Chapter 18
Jordan prayed his sister could forgive him as he hurried after Marjorie. Her plan to “discover” him outside, crawling back from his extended time as Lord Drayton’s prisoner had her leading him toward the kitchen. Pausing in the courtyard between the kitchen and the great hall, she nudged him toward the doors. He could see she was shaking and, without thinking, he drew her into a hug.
“You did the right thing,” he assured her, glad she didn’t pull away. “You’re making me do the right thing.” He only hoped Sophie would see it that way when he outed the fact that her boyfriend’s mother was a traitor and possibly ruin any chance of her getting to marry Leo. But Drayton had sworn to murder Anne if she didn’t get carried off by her illness. As far as Jordan knew, the modern antibiotics were helping her. He couldn’t stand by and let her marry a murderer, someone who would also murder Sir Walter, then do God knew what to everyone else at the castle and Dernier Keep. He stepped back from Marjorie. “Okay, I’m ready.”
She smiled tremulously. “Thank you, Jordan.”
Her faith in him gave him strength and he turned and shoved his way through the doors. No one turned his way, all eyes were on the two prisoners begging for their lives in front of the high table. He’d never liked school plays. But now he had to give the performance of a lifetime. Only part of it was a lie, he reminded himself.
After a quick look back at the doors to see Marjorie looking at him, he found the extra boost of courage he needed. Staggering forward until he was at the high table, he collapsed against it, right in front of Sir Walter. His dear sister shrieked. Probably not because he’d turned up safe and sound after nearly a week, which was surely why everyone else at the table gasped or exclaimed.
Sir Tristan hurried forward to help him, confused as ever. Jordan was really starting to like the big lug. “Lord Jordan, what’s happened to you?”
Sir Walter came around the table and helped him to a seat, tutting at his face.
“Lord Jordan, we thought you had left without so much as a goodbye. But now I see you’ve been badly abused. What, pray tell, has happened?”
More people called out, asking the same question. Jordan realized too late that he was far too clean. He’d been covered in dirt and grime when he first escaped. Oh well, he’d have to hope no one was paying that close of attention. As much as he wanted to see Drayton’s reaction to his appearance he didn’t dare look that way. He grabbed Sir Walter’s robes and coughed.
“Sir Walter, I’ve just escaped from what I’m sure was to be my certain death. I happened to be in the forest, er, enjoying the hospitality of your land, and came upon Lord Drayton speaking to …” he glanced around and, to his utter delight, one of the prisoners was the goon who’d broken his nose. “This man! Lord Drayton ordered him to attack Dernier. He spoke of tricking you into letting him marry your daughter, Anne, and threatened to murder her.” At this point he’d finally ruffled Drayton’s feathers and had to raise his voice over the accusations of how ridiculous he was being. “After Anne was out of the way, he promised to take Grancourt for his own, Sir Walter. I heard all of this with my own ears and was discovered. That—that goon beat me up and stuffed me in an underground prison from which I only just escaped and ran back to warn you. With all haste,” he added for good measure, gasping after such a long speech.
Thankfully, Sir Walter now looked at Drayton with contempt. Jordan put his head down on the table, no longer acting. He was worn out from the performance. He felt a comforting hand at his back but didn’t turn to see who it was.
“Lord Jordan,” Sir Walter boomed, ending the crowd’s babble. “Can you tell us where you were kept? If it is the same as Sir Tristan claims …”
Jordan lifted his head. He wanted to look at Sophie, but couldn’t. He’d seen her disappointed face so many times in his life that he knew exactly what she’d look like. Instead, he looked at Anne. Her face was whiter than usual and a red-haired man he’d never seen before clasped her hand, speaking low into her ear. Her eyes were wide and haunted and tears streaked her pale cheeks. He wondered how he would feel to learn someone he thought loved him wanted him dead.
“Yes, Sir Walter,” he said. “It’s not far. It’s a very clever system of tunnels under Lady Alise’s land.”
The hall erupted at that juicy tidbit. Vultures, Jordan thought, keeping his head down. He heard Sophie crying, heard Drayton still making light of the preposterous claims against him.
