Bewitched, Bothered, and Bewildered--Chapter Eleven

[Evie]

   Chapter Eleven

   June 21, 1134
   The St. Nicholas Sanctuary for Women and Orphans, the Earldom of Derry

   The Countess of Derry's celestial blue eyes still held an amused gleam as I dropped to one knee before her to bestow a courtly kiss of greeting over her hand.  My uncle Denis had brought me through her private Portal a half hour earlier, allowing me to linger—with the Countess's permission, of course—long enough to read that Portal's unique signature so I could easily return there again without his assistance, then we'd both returned to Dhassa briefly in order to bring both ladies through, not to mention Grub.  There was no reason for Lady Avisa to accompany us, strictly speaking.  In fact, I had urged her to remain behind with her men-at-arms.  But she was adamant, insisting she'd offered to serve as our chaperone as far as Derry and so she would.  The men-at-arms we left behind, not only because the additional trips through the Portal to bring them all through would have been quite draining for myself and Denis, but also because—given the nature of the sanctuary the Countess was providing to the women in her charge, and also the traumatic situations some of those women had fled from—the Countess had requested that we leave behind any men whose presence was not strictly necessary.  Earlier in the morning, the bishop had given the Kinlochan men the freedom of the city, and Lady Avisa had urged them to take the opportunity to tour the historic sights of Dhassa and make their pilgrimages to its famous shrine if they so desired, for she had a matter of business to tend to with the bishop that day and would not be requiring their services.  Denis gave the men his utmost assurances that a baronial guard would not be needed while their lady was in his company, and that he would attend to the dowager baroness's safety personally, so they gave in to their lady's wishes, albeit reluctantly.  They could hardly argue that the Bishop of Dhassa was no fit chaperone and protector for a noblewoman, after all.  

   Now the ladies and the bishop all waited in a small antechamber outside the Countess's withdrawing room.  I had been called into Countess Celsie's presence for a private audience.

   I straightened, glancing up at the golden-haired woman who stood before me, her hand graciously extended to receive my obeisance.  From this close, the lady was far more stunning that I remembered her being in the days when she'd graced Rhemuth's Court with her maidenly presence, despite being eight years older now and the mother of four children in such startlingly rapid succession that all of Court was abuzz at how Earl Derry seemed to be attempting to make up for lost time in the siring of his heir and spares.  She was heartstopping, even.  For the first time, I realized that the Earl of Derry's decision to give up his wenching ways and enter into respectable matrimony might not have been simply a matter of practicality and the need to beget heirs.  Even if it were, he certainly couldn't be suffering too greatly.

   She arched an eyebrow at me, a quiet laugh bubbling up.  "Are you quite done staring, Sir Sextus?  If you are, I believe you've some business for my attention."

   It was probably a good thing I've never been an especially poetic sort.  It would be a bad end to my journey if the Earl of Derry had to skewer me on swordpoint for babbling smitten sonnets to his wife.  I pulled my thoughts together and focused on the matter at hand.     

   "Ah...yes....about that."  I glanced away from Derry's delectable Countess briefly so I could clear the fog from my brain.  "How...how much did Denis tell you already?"

   A smile still lurked at the corners of her lips, although the rest of her expressive features composed themselves into a more serious expression.  "I'm given to understand that you are in hopes I can provide sanctuary for a certain young demoiselle among your party.  Is that correct?"

   "It is, my lady."  

   "And it is also my understanding that the lady in question is neither widowed nor orphaned, nor is she a ward of the Crown being commended into my care, nor has her rightful liegelord given her leave to depart from his demesne to seek asylum elsewhere."  She tilted her head at me.  "I do wish I could help you, Sir Sextus, since you've honored me with your trust and have come so far out of your way to seek my aid, but unless there are extenuating circumstances that I am as yet unaware of, I'm not certain that I can.  Can you share with me why you felt it necessary to bring her to me?"

   I felt my heart sink.  I suspected the outcome of this audience would be exactly what Lady Avisa and my uncle had warned me it would be, yet for Lady Jennet's sake I felt I needed to plead her case one last time.  God only knows why it seemed so important for me to do so.  It certainly wasn't because I'd grown fond of the chit.

   "My lady, my sister-by-marriage Sophie once mentioned to me that some years ago, well before your marriage to Earl Derry, you were quite nearly forced into a marriage which was not merely against your liking, but which was insupportable in any way.  She is of the mind that such an experience, in addition to your natural caring and compassionate nature, led you to create this sanctuary through which other damsels in like distress might be able to escape similar misfortunes.  My lady, I believe Lady Jennet to be in similarly dire straits."

   The countess's lips twitched.  "In other words, sir, you believed me to be a soft touch."  Her smile grew as I floundered for an appropriate response.  "Oh, don't worry; I'm not insulted; I am quite tender-hearted.  Derry, poor dear, sometimes despairs at how many strays I manage to collect, and he knew going into this venture with me that I would, you know, and that he'd be dragged along, sometimes kicking and screaming and having to be my voice of sanity.  However, I'm afraid one hard lesson I've had to learn along the way is that, as much as I'd love to, I can't rescue everybody, so I've had to learn to devote my time and energies to those who are in most urgent need of assistance."  She folded her hands before her, giving me an encouraging smile.  "So.  How does Lady Jennet especially qualify for my assistance?"

