A Lily on the Heath (Medieval Herb Garden 4)

“Nay…at the least—I don’t…know. He said he was going to Warwick, but would stop at Delbring for the night. He could not even sleep one night here in Lilyfare, but he had to leave for Delbring at the nonce. ” Now Judith was beginning to rage about the chamber. “And I have heard naught from him, nor from Sir Waldren, whom I sent after with a message. ”

She paced the chamber, going to the window and peering out over the yellow and white dotted heath, then back again. Why had Sir Waldren not returned with a message from Malcolm? She’d given him strict orders, and it had been enough days for him to have found Mal and returned.

Judith realized Tabatha had gone surprisingly quiet. Most oft, the tiring woman usually had plenty of unsolicited advice or questions, but now she was uncharacteristically silent. “Tabby,” she said sharply when she saw the expression on her maid’s face. Something lurched in her belly. “What is it? What do you know?”

Tabatha slowly finished folding the bliaut she’d removed from one of the traveling boxes, sliding it into place in the permanent storage trunk in the corner of the chamber. “Ah, my lady…I do not know—”

“What is it?” Judith demanded, her heart seizing. “There is something. Tell me. ”

“’Tis only that I heard some information from Sir Nevril on our journey. How Lord Warwick was in a fine, light-hearted mood for some time while at Clarendon…and that he was sending many messages to Delbring, negotiating a marriage contract with the lord there. And then all at once, he became angry and bad-tempered again. And on the next, you and he were wed. ”

Judith’s heart dropped to her knees and she suddenly felt ill. Beatrice of Delbring? That mouse? The queen’s words and Judith’s own jests rang in her ears. Nay.

But had she not suspected it all along? That Warwick had wed her out of pity and honor, and that ’twas Beatrice of Delbring who held his heart and interest?

She sank onto the bed, crossing her arms about her belly, nauseated and light-headed. She’d believed Warwick held her in such high esteem he took her to Lilyfare before even going to his own home, despite the fact that Judith’s estate was a longer journey from Clarendon…but now it made all the sense. For he meant to abandon her there and go to his lady love as soon as he could.

Nay, oh nay.

The words of the queen rose suddenly in her mind, tolling darkly like an insistent bell. “You may love your husband, but know if you do, ’tis naught but a curse…. Pray that you must never look upon the woman your husband loves. ”

Judith closed her eyes, hardly believing the sharp stabs of pain, the depth of the agony rolling through her body. How could I have come to care for him so much? So much that he has this power to hurt me so?

So much that even being at Lilyfare, being home and free of the queen, was no longer enough. She wanted Malcolm. All of him.

Your ever-faithful wife.

Over the last se’ennight, Malcolm had read those words countless times in the missive Judith had sent. What did that mean?

Likely it meant nothing; mere words. A dashed-off formality. But he could not cease from wondering. Worrying. Even hoping…that there was some sort of message therein.

And there was another line in the letter he stumbled over as well. And that you had an enjoyable visit at Delbring.

That had set him to scratching his head, seeking to read some other meaning therein. She’d already given him what he needed to know—that Eleanor had been the one behind the foiled abduction. But was there some other message he was missing? Why did she mention Delbring? He could almost hear the odd note in her tone, the discord in this out-of-place sentence.

And this, Mal told himself as he shoved the crinkled parchment into the depths of a trunk, was of such little import that he could hardly fathom giving it his attention. For matters at Warwick were grave enough that he needed spend no time gnawing over a few words from his wife.

Since arriving a fortnight ago, Malcolm had been faced with a myriad of difficult and unsettling decisions. What had seemed at first like a simple ague that took root in a cattle herd, had, by the time Mal arrived, spread from the cows to some of the people of Warwick, making them ill. Three villeins and one maid had already died.

Thus only yesterday had Malcolm made the difficult decision to send Violet to Lilyfare in hopes of keeping her safe from the bad humors.

“Poppy,” she’d said, looking up at him with guileless blue eyes. “You not coming wif me?”

His heart creaked as he scooped her up and bounced her energetically in his arms. She giggled and clutched at the top of his head as he said, “Nay, sweetling. But I will come along as soon as I can. Clara will keep good care of you, and you can ride in this nice little bed. ” He showed her the cart he’d had prepared for her. “You can sleep all of the day or play with your beads. And think of all the sights you will see!”

“I never go away from Warrick,” she said. “I like my home. ”

“I know,” he told her, patting down a fly-away blonde curl. “But think of all the sights on your journey. I will come as soon as I can, sweetling. And when I come to Lilyfare, I will introduce you to the great and beautiful lady there. She has hair of fire and is very kind. And she lets a large hawk sit upon her fist, like so. ” He spoke easily and lightly, but deep inside, Malcolm felt uneasy.

What would loud, brisk Judith think of his daughter—this simple-minded, joyful little girl who would never attain full womanhood and who could never fully grasp the travails of life? Violet was sweet-tempered and kind, and though she would grow physically taller and curvier as young ladies did, she would never have the mental capacity to wed—and she certainly would never go to court. He would never allow it.

Therein lay part of his trepidation of sending her off without him. Mal had spent most of her childhood keeping Violet’s existence and simple-mindedness a secret outside of Warwick. The last thing he needed was some greedy, enterprising man to abduct his daughter and wed her in an effort to eventually gain control of Warwick and his other estates. Let alone what would happen to his sweet girl. She was only eight, but girls were betrothed and wed as early as ten or twelve, and he wanted to take no chances that anyone knew of this vulnerability—his or hers. And there were those who believed simple people like his daughter were cursed by the Devil, or were some sort of punishment for her parents’ actions. They looked in askance at them, and were often dismissive or even cruel.

And as much as he’d come to enjoy Judith’s company—her conversations, her opinions, even her jests—he wasn’t certain how she would act around a simple child like Violet. His wife was so quick and energetic, impatient and opinionated…would she have the patience and empathy to interact with the girl? ’Twas best for all if he were there to smooth the way, to make certain Judith would not cause Violet to feel overset or frightened.

“There you are, sweetling,” he said now, pressing a smacking kiss onto her round cheek before gently tumbling her into the soft pile of bedding in her cart. “You shall have a great adventure, and I want you to pick one flower for me every day. You can show them all to me when I come to get you. ”

“But what if I forget?” she asked, thrusting out her lower lip.