Chelynne

  “Perhaps I could read to you. That should not tire you terribly.”

  “Ah, you’ve a tender heart, Chelynne. Mayhaps a little...” He wheezed abruptly and she withdrew. Then sensing that she might have appeared repulsed, she went near again and sat close to the bed.

  “I’ll fetch a book if you recommend one,” she offered.

  Instead of replying he wheezed the more, turning near purple from loss of breath. “My lord?” she questioned. “Shall I call—” All at once he sat straight up, choking and coughing and trying to talk.

  “My... breath... my...”

  The gasping and choking terrified her and she made a frantic rush to ring the bell that sounded for servants. Feeling totally helpless and confused, she aided him in sitting up, for that seemed to be his desire at the moment.

  “I’ll die this time,” he gasped. “This time...”

  “Nay, m’lord, ye’ll not dee so soon,” came a deep voice from behind them. The huge manservant drew in on them. Chelynne had seldom seen this man. His large frame was hard to miss but he was so rarely about that she had wondered at his duties. She guessed now that he was most oft needed here, tending his lordship in his illness. “It wouldna do to leave the lass ‘fore the first wee bairn comes.”

  The earl’s tight expression seemed to ease in the presence of the manservant. His breath came more easily and he settled back into the pillows. The servant spoke softly and with much confidence to the earl, and from over his bent shoulder Chelynne could see as he applied a poultice to the aging man’s chest. He turned when he was done and faced Chelynne.

  “It wasna a bad one, lass. Ye needna fear. He’ll rest now.”

  “What is this illness?”

  “It shrivels his gullet and the chest. I’ll see to him now.”

  “Could I stay for a while? Could I help in some way?”

  “I’ll be makin’ a brew to have him take when he comes ‘round again. There’s naught else to be doin’.”

  “You tend him very well. What is your name?”

  “I be Sebastian, lass. I’ve been with the mon o’er twenty year now.”

  “What’s in the brew?”

  Sebastian laughed. “Yer a curious one, now. It’s a thing I’ve been makin’ since me days a’home. Scotland, that is. Me grandfather first taught me healin’ ways and here they’ve found use again. Watch.”

  He moved to a table in the room and she watched as he took tiny portions of herbs from many little bowls and blended them together in a cup. When he added milk and wine to the cup and warmed it, the smell was pungent, causing her to wrinkle her nose. Sebastian laughed heartily at her reaction. He put the posset down to await the earl’s waking.

  “How long has His Lordship been ill like this?”

  “Ah, some years now. He’s old, though not so in years. More in the way of life. He could as well dee now, but willna go until he wishes to.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “Because even in his weakness he’s strong. His will. He willna dee ‘till he’s tired of fightin’. Now he fights for his heir, the good Chadwick.”

  “He watches over Chad quite carefully.”

  “Aye, when the lad’ll have it. He’s gone from his pa o’er and o’er again and he’ll go yet another time, t’be sure. They’re too much the same, those two, and neither would lean nor bend.”

  “But why?”

  “I wouldna know, nor would I be sayin’ if I did. I am bound to His Lordship fer healing, not fer speakin’ of the family battles.”

  “I see,” she muttered. No help there. “Will he be all right now?”

  “Aye, lass. Fer now.”

  “Shall I come again?”

  “Bring the book The Willow from the library. That’s one he likes.”

  Her eyes grew round with dismay. “Were you here all the time?”

  “I’m never far away, lass. I know where my place is and that’s where I’m found.”

  She brought the book the next time, though her visit was cut short by another attack. She knew without a doubt that the earl’s passing was not far away. She had never felt death before as she felt it now. It was thick and foul in that room. And it was not frightening, for the earl seemed to long for that haven. But when she would have thought him well on his way, he began to improve. She found him a few days later sitting up and waiting for her to come. Sebastian warned her not to take heart in it. His illness was as unpredictable as nature.

