Authors: Margaret Frazer
Lady Agnes went narrow-eyed with thought but only for a moment before slapping both hands down on the arms of her chair and pushing herself up to her feet with a small grunt at the effort but saying briskly enough when she was up, “Dame Frevisse, would you care to walk with me in the garden awhile?” Adding before Frevisse could reply, “Letice, fetch my cloak. And yours, too.”
With for once no protests of worry over her lady, Letice hastened to obey. Frevisse, at first minded to refuse, decided to be curious instead, fetched her own cloak, and Waited at the stairhead while Lady Agnes made her way laboriously down, Letice waiting at the bottom in case of need. That done, Lady Agnes set off briskly enough for the outer door, thudding her staff against the floor with the force of her going. As Letice was opening the hall’s inner door ahead of her, Frevisse overtook them and moved past to open the outer, standing aside for Lady Agnes, then falling into step beside her, asking no questions as they crossed the narrow yard to the penticed gateway into the garden, past a saddled chestnut palfrey tethered by its bridle to a wall ring on the yard’s far side with no sign of its rider.
The morning’s overcast was breaking away into high white drifts of cloud across a scoured blue sky, and Letice, sniffing the air, said, “Warmer again tomorrow.”
‘Or not,“ Lady Agnes rejoined at a harsh half-whisper. ”We could be to our elbows in snow by tomorrow for all you know. Now hush, the both of you.“
For Frevisse, with nothing to say, that was easy enough, but Letice’s mouth was shut into a tight line over obviously a great deal she wanted to say as she moved ahead of them to open the gate and stood aside to let them go into the garden ahead of her.
‘And close that gate quietly,“ Lady Agnes ordered as she went in.
There was no trouble over which way to go. On its left, the path was bounded by a waist-high, wide-latticed fence between it and what was surely the kitchen’s garden, its long beds waiting for spring’s planting, with here and there a snow-covered hump of something not cleared away last autumn, while on the right was the high stone wall between Lady Agnes’s garden and her neighbor’s. Only further on, past where the kitchen garden ended, did the garden open out into the common pattern of square beds and paths, here bounded on both sides and at the far end by tall walls hiding it from its neighbors. A turf bench ran along the rightward wall where there would be shade on summer afternoons; along the other, lean trees were spread and tied where they would catch the sun most of a summer’s day; and at the far end was a vine-covered arbor almost full across the garden’s width, only stopping short of a low door at the corner of the wall that must lead into whatever back way ran behind the houses there. In summer, grown over and green with leaves, it would be a private place but like all the garden it was naked now, its barren, brown vines unable to hide anything and assuredly not the man and woman standing within it, close-entwined to one another.
Frevisse and Letice both stopped. Lady Juliana, though her back was to them, was easily known by her bright cloak but Frevisse did not know Stephen until he raised his head and, over Juliana’s shoulder, saw Lady Agnes stalking down upon them. Briefly he was startled. Then his face lighted with laughter and he bent his head to say something into Juliana’s ear that made her look around at them with laughter, too. She was flushed with a different warmth than the fire had given her indoors as she took a step backward out of Stephen’s arms and turned to stand beside him, neither of them looking either abashed or contrite. Indeed, Stephen said, chiding, as Lady Agnes stopped in front of them, “There now, Grandmother. Since when have you been wont to go for walks in the snow?”
‘Ever since I was hard put to believe Lady Juliana came to see me out of the mere goodness of her heart,“ Lady Agnes snapped. She was short of breath and leaning on her staff but none the less waspish with anger. ”Especially when that was followed by a wondering why my grandson was seen to ride into the yard but didn’t come into the house, he being no more given to cold strolls in the snow than I am that I’ve ever noticed.“
‘Grandmother, Grandmother,“ Stephen said with a regretful shake of his head. ”Remember what’s said about curiosity and the cat. If you catch your death of cold by coming out here about what’s none of your business, don’t blame me.“
‘I’ll blame you for anything I choose to. If it’s proverbs we’re about, best you remember, ’It’s ill to sin and worse to continue.‘ And I decide what’s my business and what isn’t. Don’t meet your wantons in my garden if you don’t want it to be my business.“
Merry reproach lighted Juliana’s face. “I’m not his wanton, my lady. I’m his paramour. His love.”
