The Herald's Heart (27 page)

Talon stared at her. “I don’t understand.” He had difficulty forming the words, comprehension just beyond his reach.

“You are Dame Margery’s son.”

“Nay! My mother was ...” Understanding grew, and acceptance settled within him. “How did I come to live with the earl as his son?”

“The earl’s first countess—the woman you believed was your mother—was Margery’s sister. When Margery became pregnant, she told what happened. Sadly, she could only identify one of her attackers.”

“The Earl of Hawksedge.”

“Aye. He and three friends had gone on a drunken revel the night before his wedding to Margery’s sister. When the countess found out what the earl had done, she insisted that you be raised as his heir or she would expose the whole sordid mess.”

“Women cry rape all the time, and few men are proven guilty.”

Mother Clement nodded. “But most of those accusations come from common women. Margery was already a woman of the cloth and on the eve of her own marriage to God. The church would not have tolerated even the implication that one of its daughters could be so violated.”

“So when the countess died, that is why the earl repudiated me.”

“Aye. He hated her and all women from the day she forced him to take you as his son. He hated women most for what he needed from them. So much so that I believe he spent as much time in prayer as he could in search of forgiveness for his hatred. His time on his knees increased with the death of each wife.”

“Do you think he, too, was mad? Larkin told me that Le Hourde confessed to raping and murdering three of the earl’s wives, including my mother. How can the earl not have known what his henchman did?”

“I do not believe he was mad. While he may have played a part in those deaths, none can say what that part was. Except perhaps Baron Le Hourde, who I understand died trying to kill Lady Larkin.”

“That is true. I must wonder now how many people Le Hourde killed, and if he might be the person responsible for the earl’s death.”

“Le Hourde would never kill the source of his good fortune. I believe the baron was the one to lead the earl into evil as a young man and continued to urge him to despicable acts as the two grew older. Why else would the earl gift a holding as rich as Rosewood to a landless knight of no rank, except to buy the man’s silence?”

“So you think the earl was capable of ordering the Roshams’s massacre?”

“Possibly. But Le Hourde could as easily have taken the initiative and decided to name the earl as the guilty party if the baron was ever accused. Larkin’s escape from the massacre was a complication, but as long as she laid no claim to her true identity, she posed no threat to either the earl or Le Hourde. When she sought aid at the abbey, I took that as God’s sign that I should help those souls betrothed to the earl and lend them aid to escape him.”

“The three women who disappeared on their way to Hawksedge for their weddings. You know where they are?”

“Aye. I helped them, just as I helped find you a new home when the earl cast you out.”

So that was why she’d always seemed familiar to him.

They walked in silence for a while. So much made sense now. But not everything. He needed to speak with Larkin, and he needed to understand what the anchoress—his true mother—had been trying to tell him.

“Mother Clement, thank you for telling me this. I must go now. I have much to discuss with Larkin.”

“There is one more thing I must confess to you.”

“’Tis not fit that you confess anything to me. Bare your soul to Father Timoras.”

“I have already done so. He suggested that as atonement for my sins, I take Margery’s place as anchoress.”

“Then I have no need to hear anything else of the past from you.”

She laid a hand on his arm. “Yes, you do. I helped Dame Margery murder the earl.”

“You!”

“I gathered the itchweed at her request and ignored the promptings of my conscience that told me she could only have one purpose for the weed.”

“So you did not know for certain that Dame Margery—my mother—planned to murder my father?”

“No, but I strongly suspected her purpose, and I could have prevented it by disposing of any candles she made that might have contained the itchweed oils. She would never know that I prevented her crime. But the earl would have lived to cause more harm, so I did nothing.”

“Why wait to confess until now? Larkin suffered much because of your silence.”

“Dame Margery was under my protection. I could not expose her, and I knew you would find the means to prove Lady Larkin innocent. Will you have me tried and hanged?”

