“Well, if you think of any questions about personal matters, please come to see me.” Clearly relieved, Father Ivo continued, “You have been the best kind of student, Lady Isabel. One I learned from while I taught. I put aside this small sheaf of poems for you to take with you.” He handed her a packet tied together with a string.
“Thank you, Father Ivo.” To keep from crying, Isabel hugged the small priest, inhaling for the last time the dusty smell of old parchments that clung to his robe. He was as hard to say goodbye to as Emma had been.
“I will miss our lessons. There will be a hole in my life,” he whispered, and Isabel heard his voice crack.
Remembering Emma using those same words, Isabel pulled away. “Father Ivo, there is someone who would love to listen to your stories, as well as learn to read. It’s Emma. She never tires of hearing tales and would like to read them. Would you give her lessons?”
His bushy eyebrows lifted. “She is a bright girl. Do you think she’d be interested?”
“Yes, yes, I do. I’ll tell her to come see you.”
Isabel smiled happily at the thought of the two most important people in her life sharing time together. “Tell her about your adventure with the poet who came to Charlemagne’s court from across the waters. I know she’ll enjoy it.”
“I’ll do that. And she can bring her babe. I love children.” Father Ivo beamed at her. “You have grown into a kind and thoughtful person, Lady Isabel. Lord Chetwynd is a fortunate man. Go with God, my lady.”
His words sobered Isabel. Then the nude Chetwynd stole into her thoughts once again, and she started to laugh. “I’ll do my best,” she said.
CHAPTER FIVE
ISABEL’S MEETING WITH HER FATHER WENT pretty much as she had expected. Lord Theodoric told her she was fortunate to be making such an advantageous marriage and warned her against undermining the match. Isabel kept her annoyance in check by thinking about Father Ivo, who had, in many ways, been her real father.
Her visit with Lady Winifred was even more annoying. Her grandmother was curious about how her relationship with Lord Chetwynd was progressing.
“The minute I laid eyes on Lord Chetwynd, I believed him the husband for you, Isabel,” Lady Winifred told her. “He has wealth, a promising career, and is a friend of Justin’s. You spent some private time with him. What do you think of your future husband?”
“I think he is an honorable man, my lady.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” Lady Winifred said impatiently. “But he is also a strong, virile man. Has he shown any interest in you?”
“He seemed pleased that Marianna would be traveling with me,” Isabel answered, purposely misunderstanding her grandmother’s meaning.
“Don’t be so naive, Isabel. Did he touch you in an intimate manner?”
It was difficult for Isabel to refrain from answering sharply. But what was the point, she reminded herself. She wasn’t going to change her grandmother. She settled for ignoring the question.
“We talked about marriage arrangements, my lady. We decided to exchange our vows at sunrise. That will give Marianna and me a chance to pack this evening.”
This news distracted Lady Winifred from her probing. “But Isabel, I had hoped you would start your married life at Narbonne. If you exchange vows this evening, you can spend your first night together here in your home.”
Isabel suddenly had a vision of her grandmother, an encouraging smile on her face, tucking them into bed together. The ludicrous thought cheered her up, but she dared not share her amusement, as she knew her grandmother lacked a sense of humor where the marriage of her granddaughter was concerned.
“Lord Chetwynd prefers to wait until morning,” Isabel said. Since men were seldom denied the final say about such matters, Isabel was confident this information would put an end to her grandmother’s objection.
Lady Winifred shrugged off her disappointment. “Men . . .” she muttered. Then, after a moment, she changed the subject. “I don’t imagine you need any information about the physical aspect of marriage. I’m sure either Father Ivo or Emma has filled you in on the details. Just try not to be cold and stiff. Men hate that.”
“Thank you for the helpful advice, Gran-mere.” As Isabel expected, the sarcastic tone with which she spoke these words was lost on Lady Winifred.
Her grandmother’s attempts at interference gave Isabel reason to be thankful for Chetwynd’s plan to exchange vows in the morning. There was no telling how far her grandmother would go to see that they slept together. The sooner they departed Narbonne, the better.
In contrast to her father and grandmother, her time with Marianna had been companionable and pleasant. Isabel had been ten years old when Marianna, two years older, had been assigned by Lady Winifred to be her handmaid. From her first day, she had taken her duties seriously, and her attitude made her seem older than her years. Despite the small age difference, she acted like a mother toward Isabel.
Since she had no family, her personal maid was thrilled at the prospect of traveling with Lady Isabel, and she only complained mildly about the fact they were leaving so soon.
“I’m sure Lady Winifred will help us, if you think the packing is too much for us to do alone,” Isabel said to tease Marianna.
As she anticipated, Marianna shook her head vigorously. “We don’t need her help. Your mother’s gowns and jewelry are already packed, just waiting for you to take an interest in them.”
Isabel grinned. “I’m fortunate to have you, Marianna. And I’m fortunate to have inherited a ready-made trousseau. Leave out my plainer gowns for me to wear on the road. Most of my mother’s things are much too elegant to wear on horseback.”
In addition to clothes, the two women packed bedding, eating utensils,