“Enough,” Sir Walter called out. Once again, a hush fell over the crowd. The only voice was Drayton’s.
“I don’t know why I continue to take this abuse,” he said, trailing off at Sir Walter’s vicious look. Jordan could imagine the older man being a terrifying foe in his prime. He was terrifying now as he pounded his fist on the table hard enough to shake it.
“I’ve never known my son-in-law to be a liar,” he said. “And why should Lord Jordan have any reason to tell tales? Do you think I would believe he would do that to his own face? There are too many men speaking against you, Drayton, and none for you. Your own knights are trying to run from you.” Sure enough, Jordan saw some of Drayton’s men get up and try to flee the great hall like rats off a sinking ship. Fortunately, a few of Sir Walter’s men stood and blocked the entrances, hands on their sword hilts and looking like they’d love to be crossed. Drayton himself stood, but Leo grabbed him by the arms and held him fast. Sir Walter nodded approvingly. “Until I am able to settle this to my satisfaction, you are no longer a guest in my home, Drayton.” He clapped his hands and Jordan couldn’t help but be impressed at the next decree. “Take him to the dungeon!”
Leo wrestled the now furious Drayton out of the great hall. Jordan thought it was a good sign that Leo wasn’t also being dragged off. But Sir Walter seemed just and fair. He’d do a thorough investigation before passing judgment. A few of Drayton’s men put up a fight as they were led away to the dungeons as well, but most gave up quietly.
If it weren’t for the sound of Sophie still quietly crying a few seats over, Jordan might have felt triumphant. He wished he could see Marjorie, see what she made of it all. At the very least she would be on his side. He had a feeling it would be a long time before Sophie stopped hating him.
“He didn’t know, Father,” she cried, getting up and clinging to his sleeve. “You have to believe that. Sir Leo is loyal to you, to our family. He couldn’t have known.”
“Hush, child. Everything will be revealed in good time. Get to your chamber and rest. You’re hysterical and will fall ill. Take Anne as well, she looks as poorly as you do.”
Jordan snuck a peek. The red-haired man still consoled her but she looked inconsolable. Sophie took Anne’s arm and led her away, both of them huddled close to each other, shaking and small-looking.
A hand rested timidly on his arm. He looked up and, to his great relief, Marjorie stood smiling at him. “You did well,” she said.
“I may have ruined everything for Sophie.”
“If Sir Leo is innocent, it will come to light.” She held up her hand in a placating gesture. “I believe he is.”
He didn’t want to return to Leo’s room and face his silence the whole night. He knew the man wouldn’t hold a grudge against him. He’d wanted to come forward from the beginning. It was Sophie who was afraid and fought against it. It was because Sophie was so upset that Leo would be grim and quiet. And it was because of him that Sophie was upset.
“Marjorie, please don’t be offended or feel obligated,” he said. “But would you sit outside with me for a while?”
She blinked up at him, her face slowly turning red. “I—I suppose.”
“Just for a bit. Just to look at the stars. You have so many stars here. You don’t have to say anything or sit too close.”
She looked a bit less uncomfortable. “I love the stars as well. Batty doesn’t like to sit outside after dark because Anne’s dear mother once told us a story about a banshee. It swooped down over the wall and ate any little children who were out of bed past dark.”
Jordan laughed, his spirits already lifting. “Classic scary story to get kids to obey the rules.” He held out his arm and she put two fingers on it. He almost laughed again at her shyness or propriety, he wasn’t sure which, but he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. And besides, he liked it.
They found a spot on a bench past the kitchen courtyard. She sat about a foot away and out of the corner of his eye he caught her sneaking looks at him. They sat in silence, Jordan taking in the huge expanse of glittering stars. He didn’t feel the need to force a conversation and she didn’t chatter nervously like some girls he’d taken out on dates before. He snuck his own peek at her out of the corner of his eye. Was this a date?
Whatever it was, be it the cool night air, the stars, or Marjorie’s quiet company, his heart stopped being so troubled. For the first time, he was jealous of Sophie for getting to call this place her home.