Talon thought of the mistakes he’d made by not considering the impact of his actions on others, Larkin most of all. If he had any hope of forgiveness, of working together with Larkin to solve their problems as the abbess had suggested, he must be lenient now. The world would lose much if the abbess were hanged. “I will not interfere with you becoming an anchoress. But do so within the week. Do you not, I will be forced to see you hang. Good intentions aside, you took the law into your own hands. You should have left punishment of the earl and Le Hourde to the king’s law.”

She bowed her head then looked up at him. “Thank you. As for leaving punishment of nobles to the king’s law, I have never seen or heard of that happening. The earl was too well protected and proof too scarce. But think carefully on what you said about good intentions, and ask yourself what you intended for Lady Larkin when you swore your oath to God.”

Talon bid the abbess farewell and spent his journey home contemplating her words as well as his mother’s advice. Even he could see that he played the hypocrite, chastising the abbess for good intentions gone awry when that was exactly what he’d done. His intentions had been good when pledging his life to God, but he’d failed to consider how that vow would affect Larkin and any love they might share. The only way to remedy the situation was to seek her forgiveness and beg her to work with him to solve their problems. He must trust her completely by confessing his feelings and accepting her decisions with a willing heart.

Larkin cursed the weakness that made her ignore her assertion not to see or communicate with Talon again. She’d been packing her few belongings, when Cleve arrived at her chamber door babbling that Sir Talon had gone mad and only she could sooth the knight’s mind.

She hurried to the earl’s chapel, where Cleve said Talon was, and found him amidst a holy mess— candles, candlesticks, altar cloths, a censer, and other emblems of faith were strewn about the room.

“What on God’s earth are you doing?”

“Good morning.” He put down the candlesticks he held and drew her to the room’s only seat. “You were abed when I returned last night, and I didn’t want to wake you to tell you that Dame Margery has died.”

“I am sorry to hear it.” She shook her head. “But what has her death to do with the havoc you wreak here?”

Talon’s expression tightened. “I was with her before she died, and she told me ... she told me many things. The most curious was that I would only find what I desired most by searching the heart. She urged me to go to the chapel, to pray and search my heart there.”

“I don’t understand. The king will likely appoint you Earl of Hawksedge. You have the place you wanted, if you decide to seek dispensation from your vow. Why destroy a room on the ramblings of a sick old woman?”

Talon’s lips thinned, yet he clasped her hands still. “You force me to speak when I had hoped to surprise you.”

“Surprise me? With what, pray you?”

“The marriage box that proves you to be Lady Larkin Rosham.”

Larkin’s breath froze in her body. She scarce dared believe him. With the proof the box contained, her claim to Rosewood would be unassailable, and her claim to Hawksedge might be stronger than Talon’s. He could lose the home he’d wanted all his life, just to make certain she got hers. “Why would you continue to seek that?”

“Because you wish it.”

Larkin swallowed. She sat up straighter and looked him square in the eyes. He had to believe what she was about to say. “I ... I don’t wish it any longer. I told you yesterday that I would cease searching for that proof. If your word and mine were not enough to convince the king that I am Lady Rosham, then I would retire from the world.”

Talon frowned. “Let us have nothing but truth between us. You do not wish to retire from the world any more than I want to go on pilgrimage and dedicate my life to God.”

Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed. Could he mean that he wanted to rescind his oath? The only way to know was to give him the truth he asked for and trust him to do the same. “You are right. I do not wish to live my life as a nun. But it is also true that I no longer care if the marriage box is found.”

The look in Talon’s eyes sharpened. “I don’t believe you.”

She leaned forward. “If that box is found ’twill only cause more misery and heartache. Look what my obsession with it has done to my life. Look what misfortune that box caused my family. Look what it has done to us.”

Some emotion gleamed inside the sharpness in Talon’s gaze. “What has the box done to us, Larkin?” His voice strained with that same emotion, but gently, urging her to confide in him. Trust him.

She already knew she did, all she had to do was show him. “It has been a barrier between us since the day we met. I would have that barrier removed.”

“Aye, once the box is found, all doubt about your identity will be removed. You will have all claim to Rosewood and the greater claim to Hawksedge.”

