Passions - Healing Passion Part 9

Ralf was awake and propped up on pillows. Though pale, his eyes were clear, and his expression had a spark of vitality and alertness. Thomas sent away the servant who'd been sitting with the squire and settled in to talk with the young man for a while.

Chapter Eleven.

Juliana roused slowly, aware at first only of a peace she knew was too fragile to last. No one else lay beside her in the bed. Gradually memory returned. Her mother was gone. Her confession to Sir Thomas had been interrupted by her mother's collapse, but it still loomed before her. Not today, though. She had too much else to bear today.

She rose and rang for a servant to come help her dress. From the angle of the sunlight, it had to be near noon. She never slept so late, but exhaustion had overtaken her when she'd finally cried herself to sleep in Sir Thomas's arms.

There was much to do. She forced herself to drink the tea and eat the slice of toasted bread the servants brought her. Her stomach wanted none of it, but she dared not let her strength wane.

Sir Thomas was out in the bailey somewhere, she was told when she inquired about him. A quick stop in to see Ralf found him sleeping peacefully, with no trace of fever.

He roused a bit when she put a hand on his brow, mumbling something at her, but not

waking fully. "Sleep," she told him as she left.Her mother's body had been removed to the chapel. Two servants accompanied her there, carrying the things she would need to prepare Lady Ardsley for burial. The procedure should only have taken an hour or so, but because she had to stop frequently to control her emotion, it was almost mid-afternoon before she finished.

The priest came in as Juliana was completing the preparations. Along with the two servants who'd come with her, they said a rosary for the repose of her mother's soul before they discussed arrangements for the funeral ma.s.s in the morning.

Once that was done, Juliana went on to the kitchen to ensure they could lay out extra

food for the mourners the next day.

On her way back through the great hall, a group of people led by Peter Randolph stopped her.

"He knows, my lady," the younger Randolph said, his voice low but angry. "He knows, and he'll report it to the king if we don't stop him now.""What does he know?""He knows Lord Groswick did not leave the keep."

"But he doesn't know of Groswick's fate?""Nay, though he strongly suspects. He'll take his suspicions to the king, and the king will act."

"Then so 'twill be," she answered. "Perhaps 'tis time and beyond for this to be set right. I'll not have him or his people hurt any further. My mother is beyond worrying about consequences, and my soul is sick of the stain of deception."

"Your mother is beyond your care, but what of the rest of us?" the maid, Avice, asked. "We need you as well. And what of the king's retribution should he learn of the deception? We've lied to protect you, my lady. Will you now betray us by exposing those lies?"

It stopped Juliana for a moment. "You've none of you done other than what I ordered or requested, and should I have to answer for my deeds to the king, I'll make that clear. The responsibility is entirely mine, and the consequences shall be also. The king will not fault you for following the orders of your lady, as is your duty to do. As for you needing me... There are others here who can maintain order and keep things running smoothly in my absence. The king will appoint a new lord, and I feel sure Sir Thomas will see that our new lord is better than the former one."

"Yet you cannot a.s.sure us of that," Avice argued. "And you've done well by us, lady. What happened was no evil on your part. We would not wish you to suffer for it.""I'd prefer not to suffer for it either. Yet, I fear if I do not at least own to my guilt and pay for it in this world, 'twill be worse for me in the next.""Then you will tell Sir Thomas?""Aye. I would have already had not my mother fallen ill.""My lady, I beg you-"They were all so engrossed in the confrontation that none of them noted the arrival of the man who stood in the arch-until he spoke. "I would very much like to learn what confession you have to make, my lady. I presume it concerns Lord Groswick's mysterious disappearance?"

Several of them whirled and gasped at once, a few others squealed or murmured, "Sir Thomas!"

Juliana had a moment of dizziness and disorientation while it felt as though the floor beneath her wobbled. She groped for a table nearby and leaned against it as she fought for control.

While struggling not to faint, she managed to miss a piece of action, though she heard the sound of a scuffle, raised voices, yells, squeals and the thunk of a fist on flesh. When she could risk straightening and turning to look she realized that several of the man had surrounded and overcome Sir Thomas. They now held him tightly, a man on either arm, pinning them back behind him, wedging him between them to keep him still.

Peter Randolph held a long, wicked-looking knife, and as she watched, he raised it to the knight's throat. Juliana had no doubt of what he intended.

She screamed, "No!"It froze them for a moment, long enough to let her throw herself between Sir Thomas and the knife. Peter took a step back but didn't lower the weapon. "Drop it, Peter," she ordered.

