The Darkland (26 page)

Lionel’s jaw ticked,
causing his jowls to quiver. “She is young,” he replied. “I will die soon and
all of this will be hers.  Kirk can have her when I am finished with her. 
Meanwhile, I would have you deliver a missive to Edmund when you are feeling
better that I accept the terms of betrothal.”

Spencer’s first instinct
was to refuse but he knew he could not. “If I must, my lord.”

“You must.” Lionel rose
unsteadily from his stool, eyeing the knight on the bed. “For now, I do believe
I will attend Lady Mara and explain the course her future is about to take.”

Spencer met the man’s
gaze, his disapproval evident. He simply couldn’t help himself. “Would you like
me to go with you? She may need comfort.”

Lionel paused by the
door. “Let me make this clear, Spencer; from this day forward, the Lady Mara is
my betrothed and you will cease any notion you ever entertained where it
pertains to her. You will behave perfectly and act perfectly towards her, or I
will throw you from the castle myself. Is this in any way unclear?”

Spencer didn’t rise to
the obvious challenge.  In truth, he had no choice. “It is, my lord.”

Lionel’s gaze lingered
on him, cold as ice. “Good,” he muttered. “Spencer, do not pretend that your
reaction to this betrothal is on Kirk’s behalf, for it is not. It is simply
because you are jealous that I now possess what you wanted. It is envy, pure
and simple.”

“Perhaps, my lord.”

“It ends now.”

After the man left the
chamber, Spencer sat in silence, mulling over the course the conversation had
taken. He was still in shock, over many things. But even with his shock, and
his contention with Kirk, all he could think about was how le Vay was stabbing
Kirk right where it would hurt him most. Certainly there was jealousy there,
but surprisingly, it was not overwhelming. Spencer had always believed le Vay
to be a fair and decent man, but in light of the recent conversation, that
opinion was now changed.

Dying or not, it didn’t
give him the right to take a woman that clearly belonged to someone else.  If
Lionel had done to him what he was doing to Kirk, Spencer would have killed
him.

He knew that if Kirk was
aware of the contents of Edmund’s missive, he would do the same.

***

Lionel found Mara, conveniently
enough, in Lily’s light and beautiful rooms.  He had only sought to speak to
his daughter but finding Mara there was a stroke of fortune in his opinion. He
thought perhaps that if he delivered the news with Lily present, Mara would
have comfort when the information settled and it would be better for them
both.  He knew, deep down, that what he was doing was wrong, but he didn’t
care.  His sense of self-preservation ruled above all else.

“Greetings, Father,”
Lily set her needlepoint onto the table next to her chair and rose to greet her
father. “How lovely of you to visit.”

Lionel kissed his
daughter’s cheek as he collected her hands. “How fortunate that I have found
the two most beautiful women at Quernmore in the same room,” he said, looking
around the chamber. “It seems quiet in here. Where are your other ladies,
Lily?”

Lily waved a dismissive
hand. “Off being silly somewhere, I suppose,” she said. “Today, it is simply
Mara and me. We are very companionable.”

Lionel’s gaze fell on Mara.
“As well you should be,” he said. “Greetings, my lady.”

Mara, a paint brush in
hand and a small palette of paints and half-painted vellum on the table before
her, stood up.

“My lord,” she greeted.

Lionel’s gaze lingered
on her; she was wearing the same sapphire blue silk that she had worn that
morning when Kirk had ridden off into the dawn.  The dress had belonged to
Lionel’s dead wife, although his wife had never worn it as beautifully as Mara
did.  He found he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You look quite lovely
in that dress,” he told her. “I am so glad you could use my wife’s garments. It
seemed a shame to keep them stored away and unused.”

Mara looked down at
herself, in the fine dress she could have never imagined owning. “You are very
generous to give them to me,” she said. “I can never thank you enough.”

Lionel’s gaze lingered
on her delightful rosebud mouth before forcing a smile. “Your enjoyment of them
is thanks enough,” he replied.  Then he noticed the paint brush in her hand.
“What are you doing?”

