Page 76 of The Unwilling Bride
Merrick picked up his quill and looked at the accounts on the parchment before him. “Good day, Constance.”
She turned and left the chamber without another word.
RANULF SMILED AT BEATRICE fidgeting nervously at the door of the stable. “Is there something I can help you with, my lady?”
Beatrice looked around as if she were afraid of being seen. “May I speak with you?”
His first instinct was to say that he had somethingmore important to do, which would include almost anything else. But she looked so worried, he decided to indulge her. After all, he could always walk away.
“Certainly, my lady.” He tossed his horse’s reins over the wall of the stall and joined her in the doorway. “I gather it’s something important.”
She nodded and glanced about furtively. “Yes.”
If she was trying to be subtly secretive, she was failing miserably.
“Can we not go to the chapel, or somewhere more private?” she whispered. “What I have to say is not for servants’ ears.”
Ranulf wondered if she thought to flirt with him the way she had with Henry, or even had something more intimate in mind. If that was her only aim, he’d quickly disillusion her. Henry had been amused and acted the honorable gallant; Ranulf had no patience for giddy girls who wished to try out their powers on men. He’d been the butt of that sort of sport once, and it would be the last time. “I don’t think that would be wise.”
Her eyes widened. “But I don’t want…that is, it’s about…” She dropped her voice so that he could barely hear her. “It’s about Constance and Merrick.”
“What about them?”
Beatrice blushed and bit her lip. Then she glanced around again and whispered, “Constance is very unhappy.”
This wasn’t news to Ranulf. Anyone with half a mind would have realized that something was seriously amiss between Merrick and his bride.
“Is Merrick unhappy, too?” she asked.
“Merrick doesn’t speak to me about his feelings.”
“But you know him better than anybody else. Can’t you tell?”
Of course he could, but he wasn’t keen to discuss his concerns with Beatrice, who probably couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. “Whatever is between them, is between them, my lady.”
Beatrice’s bright eyes filled with tears. “I only want to help,” she murmured, sniffling. “I can’t bear to see Constance so miserable. She’s endured so much already, and she was so happy on her wedding day and now…”
The last thing Ranulf wanted was for anyone to think he’d made Beatrice cry. After a quick glance around the yard to ensure no one was watching, he hustled the girl into the lane between the stable and the armory, so they couldn’t be seen from the yard or the wall walk.
“I would help if I could,” he told her honestly, “but Merrick hates advice, no matter how well-meaning.” He wondered what had prompted Beatrice to speak to him about the troubles between the lord of Tregellas and his wife. “Has Lady Constance said anything to you about what’s happened?”
Beatrice mournfully shook her head. “Not a word. It’s like when Wicked Will—I mean, Lord William was alive. She wouldn’t say much about him, either.” The girl’s eyes filled with tears again. “I thought those days were behind us.”
Her shoulders started to shake as she began to sob in earnest.
Ranulf reached out and awkwardly patted her on the arm. “There, there. I’m sure it will be all right. Husbands and wives quarrel all the time. My parents certainly did.”
“I don’t remember my mother,” she offered. “She died when I was very small.” She sniffled and regarded him piteously. “It’s been days since the hall moot and it’s just as bad as ever between them. Merrick barely speaks to Constance.”
Hoping to make Beatrice feel better, Ranulf tried to make light of the situation. “Merrick barely speaks to anybody.”
That earned him a teary glare from Beatrice. “It’s not funny and if you think it is—”
“No, I don’t,” he hastened to assure her, slightly ashamed that he’d given the impression he didn’t care about his friend’s happiness.
“Then what can we do? There must be something,” she pleaded, looking up at him with her big blue eyes, her lips half parted, her high rounded breasts rising and falling.
Feeling like a disgusting old lecher for noticing that, he tried to concentrate on the issue at hand. “I think we should leave Constance and Merrick to sort out their own troubles. However well-meaning, I doubt any good can come of us interfering directly. The best thing you can do is stay close to her, so she knows she has a friend nearby.”