  She had had no word from Chad. He was in her thoughts always but she had no idea when he would return. She saw him from the garden as he rode toward Hawthorne House. She struggled for patience. When he had given his tired horse to the groom she rushed toward him with a glad smile on her lips.

  Chelynne couldn’t have known how anger had welled up inside of Chad for many days, for countless miles. When he was faced with the untimely sight of his young wife it brought him near the breaking point. She froze in her tracks at the sight of his fierce scowl.

  “Welcome home,” she said uncertainly.

  His jaw twitched nervously and his fists were clenched at his sides. “Were there problems in my absence?” he asked coolly.

  “Your father is ill. Nothing else.”

  “He is in bed... again?”

  “Aye. Was your trip a hard one?”

  “It was the hardest trip I’ve made in a lifetime,” he ground out. Brushing past her he strode into the house, leaving Chelynne to stare after him in much confusion. She sank to the garden bench in bitter helplessness.

  Chad did not delay in going to his father, daring illness or any other excuse to slow his rage. He threw the door to his lordship’s rooms open angrily; no inclination toward any courtesy did he show. His father was propped in the bed. Sebastian quickly disappeared.

  “Greetings, Chadwick. You’re a long time in getting home. How did you find Browne?”

  Chad’s face was twisted with wrath. “Browne is the same but there is much amiss in their burgh. Would you know the cause?”

  “I’ve not seen the place in two years, son. How would I know what disturbs the town?”

  “Perhaps you had some men sent there for some purpose—”

  “What purpose? Get to the point.”

  “I found the church in which I wed my Anne has burned!” he cried. “The priest was murdered and the church destroyed. Nothing remains of the records and no one saw the bandits!”

  “And you suspect it was my doing,” the earl said wearily.

  “And who would have cause besides you?” Chad growled.

  “I had nothing to do with this thing, Chadwick. On my honor, son, I would never have had such a thing done in my stead.”

  “Damn! It is gone!” Chad cried, almost sobbing like an ailing child. “Gone!”

  “Adopt the boy, then! See the courts and have him named heir!”

  “He is my son! Adopt my own son? My lady Anne should not be laid to rest with a question to her virtue! My son will not be called bastard! This is too much!”

  “What were the thieves about? Were there other robberies? Abuse?”

  Chad laughed harshly. “Do you think me the simple fool to leave that town before I learned all I could? What do you imagine I’ve been about these many days past with Browne only a day’s ride west? Did you think I was riding to the hounds? Watching the cockfights?” He sobered slightly. “There was nothing else amiss there. ‘Twas only the church played havoc on. The only murder was that of the priest as he sought to protect that humble shed. There was not even a chalice of much value there.”

  “And that is why you accuse me?”

  Chad shook his head, his anger deflated somewhat from the mere force of anxiety he had held for many days. “Why?” he asked pleadingly.

  “Keep your head,” the old man snapped. “Think of your son, if you must, but keep your head and don’t turn now to boyish whimpering. This thing could have happened without any hostility between us. Do what you would in that case. Find the course and cl
aim your son again. No one will stand in your way and I would even stand witness to it! Don’t let your emotions rule your life, Chadwick! No one here plotted against you!”

  Chad stood stone faced. “The matter will not be done until I find some cause. Good day, my lord.”

  Chad turned on his heel and was gone, leaving the earl to stare at the open door. He thought for a moment.

  “Sebastian,” he shouted. “Sebast—”

  “Aye, m’lord.”

  “Where the devil do you hide yourself in here? No matter, did you hear Chadwick?”

  “Aye.”

  “Call a party of men to go to Browne. Set them to the task of finding what intent was for that town. He, of course, assumes I had something to do with it. Promise a reward...a good one.”

  “The number of men?”

  “Make it twelve to twenty, whatever we can spare. And set them out immediately!”

  “Crime is bad, m’lord. The lad does you wrong. The same happens oft about the smaller shires.”

