Chosen for the Marriage Bed. Anne O'Brien
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‘As long as you keep your eyes and ears open to de Lacy intentions,’ Robert advised, suddenly serious. ‘Watch your back, Richard. Sir John must have an ulterior motive—he always does. When’s it to be?’
‘Soon. It’s intended that she—Elizabeth de Lacy—travel here directly from Llanwardine Priory. She’s well born, of an age to be wed and raised to be a competent chatelaine. I need just such a wife because I need an heir. And she’s extraordinarily well dowered.’ Richard eyed his cousin, an unexpected flicker of amusement in the cold depths of his eyes, then strode across the room, flung open the lid of a heavy oak coffer, to rummage to the bottom to extract a roll of ancient and tattered vellum. Now he smoothed it out, anchored it with tankards and his own poignard. Then, hands splayed on the table top, he bent to study its content with reference to one of the sheets of the marriage contract.
‘Come and look at this, Rob.’
It was a roughly drawn plan in coloured inks, now much faded, of the extent of the Malinder possessions. It was formidable when seen in a swathe of indigo blue. There were the lands of the Black Malinders, forming a substantially solid block through the east and central March with Ledenshall situated towards its western rim. And there the acquisitions of their cousins of the red hair, principally into South Wales. The Malinders were a powerful family.
‘It’s formidable,’ Robert agreed. ‘Black and Red Malinders together.’
‘It is. And thus understandable why de Lacy should fear our influence and wish to clasp hands with the Malinders. But look at the girl’s dowry. Sir John said that the titles came to her from her mother’s family, the Vaughans of Tretower, a family with strong connections in the March. So she would bring with her that estate there.’ Richard referred to the stipulated estates on the contract and pointed at the location of the lands on the plan. ‘And there. And also there. As well as this stretch of land.’ He ran his finger along the proposed estates that the bride would bring with her, splaying his hand over them thoughtfully when he had traced the full extent. ‘I would say that Sir John chose them most carefully.’
Robert nodded. If Elizabeth’s lands were subsumed into the Malinder holdings, Richard’s land ownership would sweep in an impressive block, almost unbroken, along the March. ‘More than generous.’
‘Too generous?’ Richard pushed himself upright and allowed the vellum to re-roll, scooping it up and replacing it in the coffer. He then sat on the lid, forearms braced on thighs to pin his cousin with a speculative stare. ‘It would appear to me to be foolhardy in the extreme. To consolidate my power in the central March at the expense of his own. Sir John’s no fool. So why has he done it? Because he values my charm and place at his table as a member of his family?’
Robert grunted. ‘I can think of nothing less likely.’
‘Nor I. He’s very keen to draw me in. This offer is far more advantageous to me than when I agreed to wed Maude. So why?’
‘Is it simply that he’s keen to get the girl off de Lacy hands?’
‘No. Not that.’ Richard pushed impatient fingers through his hair to clasp his hands behind his head and lean back against the wall. He frowned down at his crossed ankles as if they would give him the answer to the riddle. ‘He’s given too much away. If the problem is the girl, why not simply leave her in Llanwardine Priory where she’s an irritant to no one but the Lady Prioress? No. Sir John has some scheme in mind that demands an alliance with me. Is it simply that I don’t look too closely at what he’s up to in the March? He could have bought my compliance with much less—I’ve no overt quarrel with Sir John unless he steps on my toes, in spite of his allegiance to York. So there’s something here that I’m not seeing.’ The sun caught a sharp glint in Richard’s eyes as he turned his head. ‘To my mind, Sir John sees Elizabeth and her estates as the bait in a trap.’
‘With you as the unsuspecting rat?’ Robert hitched a hip against the table, emptied the tankard.
‘Hmm. Not so unsuspecting. But what’s the trap? That’s what I can’t see.’
‘As I said—watch your back, Richard.’
Richard’s reply was cool and contemplative. ‘So I shall. Because another question is, do you suppose that the bait—the cheese to catch the rat, Elizabeth de Lacy herself—is an innocent party to this? Or is the undesirable Elizabeth part and parcel of Sir John’s dark and devious scheming?’
Richard let his own question hang in his mind. He had no liking for such murky doings, and yet there were definite advantages to this match. A high-born wife with an enviable parcel of land. As long as he kept his wits about him he would be in no danger. So the girl was neither amenable nor passingly attractive. Would it matter so much? As long as she could hold the reins at Ledenshall in his absence and bear Malinder sons, then she would be an acceptable wife.
‘I’m just surprised you would even seek an alliance with a family that would overthrow King Henry and raise up the Duke of York in his stead,’ Robert remarked.
‘To my mind it could be to an advantage, Rob. Better to have some small window through which to spy into the intent of our enemies than to be taken by surprise. So if Sir John is in truth plotting against me…’
‘Elizabeth de Lacy is to be that window.’
‘Then why not?’
‘Then the girl has my sympathies.’ Robert held out his tankard. ‘An object of intrigue from both sides of the alliance.’
Richard stood to refill Robert’s empty cup with a rueful smile. ‘I doubt it will ever come to that. Enough of this. The contract is signed. The lady seems to consider marriage to me at least preferable to life as a nun or to the embrace of Owain Thomas. I should feel duly flattered and honoured!’ A touch of steel in eye and voice. ‘As long as she realises that once she has crossed this threshold her loyalty will be to me and not to her family. I will not tolerate any desire to cleave to de Lacy politics.’
Robert raised his tankard. ‘Then, if you are set on it, let’s drink to the success of the enterprise.’
And Richard raised his tankard. ‘Amen to that! To my fruitful union with Elizabeth de Lacy.’
Chapter Three
Elizabeth arrived at her new home in the middle of a thunderstorm. The expected guests erupted without ceremony, horses and riders, into the outer courtyard in a chaotic flurry of hooves and mud and a downpour of rain. Richard turned his face up to the heavens. Grey clouds pressed down. If he had been a man of superstition, he thought, he would have seen this as a sign of ill omen. All he needed was a pair of passing ravens to croak their disapproval.
Then the gates creaked and thudded shut behind them. Servants emerged to see to the comfort of the travellers. Two young men, unrecognisable in cloaks and hoods, issued orders. Elizabeth de Lacy’s brothers, Richard decided. They swung down from their horses and would have gone to the aid of the women, but Richard forestalled them. His eye had sought and found the younger of the two female forms, well muffled against the storm. As a gesture of greeting he waded through the wet to help his betrothed to dismount.
‘Come, lady. Hardly the welcome I would have wished for you. Let me help you…’
She did not reply. Her face was shadowed by her deep hood. He stood beside her weary horse, raised his arms to place his hands firmly around her waist to lift her down from the saddle. Only to be answered by a sharp hiss from within her cloak. A flash of dark fur and lethal claws. A shallow but bloody scratch appeared along the length of Richard’s hand.
Startled into immobility, Richard stared at the blood, his hiss of surprise as much as pain echoing that of the cat sheltered within the folds of Elizabeth’s cloak. He looked up, to find two pairs of eyes fixed on him. One feline and definitely displeased, golden and unblinking from the confines of the cloak. The other dark and watching