Mary smiled and squeezed Eleanor’s shoulder. “You are stalwart, sister, dear,” she said.
“There is one more problem,” Eleanor admitted. Mary looked back up from her lute, which she had begun to tune. “Hugh writes that he knows William of Litchfield won’t be happy to hear about all the poaching and that William will think I am a poor administrator of Strathcombe.”
“Oh!” Mary gasped. “He will tell this to William of Litchfield? He is indeed an autocrat!”
Eleanor tightened her mouth. “Yes, he would seem to be,” she agreed. “I most definitely do not want to give William any reason for swiftly finding me a husband and taking me away from Strathcombe.” She frowned. “But Hugh will have met his match in me.” This Hugh would find himself more than a bit taken aback, she promised herself.
Mary nodded in agreement. “Next Tuesday?” she asked.
“Next Tuesday,” Eleanor repeated, straightening her shoulders. “Hugh shall discover just what kind of a neighbor he has, himself!”
Mary giggled, and Eleanor smiled back at her, but worry tugged at the edge of her mind.
Would she be able to deal with Hugh, the arrogant Earl of Wykeham?
Chapter Two
“Only let me love, I ask nothing else, and if you grant this, I will do everything else that you want.”
- Le Roman de la Rose, 13th c.
Setting her worries aside for a moment, hoping to cheer her sister, Eleanor asked, “Mary, would you please play me something? Just a little air?”
Maybe a pretty tune would help quiet her mind and her worries before she had to answer this Hugh; horrid, arrogant man that he was. Somehow, she had to make her point, do it courteously, but not seem like a weak and frail woman, which, from his letter, he obviously thought he was dealing with.
“Nay,” Mary protested. She blushed. “Not today, Eleanor. I don’t have a tune I’d be proud to play you at the moment.”
“Sister, dear,” Eleanor answered, “do not worry! I love you no matter how you play the lute! And you know you play well! You’re too modest.”
Mary smiled, but shook her head. “Thank you, but I will leave you now and go to my room to practice my lute,” Mary said. “I shall be in my solar until the meal.” Mary kissed her sister on the cheek and left, holding her precious lute cradled in her arms.
Eleanor pulled her stool over to the small leather-topped table, where she wrote her letters. For a moment, she toyed with the idea of not answering Hugh at all. No, she reminded herself, she needed to assert herself from the beginning. He had flung down a gauntlet, and she would not weaken before the challenge.
The letter would reach him tomorrow morning, if she sent it by messenger today. Then, at least, Hugh would know he was facing an adversary not as inexperienced as he imagined—and perhaps he might treat her initially with more respect. Although, in truth, she scoffed silently, from what she had heard of his temperament from Anne and Agnes, she doubted that a letter would make any difference in his treatment of her. But she could not let such an affront like his rude letter pass unacknowledged. She was who she was, and she would act appropriately. The nerve of the man!
With a sigh, Eleanor sharpened her quill, dipped it into the ink, and began to write.
Hugh, Earl of Wykeham:
I am in receipt of your letter requesting (here, Eleanor snorted—“requesting”!) my aid in arresting the miscreants poaching in both of our forests. Rest assured that I have been undertaking various measures for the past two months to try and stop the crimes. My chief forester Osbert de Fraunceys is steadfast and true, as he was to my father. You should have no fears on that score.
I await your visit and we will discuss common measures together.
Yours,
Eleanor, Lady Strathcombe’
At least, when he read that letter, Eleanor told herself, he would know that he was not facing a helpless young woman who couldn’t manage her own lands—or one who was at a loss for words! This Hugh would also learn not to question her judgment or her loyalty to those who served her honorably—like Osbert. She fastened the letter with her seal and called to the knights outside her doors to fetch Agnes.
How she wished she could be there—but invisible—when Hugh opened the letter! She smiled. It was masterful, even if she did say so herself. If Hugh had half a brain in his head, he would not miss the clever substitution of “request” for “demand,” and her loyal support for Osbert. The triumphal note, however, was, “we will discuss common measures together.” Eleanor wanted to laugh out loud! He should see that she was intent on a shared, common purpose, and that she was not willing to be ordered about as a slavey!
Agnes hurried in and curtsied. “Yes, Milady?”
“Here, Agnes,” Eleanor said, handing her the sealed letter. “Please give this to one of the messengers, and bid him deliver it to Wykeham immediately.”
“Certainly, Milady,” Agnes answered. As she turned to go, she hesitated. “Your pardon,” she began.
“Don’t worry,” Eleanor said, breaking in with a smile, “I have pledged my support for Osbert in the letter. Hugh of Wykeham shall know I will not take his accusation lightly. You know well that I honor loyalty. Don’t worry about Osbert, Agnes.”
Agnes blushed, curtsied, and left. Eleanor took a deep breath. ‘Twas done. Now all she had to do was to wait until Tuesday to meet with Hugh. She had time to marshal her thoughts about how to deal with him,
