The room set aside for Isabel was located at the end of the guesthouse, affording maximum privacy for visiting nobles. Inside there was a wide bed, a washing stand, and a long bench along one wall. The rushes on the floor were sweet smelling. Isabel sat down on the bench, groaning a little as her sensitive muscles hit the hard wood. The good news was that feeling had returned to her limbs.
Marianna, still energetic, told her mistress to rest and then disappeared to retrieve some of their belongings. Leaning her head against the wall, Isabel stared at the bed meant for a married couple. If she shared the bed with anyone, it would be Marianna, she reminded herself.
Although Isabel closed her eyes and tried to rest, her body remained tense and her mind active. As the minutes passed, she became impatient for Marianna to return with information about their schedule. She wondered if there would be other guests.
When Marianna finally struggled through the doorway, she was juggling a basin of water for Isabel to freshen up and a bundle of clothes. Isabel jumped up to help and groaned again.
“More guests are arriving every minute, my lady,” Marianna said. “You will see for yourself at the worship service. Lord Chetwynd is closeted with the abbot. I was told they are old friends.”
Isabel tried not to feel resentful of Lord Chetwynd’s friendship with the abbot. This was all familiar territory for him, but everything was new to her. As she washed the travel dust off her face, she grew increasingly uneasy about how she would handle meeting the abbot, as well as the other guests.
“I’m very tired, Marianna. Perhaps I could just have a bit of supper in my chamber.”
“Oh come, my lady. You’ll feel better after a little walk. We can stroll around the cloister and have a look at the new arrivals.”
Not wishing to be a coward, Isabel sighed and pulled a cape around her shoulders. “How is it you are not exhausted, Marianna?”
“I’m too excited to be tired, my lady.”
As Marianna predicted, Isabel relaxed a bit as they strolled under an arcade that ran along an inner garden. Across the cloister, elaborately adorned lords and ladies chatted together, clearly renewing friendships. They paraded behind a group of brown-robed monks.
The sight interested Isabel until she realized she should have changed into fresh clothing, as it was clear the other women had. Since the monks were already filing into the chapel, she knew it was too late to return to her room. She feared her casual attire would embarrass Lord Chetwynd.
“I should have changed my clothes,” she whispered to Marianna, gripping her arm.
“I’m so sorry, my lady. I didn’t think of it. It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not. We’re both new to this. We’ll know next time.”
“Do you suppose noble ladies travel dressed in silks and velvets? The weight of the jewels must be an added burden for the horses.”
Isabel held her head a little higher. “I’m sure they travel in litters, Marianna. Let’s pretend we know what we’re doing.” She spoke with more spirit than she felt.
From the doorway of the church, Chetwynd spotted Isabel and Marianna walking behind the monks. Although he knew Isabel must be exhausted from her long day in the saddle, he noticed she held herself erect. According to Ingram, she had acquitted herself well during the journey, refusing to be coddled. When Lady Isabel first insisted on riding a horse, he had thought her willful and expected her to be sorry for her insistence. If she was suffering from her first day in the saddle, she didn’t show it.
Lord Chetwynd’s slight smile at their approach encouraged Isabel. He took her arm, and they made their way to the front pews where they joined other members of the gentry. After a brief prayer, Isabel peered about. The setting sun lit the western windows, and light filtered in, giving the otherwise dark interior a muted glow. A chorus of monks commenced chanting, and the service began. Accustomed to Father Ivo and the small manor chapel, Isabel was awed by the power of the more elaborate ceremony in the magnificent structure.
After the service, Isabel whispered to Chetwynd as he led her out the door. “Such a grand church, Lord Chetwynd. A moving service, don’t you think?”
Chetwynd nodded, amused by her enthusiasm, and led her to the line where guests waited to greet Abbot Adolphus. When it was their turn, he introduced her.
“Reverend Father, I wish to present my wife, Lady Isabel, the daughter of Lord Theodoric of Narbonne.”
There were murmurs of surprise from people around them in the line. By this simple introduction, made in a deep voice, Chetwynd announced to all assembled that he had wed.
Abbot Adolphus held out his hand to Isabel, and for a moment she froze. Then, remembering how she had seen the other women respond, Isabel took his hand and bowed over it. Her embarrassment at her awkwardness was dispelled when the abbot smiled at her.
Chetwynd hadn’t expected so many people he knew to be at the monastery. Watching his new wife, he felt her initial panic as though it were his own. He was surprised at how relieved he felt when Isabel relaxed enough to smile at the abbot.
“You have a long journey ahead of you, Lady Isabel. I hope your stay with us will be comfortable,” the abbot was saying. “I understand you are newly wed, and I wish you a fruitful union.”
Isabel’s face flushed at his words. Being careful to avoid Lord Chetwynd’s eyes, she answered the abbot. “Thank you for your good wishes, Father Adolphus.”
Lord Chetwynd drew her away to make room for others waiting to speak to the abbot. As they proceeded to the great hall, Isabel spoke quietly to her husband. “You seem to be well-known here, my lord.” People were still turning to stare at them as they passed.
“Yes,” he replied. Chetwynd hadn’t expected
