Silken Threads (33 page)

“But they’ll be shocked, hurt...angry.”

“Are you worried that your sire will
disinherit you?”

Robert shook his head. “All I care about is
Ramswick, and he deeded it to me outright. It can’t be taken from
me.”

“Then let them get angry. They love you.
They’ll get over it.”

“What if they don’t?”

“Have you
never
done anything against
their wishes, even when you were a boy?”

“Nay
—
never.”

Joanna laughed. “Then I think you’re a bit
overdue. You must make up for the oversight in some significant
way. Marrying the lady Margaret should do it.”

“If I married her,” Robert said, “‘twould be
like betraying my mother and father.”

“So instead you choose to betray
Margaret.”

He blanched and withdrew his hands from her.
“Betray her!”

“You’re betraying the love you share with
her
—
a love that will never die, no matter how much you
want it to. How do you think she feels right now, knowing you’ve
asked me to marry you?”

“She accepts it. She told me.”

“Just as you would accept it if she were to
marry someone else, I suppose.”

“She’s not going to get married. She’s going
to become a nun.”

“But if she
were
planning to
marry
—
to unite herself with some other man, to speak vows
with him, to share his bed
—
”

“She isn’t!”

“You’d not feel so complacent then, I’ll
wager.”

“I’m not complacent, for pity’s sake,” he
ground out.

“Accepting, then,” Joanna said, finding it
interesting to see the phlegmatic Robert’s face begin to flush, a
cord to swell on the side of his neck. “You wouldn’t like it if she
were to consent to a marriage proposal from, say...Hugh.”

“Hugh!” Robert exclaimed, looking so
stricken that Joanna was tempted, but for only a moment, to
reassure him with the truth
—
that Hugh was far too
free-spirited to ever bind himself in matrimony to anyone.

Instead, she found herself saying, “I
shouldn’t have men¬tioned anything. Forget I
—
”

“Hugh?” Robert seized her by the upper arms,
actually hurting her with the violence of his grip; interesting.
“Has he asked Margaret for her hand?”

“Nay. My lord, let go of me. You’ll leave
bruises.”

He released her abruptly and stepped back,
his expression one of outrage. “Is he going to?”

Joanna averted her gaze. “I shouldn’t have
said anything. ‘Twas indiscreet of me.”

“
Is he?”
Robert’s hands curled into
fists. Joanna hoped Hugh and Robert didn’t end up coming to blows
over this little game of hers, but it was a chance she was willing
to take.

“My lord, please,” Joanna said, backing
away. “I shouldn’t have spoken.”

“
Tell me!”

“I can’t.” That was no more than the truth,
of course, inasmuch as there was nothing to tell.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, pressing his
fists to his forehead. The profanity surprised her, coming from the
highly principled Robert of Ramswick.

“We must be getting back to the others,”
Joanna said.

He stood with his hands on his hips, his
eyes closed, his chest heaving.

“My lord?”

“Go,” he said. “I’ll meet up with you.”

Turning, she lifted her skirts and sprinted
back to Aldgate Street.

* * *

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” squealed
Alice and Catherine as the distant thudding of drums grew steadily
louder, signaling the approach of the Midsummer Watch down Aldgate
Street. The procession had commenced at St. Paul’s on the city’s
west side and passed through West Cheap along Newgate Street. Now
it was proceeding through Corn Hill along Aldgate, to terminate in
front of Holy Trinity on the east side.

Night had fallen some time ago, the bonfires
serving not only to dispel the darkness, but to impart an
atmosphere of pagan wildness to the revelry. The wine and ale
flowed freely. Whores, cutpurses and mischievous boys wove their
way through the masses lining the parade route. Young men and women
danced in the streets, kissing openly and pairing off in darkened
doorways and alleys when the kissing wasn’t enough. It was a night
of riotous celebration and unfettered passions.

Alice and Catherine had been inseparable all
afternoon and evening. Seeing Alice interact with the little
girl
—
playing with her, herding her here and there, wiping
her face
—
made Joanna realize how much she must miss her
younger siblings, and how she must have relished the role of big
sister.

Robert had been edgy and remote since
rejoining them after his conversation with Joanna. He’d drunk two
cups of fortified wine, glaring at Hugh when he’d made some jest
about Robert’s low tolerance for spirits. The festivities seemed to
interest him not at all; he couldn’t tear his gaze away from Lady
Margaret.