He hesitated. Watching his eyes told her he planned to try to move around her. "Drop it now, before I step forward into it." She said it with so much force that several of the people around screamed and surged forward to stop her. She held out a hand to halt them.

Peter looked dumbfounded and his breath came out on a sob. "My lady!" He slid to the side and so did she, then she moved forward. The young man dropped the knife hastily before she could impale herself on its point.

She felt and heard movement behind her and turned in time to see Thomas free himself

from the two men hanging onto him. But others rushed in and pinned him once again."No," she ordered, seeing Peter reclaim the knife and approach. "I'll not have it. He's done nothing to harm us. He merely seeks the truth."

"He'll harm you if he learns the truth, my lady," Avice said."He'll learn the truth now. I'll have no more lies. There have been too many already."

"My lady," several people protested."Nay." She shook her head to deny their protests. "Release him."The men holding Thomas looked uneasy. One let go but others continued to hang onto him. Peter's hand tightened around the knife, and his expression grew more determined."If you harm him, I'll go to the king myself and tell him all.""My lady, you cannot," Peter insisted."No more lies. I cannot live this way. Too much harm has been done already. I'll tell my story and take whatever consequences may come. Sir Thomas-" She turned to face him. "I rely on you to ensure the king understands whatever guilt there is here belongs to me alone. These people must not be punished for my actions."

She dreaded meeting Sir Thomas's gaze, but stiffened her will and did so anyway. All the anger and betrayal she expected brightened his eyes."What happened to Lord Groswick?" he asked, ignoring the men holding him as though they were no more than flies lighting on him.

"I killed him."For several long, unbearable moments, he just stared at her. Shock and astonishment kept him still. Her words took time to penetrate beyond his surprise, and even then they had to burrow into his awareness before he started to comprehend. Belief took a few minutes longer. "Tell me all," he demanded.Juliana breathed out on a long sigh. "I will. But not here."She drew herself up and looked around at the crowd that had gathered. "I am still your lady," she told them in her most authoritative voice. "Release Sir Thomas. Take Peter Randolph into your custody instead." For a moment she feared they might not obey so she added, "Now!"

The men acted. Randolph protested as the knife was removed from his hand, and the two men who'd held Sir Thomas wrapped up the young man's slighter form instead.

"My lady, please!" the young man pleaded. "I was trying to protect you.""I know that. But I told you more than once I wanted no harm to Sir Thomas and his people. You did not listen or obey. Now I cannot trust you."

She turned to the men holding him. "Remove him to one of the dungeons until I decide what to do with him. I'll not have a guest in this place go in fear of his life during his stay here."

The men did as she ordered and dragged off a protesting Randolph. Juliana turned to the others present and asked them to return to their work, reminding them that her mother's funeral would be on the morrow. When they'd dispersed, she nodded for Thomas to follow her to her quarters.

As they entered the room, she tried to read his expression, to gauge how he felt about

her admission. What would he do when he heard all of it?She sighed, grieving for what might have been. If she'd been the innocent, sorrowing widow he'd thought her. If she hadn't been persuaded to hide the truth. If she'd hadn't argued with Groswick that day. If her life had worked out along different lines. If she'd married someone else...What might it have been like if she'd married Sir Thomas instead of Groswick?"The story," Sir Thomas said, once he'd closed the door behind them. "The truth this time, if you please."

She nodded, but initially her voice refused to work. Something clogged her throat,

making it difficult to force the words out. She drew in a long breath, letting it out on a sigh."You never met Groswick, so you would not know what he was like." She paused, not sure how to frame her explanation. "He was not a kind man. Nor an honorable one like yourself. He had no patience. And when he was angry, he had little control of it. If events didn't go as he wished, he was as like to strike out at what he saw as the cause of his frustration."

She watched Thomas, but still couldn't read anything from his expression."He often struck out at others. The entire household was terrified of him." She drew another breath trying to calm herself. "Within a day or two of our wedding, I was also. Unlike you, Sir Thomas, my Lord Groswick had difficulties with his manhood. It often refused to rise to his desire. I did all I knew how to rouse him, but more often than not, I failed. He faulted me for being unable to inspire him. Indeed, at first, I did believe it was my lack. But then I learned he'd approached most of the presentable women in the area, and none had been able to draw more reaction. More, I discovered he... But, nay, he's dead now and 'tis best not to speak of it.""In any event, as I said, he blamed me for his failure. He beat me for it." She stopped to control a sob that tried to escape."The scars on your face?" Thomas asked.She still could tell nothing from his expression. "Aye. I learned early to allow him to do as he would. Once, just months after our wedding, I called for help. A servant came and tried to protect me. Groswick killed him. Beat him to death. My mother tried to talk to him, and when that failed, she tried to stop him, but he paid her no mind. He even pushed her once and made her fall. Between his mistreatment of her and the servant, I learned not to argue, to be as silent as I could when he...struck me."

