Bertrice Small - The Captive Heart

"I understand," Alix said dully.

"He is an attractive young man," the queen noted.

"He wants to marry his mistress," Alix replied.

"Pah!" the queen exclaimed. "All young men want to wed their mistresses, but mistresses are not for marrying. Be dutiful to your husband, and he will eventually outgrow his mistress. This is a good match for you, ma chérie . The family is respectable, and the baron likes you. If your husband misbehaves, go to him, for Sir Udolf is the head of the family, and I suspect he will live to be a very old man. But most important, your papa has a safe refuge now. I could not desert him for the sake of your dear mama, who was always so good to me. Think of her, Alix. When my grandmother, and father decided she was to marry your father, she did what she was told. Can you do any less?"

"No, Highness," Alix replied. Think of your mother, the queen said. Alix was thinking of her. A day did not go by that she did not remember Blanche Givet. Her mother had been so beautiful. Many said that Alix resembled her, but while their coloring was the same, the daughter thought her mother far more lovely. Blanche was French to her fingertips. Elegant and quick. Charming and diplomatic with the most difficult of the queen's high-born English companions. Everyone had loved Blanche Givet. But especially her husband and her daughter.

What would her mother say about this match that Margaret of Anjou had made for Alix? Would she have made it had Blanche been alive? Alix wanted to believe that if Blanche had lived, she and her husband would have returned with their only child to Anjou to live out their lives. But no. Blanche would have never deserted Margaret of Anjou. Especially not under these circumstances. Alix sighed. But if her mother had lived, she was certain this marriage would have never been proposed.

Her mother's death had come as a complete shock to everyone who knew her. It was sudden, and totally unexpected. It was Alexander Givet whose health had begun to fail. But Blanche, up until the moment of her death, had appeared healthy and vibrant. And yet she had gone to her bed that fatal night and never awakened again. Oh, she had complained of being tired that last day, but was that so unusual for a queen's lady who was always kept running?

Alix felt the tears coming, and she brushed them away impatiently. From the moment they had told her that her mother had died she had attempted to remember the last words Blanche had said to her, but she never could. Her father had tried to comfort her, telling her the conversation was obviously not that important that she would have remembered. But shouldn't you remember the last words your mother said to you? Still, if you didn't know they were to be her last words…

Alix sighed sadly.

But she did remember standing by her mother's grave and promising her that she would take care of her father. Alix knew that would have been the one thing Blanche would have asked of her had she been able to ask it. So now here they were in the wilds of Northumbria, and she was about to marry a man who didn't want her so that her father could have a home, a place to die. The tears flowed silently, and she bit her lower lip to keep from sobbing. I have kept my promise to you , Mama, she said silently.

She considered Hayle Watteson. There was something not quite right about him that she could not quite put her finger upon. He was very childish. A spoiled child who must have his own way. He had made his dislike of her quite clear. He didn't want her, but he would accept her as his wife to please his parent. He would sire children on her to please his father. She would be nothing more to him than a broodmare would be.

The tears came faster. It wasn't that she was feeling sorry for herself, but it seemed so unfair. Her mother had loved her father. Margaret of Anjou had come to love her royal husband. But her father had been happy to have her mother for a wife. And Henry Plantagenet had, for all his shyness, been welcoming of his bride. And while she knew that many men had mistresses, neither the king nor her father had ever taken another woman to their bed. And now she was facing marriage to a man who not only had a mistress, but loved her, intended to keep her, and had nothing but hostility for the girl he was to marry. Every instinct she possessed told her to run, but Alix would not listen. Her father needed a home, and Wulfborn Hall, despite its surly heir, was a good place. She would marry Hayle Watteson, and if he didn't love her, their children would. She would honor the promise she gave at her mother's graveside.

Alexander Givet was feeling stronger having been able to rest these past few days. "You do not have to wed this man if you do not wish to," he told his daughter. "I am better for resting. I will take you back to Anjou, mignon ."

"Nay, Papa," Alix told him. "You are better for a warm hall, a warm bed, and regular hot food. On the road we would have none of these things. The queen goes to Scotland. She has no means to reach the coast, and neither do we. And if we did manage to get there, what guarantee do we have that we could find a ship to take us to France? And if we found a ship, and reached France, how would we get to Anjou? The journey is too long and too difficult for a sick man. You would not live to get there, and then I should be left alone."

"I do not like this man you are to wed," the physician admitted.

"I do not like him either," Alix agreed. "But his father is a good man, and it is he who is the lord here. Not Hayle. Sir Udolf likes us both, Papa. All the Wattesons want of me is children. I will give them what they want. Sir Udolf will dote on his grandchildren and honor me as their mother. I have agreed not to interfere with Hayle and his mistress as long as I am treated with respect."

Alexander Givet shook his head. "That my daughter should have to barter herself to protect us pains me. I feel so helpless, mignon . Forgive me!"

"There is nothing to forgive, Papa," Alix assured him. "I am content with this." She lied with a smile, and she kissed his cheek.

He knew she lied, but what other choice did they have? Alexander Givet silently cursed his body's weaknesses that had put his beloved daughter in this situation. But while his pride had made him give up half of his small hoard of coins to provide Alix with a very respectable dower portion, he had kept back an equal amount, which he would see Alix had in her possession before he died. She would be a woman of means if it ever became necessary for her to leave Wulfborn.

When they had fled their last royal sanctuary those many weeks back Alix had been able to take very little. Her camiseas were either lawn or silk. They took up little space, and so she had packed half a dozen of them as well as two batiste shertes she kept for night garments. But she had only three gowns: two jersey-one green, the other nut brown-and a violet silk. She had a pair of boots for outdoors and a pair of sollerets for indoors; a wool cape, the hood lined in rabbit fur; and two lawn veils. Her father had given her the jewelry that had belonged to her mother: a strand of creamy pearls; two gold chains, one with a jeweled cross; and five gold rings, each with a gem stone. One had a large pink pearl, another a garnet, another a small sapphire, the fourth an amethyst. The last was of red Irish gold, with a green tourmaline. She kept her jewelry in a small pale blue silk bag with a drawstring.

On her wedding day, Alix decided she would wear her best gown, the violet silk. At her request, an oak tub was brought up from the kitchens, and she bathed in it, taking the time and care to wash her hair. A serving woman of undetermined age who said her name was Bab helped her.

"The old lord said I am to serve you, for you will be mistress here," Bab informed Alix. "You are pretty, but not as pretty as Maida."