The Baron's Bride. Joanna Makepeace
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deny that your welfare and protection would be assured at Allestone.”
She shivered as she had done when they had ridden below the gatehouse arch this morning. “The place is a prison. I cannot face the prospect of being immured behind those defensive walls.”
“That is just it, Gisela. They are defensive. I have to consider, first and foremost, your safety. You heard Kenrick talk the other day of the attack on that manor near Oakham. It seems the shire reeve is powerless to curb that man’s excesses. Baron Alain de Treville has both the ability to do so and the King’s warrant.”
“Father, are you afraid of the Baron de Treville?”
He met her unflinching gaze steadily. “I would not wish to offend him.”
“So I am to be sacrificed so that you can keep the favour of this King’s man?”
“That could be the size of it, daughter,” Sir Walter admitted. “What have you against him? He is young and personable. He did not appear to me to be excessively harsh. You could do worse.”
“I could do better. What of Kenrick, whom I have known and loved since childhood?”
He was visibly flustered. “Kenrick of Arcote has spoken to you of love?”
“No, he has not,” she replied quietly. “That would have been dishonourable without asking your permission to court me first and Kenrick would not behave so.”
“Kenrick is a fine, upstanding young man, Gisela, but he is not for you.” The statement was made bluntly and she winced at the finality of his tone.
“What if I were to say I loved Kenrick?”
“Frankly I would not believe you. You know nothing as yet of love. Your mother did not love me when we met, nor I her, but we grew to love one another. My father chose her for me and I obeyed him as was right and proper. I have spoiled you, Gisela, for you to so defy my wishes in this.”
“Why do you object to Kenrick?”
He turned to bluster, not finding it easy to put into words his doubts about such a mating.
“He is simply not the man for you. He is kind and honourable, I am the first to admit that, but he is weak-willed, easily swayed, too much under the influence of that mother of his. I do not believe you would be happy or fulfilled in such a marriage.”
“But you think I would be, wed to this man you hardly know.”
“I believe I have the measure of Alain de Treville.”
“And,” she said bitterly, “the fact that he is a powerful baron and in the King’s favour does not weigh with you in the slightest. Will you not have to beggar yourself to provide a suitable dower for me? That is usual in such alliances, isn’t it?”
“We did not discuss a possible marriage contract.”
“I will not do it,” she protested stubbornly.
“Gisela, do not be foolish. I have seldom opposed your wishes. In that I was, perhaps, unwise, but this is a serious business. I will not be defied. I have not yet made up my mind but I tell you plainly, every instinct impels me to accept this proposal. I shall inform you of my final decision tomorrow. You can retire to your chamber if you have finished your meal.”
He was dismissing her as if she were an unruly page or servant. She was trembling with distress and fury. Never had he showed his anger so plainly. She could find no words to answer him so she stood and curtsied formally, an action rare with her to this man she knew only as a loving and generous father, then she walked in dignified fashion from the hall.
She felt her limbs still trembling as she climbed the stair to her chamber where she found Aldith sorting gowns in her clothing chest. Aldith had fallen easily into work as her personal attendant from the moment she had come to Brinkhurst on the afternoon of Sigurd’s arrest. Now she slept on a truckle bed within her mistress’s chamber and to Gisela, it seemed her beloved nurse had returned to her as if she had never left to live with Rolf and Sigurd in the little cottage in the assart.
Aldith saw at once that something was terribly wrong. She did not make the mistake of enquiring, knowing that if the matter concerned Sigurd she would have been informed at once and sensing Gisela was not yet ready to tell her what was distressing her so badly.
Gisela walked to the little casement, its shutters not yet drawn to, despite the cold outside, for Aldith knew that her mistress liked the still-scented air from the herb garden to freshen the little room behind her mother’s bower, which was warmed from below by the hearth fire and could become stuffy.
Gisela stared bleakly over the darkened garden. She said without turning, “Aldith, I want you to find a reliable servant to take a message for me to Sir Kenrick of Arcote at first light tomorrow.” Her voice shook slightly. “Kenrick does not read well so it must be verbal. I want him to meet me at noon tomorrow in the clearing in the wood near the stream. He knows the place. We have ridden there often together.”
Aldith frowned. She was aware, without being told, that this message must not be repeated to others, or reach the master’s ears.
“Mistress, you do not intend to ride out tomorrow without escort? That would be very dangerous.”
“I must, Aldith.” The words were whispered.
She turned from the window and Aldith hastened across to draw to and fasten the shutters. The room was illuminated now only by a single candle on a chest by the bed but, by its light, she saw how white her young mistress was, especially round the mouth.
Gisela had sunk down upon the wolf-pelt coverlet of the bed and was stroking its fur absently.
“What is it, child?” Aldith questioned gently, reverting to her former familiar attitude when Gisela had been her loved charge. “You would not disobey your father without cause. It is not your way.”
“He intends to wed me to Baron Alain de Treville.”
Aldith’s lips rounded in an “o” of astonishment but she uttered no sound.
Gisela said woodenly, “I love Kenrick of Arcote. I—I somehow never questioned the fact that, in time, we should wed.”
Aldith chose her words with care. “It is within the right of your father to choose for you.”
“I know that, but it never occurred to me that he would gainsay me in this, my deepest desire.”
Aldith hesitated, then pressed on, “Few girls expect to marry the man of their own choosing. The Baron is the wealthiest man in the shire. It is natural your father should consider this the finest match for you.”
“I do not wish to be mistress of Allestone.” The words were ground out through gritted teeth. “This man is an arrogant stranger. Look how he treated Sigurd.”
“He granted him his life when it was in his power to hang him,” Aldith reminded her softly. “I shall pray for him to the end of my days for that mercy.”
“But if he had not thrown you both from your cottage, the attack would never have happened.”
Aldith sighed. It was not for her to challenge the decisions of the great ones.
“What do you think Kenrick can do about this?” she said at last diffidently.
“I don’t know,” Gisela said desperately. “Surely he can plead with Father…”
“Suppose it is not in his mind to—offer marriage,” Aldith ventured, “since he has not declared himself? It is my opinion that Sir Kenrick will be guided by his mother in this.”
Gisela stared at her dully. “I am sure he loves me,” she said desperately. “I could be happy at Arcote.” She seized her maid’s hand. “You will do this for me, find me a messenger and help me to get out of the house?”
Aldith nodded slowly. She was kneeling close