“’Tis not right,” Madelyne spoke again, this time with more vehemence. “It’s too much—the cost will be too great, and I do not need all of these gowns!”
This time, her objection was not ignored. Tricky turned to her with flashing eyes, surprising Madelyne with the indignation in her expression. “My lady, when I agreed to come with you, I vowed to care for you to the best of my abilities—to protect you and to serve you. I cannot allow you to dress in rags, or in clothing that belonged to another woman in another time. You must be dressed as befits your station, and you must adorn yourself with jewels and gold—else you will be eaten alive by the wild cats here!”
Madelyne blinked. How had Tricky become so seasoned with the ways at court, and from where had this stubborn streak come? “I am but a simple nun,” she replied, “and I do not believe that you
“You are no nun yet,” Tricky reminded her boldly. “And until such time as you make your last vows and shave your head, you must bear the mantle of your position. Even you, my lady, must wear the pretension of the Lady of Tricourten if you are to have a chance here.”
The seamstress bobbed her head vigorously. “Aye, my lady, you must listen to your maid—she has the right of it. And the Lord of Mal Verne has instructed me to clothe you in such a manner. I cannot disregard his wishes.” The expression on her face revealed that she was not so much afraid of his lord as she was loathe to lose the business.
Madelyne frowned and didn’t reply, trying to forget her sudden aversion at the reminder that she would shave her head. She could demand that the women go, and leave her to her simple, borrowed clothing…but mayhaps that would be no more than slicing off her nose to spite her face. She would need every bit of influence in her favor if she were to gain permission from the king to leave his court, and to survive her stay whilst she was there.
She sighed, and the others, seizing the opportunity of her tacit approval, returned to their animated discussion of her clothing. The seamstress left, and by that time, Madelyne was at peace—albeit temporarily—with the arrangement. It would be a temporary allowance, and when she returned to Lock Rose Abbey, she could don the familiar gowns of black and blue linen. Absently, she allowed her fingers to trail over the smoothness of a pearlescent silk, reveling in its sleekness. ’Twould be no hardship to slip into the softness of a tunic made from this cloth, she mused guiltily. Snatching her hand away, she turned to the small fireplace and forced herself to say two paternosters and one prayer to the Blessed Virgin in penance for her frivolous thoughts.
Madelyne had barely finished when a knock sounded on the door. She started for it, but Tricky gestured her back and opened it just enough to peer out. She withdrew back into the chamber and announced in a voice heavy with formality, “My lady has her first visitor. Lady Judith of Kentworth requests an audience with my lady.”
Madelyne rose to her feet, smoothing her gown. “Tricky, please let her in.” She stepped toward the door to greet the woman who breezed in, followed by a young page and two maidservants.
“Lady Madelyne.” As she swept in, the other woman brightened the room with her smile and fiery, golden-red hair. She paused from taking Madelyne’s hands into her own. “Do you not remember me?” Her laugh tinkled into the room as she moved forward, nearly stepping upon a stack of discarded bolts of cloth. “Our summer of fostering in Kent?”
The memory struck Madelyne with the force of a gale wind and she could not help the smile that burst over her face. “Judith? ’Tis you?” Before she could speak further, she was enveloped by her childhood friend in an exuberant embrace and she felt tension ease from her body.
Judith stepped away, holding her by the fingertips, and appraised her bluntly. “Aye, Maddie, how you’ve grown into a beautiful woman! But we must do away with your clothing!”
Before Madelyne could protest that she had much too much with fussing over her dress, Judith spurred into action and began to issue firm, simple commands. “Fetch you my ribbons and girdles trunk, Mellie,” she said to a maidservant who’d accompanied her. “Onda, I will need to see Mistress Blaine—send to her to see us before the midday meal.” Thus, each of the companions were sent away—including Tricky and Peg, who wished to accompany Onda on her mission—and the two women were left alone.
“At last,” Judith said, casting her a bright smile.