“I will gain all, and you will lose all. That box must never be found. I’ll not allow you to put your happiness or mine at risk for something so unimportant.”

Talon sat on the floor, pulled Larkin into his arms, and kissed her. “I love you, Larkin Rosham, for the care you have of my happiness, but most of all for the woman you are, be you Liar Larkin, carter of Hawking Sedge, Lady Larkin Rosham of Rosewood, or Countess Larkin Hawksedge of Hawksedge Keep. I want to marry you, live with you, and love you all of my days. You, not your name, nor your place in this world. But we still have problems to resolve.”

Larkin kissed him then. “Aye, that we do, but they can wait. Take me to the solar, Talon. Make love to me, now.”

“But, the annulment of your marriage ...?”

“Is one of those problems that can wait. Please.”

He lifted her into his arms. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, and if you question my certainty once more, I shall clout you soundly.”

But he did ask her repeatedly, each time he roused from loving her, and her reply was always the same.

They drowsed in bed the next morning, enjoying the delicious contentment of being alone with each other. Talon nuzzled the hair from her ear. “We’ve been abed a full day. Do you think we should rise and face the world?”

“I would much rather stay here.”

“So would I, sweeting. But I fear the world approaches.”

Indeed, she could hear footsteps thudding on the stairs. Hastily she donned a robe while Talon pulled on his chausses and a jerkin.

A perfunctory knock sounded, and Timoras burst into the room. “A messenger, sir, with letters from the king and the archbishop.”

“Tell him we’ll be down soon and have food and drink brought for him.” Talon looked at Larkin. “It seems the first of our problems has arrived.”

“Aye.” She made to leave.

Talon’s hand on her shoulder delayed her. “You know, since that night on the beach, I have had proof that if you married my father, that marriage was never consummated.”

“Aye. But without the marriage box, evidence that my marriage was never consummated is of no moment to anyone but us. I do not care. Is it important to you?” The question was not as simple as it might seem. She was asking if he valued her maidenhead more than her self. She was also asking if he still felt guilt that he had lain with his father’s wife. She did not feel guilt. She knew in her heart that her proxy marriage had been no true marriage. She believed God knew that too. If no one told the church, then what did it matter? But she would not force Talon to wrestle with his conscience.

“I give not a fig for that box. I know who and what you are. You are my life and my love, Lady Larkin Rosham. I pray you will soon be my wife as well.”

Certainty bloomed in her heart, and happiness wrapped warmly around her. Talon did love her. Enough to claim her in the face of oaths and hopes and dreams.

They greeted the messenger and took their letters from him.

“Let us read these in the chapel,” she suggested.

Talon wrinkled his brow, then shrugged. “’Tis as good a place as any.”

They sat side by side on the floor before the altar and opened their separate missives.

Larkin took her time reading the archbishop’s response to her petition for annulment of the marriage between Lady Larkin Rosham and Talon’s father. She wanted to be certain she understood the archbishop’s rather convoluted reasoning and rambling explanation of his decision.

When she was finally satisfied and surfaced from her study of the letter, she found her love sorting through the mess in the chapel. “Talon?”

He turned, uncertainty clear in his eyes as he looked at the pages clutched in her hand. “Aye.”

“I thought we agreed to search no further for that box.”

“No, we agreed that we no longer needed to prove who you were. I still wish to find the box, if only to put at ease the minds of any children we have.”

The thought of a plump toddler with Talon’s guinea-gold locks and pansy-dark eyes made her grin. “They won’t need the box either.”

“Why not?” He rejoined her before the altar.

“Read this.” She thrust the archbishop’s letter at him.

He took it. “I will, but only if you read what the king has said to me.”

“As you wish.” She accepted the royal vellum from him.

“I can’t believe this,” she said, astonished at what she’d read. “The king says he trusts his herald implicitly but wonders if you realize that royal recognition of me as Lady Larkin Rosham is in your bests interests. If he gave that recognition, he might be forced to recognize my claim to Hawksedge over yours and suggests it might be better just to marry me and join both holdings in one family.”