Anne O'Brien - Marriage Under Siege

But they did not care for you, did not love you, did they? Did she realise that she had spoken only of duty and obligation?

Mansell felt a sudden inclination to ask if Lord Edward had also been kind and considerate to her but knew that he must not. It was too private a matter. And after Croft’s comments, the answer was in doubt. Whatever the truth of the matter, she was now free of her obligation and might achieve a happier future.

‘What will you do now, my lady? I presume that you will not wish to return to the household of your guardian.’

‘No. I have no further claim on them. The legal obligation is complete. But I have made plans. You need not fear that I shall be a burden on you , my lord. As an heiress I have an excellent jointure. It will all be clarified at the reading of the will, but I am aware of the terms of the settlement that was negotiated with Sir Robert on my marriage. I know that Lord Edward made a new will on our return here and my jointure is secure. I need nothing from you.’

‘That was not what I meant.’ He tried to quell the sudden leap of annoyance at her resistance. ‘Where will you go?’ he pursued. ‘You can hardly live alone and unprotected. Not with the prospect of armed gangs, not to mention legitimate troops who are prepared to take possession of any property that might further their cause.’

‘I shall not be unprotected.’ She noted but ignored the impatience in his voice and in the determined clenching of his jaw. ‘Sir William Croft offered me an armed guard if I wish to travel any distance. And certainly I can live alone within my own household. As a widow of advanced years I hardly need a chaperon. And as a woman I believe that I will be in less danger of attack than you, my lord. No man willingly wages war against an unprotected woman. It is not considered chivalrous.’ Her lips twitched in the merest of smiles. ‘Sir William’s warning and advice to you would seem to have been most apt, my lord. It is perhaps necessary for you to look to your own possessions, rather than be concerned with mine.’

‘I see that you are well informed!’ And how did she know about that? Annoyance deepened. ‘I suppose that I must learn that nothing remains secret for long in this house.’

‘Very true. Besides,’ she continued, ‘I have had my fill of protection, of betrothals and marriage.’ She breathed in steadily as her wayward emotions once more threatened to slip beyond her grasp. ‘Primarily I shall go to Leintwardine Manor. It is part of my jointure and only a short distance from here. I shall be comfortable there. It is a place of … great charm.’

‘I still do not think you should do anything precipitate,’ Mansell insisted. ‘Take time to decide what is best for you.’

‘I shall remove myself from this place as soon as may be. By Friday, if that can be arranged.’ He noted the faintest of shudders once again run through her slight frame and did not believe that it was from cold.

‘You sound as if you hate it here.’

‘I never said that.’ For one moment her eyes blazed, glinting gold and green in their depths, only to be veiled by a swift downsweep of sable lashes.

‘You do not appear to appreciate the very real dangers,’ he pursued the point, but knew he was losing the battle. ‘I feel a sense of duty to see to your comfort—and safety.’

‘How so?’ Her gaze was direct, an unmistakable challenge. ‘You have no duty towards me. You need not concern yourself over my future, my lord Mansell. After all, until yesterday, you were not even aware that I existed as a member of your extended family. After tomorrow, I shall take my leave.’

Abruptly she stood to put an end to the discussion and walked from the room without a backward glance, leaving food and wine untouched, her black silk skirts brushing softly against the oak floor. The wolfhound shadowed her once more, leaving Mansell alone in the solar to curse women who were obstinately blind to where their best interests might lie.

‘And the problem is,’ he confided to Sir Joshua when he walked with him to the stables an hour later, ‘I find that however much I might wish to accept her decision, to let her make her own arrangements, I simply cannot do so. God save me from difficult, opinionated women!’

‘A sad occasion, my lord.’ Mr Gregory Wellings shuffled the papers before him with all the professional and pompous efficiency of a successful lawyer.

Thursday morning.

They had chosen to meet in a room that might have been transformed into a library or study, or even an estate office, if any of the previous Brampton lords had shown the least inclination towards either books or business. Since they had not, it was a little-used chamber, of more recent construction than the original fortress, but neglected in spite of the splendid carving on the wooden panelling and the wide window seats, which might tempt someone at leisure to sit and take in the sweep of the distant hills. Although it was rarely used, there was clear evidence of some recent attempt at cleaning, presumably for this very event. Where else would it be possible to invite Lord Edward’s legal man to read the will to those who might expect some recognition? The floors had been swept, the heavy hangings beaten to remove the worst of the dust and cobwebs. A fire burned and crackled fiercely to offset the dank air. The mullioned windows, larger than many in the castle, had been cleaned and, although still smeared with engrained grime, allowed faint rays of spring sunshine to percolate the gloom. A scarred, well-used oak table served as a desk for Mr Wellings to preside over the legal affairs of the dead, the surface littered with documents and letters, frayed ribbon and cracked seals. The two documents before him, upon which his thin hands now rested, were both new, the paper still in uncreased and unstained condition.

Honoria had taken a seat on an upright chair beside the fire. Lord Mansell stood behind her, leaning an arm against the high carved mantel. The lady was as impassive as ever, but Mansell’s concern for her well-being increased as the days passed. If she had slept at all the previous night it would have been a surprise to him. Her hair and skin and her eyes were dull as if they had lost all vitality and he knew with certainty that she was not eating enough. If only she had some colour in her cheeks and not the stark shadows from exhaustion and strain. Whatever was troubling her was putting her under severe stress, but she clearly had no intention of unburdening her anxieties to him. Whenever possible she absented herself from his company. When they met they exchanged words about nothing but the merest commonplace. Why are you so unhappy? he asked her silently, glancing down at her averted face. Surely your freedom from Sir Edward with a substantial income in your own name should be a source of happiness and contentment, not despair? But he found no answer to his concerns. Perhaps she was indeed merely dull, with no qualities to attract.

But, he decided, quite unequivocally, she should not wear black.

Lady Mansell’s spine stiffened noticeably as Mr Wellings cleared his throat, preparing to read the final wishes of the recently deceased Lord Mansell. The present lord, on impulse, leaned down to place a hand, the lightest of touches, on her shoulder in a gesture of support. She flinched a little in surprise at his touch, glancing briefly up at him, before relaxing again under the light pressure. After the first instant of panic, he recognised the flash of gratitude in her eyes before she looked away. So, not impassive or unmoved by the situation, after all!

Also present in the chamber, as requested by Mr Wellings, was the Steward, Master Foxton, on this occasion accompanied by Mistress Brierly and Mistress Morgan, Lord Edward’s cook and housekeeper of many years. They stood together, just inside the doorway, nervous and uncomfortable in their formal black with white collars and aprons, to learn if they were to be rewarded for their long and faithful service. Uneasily, their eyes flickered from Mansell to the lawyer, and back again. The brief sour twist to Foxton’s lips as he entered the room suggested that they had little in the way of expectations from their dead master.