“Please, sit,” Madelyne found her voice and was determined to regain control over her future. She would gladly admit her deficiency in fashion and dress, and capitulate to those who knew better. But in other matters, she would not be overruled. Before she had a chance to speak and establish this, Judith waved a hand at her as she plopped onto the bed.
“I trow, ’tis most difficult to think up excuses to send them away that they do not wonder why I should be so urgent in the matter. ’Tis just that I wished for a moment alone with you—as you are guarded by that little dragon—to speak on these long years.” Her face, beautiful in its own right, softened from the smile into one of quiet sadness. “Dear Maddie, you cannot know how ill I felt when I learned you’d been drowned these ten years past. And you cannot know the hope I felt when Gavin shared that he’d found you yet alive.”
At the mention of Gavin, Madelyne felt an odd wrench in her stomach and she stood abruptly. This beautiful woman, with the red-gold beacon of a head and sparkling green eyes, was the one he’d told her to seek if she needed assistance. She spoke of him with familiarity and warmth, and though she shouldn’t care, Madelyne couldn’t keep back the unhappy thought of what Judith of Kentworth meant to Gavin of Mal Verne.
“Lord Gavin told me I should seek you out should I need assistance, but I did not know that it was you of whom he spoke,” she replied carefully.
“How did he come to find you? How did you come to be alive?”
Madelyne gave a simple version of the escape she and her mother had made ten years earlier, careful to repeat the tale that Lady Anne had perished some years after reaching the abbey. “Lord Gavin came upon the abbey which had been our refuge, and after the sisters treated his wounds and those of his men, we released them.” She thought it best not to refer to the trick she’d played on Gavin. “’Twas only a fortnight later that he returned with an order from the king demanding my presence at court.” She looked questioningly at Judith. “I do not know why his majesty has ordered an audience with me.”
A flash of surprise flitted across Judith’s face. “King Henry has requested your presence? But Gavin told me —” She stopped abruptly and bit her lower lip. For a moment, she looked uncertain, and Madelyne watched her steadily, her heart freezing.
Then Judith clapped her hands together in chagrin. “’Tis always my loose tongue that puts me into the fire!” She shook her head, and a thick coppery braid swung around, falling over her shoulder.
“What did Lord Gavin tell you?” Madelyne asked with a calmness she did not feel.
Judith sat upright on the curtained bed, still gnawing at her lower lip. “He came to me to ask if I recalled the markings on your wrist,” she gestured to Madelyne’s left hand, the wrist barely exposed by the tight sleeve of her undertunic. “’Tis how he came to recognize you, if you did not know.”
Madelyne inclined her head, trying to subdue the churning in her middle. “What concern was it to him?”
“Your father and Gavin of Mal Verne are sworn enemies,” Judith told her, her eyes wide and solemn. “Gavin has vowed to crush Fantin de Belgrume, and he has the support of the king in this.”
“King Henry has given his permission that Lord Gavin should kill my father?”
“Nay, not to kill him—’though, in truth, methinks Gavin would not hesitate to do so should he have a permissible reason. His majesty wishes only that de Belgrume, who has waged reckless war on other barons to steal their lands, should be brought under control.”
It suddenly became clear to Madelyne how she’d been manipulated. “Lord Gavin has brought me to the king to suit his own purposes then,” she said flatly. “The king has not requested my presence—’twas only to suit Mal Verne that he has done so.”
Judith must have seen the coldness that settled over Madelyne’s features, for she reached out to touch her friend’s hand. “Maddie, Gavin does not mean you any harm—”
Madelyne drew away. “I do not know that. I do know that I’m here against my will, having been taken from the sanctuary in which I sought refuge—in which I was happy—for years. In this world, this man’s world, I lose the freedoms I had in the abbey: the freedom to write and read, to manage my own affairs within the abbey, and the freedom to answer to no man except the king—who knew me not until Lord Gavin blazoned my presence to him.”
She wrapped her arms around her waist, fighting the fear and anger that swarmed her. She had been a fool