“Robert doesn’t look very happy,” Hugh
whispered to her as the parade drums grew louder, accompanied now
by the trill of Panpipes. They were standing with Margaret and the
two girls right at the front of the crowd, where they’d have a good
view of the procession. Robert, who’d professed no interest in
watching it, sat on the steps of nearby St. Andrew’s Church with
Beatrix asleep in his arms. “He ought to look happy.”

“Why is that?” Joanna asked with feigned
innocence.

“Because you accepted his proposal of
marriage.”

“Ah. Yes...well, about that...”

“Joanna...” Hugh groaned. “Oh, bloody
hell.”

“It’s them! It’s them! Gog and Magog!”
Catherine shrieked as grotesque representations of the legendary
giants crested Corn Hill and advanced toward them, surrounded by
drummers, flutists and youths bearing torches. The giants, twice
the height of the men beneath their painted plaster forms, roared
as they swayed and lurched down Aldgate Street.

Now came the city’s most prominent citizens,
led by the three men who represented London’s interests with King
Henry
—
the justiciar and the two barons, Gilbert de
Montfichet and Walter fitz Robert fitz Richard
—
in their
bejeweled finery, sweating beneath ermine-lined mantles.

Lord Gilbert had aged over the years since
Joanna had served his wife at Montfichet Castle. He was as tall and
regal as ever, but his great shock of dark hair had turned snowy,
and his face was far more weathered than she remembered. He noticed
her as his piercing blue eyes scanned the crowd, and for a moment
he seemed almost nonplussed. They hadn’t spoken since she’d run off
to marry Prewitt six years ago after balking at a union with his
son. She wondered if he knew anything of the course her life had
taken since then; would it matter if he did?

She inclined her head to him. After a
moment’s hesitation, he returned the greeting and continued on.

The two sheriffs came next, followed by the
city’s two-dozen aldermen in single file, along with their beadles
and serjants. Lastly came the guildmasters and other distinguished
merchants, grouped together by ward. The portly money changer
Lionel Oxwyke, his expression as dour as ever, recognized her and
nodded. Rolf le Fever, right behind him, leered at her as if she
were standing there stark naked, the icy transparency of his gaze
adding an ominous nuance to the gesture. Joanna straightened her
back and met his gaze squarely. He looked away.

Dancing girls and more musicians brought up
the rear of the procession. As it tapered off and the crowd
dispersed, Joanna noticed that Margaret wasn’t with them anymore.
Glancing around, she saw her walking up to Robert, still cradling
the sleeping Beatrix on the church steps. He looked up when she
approached, suddenly animated for the first time all evening.
Sitting on the step below him, she spoke to him; he nodded.

“You’re staring,” Hugh chided.

Joanna spun back around, gathering herself.
“Alice, Catherine, stay with me. I don’t want you to get lost in
the crowd.”

A minute later, Margaret and
Robert
—
with Beatrix shifted to his
shoulder
—
joined them.

“Papa, you missed it!” Catherine exclaimed.
“You missed the Midsummer Watch!”

“I saw Gog and Magog,” he said. “Did they
frighten you?”

“Nay. Alice told me they’d be coming, and
that they were just make-believe
—
like big dolls.”

Robert and Margaret exchanged a brief look.
“Thank you, Alice,” he said. “That was thoughtful.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t want her to be
afraid.”

“Alice,” Robert said, “there’s something I’d
like to ask you. ‘Tis Lady Margaret’s idea, actually. Perhaps I’d
best let her ask you.”

Margaret crouched down so she could look
Alice in the eye. “Alice, is it true you have no family
—
no
kinfolk?”

Alice’s smile evaporated. “None who’d care
to claim me.”

“And no home?”

The child glanced anxiously at the adult
faces staring down at her. “I won’t live in no almshouse.”

Fearful that she might bolt, Joanna closed a
hand over her arm. “No one wants to send you to an almshouse,
Alice.”

“I thought you might want to come live at
Ramswick,” Margaret said.

Catherine squealed with pleasure and clapped
her hands. “Aye! Oh, please! Please come!”

Alice blinked at Margaret. “Ramswick?”

