It was all Eleanor could do to keep from gagging at the thought. She would rather be a scullery maid!
“We shall see,” she managed to choke out.
She had never been so glad to see anyone leave Strathcombe, not even that arrogant Hugh, when William’s men, horses, and carts rattled across the drawbridge. Sitting in the Great Hall, remembering that horrid exchange, she gripped the arms of her chair. She had to put that out of her mind, she commanded herself, and deal again with the matter of the poaching, or Hugh would be most insistent about arresting Osbert, when he came to meet with her in less than a fortnight.
With a sigh, Eleanor summoned Osbert for another report on his findings. The knights guarding the doors to the Great Hall swung them open and Osbert entered, bowing low.
“Milady,” Osbert said, twisting his huntsman’s cap in his hands, “I have something to report.”
In relief, Eleanor smiled at him, and with instant chagrin, she saw his face brighten immediately. Alack! How quickly she had forgotten the new urgent need for being careful with Osbert!
Eleanor tried to rearrange her expression to one of impersonality. “What have you found out, Osbert?” she inquired, briskly.
Osbert’s face fell a little at her business-like tone, but he answered, “A peasant has reported that he was in the forest with his pigs foraging for pannage, which he has license to do, and he heard a great hubbub. He followed the sounds, hid behind a copse, and spied poachers, sharpening their knives to disembowel a stag. They were speaking of some dark deed, some conspiracy.”
“Conspiracy?” Eleanor asked, leaning forward in her chair.
“Aye,” Osbert said. “It seems the poachers were laughing about the damage they were causing to reputations—damage they were being paid to cause—and that they reaped the benefits of not only the coins they received in payment, but they could poach at will and keep the spoils.”
“What? What do you mean, ‘damage to reputations’?” Eleanor’s attention focused clearly on the words Osbert used.
“He couldn’t hear anything more,” Osbert said, regretfully. “Just at that moment, some of his pigs became embroiled in a scuffle with a badger. The poachers became alarmed at the noise and began to search the grove. The peasant took to his heels, rounded up his pigs, and fled. But,” Osbert went on, “that is helpful information, is it not?”
Eleanor furrowed her brow. “Aye,” she agreed. “I don’t like the sound of it, though. It seems there is more to this poaching than bribery and thievery. Please investigate further and report back to me.”
To Eleanor’s dismay, Osbert’s expression brightened visibly. She held back a sigh. It was time to take control of this situation, or it was going to cause her even more problems with Hugh, she could see that. Hugh already thought she was attracted to Osbert, and that was why she was shielding him from Hugh’s wrath and investigation. Osbert had to know that he had a place—and that place was not at her side!
“Osbert,” she began, straightening her shoulders, “I know that you have served me well and faithfully and will continue to do so. It is good that I can trust you as my servant.”
Crestfallen, Osbert’s head drooped. “Aye, that you can, Milady,” he mumbled.
“But I can’t continue to support you as well if you don’t find any information,” she warned. “Hugh already wants to arrest you and questions my judgment regarding you. He wonders why I am not more suspicious of you about the poaching. He, in fact, has insinuated that I have feelings for you more than befit a mistress and her servant. I cannot have that.” Eleanor almost winced, delivering these words, but she had no choice.
Osbert’s face paled, and he clenched his jaw. “Milady, I will do all within my power to aid you. I cannot have aspersions cast on you on my account.”
“Thank you, Osbert,” Eleanor said. “You may take your leave.” She nodded her head slightly.
Osbert bowed low and left the Great Hall, and Eleanor thought his bearing not quite as erect as it had been, thanks, no doubt, to her making the servant-lady relationship clear. Poor Osbert. Perhaps this meeting had been enough to dampen his hopes and thus quash the rumors that had begun to fly. She hoped so, or this problem with Osbert would confound her current situation in more ways than one. How had life gotten so complicated?
Deep in thought, Eleanor made her way to her solar, where Mary was to meet her for an hour or so of lute-playing and embroidery. She kept mulling over Osbert’s report and what it might portend. The only reason someone would want to damage her reputation would be someone who thought he could benefit from doing so. The forest of Strathcombe was at stake—for if she were judged incapable of managing it, it could be awarded to someone else.
Some dark plot was afoot, and she was caught at the center. Was Hugh the culprit? He surely didn’t think she was capable of managing anything, much less an entire forest. Nay, she thought. The poaching had begun long before Hugh returned. But—had he planned it thus, when he was in the Holy Land? She frowned. Was he capable of such connivery? Or, thus, even of murder?
Mary was already seated on a leather stool, strumming her lute, when Eleanor was ushered in by her knights.
“I am composing a sad tune,” Mary said, the corners of her mouth downturned. “’Twill be my farewell song for England.”
“Nay,” Eleanor comforted her. “Do not worry, sister dear. I’ll find a way, somehow, to prevent your leaving. I promise you that.” She took a seat on a chair next to her sister and picked up her embroidery.
“How I hope so,” Mary said. “The thought of a marriage with an ancient count does
