thought I already had,” he said. “With you.”

She made a face. Flattery didn’t seem to impress Eleanor.

“There is one thing more. Wouldn’t you also like a wife who wants you?”

Still she harped on that. “In the best of all possible worlds, yes. But as you well know, one can’t always have all one desires.”

“What if you could?” Enthusiasm brightened her eyes to purest violet.

He watched her sip the wine, followed the movements of her mouth on the cup. And wanted to kiss her.

Eleanor continued, “What if you could have a wealthier bride, one who is even better connected, more beautiful and more skilled than I?”

“Why do you ask? I told you on our wedding day and night I had no interest in another bride.”

“I want to do this for you, Richard. For us. I’m going to find you a better bride.”

If he looked at her hard enough, maybe he’d see something to help him understand.

“When I succeed, you’ll be richer, have superior political connections and be happier than you are with me. Don’t you see? No one loses, everyone wins.”

“I—” He wanted to say, “I think this is a horrible idea,” but was so astonished the words stuck in his throat. He grabbed his cup and gulped.

“You’re a wonderful catch,” Eleanor admitted. “I would want you if I hadn’t been pledged for so long to another.”

He choked on the wine, then recovered. Every sentence yielded new surprises. “My thanks for the kind words and thoughts. But we are already wed.”

“Marriages end for many reasons. Need I list them? While you were ensconced with the council, I made arrangements to start annulment proceedings. I was forced to wed you, as you recall. And my betrothal to Arthur was annulled without my consent,” she persisted.

Finally Richard understood why her father waited so long to tell Eleanor who she’d wed. For certes she would have found a way to avoid wedding with him at all. His stomach churned. “You’ve obviously thought on this a great deal. Who else knows of your idea?”

“Only Alyce, at first. I needed an assistant.”

“An assistant,” he repeated. Maybe that would help him follow.

“To take notes. To keep my records of the potential brides.”

“There’s more than one?”

“Well, of course. You just saw them.”

The five women. Potential brides, for him. And Blanche, the woman most eminently unsuitable to be his bride, was one of them. He hadn’t seen through her skillfully crafted façade all those years ago when he thought he knew her well. Eleanor couldn’t hope to do so on such short acquaintance. The other women had been passing fair, but none as attractive to him as Eleanor.

He shook his head. Was he actually taking this lunatic scheme seriously?

Eleanor picked up a strawberry by its stem. It dangled enticingly from her fingers. He wanted to feed her the fruit and lick the sweet juices from her lips. And other places.

He adjusted his position.

“How could I be sure which woman would satisfy you?” she asked. “I settled on five contenders. A nice number from which to choose. Four would be too few, I think, to offer sufficient variety. More would be difficult to keep track of.”

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since our wedding night. I pondered making the decision myself, based on a specific set of characteristics you might like. I decided four judges would be better, as in a tournament. Perhaps you’d care to help to select the winner? What man wouldn’t want five excellent prospects from which to choose?”