*
Marjorie rested her elbows uncomfortably in the small arrow slit, far up on the top level of the wall. She hadn’t been up there since she was a child. The guards frowned at her every time they wandered past but she ignored them. Nothing could dampen her mood. Not the continued tension that permeated the castle, not Sophie crying herself to sleep every night. She was going to meet Jordan up here. He’d asked her especially after supper the night before, saying he’d never been on the wall and would love a tour. She couldn’t help smiling at his odd turns of phrase and didn’t think the wall was anything worth “touring”, but she couldn’t resist his hopeful grin. She’d whispered about it to Batty and Batty had whispered back that he was fond of her. She didn’t think he cared a whit about the view from the wall, but only wanted to spend time with her.
“He may steal a kiss,” Batty whispered so loudly that she was afraid Sophie would hear it despite her tears, or that Anne would wake up and forbid her to meet anyone on the wall.
“He’s too much of a gentleman to do such a thing,” Marjorie answered. “And I don’t believe he’s fond of me.”
“You’re fond of him though.” It wasn’t a question and Marjorie feared she’d been obvious. “I’m only jesting,” Batty said, reaching across the tiny expanse between their beds to tap her playfully on the arm. “Why would you like him?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Marjorie asked, affronted. What was wrong with Lord Jordan? Not a thing, in her opinion.
“Well, he’s rather awkward. Think of the the first time he accosted you in the hallway.”
“That was a misunderstanding. I overreacted, that’s all. He’s very kind, very …”
“Do you like him?” Batty asked, incredulous. “That’s a recipe for heartache. He may be without a position now, but he has a title, which means he must have land somewhere. He’d want someone who’s better able to advance his position.”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” Marjorie sighed, curling up tight under her blankets.
“Well, it certainly will matter to him.”
“No, that isn’t what I mean. Don’t you think it’s enough to love someone? Without asking for anything in return?”
Batty snorted. “Certainly not. What’s the point of loving someone who’ll never love you back? Like I already said, it’s a recipe for heartache.”
“I disagree. Having those pure feelings should be enough. I think so, anyway.”
Batty thrashed around under her covers until she was able to sit up. Marjorie could see her outline in the dark and could easily imagine her round face was filled with disbelief. “Do you love Lord Jordan? Despite the fact he’d never love you? Is that what you’re saying?”
Marjorie wanted to snap that Batty was being cruel, but she knew she was only being honest and pragmatic. Her oldest friend didn’t want her to suffer heartache. For a long moment, she couldn’t answer the question. Denying her secret love seemed wrong. She couldn’t do it that disservice.
“It’s only an intellectual discussion, Batty,” she finally sniffed. “Something you wouldn’t understand, of course.” Batty had answered her with a snore.
Looking around behind her to see if Jordan was climbing the ladder yet, she still believed what she said was right. Love was something you gave. If it wasn’t returned to you, that didn’t mean it wasn’t real or was without worth. And her secret feelings for Jordan made her happy. She didn’t care what Batty said. Much.
She pulled her elbows in from the arrow slit and wandered to the bench where she’d set her neatly-wrapped package. It wasn’t too late to hide it. She sat down and slid it under her skirts and stared up at the sky. Perhaps he wasn’t coming.
“You look pensive.”
She turned at the sound of his voice, smiling brightly. “Oh, Jordan, hello.” She jumped to her feet and curtsied, something he continued to tell her not to do.
“Your smile makes the sun look dull,” he said, holding out his hand for her to sit back down. He sat next to her and held out a cloth sack. “I brought bread and your favorite dried herring.”
It wasn’t her favorite, she actually only ate it under duress. “How did you know that?” she asked, forcing enthusiasm into her voice. He looked so pleased with himself.
“I told the cook this little picnic was for you and asked him what you especially liked.”
Well, that explained it. The cook was the grumpiest man in the castle, only rivaled by Edgar at his drunkest. Still, the cook’s ill will didn’t dampen her happiness that Jordan had thought to bring her something. Feeling her face heating up, she pulled her own gift out from under her skirts.