  “The devil it does! Not like this!”

  Downstairs Chelynne waited patiently, just now finding the courage to face her husband again. He was just descending when she approached him meekly. He stopped, glared at her with nothing less than hatred, and brushed past her to leave the house again.

  Stunned, she paused there, then followed him again only to find his fast pace left her well behind. She managed to see him as he took a fresh mount and fled her further pursuit with a great deal of speed.

  Wearily she returned to her bedroom and groomed herself for his return. She dared not leave the house lest he should return and want something of her. Since she feared his angry display she went to a great deal of trouble to please him.

  She had a meal prepared that she thought would be appreciated, but when the hour was past ten she yielded to Stella’s pleas and took a tray in her room. Finding little sense in having the household go without sleep, she bade those waiting servants seek their pallets and she donned her own nightclothes.

  She paced about for a time, wondering what would stir him into such a rage. Impulsively she walked through the sitting room and entered Chad’s chambers. Bestel had prepared a fire, giving the indication he at least expected his master’s return.

  She pulled a chair near the hearth and curled up in it; the time dragged clumsily by. She knew little of the more personal wifely duties, but feared being remiss. If he wished a meal or bath she would be ready to aid him. As the hours passed Chelynne drifted off to sleep.

  A chill in the dark room caused her to stir into wakefulness, and she found the fire low but a quilt covering her. She smiled to think Bestel would be so thoughtful. She came awake slowly, unaware of another presence in the room, and found the tinder. She lit the candle and the glow showed Chad’s bed to be empty still. With a disappointed sigh she turned to go and seek out her own bed.

  “Good night.”

  Chelynne started and nearly dropped the candle. Spinning about and squinting into the darkness she attempted to make out the owner of that voice. “Chad?”

  “Aye. You needn’t wait up for me unless it is specifically asked of you.”

  “Very well,” she returned softly. “Since I am here, is there anything I can get you?”

  “Nothing.” He came out of the darkness. Still garbed in his riding outfit he looked worn and tired. His hair was blown and paths parting the dust on his face from where perspiration had streaked added to the grimness of his features. The odor of leather and horses filled her nostrils as he neared. Flecks in his eyes glittered in the light of the candle and she was a little afraid of him.

  “I’ll see you to bed,” he said, taking her arm.

  “There’s no need,” she argued, uselessly. He took her arm and led the way to her room a bit roughly. Once there he stood and waited while she crawled into the bed. She settled herself back and without thinking she held out her hand to him, offering more than a touch, offering peace to aid him in his strife if he would take it from her. She was immediately afraid that he would push it away.

  But he did not. He touched the hand gently in indecision and then took it in both of his and sat down on the bed beside her, absently turning his ring on her finger.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Do?” he returned dully.

  “You’re troubled, Chad. Can I help?”

  “Yes, Chelynne. You can find a way to live in this house quietly. Carefully. Find a way to be my wife without posing any more difficulties for me.” And then with a voice sounding tired and hopeless, he added, “I’ve had enough.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The end of August grew near and the fields of Bryant and the surrounding areas ripened with the summer’s plentiful crops. Another month or even less would see the harvest. Every farmer and his family labored hard and late into the night to have the work done well.

  But for Chelynne the days were the same, one just like the next, all spent within the great walls of Hawthorne House or riding on the privileged roads near the mansion. It was a surprise to her when one morning Chad came to her rooms just as she had seated herself before her breakfast.

  “I’m about business today, madam,” he started. “I’ve matters in Bratonshire that need my attention. Is there something I can get for you there?”

  “I can think of no needs,” she thoughtfully replied.

  “Should you like to accompany me? I was going to ride, but I’m willing to take the carriage if you want to go.”

  He had hardly finished his sentence and she was on her feet. “I’d love to go. Have they shops? Might I perhaps make purchases while you see to business?”

