Joan Wolf - To The Castle

“It is time for us to leave,” Lady Alice said firmly.

Roger watched Nell as the room cleared. Her long brown hair was tucked behind her small ears and spread in a smooth fan to her waist. The pure oval of her face was regarding the floor with grave absorption.

Then they were alone.

He crossed the floor to where she stood. “You are so beautiful, Nell,” he said.

She cast a quick upward glance at him, then looked away.

A shy one, he thought.

“Everything will be all right,” he said reassuringly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She nodded slightly.

He put a finger under her chin and lifted her face up, so she would have to look at him. Then he bent his head and kissed her.

She gave him no response. He deepened the kiss and she hung like a doll in his arms. He could feel her trembling.

He lifted his head. “What is wrong?”

She didn’t answer, but a tear crept its way down the ivory of her face.

Roger muttered a curse word to himself.

“What is wrong?” he repeated, more strongly than before.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” she said. She spoke so low that he had to bend his head to hear her. “I know I should be brave but I just can’t seem to be.”

“Brave?” he said. “You said you entered this marriage willingly.”

She stared at his chest. “Everyone told me I had to do it. Even Mother Superior told me it was an opportunity for me to do good in the world. There was no place else for me to go….” Her voice ran out.

“I see,” he said quietly. And suddenly he did. They had all pushed her into this marriage for their political ends and no one had cared that she was a convent-raised girl who knew nothing of the world, nothing of men. Even he—he had asked her if she was willing and he had been very happy to accept her weak assurance that she was.

“Come sit beside me,” he said, and moved to sit on the side of the bed. Slowly she came to join him. The bed was so high that her feet didn’t touch the floor. He picked up one of her icy hands and held it between his two.

“What do you know about human coupling?” he asked bluntly.

He felt her hand grow rigid. “My mother told me last night,” she said tersely.

He sat there, thinking about what he should do next. He was a young man, with all a young man’s passions, but it occurred to him that if he took her tonight it would be nothing less than an act of rape. She was so frightened, this little girl from the convent. And he was a perfect stranger to her.

He inhaled deeply. “Would it be easier for you if we waited for a while?” he asked. “Perhaps, after you get a chance to know me better, all of this won’t seem so terrifying.”

She turned to look at him. “Do you mean that?” she asked breathlessly.

“I don’t want a wife who has to be brave to make love with me,” he said wryly. “I want a willing partner. The act of love can be a very beautiful thing, Nell, but I don’t think you’re ready to find that out yet. Get to know me. Get to be my friend. Then we will accomplish the marriage act and get to work on all of those olive plants around our table.”

For the first time that day color flushed into her cheeks. “Oh, my lord, that would be wonderful!”

“Call me Roger,” he said.

Her lips parted a little. She was really very lovely. “Roger,” she said shyly.

He smiled at her. “Nell. I am not such a bad fellow, but I will let you find that out for yourself. In the meantime, I think we should keep our little arrangement to ourselves. I have a feeling that our elders would not approve.”

“My mother would, I think, but not my father,” Nell said, her voice stronger now. “Mother wanted the marriage to be delayed to give me a chance to adjust to life outside the convent, but Father wouldn’t hear of it.”

“My grandfather also wanted the marriage to take place quickly.” He grinned at her. “I was nervous, too, you know.”

“You were?” she looked at him wonderingly.

He nodded. “I was afraid you were going to be ugly and that I wouldn’t be attracted to you at all. I was much relieved when I saw how pretty you are.”

A little more color came to her face. “It is vain of me, I know, but when I saw my face in the mirror I was happy that I looked nice,” she confessed.

He stared at her in astonishment. “You sound as if this was a recent occurrence.”

“Since I came home, a few weeks ago. There were no mirrors in the convent.”

“You really didn’t see yourself until a few weeks ago?” She nodded. Then she offered, “My mother’s ladies were all agog about how handsome you are. They all of them wished that they were marrying you.”

“But my looks didn’t sway you.”

“I prayed that you would have a kind heart,” Nell said. She actually smiled at him. “And you do. I thank you, my lord, for your consideration of my feelings.”

“Roger,” he said.

Her smile stayed in place. “Roger.” Her hand loosened its clutch on her robe and the top of it opened a little, giving him a glimpse of her long, delicate throat. She said, “I hope I am not going to be a disappointment to you. My mother has been trying to teach me how to run a castle, and I have learned somewhat, but much of it is still unknown to me.”

“You will do fine,” he said cheerfully. “My grandfather’s steward, Simon Everard, is in charge of all the domestic staff in the castle, and things run like clockwork. Lady Mabel, Simon’s wife, is in charge of the women. Will you be bringing ladies with you?”

“My aunt, Lady Alida, will come with me and stay a few months until I am settled in. How many ladies do you have in residence?”

“Not very many, I’m afraid. We are very much a bachelor household. My grandfather has been a widower for many years.”

“How old is he?” Nell asked.

“Seventy,” Roger replied.

“He seems very young for his age,” Nell said.

“He is. This year he insisted on going on a tour of his vassals that took us almost two months. He bore up wonderfully.”

“You sound as if you love him very much,” Nell said softly.

“My own father died when I was an infant and he is the only father I have ever known,” Roger replied matter-of-factly.

“What about your mother? She doesn’t reside at Wilton?”

“No. After my father died, my mother went to live at the convent in Cirencester.”

“Is she a nun?”

“No, she is still a laywoman, but she chooses to live there instead of at Wilton.”

Nell gave him a shy smile. “You seem to be surrounded by convent-dwelling women—first your mother and now your wife.”

“Yes.” He returned her smile. “It is odd.”

Her eyes slid away from his and her fingers once more clutched the front of her robe. “I have always slept in a nightgown,” she said. “Do you think I can sleep in this robe tonight?”

“I think you will be very uncomfortable if you do,” Roger said. “Velvet on a summer night, no matter if it is a bit chilly, is too warm. Besides, they will think it odd in the morning when the servants come in. I won’t look if that’s what you want.”

“That would be…good,” she said, relieved. “Should I get into bed now?”

“Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll just wait here.”

She slid off the bed and went to the other side. The cover had already been turned back and she quickly folded her robe at the bottom of the bed and slipped in between the sheets, pulling them up to her chin.

“It’s all right, I’m in bed,” she said to Roger.

He turned to look at her and smiled. I have a long way to go here, he told himself. Then, unselfconsciously, he shed his own robe and walked to the opposite side of the bed. He slipped in under the covers and pulled them up to his waist. Then he turned to Nell. She was staring resolutely at the ceiling.