“I made this for you,” she said in a rush, all but shoving the package into his lap. He tore open the cloth wrapping and held up the tunic she’d sewn for him. “I hope you don’t find it too poor,” she said. “But since your trunk was lost on the journey from Italy, I thought it might be useful if not lovely.” She looked at her hands. She’d made countless shirts but never one as a gift and she worried he might find it lacking.
“Are you serious?” he asked, standing up and holding it against himself. “It looks like it’s going to fit perfectly. I’m so tired of wearing the same thing over and over. This is amazing, thank you.”
And just like Batty had foretold, he leaned over and plopped a kiss on her cheek. Beaming, he sat down and inspected the tunic as if it were a rare tapestry. She gaped at him, the spot on her cheek feeling like it was on fire. She wanted to run, she wanted to stay and find a way to get him to kiss her again. She’d never felt so exposed in her life. Slowly, as if her hand were being dragged through honey, she touched her cheek. He stopped admiring the shirt and turned to her.
His smile faltered when he saw her holding her cheek as if she’d been slapped. She didn’t want him to think she felt that way, but she was powerless to move.
“I’m so sorry, Marjorie,” he said, putting the tunic aside and reaching for her hand. With a slight laugh, he stopped and clasped his hands in his lap. “I was so excited about my present, I forgot myself. I’m really sorry. Please, don’t be offended. I didn’t mean anything by it. In, uh, Italy, we do that sort of thing more freely.”
He didn’t mean anything by it? So this was the recipe for heartache that Batty warned about. And it did most certainly ache. She had two choices. Pretend she didn’t care or … “I’m not offended. I quite liked it.” How she hated her pale skin, always burning with every bit of emotion. Despite her cheeks feeling like a freshly-baked ham, she didn’t look away from his surprised smile. “I’m pleased you like my humble gift.”
“I love it,” he said. “And it’s not humble, it’s magnificent.”
She burst out laughing, wondering how he could always make her so comfortable in the worst times of distress. Being kissed and admitting to liking it wasn’t close to waking up in the woods and not knowing why, but it was disconcerting all the same.
“You must stop being so blatant in your lies. It’s only a tunic.”
He grew serious. “Look me in the eyes,” he demanded. “See if I’m lying.” He gazed at her without blinking and she was captivated by the blue that rivaled the sky.
“Very well, I believe you.” She stood up and waved along the walkway. “You wanted the tour?”
He jumped to his feet, tucking his present under one arm and offering the other to her to hold. She gathered up the cook’s unpleasant bounty and they strolled arm in arm along the wall. “This thing is huge,” he said after they made it only a quarter of the way around. “And not as interesting as I thought it would be.”
She laughed, delighted at his candor. “It’s only a wall,” she said. “Let’s sit and enjoy the nice day and you can tell what news there is about Lord Drayton.”
She also hoped to get some news about Sir Leo and Sophie’s status. When Sophie wasn’t crying she was sullen and quiet. Even Batty couldn’t get her to talk about Sir Leo denouncing his mother in order to save face with Sir Walter so they could still get married. Despite that heroic and heartbreaking deed, there had been no betrothal announcement and Sir Leo had only been at the castle three times in the fortnight since everything came to light.
Jordan groaned. “I wish it could be over already. Three more people who work land for Sir Walter came forward, saying they’d been approached by Drayton. Only one of them accepted the offer and he was so pitiful, Sir Walter merely banished him. The other two will get lashed for not coming forward sooner but they get to stay and continue working their land. Did you hear Sir Tristan’s men found the beginnings of another underground bunker closer to the keep?”
She nodded grimly. “Batty knew from Brom when they returned yesterday. So frightening to think how close they were to succeeding. It’s all thanks to you they didn’t. You saved not only Anne’s life but Sir Walter’s, countless men who would have been slaughtered in the fights to come … surely even mine.”
He blushed, which showed he had humility, unlike many of the knights who could not shut up about their victories. Every day she found new reasons to like him more. “I just got lucky,” he said.
“You were brave,” she insisted. “But what of Drayton? I can’t believe he still lives.”