‘Like Lancelot and Guinevere,“ Stephen said, drawing her closer to him with an arm around her waist.
‘Hah! You’re not Lancelot, boy, and that“—Lady Agnes pointed her staff at Juliana—”is no Guinevere, make no mistake.“
Frevisse was suddenly angry at them all, Lady Agnes as much as Stephen and Juliana, because while there was no shame on their part, neither was there real anger on Lady Agnes’s. Despite all her outward wrath, she was enjoying the quarrel as much as they were, with a sharp pleasure in the heightened moment that made it worse, and Frevisse, with her feet growing colder and her anger hotter, was ready to turn around and walk away, back to the house and warmth, but Lady Agnes made abrupt end to it, probably feeling the cold herself, saying at Juliana, “If you want a man, best find you one you can marry for yourself, not sport with someone else’s husband. Now off to your mother with you and stay out of my garden with your nonsense.”
For answer, Juliana only laughed and reached out a .hand to Stephen, who took it, raised it, kissed it, and stepped aside to open the door through the wall there, then saw her through with another kiss of her hand and a gallant bow to which she beautifully smiled into his eyes before she took her hand away from him and turned and left. Only as Stephen closed the gate behind her did Lady Agnes show her first deep displeasure, demanding, “How came my garden door to be unlocked, boy?”
Stephen was ready for that, already taking a heavy key from his belt pouch under his cloak, answering, “With this.” Lady Agnes made an angry tching sound and held out her hand for it but Stephen, locking the door, laughed at her. “You still have yours, Grandmother. I had this one made years ago.” He put it back into his pouch. “You’d never have known about key or door if I hadn’t been late today and Juliana decided to make up her waiting time by visiting you.”
‘What I know now is that you’ve no scruples and no care, either, leaving my garden open for anyone to wander in that wants to.“
Stephen came to her and with a hand under her elbow turned her back toward the house, saying kindly, “Don’t you know, Grandmother, that it’s peril gives sweetest love its sweetness?”
‘It’s supposed to be your peril, not mine, boy.“ But she let him lead her along the path, Frevisse and Letice standing aside to let them pass, then following while she went on at him, ”Though you’ll have peril enough if you’re found out by someone besides me. What do you think Philip is going to think of your playing his daughter false?“
‘Not much. He knows how these games go.“
‘You think that’s going to make him more mellow at your betraying of his daughter? You’re a fool, Stephen. How did you and this Juliana meet at all? In Lord Lovell’s household, I suppose?“
‘Of course. When I had my month-duty with him a year ago last summer. She was lately widowed and come to have Lord Lovell’s assurance of her dower lands. We took each other’s fancy, and here we are.“
‘You set to it with her a goodly while before you were married to Nichola then.“
‘Yes.“
‘Why not marry this Juliana instead, then, while you still had the choice?“
‘Choice? You know the fine Philip would have had from me if I wanted to buy him out of choosing my marriage. Besides, Juliana is to be enjoyed, not married. And you, Grandmother, of all women, surely don’t hold that a man can’t love more than one woman well?“
‘Don’t tell me what I hold and don’t hold, boy. What I’m telling you is that you’re putting yourself into peril for no purpose. You’re better off playing safe instead of foolish.“
‘ ’Safe‘ becomes ’dull‘ after a time, I find. After all, even Adam had Lilith as well as Eve.“
‘Remember how that turned out?“ Lady Agnes returned. They had reached the gate into the yard now and Stephen moved ahead to open the gate for her, but instead of going through, she stood still and asked at his back, ”Does Nichola know?“
Stephen faced her as if startled by the question, pausing before he answered, “Of course she doesn’t. I don’t mean for her to.”
‘Hah.“ Lady Agnes went past him, rapping her staff against his ankle as she did. ”What you mean is that you don’t think she knows and that, let me tell you, boy, means nothing.“
Chapter 11
Whether because of his grandmother’s chiding—though he seemed singularly unbothered by it—or because he had not meant to be here for long, Stephen made his farewell to Lady Agnes there in the yard, giving her a kiss on her cheek that she received peaceably enough before he bowed to Frevisse, grinned at Letice, untethered his horse, swung into the saddle, and with a cheerful wave, rode out of the yard and away.