Mara grinned, somewhat
embarrassed. “Lady Lily is teaching me to paint,” she said. “I do not think I
am a very good student.”

Lily laughed. “She is a
wonderful student,” she corrected. “Mara and I have been here since Kirk left
this morning. She was sad at his departure and I did not want her to be alone,
so I brought her here and we have been painting ever since.”

Lionel’s gaze moved from
Mara to the painting on the table and back again. “She seems to be doing a
marvelous job,” he said. “Please; do not let me disturb you. I merely came to
see my daughter, whom I have not seen all morning.”

“Sit with us, Father,”
Lily insisted, indicating one of her fine chairs. “Please sit and tell us stories
to entertain us. In fact, tell us of the days when you used to live in London.
Mara, did you know that my father was friends with Henry Tudor?”

Mara was impressed.
“King Henry?” she looked at Lionel with some awe. “Was he your good friend?”

Lionel shook his head.
“I was friends with Henry only as much as he found me and my army useful,” he
said. “I supported him at Bosworth. That was a long time ago.”

“Only thirty years ago,”
Lily insisted. “It is not that long ago.”

“You must have been a
very young man,” Mara said to him.

Lionel shrugged. “I was
young indeed,” he replied, thinking back to that great and bloody day. “That
was the last time I saw significant battle. It was such a glorious and tragic
day.  In fact, I was near Richard when he was killed. I saw it all.  I was also
near Matthew Wellesbourne when he lost his hand.”

Mara nodded, enthralled.
She didn’t pay much attention to history or battles, but everyone knew of the
battle of Bosworth Field when Richard the Third was killed by Henry Tudor’s
forces. She had never actually met anyone who had been eyewitness to the event.

“I have heard of Matthew
Wellesbourne,” she said. “Was he not a comrade of Gaston de Russe?”

Lionel nodded. “Great
Gods, you have never seen such big and powerful men,” he said, reflecting. “In
the presence of The White Lord and the Dark Knight, men cowered, including me.
I swear the ground shook when they walked.”

He said it so dramatically
that the women giggled. “What became of them, Father?” Lily asked. “Did they
survive into old age?”

Again, Lionel nodded. 
“The last I heard they had both survived into old age,” he said thoughtfully.
“They are still alive but very old, and I have heard tale that they both had
gaggles of descendants. In fact, Wellesbourne has sons that serve our king and
I believe de Russe’s sons have conquered half of the known world.”

The women grinned. “It
is a wonder anyone survived that battle,” Lily said as she collected her
sewing. “I am so glad you did, Father. You were not married to Mother at the
time, were you?”

Lionel shook his head.
“I was barely twenty years and one when Bosworth was etched into the annals of
history,” he said. “I did not marry your mother until I was well past thirty
years and she was sixteen years of age.  It was an arranged marriage, and
advantageous. All good marriages are. Lily, your marriage is also a contract
marriage.”

Lily nodded, stabbing at
the material. “But I happen to like my future husband,” she sighed. “I am
fortunate. But Mara is even more fortunate; she and Kirk love one another. 
Father, you loved Mother, did you not?”

Careful
, Lionel told himself.
He could see a window opening and he was about to climb through.  He was
extremely cautious as he proceeded in the minefield between pleasant
conversation and life-changing information.

“I did,” he said softly,
his gaze on Mara. “I learned to love her. She was a good woman and I was very
fortunate. But she was not my first love; no. First loves are not meant to
last. They are the loves that teach us what it means to feel for someone and to
adore them. That way, the second time around, it is much easier.”

Mara was listening with
interest in between brush strokes. The conversation was engaging and flowing
easily. She had no idea he was setting her up for the kill.

“How long where you
married?” she asked innocently.

“Over twenty years,” he
told her. “I miss her. I miss the companionship and the affection. It is
something I never imagined I would have again, with anyone. But it seems that I
was mistaken.”