Jordan shifted his shoulders uncomfortably. She knew he had no love for the man but thought his peaceful beliefs kept him from admitting the foul creature should be dead. “I heard Sir Walter complaining about having to continue to feed him,” he said. “He’s only waiting on word from the king. Tristan told me Sir Walter is within his rights to make the final decision, but he wants everything to be honorable and impartial, unlike Drayton.”
“It’s clear he should be executed,” Marjorie said, clenching her fists.
She longed to be in the first row of spectators when he was hanged, then drawn and quartered. Batty had heard about it in gruesome detail from Brom and had, in turn, shared it all with her. It almost seemed too easy of a death for such a depraved man.
“That’s a pretty bloodthirsty face you’ve got on,” Jordan said, a slight smile on his lips, but a worried look in his eyes.
“He plotted to kill my family, take my home.” She pounded her fists on her knees. “If it weren’t for Sir Harold, Anne would be heartsick. And poor Sophie. Everything that’s happened has ruined her chances for happiness as well.”
Jordan closed his eyes in despair. “That has to work out, it has to. Leo’s just too ashamed to ask and he needs to get over it. No one believes he had any part of his mother’s greed.” He looked at her sadly, then up at the sky. “We needed to have that big wedding, too.” He stopped abruptly and turned to her with wide eyes. “I mean, Sophie wanted to have a big wedding. Leo mentioned it a lot before he left.”
“We may still have a wedding, yet,” she said. It did still sometimes seem odd to her how much he cared about Sophie and Leo’s relationship, but she imagined it was because he was such a caring person and such a good friend. “I never thought it would be Anne, and I hate the idea of leaving the castle, but she’s so happy, how can I complain?”
He grabbed her hand, brows furrowed. “But why would you leave the castle?”
“If Anne marries Sir Harold, she’d live with him at Kings Way. And, of course, I’d go with her. I’ve always served Lady Anne. But why do you look so upset about that?” She looked away, almost too shy to want to hear the answer.
“I’d miss you,” he said forcefully. He still had her hand in his and he squeezed it. “You’re … my best friend here.”
She turned to see him staring at her questioningly, though he’d asked no question. She was suddenly too warm, too close to blurting out her own feelings for him. A change of subject was needed at once.
“Since Anne’s been feeling so much better, we’ve planned an excursion to Cambrey Village in two days. Gunther will be accompanying us as well as Sir Tristan and Sir Harold. Would—would you care to join us as well? It’s not a long ride and there are some fine shops there.”
“I’d go if the shops were awful. Is Sophie going?” he asked.
She couldn’t hide her frown. Why did he always care so much about Sophie? She paused to wonder if she was feeling jealousy. If so, she didn’t care for it at all. “I suppose. She doesn’t say much but I can’t see her missing out. It’s been ages since we got to go.”
“Do you think I could get a messenger to Leo? Tell him to go? It would cheer her up to see him.”
She relaxed and the heavy jealous feelings lifted. “Yes, that’s a wonderful idea. Sophie’s about given up hope, which is foolish. Anne thought Sir Walter was wary at first, but now she believes he’d accept if only Sir Leo would ask. You’re right that no one believes he was complicit with Lady Alise. That woman was never anything but mean spirited and selfish.”
“Okay,” he said with a huge grin. She felt almost the same seeing his smile as she did looking at Anne’s beautiful tapestries. Like her soul was singing. “I’ll wear my new tunic.” She smiled and leaned back against the wall. “That can’t be comfortable,” he said. “In fact, this bench is about as cold as a block of ice. Do you want to go down?”
Indeed, the afternoon was waning into dusk and the wind had picked up. The bench was as cold as Jordan said and the wall behind her back was rough and scratchy. And yet, she would have stayed out there with him forever. “I’m fine if you want to stay a bit longer,” she said.
He smiled at her some more and scooted closer. “I could stay out here forever,” he said.
She knew it was hopeless and wishful and foolish, but she imagined he added “with you” onto the end of the sentence. She nodded her acquiescence and also scooted a little closer, enjoying the warmth and comfort of being so near to him.