“But did he do it because he wanted Anne’s attention for himself or because he’d begun to like Alix?”
“At least begun to respect her. Maybe it was because he simply felt the knights’ attention was Alix’s right.”
One of the rules he’d recited earlier had caught my attention. “Why was love assumed to be adulterous?”
“It wasn’t always. Not among the lower classes. There was much more freedom for women of the peasantry to marry whom they wished. But the women of the upper classes were considered property. As property they were bargained for and consigned into marriage. The heart was a separate consideration. Marriage concerned property, love concerned the heart… and fidelity of the heart was never considered part of a marriage contract.”
“How convenient. And by Alix’s own words, she had become a woman?”
Cranwell nodded. “And by her husbands actions, he’d finally noticed. My problem is that I just can’t bring myself to believe she didn’t know anything about what was going on between Anne and Awen.”
“Why should she?”
“Come on, Freddie, they spent so much time together! She reports that herself. How could she not know?”
I shrugged. “Who was going to tell her?”
“Agnes.”
“Her maid is going to tell her that her husband is cheating on her? I don’t think so.”
“It’s not natural to be so naive. Besides, part of the legality of a marriage involved its consummation. Alix could have had her marriage annulled on that basis alone.”
I thought about that. “Well, from what you’ve told me, I’d bet her father didn’t tell her the facts of life. He probably assumed his wife would do it. But you told me that Alix wasn’t close to her stepmother. The stepmother probably assumed Agnes would do it, but in that period, you’d be as likely to shoot the messenger as not. Besides, by telling her, Agnes would be humiliating her. The only possible person who could have told Alix the facts of life was her husband. And he wasn’t telling.”
“It’s not like it’s any big secret.”
“It would have been to a high-society medieval girl of thirteen.”
“She was sixteen at this point.”
“Men are more experimental. I was a virgin when I married Peter and-”
“You were a virgin?”
“Yes.”
“You mean you didn’t have sex? Not even while you were engaged?”
“That would be the definition of virgin, wouldn’t it?”
“Not even-”
“No.”
His fingers were fingering the collar of his polo sweater. “Why not?”
“You know, Cranwell, virginity used to be the default condition of a woman. Unless she were married. And I am not one of your actresses or models.”
He must have seen how irritated I was becoming because he dropped it, although I saw him shoot a look at me from under his eyebrows.
Ignoring him, I continued with my argument. “So, yes, it is entirely possible that Alix had no idea what sex was about.”
After clearing our dinner dishes, I retrieved the
I put a ramekin in front of Cranwell and set one at my own place, then I turned on the espresso-maker.
“So Peter’s the only man you’ve ever been with?”
I turned to face him with a hand on my hip. “And when did this become your business?” Yes. Peter was the only man I’d ever been with.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. It’s just so interesting.” There he went again, his fingers toying with his collar.
“Don’t you mean quaint?”
“No, I mean interesting. I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“Exhibit three-virgin girl in natural habitat.”
“Don’t make fun of yourself.”
“Cranwell, enough has been said.”
“Okay. Fine.” He held up his hands in surrender and then picked up a spoon and dug into dessert.
The next morning, I delivered Cranwell his breakfast, the way I usually do. I plunked a cube of sugar into his espresso and handed him the cup. He took it from me, set it down, and then put a hand on my arm.
“Freddie, have I done something to make you upset with me?”
He had no idea. If he hadn’t safely stowed his espresso on the opposite side of the table, I would have doused him with it.
Smiling was difficult. “Why do you ask that?”
“You haven’t been…
Cranwell, you have a funny way of showing it, sleeping with Severine. “I’ve had other things on my mind.”
“Are you sure? If there’s anything…?”
Well, now that you mention it, could you keep your pants zipped? The problem with me is that I never say what’s on my mind. “No, there’s nothing.”
That weekend, we had guests. Friends of Cranwell’s under the auspices of his Freddie Improvement Project. When they pulled up the drive in a limousine, and I saw the chauffeur hand them out of the car, my eyes must have popped out of my head.
Cranwell was halfway out the door and had raised a hand in greeting when I grabbed ahold of his shirt and yanked him back beside me.
“You might have warned me.”
“About what?”
If looks could kill, Cranwell would have been drawn and quartered that very instant.
“About the bowing and scraping I’d have to do. I would have said no.”
“Then you would have missed out on becoming acquainted with some very charming people.” Cranwell’s eyes swept from mine to the couple now ascending the steps. He lifted a hand in welcome.
“You’re an American. You can be forgiven for your uncouth behavior,” I whispered. “I have to live here. Do you even know the protocol involved in hosting someone of royal blood?”
Cranwell rolled his eyes and blew me off, reaching to grasp the hands of the guests who had by now reached the front door.
While they exchanged European-style kisses, I fled to the kitchen and began flipping through my Miss Manners book.
Several minutes later, Cranwell snuck up behind me. He wrenched the book from me, closed it, and returned it to the bookshelf. “Listen. It’s not a big deal. They don’t expect any ‘Your highnesses’ or ‘Your graces’. This is a weekend getaway.”
My lunge for the book was quick, but he managed to step in front of me fast enough to block it. He held onto my upper arms and gave me a shake. “For this weekend, just pretend they’re Carl and Fran.”
“When you booked them, you said they were Carlos and Maria.”
He released me and threw his hands into the air. “Forgive me. Maria was last month. This month it’s Francesca. Next month, it will be someone else. It’s not a big deal. The reason he came here is because I said he wouldn’t need a bodyguard, that they would never mix with the general public. So don’t make me regret my advice.”
“I’m not going to do anything differently.”
“Fine.”
“I’m not changing the menu.”
“Okay.”
“And I won’t bow or kiss anyone’s hand. It’s not democratic.”
