Page 33 of The Daughters of Avalon
They walked together in silence for a time, and then Beauchamp said, “I only wish you might have sent word… to apprise us… of your change incircumstances.”
Elspeth wanted to tell them both that she was still there—that she could hear every word they spoke. But Malcom’s silent warning kept her tongue tied.
“It could not be helped,” said Malcom, as they entered the great hall. “Consequently, I would beg pardon. We—my Lady and I—” Finally, he turned to check on Elspeth, and she reassured him with a quivering smile. He turned back around as Elspeth’s eyes scanned the lord’s hall, searching for signs of Amdel’s loyalties. His banners were all his own, none of Stephen’s. But neither were there any of Matilda’s. “Considering the circumstances,” he said, “we did not intend to burden you today.” Inside the keep, the mood was less that of a vanquished ruin and somewhat more presentable. There were fresh rusheson the floors, and all the tapestries were new, with brightly embroidered thread. However, none of this compensated for the threatening aura that only Elspeth could see.
Following the lord up a stairwell at the back of his hall, she listened quietly to Malcom’s apology. “I may have preferred to return from my commission in Wales and send you a formal letter as you were due, but I suppose an explanationfacie ad faciemis far more suitable. However, I must apologize to Dominique, even as I must thank her for her generosity.”
“Of course,” said Beauchamp, as they came to a landing and moved into another hall. “But first, we should see to your bed. I am told you were awakened rather rudely, and for this it is I who must seek pardon, Earl Aldergh. We had some wandering guests from Darkwood over the past few days, and we expected—well, my men were tasked with seeing they returned to the road. You know how these wayfarers can be. One can never be too certain these days.”
Malcom said nothing.
“And, then of course,” Beauchamp said, after a long awkward silence, “My affairs with d’Lucy are as yet unsettled.” He sighed wearily. “I have cried peace, time and again, and so far, that infuriating man refuses to reconsider his position. He’s as stubborn as his sire.”
“At least you must deal with Graeham, not his brother.”
Beauchamp made a gesture as though to shudder, but Elspeth did not sense any fear in his actions. It was more, disgust. “God forbid—that black-hearted bastard. Did you know they were born of different fathers?”
“Twins, I supposed?”
“Do they look like twins to you? Nay. I warrant ’tis true: She conceived those sons by different sires. And ’tis no wonder that old fool was so cross with the world.”
Elspeth kept pace behind them, listening as the lord continued to ramble, clearly incensed by his troubles, and more than ready to share his woes with any sympathetic ear.
“At any rate,” Beauchamp said, continuing, “last I heard, now that the Empress has returned to France, d’Lucy plans to issue a suit over the death of their sire.”
Hungry for news of her sister, Elspeth listened intently.
“You must agree; I cannot be faulted for acting in self-defense, and, mind you, that man died here on my lands—in this very room,” he said, as they arrived at their intended destination. “With my physician attending him, no less. As you must see, despite that he attacked me, I offered him every due respect, even despite that he persisted with his inventions.”
“I understand,” Malcom said, nodding, all trace of his Scots accent expertly excised from his diction. At the moment, he sounded as English and cultured as did Beauchamp.
Malcom cast Elspeth a quick glance, and said, “Perhaps now that the lady Dominique is free to wed, you might consider the benefit of a union between her and Graeham d’Lucy. Despite your quarrels with that family, I know Graeham to be an honorable man, and you can be sure he would treat her well. Whatever child came of that union would settle your feud for all time. Wouldn’t it?”
Beauchamp blinked, looking startled by the prospect, as though he’d never considered it. His eyes rolled back into his head as though he were seriously considering Malcom’s suggestion. And all the while, Malcom stood patiently, with his hands linked behind his back—like a wise old counselor, adept at manipulation, and finally, he reached for Elspeth, drawing her near.
Elspeth pinched her cloak tighter to keep Beauchamp from noticing the inappropriateness of her dress. “At any rate,” he said. “I thank you. And my lady thanks you. And because Iken this must have come as a surprise, I will look forward to a full explanation once we are rested. If you would but send my regards to your sister, I will offer my deepest, sincerest apologies when I see her. I know you must know—and she must know—that these things are no fault of your own.”
Beauchamp seemed to be warming to Malcom, his body language far less stiff.
Malcom said, “For all your troubles, perhaps you would allow me to send you a bit of wine from Aquila once I am returned to Aldergh? It’s fine wine, acquired after searching the demesne of a traitor to the realm. We confiscated his wine, among other things, and Stephen was kind enough to award it to me. I would love to share.”
Beauchamp nodded absently, perhaps still thinking about Malcom’s initial proposal. “Spanish wine would be lovely,” he said. “But no worries. I shall explain everything to Dominique once she awakens. And in the meantime…” He turned to Elspeth and bowed. “My lady.”
“My lord,” Elspeth said, proffering a hand from beneath her cloak.
But, of course, there was dirt beneath her fingernails, after tending Malcom’s fire, and it did not escape the lord of Amdel’s notice. He scrunched his nose, pecking the air before her hand but he did not touch her hand with his lips. “I… ah… trust you will rest well… my lady.”
“Thank you,” said Elspeth, and she curtsied awkwardly, as best she could remember how to do it. Did one curtsy the same as a child as they did as a lady? She couldn’t remember the last lady she’d encountered, aside from her sisters.
It didn’t matter; Beauchamp didn’t notice. He must still be thinking about Malcom’s proposal for his sister, because he couldn’t be away quicker. “Malcom,” he said, before departing. And Malcom nodded to the man, thanking him again, and oncehis back was turned, Malcom ushered Elspeth into their room, before she could think to protest.
It wasn’tMalcom’s first stay in this particular room, though he examined the guest bower with entirely new eyes, altered by the knowledge that d’Lucy’s sire had breathed his last here.
He hadn’t realized as much—nor had he known they’d brought the wounded man back here to be tended by Beauchamp’s physician. Of course, Beauchamp was right; it was hardly a place you would tend your enemy—especially one met in combat. And though he was hardly any sort of man Malcom would like to hold in confidence, perhaps he had been too quick to judge? Perhaps Beauchamp was but maladroit, and not so much the demagogue so many thought him to be? He was, indeed, an awkward man, this much was true, but annoyed though he might have been over the affront to his sister, he’d leapt at the opportunity for fellowship, filling Malcom’s ears.
As they entered the room, Malcom swung his bags onto the bed and turned to Elspeth.
She looked wearied, and for all the world like a frightened doe, her graceful form tense and ready to bolt. She averted her gaze for an instant, picking beneath her fingernails, and then back, as though she suddenly didn’t know him—as though he’d not slept the whole night through with her head tucked beneath his arm.