  “They’re simple folk, madam, but there are some small shops there. Nothing that would suit...” But she was already calling Stella to find her dress and had slipped behind her screen.

  “I’ve not been about the towns,” she was chattering. “Can you give me the time to dress?”

  “If it’s done quickly,” he started.

  Looking around he noticed that before he had even settled any details with her Stella had gone into a mad rush and Chelynne’s dressing gown was already hanging over the screen. He caught a glimpse of that lovely young body just as she was pulling her dress on and rushing to her dressing table. So unlike the aristocratic dames, Chelynne was pulling the heavy masses of her hair up herself, holding it firmly while Stella pinned it into place, tying it with a bright ribbon. He watched the scurrying around with some wonder. Chelynne quickly applied powder to her nose and cheeks and red to her lips. Stella bustled away to fetch her wrap and gloves and Chelynne whirled around to present her back to Chad, silently requesting his aid in the fastenings.

  His knuckles brushed against the silken flesh and he sorely felt the bite. He cursed under his breath, damned his father for choosing so carefully for him. She had a way of promising, so innocently with those slim, firm thighs and tender little rump, long passionate nights. He wanted her again. Always, if she was this near, he wanted her.

  Unconsciously his hand crept within the folds of her gown and tested more carefully her soft, tempting skin. She coyly turned her eyes around to him and braved a smile. “You were in a hurry to go, my lord.”

  He grunted, pulled his hand away, and gave her a little shove in the direction of Stella. Chelynne, smiling inside, bade Stella hurry to fasten her.

  She was ready, almost too quickly to be true, and her appearance was flawless. It was unheard of that a woman would go so quickly to please a man. Even the simplest whore seemed to think it enticing to drag out the process. Dressing was overdone in its importance as far as Chad was concerned. But Chelynne, simple maid in her heart, had not thought to be wily and scheming. He had asked her to hurry, so she did. It left him slightly dazed.

  “Take along your woman to carry your parcels if there be any,” he instructed, preceding her out of the room.

  Chelynne found that the carriage was waiting, as if he had anticipated that she would want to
join him. She felt a small victory in this.

  The ride was a silent one, but thankfully Chad did not seem angry this once. His mood was quiet as it often was, but she did not ponder this too deeply. She hoped they would have something to talk about on the return trip. That was as complicated as her thoughts about her silent husband ran, thus far.

  Their carriage was slowed as they approached a broken-down cart blocking most of the road. Two men labored hard to line up a wheel deeply embedded in mud, and a woman paced about the cart nervously, muttering and twisting her hands. Chad, chafed at the delay, jumped out and went to assess the situation for himself.

  He talked to the men for a moment, gave some unasked-for advice, and was about to get back into the carriage. The swirl of a deep green dress caught his eye and he looked to see Chelynne near the cart talking to the woman and attracted to something within.

  “Come, Chelynne,” he called. “Let’s be on our way.”

  “Chad,” she called back. “Will you see? The child is ill and still there is no certainty they can move the cart.” She pointed to the deep groove where the cart had swerved. “It’s deeply caught.”

  “Come along,” he said crossly. “Leave these men to free their cart.”

  She turned away, ignoring him, and touched the child’s brow. He lay shivering beneath the blankets. “How long has the boy been ill?” she asked the woman.

  “Days now, madam,” she said fearfully. “We could summon no doctor and must take him now to the shire of Braton to see one there.” As if to reassure the stately dame, she dug into the folds of her dress and produced coin. “I can meet the cost,” she said, almost apologetically.

  Chelynne looked up to find her husband standing beside her, his impatience building and his good humor stretched.

  The small blond head of the boy was hot to the touch and his breathing labored.

  “He’s so ill,” Chelynne told Chad. “Could we take him with us to Bratonshire?”

  “Come along, Chelynne. It might be plague.”

  “Nay, not plague,” the woman argued.

  “Chad,” Chelynne bit through. “We cannot leave them thus.”