“Ramswick is my manor,” Robert said. “‘Tis
naught but a great farmstead, really.”

Alice’s eyes lit up. “A farm?”

“Aye, a grand farm,” Robert said proudly.
“Or many small farms that make up one grand farm.”

“Like Laystoke?” Alice asked.

“I know Laystoke,” Robert said. “Ramswick’s
on a larger scale, but the idea is the same.”

“You’d live in the manor house and share a
bedchamber with the girls,” Margaret said. With a glance at Robert,
she added, “There’s a bed just your size already there. It’s got
lovely pink bedcurtains and a feather mattress.”

“Do it!” Catherine pleaded, pulling on
Alice’s sleeve. “Do it! Come live with us!”

Alice looked back and forth between Margaret
and Robert, evidently mystified. “Why?”

“Why do we want you to live with us?” Robert
asked.

Alice nodded.

“We like you,” Margaret said. “And Catherine
adores you.”

“Am I to be a sort of nursemaid, then?”
Alice asked.

“You’d be my ward,” Robert said. “I’d raise
you as I would have raised...” His voice caught; he took a deep
breath. “As I would have raised you had you been my very own.”

“You’ll be given fine kirtles,” Margaret
said, “and educated. Lord Robert’s chaplain will tutor you in
reading and account
—
”

“Reading?” Alice exclaimed. “I’ll be taught
how to read?”

“And how to calculate numbers,” Margaret
said, “and manage an estate. And when you’re old enough, we’ll
arrange for your marriage to a wellborn man with his own holding,
and you can be the lady of the manor. Would you like that?”

Alice stared at Margaret, wide-eyed. “‘Twas
your idea, milady?”

“Aye.” Margaret looked up at Joanna, her
expression suddenly troubled. “I’m sorry. We should have consulted
you, seeing as...well...”

So. Robert hadn’t told her yet that she’d
rejected his proposal. “There’s no need to consult me,” Joanna
said, in a tone she hoped conveyed the significance of the
statement.

Margaret stood slowly, looking from Joanna
to Robert. He shook his head. They held each other’s gaze for a
long moment.

“Well, Alice?” Joanna prodded. “Do you think
you’d like it at Ramswick?”

“Is...is it really all right with you,
milord?” Alice asked Robert.

“It makes me very happy to think of you
coming to live with us, Alice. Just as Lady Margaret knew it
would.” With a fond look at his cousin, Robert said, “She’s a very
clever woman.”

“Well?” Margaret prompted, smiling at Alice
expectantly.

Hugh nudged Alice. “Say yes.”

Alice smiled at them, her chin wobbling just
slightly. “Yes.”

Catherine shrieked delightedly. “Oh, thank
you, Papa! Thank you, Aunt Margaret! I have a big sister again,”
she said, throwing her arms around Alice. “Thank you, thank
you!”

* * *

“Where’s Robert?” asked Hugh as the
festivities were winding down. “The children are tired. They’ve had
enough.”

Joanna, on whose shoulder Beatrix now slept,
looked around at the thinning crowd. The bonfires had mostly died
down to embers, but flames still leapt in the largest one, near the
gate of Holy Trinity.

A couple stood near the fire, facing each
other. “That’s them,” Hugh said.

Robert was talking, Margaret listening. He
seemed very wrapped up in what he was saying, almost overwrought.
His gestures grew abrupt, his expression anguished.

Margaret held her hands up. Robert took them
in his and moved closer to her.

“You’re staring again,” Hugh said
quietly.

“So are you.”

Releasing one of her hands, Robert reached
out tentatively and stroked Margaret’s face. She closed her eyes.
He spoke to her, his manner rawly earnest. She nodded and opened
her eyes. Something glimmered on her cheeks. Tears.

Robert brushed the tears away with both
hands. He said something to her, his gaze imploring.

She nodded. “Yes,” she said; Joanna could
read her lips. “Yes. Yes, Robert. Oh, yes.”

Joy lit his face. He laughed, his cheeks wet
with his own tears. Margaret laughed, too.

He cupped her chin, tilted it up. She gazed
at him, her eyes huge. He bent his head, touched his lips to hers,
drew back.

Gathering her in his arms, he lowered his
head and kissed her again, a real kiss this time. She seemed
momentarily stunned, but then her arms banded around him and she
returned the kiss.