“Of course. Hopefully they will have good news.”
“I can’t thank you enough for your help and understanding, Reverend Mother.”
“No need for thanks, Lord Chetwynd. Please let me know if I can do anything more. You have done all you can for now. It’s time to ask for the Lord’s help. Go with your sister to the chapel and renew your strength with prayer.”
On their way to the sanctuary, Chetwynd finally took time to give some attention to his sister. “You’re looking well,” he said, managing a smile as she took his arm.
Gilda was the only family member with whom he remained close. Although she and Isabel were about the same age, Gilda was more delicate in appearance, a fact that belied the strength of her character. In spite of her austere habit and small stature, her lovely face shone with health and contentment. Being in Gilda’s company had always been a restful and revitalizing experience for Chetwynd.
“I wish I could say the same for you, dear brother.”
“To tell the truth, I feel helpless, and I don’t much care for the feeling.”
“You can depend on the abbess, Chetwynd.”
“I know she’ll do all that’s possible to help us.”
Gilda nodded and then asked him the personal question she had abandoned when she heard of the kidnapping. “How is it that you are suddenly married? The last I heard you were still vowing to avoid such a fate.”
Since he had mixed emotions about the event, Chetwynd wondered where to start. “It’s a complicated story. Isabel is Lord Justin’s sister. You’ve heard me speak of him. I hadn’t planned to marry Isabel, but when I arrived at her father’s manor at Narbonne. . .” Chetwynd paused. How could he explain how the match came to be arranged without sounding ridiculous for the role he had played?
“You fell madly in love with her,” Gilda filled in for him.
Chetwynd was shaken by her comment, realizing it was close to the truth, but it was closer to lust than love. As soon as he’d seen Isabel swimming in the pond, he had wanted her for his own.
“Not exactly,” he mumbled. “I hadn’t meant to marry. The match was arranged to make it easier for Lady Isabel to travel with us.”
Gilda’s raised eyebrows told Chetwynd that she questioned his abbreviated version. But he didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press him. “I’m eager to meet Lady Isabel,” was all she said.
The thought that the meeting might never happen was like a knife in Chetwynd’s heart. To hide his pain, he turned his face away from his sister. But Gilda had always been able to read his moods, and she squeezed his arm.
“Come, my dear. We will pray for Lady Isabel’s safe return.”
Inside the small chapel, brother and sister knelt together. Chetwynd abandoned the usual prayers he had repeated by rote for so many years. Instead he pleaded silently for God to watch over Isabel and keep her safe. Although the presence of Gilda and the quiet of the chapel calmed his anguish, the relief was fleeting.
Later, in his room, Chetwynd was again tormented by thoughts of Isabel, his beautiful and spirited wife, alone with the outlaws. The possibility that she might be hurt terrified him. To ease the distressing images the situation brought to his mind, he paced back and forth in the narrow space between the small bed and the door, wondering what more he could do. Ingram had been dispatched to speak with the sheriff. The porter, briefed by Marianna, was on guard at the gate. The good sisters had taken charge of Marianna and were praying for Isabel’s safe return. All he could do now was wait, and the lack of activity was difficult to bear.
As the night wore slowly on, Chetwynd moved to lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He had wasted so much precious time. Instead of avoiding Isabel, he should have been getting to know her better. It was clear she desired him, as he did her. Unfortunately, he had made mistakes in his life and there were matters to settle before he could think about marriage.
If Isabel were returned to him, he’d make it right. He’d explain to her his relationship with the queen, and then seek Justin’s blessing on their marriage. He suspected that he would have trouble convincing Justin, who knew of the mistakes he had made, that he would be a suitable husband for his sister. He couldn’t even convince himself.
There was a soft knock on his door. Chetwynd leapt from his bed, hoping to hear some news of Isabel. Pulling open the door, he found Matthew, the soldier he had left at the aqueduct to wait for Jerome. It took only a second to see that Matthew was alone. Chetwynd’s heart sank.
“What news?” he asked.
“Jerome didn’t come back. I waited longer than you asked me to, but there was no sign of him. I thought you should know, my lord.”
Matthew was his youngest soldier, not many years older than Jerome. He looked as dejected as Chetwynd felt. “It’s all right, Matthew. You did the right thing.”
“I just thought you should know he didn’t return,” he repeated, pushing his hand through his already tousled hair. “I can go back to the aqueduct and wait longer.”
“Not tonight, Matthew. Get some rest and we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Perhaps there will be some news by then.”
Ingram arrived at the door just as Matthew was about to leave. He spoke without preamble. “Marianna insisted on staying in the dining hall to watch all newcomers, and I sat with her. She thinks she recognized a newly arrived merchant.”
“Where is he?” Chetwynd asked, already heading through the door.
Ingram grasped his arm to stay him. “Hear me out, Chetwynd. I sent Marianna away so the merchant wouldn’t know we spotted him. I was keeping watch on him as he had some supper when a curious thing happened. Another man arrived.
“I learned later from the porter that the second man didn’t even unsaddle his horse,
