“Hush!” Eleanor admonished, glancing around the antechamber they had entered, and they said nothing more until they were in Eleanor’s solar, preparing to ready themselves for the journey home.
“Can you speak, now?” Anne asked, glancing at the doors that had just shut behind them. She walked to the pegs on the wall and, taking down one of Mary’s gowns, she began folding it, still looking at Eleanor.
“Aye,” Eleanor said. Shaking her head, she reached for a brush and began brushing her hair, leaning back against the post of the bed. “William, that cur, suggests that Hugh himself is behind the poaching, because Hugh wants William to be eager to sell him the forest rights to Strathcombe. William says Hugh is plotting this way, because he hopes William will think that the poaching has made Strathcombe forest such a nuisance to manage. William says that Hugh is lacking in funds because of the Crusade and needs the money that the forest would bring him, a goodly amount, as I know.”
“Hugh?” Mary exclaimed. “He is a knave, besides being arrogant?” She sank down on a stool, her face a study in dismay. “And this is to be my husband, perhaps? I did not think him a blackguard.”
“Nay, I think not,” Eleanor said, folding her arms, brush in hand. “He is arrogant and condescending, and thinks I am a gull, but I think him not a knave. William, too, thinks I am a gull!” she scoffed. “William thinks to poison my mind against someone for his own reasons. I know William too well, methinks. If anyone be a blackguard, it is he!”
“You speak rightly,” Anne agreed, smoothing out another of Eleanor’s gowns before folding it. “Hugh is a hard man, true, and arrogant into the bargain, but a blackguard, no. All the years I have lived here at Strathcombe, I have never heard of his being involved in an unsavory mess such as this poaching conspiracy. He is what he is—and,” Anne’s eyes twinkled, “you can see for yourselves what he most definitely is!”
“Oh!” Mary gasped and turned bright red, while Agnes laughed, and Eleanor shook her head.
“What did you answer, then, to William?” Mary asked, once the laughter had died down, the color still high in her cheeks.
“I told him I didn’t think what he said about Hugh was true, but, just so I wouldn’t make him angry, I told him I would think about it,” Eleanor answered. She shook her head. “There was more he said, as well,” she continued. “William then said that because Hugh was such a scoundrel and sought to do me damage, that I shouldn’t want my sister to wed him. That is what I think William hoped to do by his carrying this untrue tale to me—to turn me against any betrothal of Hugh and Mary and thus to agree to William’s request for Mary’s hand to France.”
“What?” Mary exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Clasping her hands, she rushed to Eleanor’s side. “I know I am but a pawn in all of this,” she said. “But, is there anything you can do to save me from France? And from Hugh?”
Anne and Agnes turned toward Eleanor, waiting for her answer. Eleanor shook her head, and, putting down the brush, took Mary’s hands in her own. “Mary, dear, I wish there were a way out of this terrible dilemma. I will do my best to find a way, I promise. I vowed the selfsame thing to our father—that I would protect you, and I must hold fast to my word.”
“Thank you, dear sister,” Mary said, squeezing her hands in return. “I know you shall do your best, and I will uphold my end of the bargain, no matter how displeasing it be.” She sighed. “Honor et fides.”
Eleanor glanced at Anne and Agnes. “To your work, please. We must make haste, for I do not care to linger any longer at Litchfield.”
Exchanging glances, Agnes and Anne bent their heads to their tasks, folding and packing clothing into the chest, ready for the servants to load onto the carts for the journey back to Strathcombe. Whispers reached Eleanor and Mary, where they stood at the far end of the room, but Eleanor could hear only a few words… “Hugh” and “William.” Anne was full now of even more grist for the gossip mill when she returned to Strathcombe, Eleanor was certain.
Eleanor looked into Mary’s eyes, which were brimming with unshed tears. In a low voice, she asked, “Has someone else begun to steal your heart?”
Mary looked down at her velvet slippers. “Yes,” she whispered. “Henry and I have spent sweet hours together. He does love the lute, as well. Can you do nothing?” she begged.
Eleanor sighed. “Oh, dear Mary, I cannot promise definitely, but I know there will be a path out of this problem. I feel that our futures and fortunes are intertwined with the forest crimes, and once those are solved and we find the criminals, much shall be made clearer to us.” She put her arm around Mary and gave her a squeeze.
“Thank you, sister dear,” Mary said. She smiled bravely and dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her surcoat. Eleanor smiled, but she was filled with foreboding. The assize was approaching swiftly, and their future was in doubt. Would that Osbert could find the poachers and bring them, bound and chained together, to the assize!
With carts rattling over the drawbridge, horses whinnying, and hooves pounding on the planks, the train of Eleanor of Strathcombe left Litchfield in advance of Hugh’s, Hugh saying he had things to speak of with William. Eleanor and Mary had exchanged glances at that, Mary’s eyebrows raised in pleading, and Eleanor putting a finger to her lips in warning.
“Do you think he is asking William for my hand in marriage?” Mary asked, as they rode under the raised portcullis and across the drawbridge.
“Most likely,” Eleanor sighed. “I don’t think he will be asking to