Lily looked curiously at
her father. “What do you mean?”

It was the obvious
question, one that Lionel was looking for.
Now is your chance
, he told
himself.
Be careful
!

“Since your brother
died, I am without an heir,” he told his daughter quietly. “You know this, and
you know how I have lamented the fact. All I had was to go to Michael but
instead, it will pass to you and your husband, and the House of le Vay will
cease to exist. That has always deeply saddened me, as I have wished that your
mother and I had been blessed with at least another son to carry on the name.
It is a prayer I have had since your brother died but one that has gone
unfulfilled until now.”

Lily was still looking
at him curiously. She set her sewing down. “Be plain, father,” she said. “Has
something happened?”

Lionel stood up; he had
to.  He was too close to the lovely faces and when he delivered the news, he
didn’t want to be so close that he could feel Mara’s tears. He paced away from
them, across Lily’s lovely sitting room, and paused by the lancet window
overlooking the bailey.

“Something has happened
indeed,” he said quietly. “It would seem that I have been presented with a
marriage proposal and it is one I intend to accept.  I understand that this
young lady, the bride that has been offered to me, has a suitor but she must
understand that marriages are not made of love and dreams. They are made of
politics and breeding and standing.  I will offer this young lady the barony of
Wyresdale, of course, and all of the wealth related to it.  All of this I will
offer her; she will never want for anything. Do you not think she will be
amiable to such an offer?”

He turned to look at the
young women as he said it.  Lily nodded, as did Mara. In fact, both girls
looked very sincere in their response.

“The young woman will be
most fortunate, Father,” Lily insisted. “I am very happy that you have received
the offer. But you said that she has a suitor?”

Lionel nodded, coming
away from the window as he moved back in their direction. “A knight,” he said.
“An infatuation, I am sure. It will pass. What I offer her is much more
substantial.”

Lily’s brow furrowed.
“That is true; it is,” she said hesitantly. “But… but what of her feelings? If
she has a suitor, she must care deeply for him. Have you not considered that?”

“Of course I have,” he
said. “I have considered her feelings fairly and I hope dispassionately.
Although I am not unsympathetic, I am sure she will understand that marriage to
me will be best for her. She seems to come from an impoverish family so the
wealth she will acquire when we marry is beyond her dreams.  In the end, her
suitor will fade from memory because she will know that marriage to me was the
right choice.  It is the reasonable choice.”

Lily was more confused
than ever. “She is impoverished?” she repeated. “How in the world did you come
to an agreement with a bride who carries no dowry?”

Lionel was very serious.
“She does not need a dowry,” he said. “She will provide me with a son and that
is worth a thousand dowries.  Make no mistake; I am agreeing to this marriage
because it is my chance to have a son, another heir. Lily, as much as I love
you, you are my daughter. A man needs a son. I marry again to have one so that
the le Vay name will not die. In exchange for a son, I will make this young
woman wealthy beyond her wildest dreams.”

Lily didn’t know what to
say to all of that. In fact, she was rather embarrassed that Mara had heard all
of it.  Her father’s thoughts were deeply personal;
too
personal to be
spoken in front of a mere acquaintance like Mara.  When she looked at Mara,
rather apologetically, she could see that Mara’s attention was on Lionel.  She
held a rather innocent expression, as if the passion of Lionel’s words truly
had no meaning to her.  She didn’t know the man at all, so her opinion of his
feelings was superficial at best.  Lily returned her attention to her father.

“Then I am happy for
you,” she finally said. “Who is this young woman? Do I know her?”

Lionel nodded. “You do,”
he said softly, his gaze finally trailing to Mara. “You are sitting at the
table with her.”

Lily’s eyes widened as
she looked at Mara, but Mara had no immediately reaction. She had just
completed a brush stroke on her half-finished painting so her focus was on her
art and not Lionel’s words. But the words eventually sank in and her head came
up, looking at Lily and seeing the woman’s shock.