She closed her eyes for a moment, unable to bear the pain of the memories. "One day, about a year ago, we argued. As usual, I hadn't been able to rouse him, but he had also lost his favorite horse a few days before, and had...other things go wrong. He was more than normally frustrated, which roused more than normal anger. He accused me of...

many wicked things. I would accept his berating me for not being able to rouse him, though I'd come to doubt the fault was truly mine, but when he would have me...meeting other men on the side and cuckolding him with the stable hands, I refused to accept it. We fought. He slapped me and pushed me. When he began to hit me with his fists, I...panicked. I feared he would kill me, so I fought back. I tried to run away, but he barred the door and chased me around and around the room. When he caught me again, I picked up something-a pitcher-and hit him with it. He reeled back from me. There were things on the floor-cups and dishes and candleholders-because we'd upset a table. Groswick tripped on one of them and went down. He fell on the table that was overturned. He hit his head on a corner. Hard. So hard it... It split his head open. I believe he died almost immediately."

Juliana found herself shaking almost uncontrollably. Her knees wobbled so badly she had to sit on the side of the bed before she fell down. She didn't expect any comfort from him, and he didn't offer any. She did antic.i.p.ate recriminations, but those didn't come either.

"Why didn't you just go to the king and tell him Lord Groswick had died as a result of an accident?""Because I killed him. I hit him with the pitcher and he fell."

"You need not have told the king that."It took an effort to hold back her sob. "I was not thinking clearly at the time. I was...upset. In truth, I was so blindly distraught, I knew not what to do. My mother, Master Randolph, and a few of the others came in and saw what had happened. 'Twas they who decided to bury Groswick and put it about that he'd left to fight on the Continent. I should have stopped them, but I didn't think to do so then. I was unable to think at all then. I only just survived. By the time I recovered enough to reason it out, 'twas done, and I saw no way to undo it without further harm. In truth, I never thought it would cause any injury. I supposed eventually the king would realize Groswick was gone and appoint a new lord and all would be well."

He didn't say more when she paused."Then you came and turned everything upside down. I never thought anyone would inquire so deeply into what had happened to Groswick. Nor did I expect I would ever meet a man I would come to...admire and love so much. I feel as though I've been torn in two over the past sennight since you came. I could not think what to do, but I knew I could not allow you to be hurt. It grieves me more than I can say that Ralf was injured.

And my soul feels as though it has a great stain on it from the lies...and from what I did to Groswick."Her head felt so heavy she could barely hold it up. Her whole body sagged with weariness, grief, sadness, and a looming sense of defeat. What would he do now? He stayed so quiet. She dared a quick look up at him.

He wore no expression she could read. His eyebrows drew together into the start of a frown, but otherwise he looked more sad than angry. He shook his head, from confusion rather than negation, she thought.

"Your actions did cost a man his life," Sir Thomas finally said. "Yet it appears that was more accident than intent. I cannot believe you meant him any harm. You sought only to keep yourself from injury. I could not condemn you for that, yet I cannot say with any certainty how the king might view it."

He sighed heavily. "In truth, it concerns me more that you mounted such a deception to hide the truth. It seems to magnify your guilt, and pile definite wrong on possible wrong. I understand 'twas not your doing at first, yet later when you came to reason again, you did not stop it when you might have. It has dragged everyone here into the deception with you, and almost cost Ralf his life."

The words were quiet, almost devoid of expression, but she felt each one as a dagger to the heart. She couldn't deny the truth of his indictment, so she accepted, embracing the pain as part of her penance, knowing she deserved it.

"You know how I feel about lies and deception," he continued. "Lies tore apart my life once and nearly destroyed it. It seems I'm destined to be once more devastated by a woman's deception."

Her heart broke. She'd heard that term before, but had never guessed one could feel such a real, clenching pain in the chest. The desolation and regret were almost past bearing, but even so they were overshadowed by the knowledge of the pain she caused him. "Sir Thomas," she ventured in a wobbly voice. "I'm more sorry than I can ever tell you. I know 'tis easy to say, and you have no reason to believe I'm being truthful now, but it is the truth. I regret my actions more than you can imagine. If I had the opportunity to now to go back and change them, I a.s.sure you I'd do differently." She sighed, heartsick with despair. "You will not believe it, but I have been wracked with guilt, and would have confessed the truth to you shortly, had you not learned of it on your own. In fact, I was about to tell you all when the message came about my mother's collapse."

