Puzzled by his question and irritated at his tone of voice, Isabel replied, “No, of course not. I already explained why I wish to leave.”
Chetwynd stood up. When he spoke, his words were casual and cool. “Fair enough. Our arrangement does not include sharing confidences. Please forget I asked the question.”
When Isabel scrambled to her feet, Chetwynd grasped her arm to help. But he withdrew his hand quickly once she was standing.
“Your father and I discussed a time for the marriage. If I were here alone, I could stay longer, but my men are eager to be home. In order to leave tomorrow, the marriage will have to take place either tonight, as your grandmother suggested, or before worship in the morning. Is such short notice agreeable with you?”
“That will be fine. My maid, Marianna, has no family. We can prepare to leave quickly.”
“Good. I’m pleased you will have someone to attend you. I think it might be best if we exchange vows tomorrow morning, and then leave directly. If we marry this evening, there will be the expectation that we . . . Well, you know.” He was reluctant to mention sharing a bed.
Isabel knew exactly what he meant and answered quickly. “Of course. I’ll inform my grandmother of your wish.”
The silence between them became awkward as it lengthened. Finally, Chetwynd spoke again. “Since I didn’t have a swim yesterday, I’d like one now. Why don’t you meet with your father while I do so?”
Isabel nodded and backed away from him. “I think you’ll enjoy the pond, Lord Chetwynd.” Not knowing what else to say, she turned and hurried away.
It was a few minutes before Isabel remembered she had left her slippers behind. She turned back to the pond and arrived as Chetwynd, his bare back turned toward her, was pulling off his hose. Forgetting her slippers again and hoping he hadn’t heard her, she fled, but not before the shape of his muscular body was etched upon her mind. He seemed a great deal larger without his black clothing.
Trying to ignore the vision, Isabel ran along the path and concentrated on the things she had to do. She must meet with both her father and grandmother. When Isabel blinked her eyes, Lord Chetwynd’s well-formed body appeared on her closed eyelids, causing her face to flush. Deciding she wasn’t ready to deal with her family, Isabel sought out Father Ivo.
The parish priest was in the small room at the back of the chapel where Isabel had received lessons. He looked up from his book, took a minute to focus on the present, and then struggled to his feet.
“My, you looked flushed, my lady.”
“I’ve been running,” Isabel managed to say between gasps of breath. Tucking her bare feet out of sight under her gown, she brushed her hair from her face and remembered that she had also forgotten her head covering at the pond.
“I was awaiting you. Lady Winifred has told me the news, and I was sure you would come. I understand Lord Chetwynd is a friend of Justin’s, and both your grandmother and father seem satisfied it’s a good match.”
Isabel nodded, still out of breath.
“But what of you, Isabel? Is it a match which pleases you?” As he spoke, he waved his hand to indicate she should take her accustomed seat on the bench at his worktable.
His question surprised her, and Isabel was touched that he would care enough to ask how she felt. “Yes, Father, it pleases me,” she replied.
Although her family life had often been a trial, the hours she had spent with Father Ivo helped fill the void left after Justin’s departure. Looking around at the familiar room, Isabel knew she would miss her time spent with the elderly priest.
“I will miss you, my child,” Father Ivo said, echoing her thoughts. “In all my years of teaching, I have never had a student who asked such challenging questions. You have brought warmth into the life of an old man.”
For the second time that day, tears came to Isabel’s eyes. She felt her control slipping, and she covered her mouth to keep from sobbing.
“No, no, my lady. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s time for you to venture forth, and I envy you the opportunity.”
Father Ivo patted her shoulder awkwardly, but Isabel couldn’t speak.
“You must have a chance to see the empire, Lady Isabel, before the sons of King Louis let it slip away.” Father Ivo was a great admirer of King Charles, but had little respect for his grandsons who were destined to rule.
When Isabel still didn’t say anything, Father Ivo began one of his familiar tales. “I was there at the beginning, when King Charles was crowned Holy Roman Emperor by Pope Leo III. At first the king seemed reluctant to take the crown, but then he accepted it, as well as the task of safeguarding the empire. He grew into that crown. He was famous for inviting poets and historians to his court, and encouraging his people to learn to read and write. They named him Charles the Great, Charlemagne. What a glorious time that was.”
Isabel had heard this story many times, and she would have enjoyed hearing it once more. But Father Ivo abruptly interrupted himself.
“You have listened patiently to my stories, Lady Isabel. Now it’s your time. You’re to be wed, and I am forgetting my duty. I must prepare you for your role as wife to Lord Chetwynd.”
The kindly priest looked thoughtful, as though trying to remember what it was he was supposed to say. Isabel understood Father Ivo’s strength lay in his knowledge of literature and history, as well as his heartfelt manner in conducting Mass. According to Emma, his domestic advice was less adept.
“There is no need, Father. I have talked to Emma and am quite prepared.”
Not that she needed information, she reminded herself, as she had no plans to be intimate with her husband. The last sight she had of Chetwynd leapt to her mind again. Shocked