While Lady Agnes watched the few moments until he was gone, Letice hasted toward the hall door, ready to open it when Lady Agnes at last moved to go in, Frevisse following her, all of them ready to be indoors again. But as Lady Agnes paused for Frevisse to open the inner one ahead of them, Letice took the chance to say from behind her, “What with him riding in and then riding out again so soon instead of staying to dinner, rumor will be all over town the two of you have quarreled. What then?”
‘Everyone knows we always quarrel and that it means nothing. Thank you,“ she added to Frevisse, going into the hall ahead of her. ”At most our friends will shake their heads and regret it. Everyone else will be glad of it. For what that’s worth. What matters is what I say, and I say be damned to them all. Hurry up. You’re letting the cold in.“
Letice was already hurrying into the hall after Frevisse, shutting the inner door as she came, persisting, low-voiced now they might be overheard, “And Stephen and this Lady Juliana?”
‘Be damned to them, too,“ Lady Agnes said, not low-voiced at all.
Caught between them, Frevisse considered her chances of escape. There was no bustle of tables being set up for dinner, only the man Lucas sweeping the floor around the hearth, though it was near to dinnertime. That meant Lady Agnes meant to dine in her chamber, Frevisse supposed, and that she’d be expected to dine with her and could find no sufficient excuse to avoid it as Letice hurried ahead to take Lady Agnes’s cloak from her. To be useful rather than merely there, Frevisse offered to take both women’s cloaks and Letice gratefully gave over Lady Agnes’s with her own, freeing her to help her lady’s labored climb up the stairs. The effort of that ceased all talk until, safe at the top, Lady Agnes said to Letice, “Tell them we’re ready to eat,” and asked past her to Frevisse, “I gathered this morning that Domina Elisabeth meant to stay all the day with her cousin?”
Climbing the stairs, awkward with her own cloak as well as the others to manage, Frevisse said, “She planned so, yes.”
‘Then there will be only the two of us and I’m hungry. Go tell them so, Letice.“
‘Yes, my lady,“ Letice said on a heavy sigh and took herself back down the stairs.
Lady Agnes, taking for granted that Frevisse would come with herself, headed for her chamber, leaving the door for Frevisse to close and saying, sharp with annoyance as she crossed the room toward the fire, “Young fools. What did they hope for, meeting like that at this time of year? Too much risk they’d be seen and no hope of satisfying each other. Young idiots.”
Frevisse, going to lay the cloaks on the chest at the bedfoot, made no answer, nor did Lady Agnes seem to want one, going on as she poked a log further into the fire with her staff, “No sense at all. All they could hope to do, all they did, was inflame themselves to nothing but high discomfort. What were they thinking of?”
Frevisse, less and less pleased that all Lady Agnes’s anger seemed for the foolishness of it, not the wrong, said curtly, “I doubt they were thinking at all. Haven’t you found that when lust comes in, thinking goes out?”
Lady Agnes laughed. “True enough.”
Joining her at the hearth, holding out chilled hands to the warmth, Frevisse suggested with forced mildness, “You could warn your grandson more strongly about what trouble he’s heading into.”
‘Best save my breath to cool my soup.“ Lady Agnes prodded the log again. ”It’s in his blood. His father and grandfather, God keep their souls, were the same and likely his son will be and grandson after him.“
‘And Nichola?“ Frevisse asked, keeping anger out of her voice with difficulty.
‘She’ll learn to live with it the way other wives have learned. At least she has the comfort that her husband loves her along with his leman.“
Frevisse held back from saying that what Stephen felt for Juliana was hardly love, led by the loins as it was, rather than by the heart. What she said instead was, “Then if you mean to do nothing to stop them, why did you go out purposefully to catch them at it?”
‘Ah. You’re the cunning one, aren’t you?“ Lady Agnes did not sound completely pleased to be called to account. ”I went because they’d best learn they’re not as clever as they think they are. And to let them know that I don’t intend to lend myself to their dalliance.“