One sob she couldn't quite suppress leaked out. He looked so shocked, so stricken, so stunned. Despite her fear for herself and the pain she antic.i.p.ated, she couldn't help but curse herself for causing him such anguish. There was nothing more she could say in her defense, so she waited quietly for him to p.r.o.nounce her doom.

Instead, for a long time, he said nothing. He paced the room, occasionally turning to look at her, but he remained quiet, thoughtful and frowning.

Finally she could stand it no longer. "What will you do?" she asked.He halted his step, though he continued to look at the far wall of the room rather than at her. "I don't know. I'll have to think more on it."

Chapter Twelve.

Thomas felt as though he'd been punched in the gut and then beaten over the head with a club. Why had he not guessed this? Now that he knew, it stared him in the face, how obvious it had been. Who else would own so much loyalty from the people that they would lie continually and without fail to protect her? He'd been so close to the truth. He'd guessed Groswick was dead and the people of the keep concealed the truth. Why had he not made that final leap and realized how few reasons there were for such a far-reaching deception?

Yet there was no point now in berating himself for the failure, which might, in truth, have much to do with his feelings for the lady. The only pertinent question that remained concerned what he should do about it. For that he had no answer.

If he took her now to the king, how would His Majesty view her actions? Did he dare expose her to the possible harshness of the king's condemnation? Yet, if he pleaded privately on her behalf, he thought it likely he could gain some mercy. Surely he could make the king understand she'd truly intended no harm, and just tried to protect herself.

Did he want to plead with the king for her? He looked over at her, sitting on the bed, looking so fragile and defeated. Aye, he wanted her still, despite the lies she'd told and their nearly fatal consequence. Whether he should have her was a separate issue entirely. How could he contemplate a future with a lady who had lied so? Could he ever feel secure with her or find the trust in her a man should have in his wife? Did he dare believe her words of repentance and regret?

He didn't want to take her to the king. Yet if he didn't, what did that say about his own sense of honor and the vows of fealty he'd given? How could he live with himself if he did not tell the king the truth? Yet he'd given a vow to Lady Ardsley as well, to protect and care for Juliana. How could he honor both vows?

The dinner bell interrupted his painful musings. He had no answer, for himself or for

her."We should go down to dinner," he told her. "I have not yet decided what to do, and may, perhaps, take some time before I can see my course clearly."

Juliana nodded and stood. "I don't believe I can face dinner this evening. Perhaps I'll just retire to my quarters."He stared at her. "You're no coward, my lady. This night, I think your people need to see you. They know you grieve, and they know you're in a difficult situation. Will it not encourage them to see you eat and drink with them? Would you have them think I've harmed you or so demoralized you that you can no longer function?"She considered his words and finally nodded. "You are right. They need to see me." She straightened herself and, with a visible effort, composed her expression into something calmer if not exactly serene.

Duty, he realized. Juliana understood duty, especially to the people who depended on her. Perhaps part of the reason for her deception was from duty to them. She'd said they'd created the deception without her knowledge or will. If that were so, she had likely faced a conflict of competing demands similar to what tore him apart now. Could he believe someone who'd lied to him, though?

She stopped at the door, squaring her shoulders before she turned back to him. "Sir Thomas, before we go down, I must say this. This morning I unburdened my soul to Father Samuel and received G.o.d's absolution, but that does not relieve me of facing the results of my wickedness. I know that I did wrong and I'll answer for the consequences. I'll go with you to the king for his judgment on the death of Lord Groswick, though I beg you for a few days to see my mother laid to rest and arrangements made for my absence."

She sighed heavily. "I also owe you my repentance for the lies I told and the pain it caused you and your squire. For that I'll also accept whatever punishment you feel it right to impose. In truth, I believe what I did to you the greater evil. Groswick died, but I never intended it should happen and would not have ever considered doing anything deliberate to bring it about. But I did deliberately lie to you about what had happened, knowing it was wrong. Worse, I let you...nay, I led you into wanting me too much. I regret it all, save that..." She drew several heavy breaths before she regained control. "What we did together was as sweet as anything I've known in my life. But I had no right to it. And I had no right to tempt you to want it, too. I am an evil and wicked creature, but I know my wrong and I hope in time to right it, if...if circ.u.mstances allow. Please, Sir Thomas, I hope someday to have your forgiveness. To gain that, I'll do whatever penance you ask of me, accept whatever punishment you deem fit."

He couldn't sort out all the emotions and thoughts roiling through his head right then. He still wanted her with desperate intensity. He wanted to believe her, wanted to believe she meant her protestations of repentance, but she had lied in other things, just as Margaret had lied. In fact, lying had been a way of life for Margaret. How could he know that it wasn't so for Juliana as well? Yet, Margaret had never once acknowledged any fault in herself nor accepted any correction for her sins. He couldn't imagine her ever making the speech Juliana just had. Perhaps there might be a way for him to learn the truth of this lady.

"I'll consider what you say," he answered. "For now, though, I am too confused and still too shocked to answer properly. However, there will be time to lay your mother to her rest and to arrange affairs here. For the moment, that's all the promise I can give you."She nodded, accepting it. Her eyes were huge and still a bit red from tears, while her lips were ripe and swollen. The delicate, floral scent of her soap teased his nose. He wanted to kiss her so desperately it was an ache in his groin and his heart. He wanted her in his arms, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against him, her quim throbbing at his touch. Before he could act on the impulse, however, she nodded, said, "Of course," and turned to leave the room. She carried herself with her normal regal dignity. Only her somewhat slower step and more solemn expression betrayed her pain. Dinner was a somber affair, devoid of the normal jesting and laughter he'd become accustomed to. Instead people spoke in low, hushed voices. Many of them made a point to stop in front of Lady Juliana's place to offer regrets and condolences on her mother's pa.s.sing. Juliana picked at her food but did manage to swallow some. Thomas himself ate, but only because he'd had little other food that day and his body simply required it. He found little pleasure in it, even in the savory roast duckling and honey-laced bread pudding.

When the meal concluded and they rose to go, he headed back toward his quarters, where he could sleep on the cot Ralf had used before his injury. Juliana hesitated for a moment in the corridor, as though undecided whether to come after him or proceed to her own quarters. When she chose, wisely, not to follow him, he didn't call her back.

The next morning dawned cold and gray. By the time they'd gathered in the chapel for Lady Ardsley's funeral ma.s.s, a damp snow had begun to fall. The solemn service moved him almost to tears. Sobs and sniffles sounded from every corner of the chapel, especially during the priest's brief words on the joys awaiting them all in heaven, the joys to which Lady Ardsley was surely now party. As they marched out for the graveside prayers, the snow increased. Larger flakes fell faster and harder, gathering in the freshly dug hole and on hats and cloaks. The wind blew his clothes around and pushed strands of hair into his eyes. Many of the people crowding around still sobbed aloud, though Juliana had remained mostly calm throughout.

Thomas felt frozen almost completely through by the time they retreated back into the great hall where food and blessedly warmed ale and mulled cider awaited them. As some folks sat to eat, while others rushed back and forth bringing food and wine, the scene reminded him of the day he'd arrived and the bold way Lady Ardsley had questioned him. He understood now that simple curiosity alone hadn't motivated that catechism. Still, something about her sharp good humor and zest for life, even as her body failed, had touched him. Apparently others felt the same. Many stories of Lady Ardsley were recounted as they ate and drank.

Though she had come to Groswick fairly late in life, the lady had made a home for herself and been well-liked by the people. Thomas gained insight into why, when a couple of the stories recounted ways the lady had tried to intervene with Groswick and even maneuver him into doing things he didn't want to do. At one time, she'd gone toe to toe with the lord on a question of meat distribution and somehow won a bigger allotment for the workers on the estate. The lady had mediated a dispute between Groswick and the local miller that threatened the flour supply of both keep and crofters.

She'd also held strong opinions on a number of subjects and had no hesitation in voicing them whether asked or not.Thomas couldn't help but watch Juliana as she listened. She smiled at some of the funnier stories and cringed once or twice in embarra.s.sment, but for the most part she seemed composed but solemn. She accepted the condolences and pats on the shoulder from those around her with dignified, but warm grat.i.tude.

Some of the stories about her mother amused him, until he remembered the vow he had made to her on her deathbed. The lady had found a way to manipulate him even from the grave, though his own feelings about Juliana would have dictated little difference in his actions. He still hadn't quite decided what those would be.

Eventually, the gathering broke up, and people departed to use what remained of the day for work. Outside, the yells of children playing in the first snowfall of the season occasionally leaked into the building. A quick glance convinced him he'd have to wait at least a few days before he could leave to go to the king. The blanket of snow was already several inches deep, with flakes falling harder than ever.

Thomas sighed as he watched the white fluff dance on the wind. The odd, floaty motion of the flakes drew his eyes to follow them. Peace rode on their lacy shoulders as they fluttered and drifted downward. If only he could find some of the same peace. Perhaps if he were wiser and could judge the situation more accurately, he might find it. He shrugged and went to see how Ralf fared.