   There was no help for it.  I had no recourse but to tell her the truth.  "She doesn't."  At her questioning look, I continued on, my voice rushing through the words in hopes of getting them all out before I was summarily dismissed for wasting her valuable time.  "It's just that her father has offered her to a most odious man against her wishes, and the match is so disagreeable to her that she would do anything to avoid it."  My cheeks grew hot as I thought of the lady's most recent ploy to avoid being given in marriage.  "And pardon my indelicacy, but I do mean anything.  If I bring her back to Levington now, she'll only run off again, and like as not I'll be sent to fetch her back—assuming I'm even still in the King's employ after this debacle—and I simply can't, my lady.  Not now that I know what it is I'd be returning her to.   What her father intends for her might be fully legal, but it isn't right.  Yet, if I don't...."  I waved my hand, feeling helpless.  "Leaving aside for the moment the likely consequences for me were I to disobey a direct order from the King, you know what her chances would be on her own, living on the streets.  She'd be like a lamb to the slaughter.  She thinks she can make it on her own, but she can't.  Not for long, not by any honorable means, anyway.  That might not matter so much to her right now, as determined as she is to avoid this match, but...for some reason it matters to me."

   She nodded, her voice going soft with understanding.  "It matters to you, I suspect, because underneath that roguish mask you wear so charmingly, not to mention that impulsive nature that has doubtless led you into this predicament, deep down you're still a man of honor yourself, in your own way.  Aren't you?"  Her eyes twinkled knowingly at me.  "Go ahead and confess, Sir Sextus, I assure you I won't give up your guilty secret."  Her voice lowered, forcing me to lean forward to hear her.  "You, my lord, are a soft touch as well."  She held her hand palm up before me.  "Show me what you know of Lady Jennet's suitor," she requested quietly.

   I lay my hand upon hers, opening my mind to her enough to share my impressions of Lord Odwyn.  The link took mere seconds.  As I drew my hand away, she wrinkled her nose and gave me a slight moue of distaste.  "Ew.  I'd have run too."  She sighed.

   My hopes rose.  "Then you'll shelter her?"

   Countess Celsie gave me a sympathetic smile.  "I didn't say that. I'm still collecting all the facts of the matter.  But I'll hear the lady's side now, if you please.  Would you call her in?"

#

   Lady Jennet stood before the Countess, her eyes wary yet hopeful.  Behind her stood Lady Avisa.  She had not been specifically invited, yet when I'd gone to the door to usher the heiress of Levington in, the dowager baroness had made it quite clear with a stern glance at me that she was not about to relax in her duties as a chaperone now, even though we'd already reached our destination.  And, of course, with the lady of Kinlochan had come Grub, her small hand in Lady Avisa's protective grasp.  The three had come practically pouring into the room as soon as I'd opened the door, leaving me to wonder if they'd spent the past few minutes with their ears pressed against it.  Denis, scurrying in behind the three determined young females in hopes of herding at least two of them back towards the antechamber, found himself stopped by the Countess herself, who gave him a slight shake of her head and a reassuring smile.  "Oh, let them stay, my lord bishop.  They've all come rather a long way; they might as well all be here for the outcome." Her clear blue eyes swept the small chamber, lighting at last on my daughter.  A slight frown shadowed her face.  "On second thought, how old are you, dear?"

   Grub, after a startled pause once she realized the last sentence was addressed directly to her, bobbed a deep curtsey and answered with an uncertain glance at me.  "I'm not sure, my lady."

   I gave her a reassuring smile.  "Amanda is seven, Lady Celsie.  She'll be eight in October, at my best guess."

   "Ah.  So this is your daughter then, Sir Sextus?"  The countess smiled at me.  "She's adorable.  I think I see something of Javana in her."

   I smiled proudly, struggling not to laugh as I caught Grub's expression.  Her appearance and manners had greatly improved in the few months since she'd come into my keeping, but still, 'adorable' seemed a bit of a stretch, and my daughter was hardly so dimwitted as to be unaware of that.  Yet there was no hint of sarcasm or condescension in the countess's voice, and after the first moment of surprise, Grub blushed with embarrassed pleasure.

   "My lord bishop, perhaps you could escort your grand-niece to the sanctuary grounds to meet her Aunt Javana?  There are matters I need to discuss with Lady Jennet that I'm afraid are quite likely to stray into territory quite unsuitable for a child of such tender years to hear.  I still require Sir Sextus's presence here, but he shall be free to join you both shortly."

   Denis looked equal parts startled and curious, not to mention crestfallen that he was to be left out of what promised to be a most interesting audience.  For my part, I was glad the nosy busybody had been sent off on an errand he could hardly find any logical reason to argue against.  Grub looked less than elated to be dragged away, though a reassuring smile from Countess Celsie perked her back up again, especially once our hostess promised she'd have a platter of sweetmeats sent up directly.

   Once the door had closed behind my uncle and my daughter, the countess waved towards a nearby bench, indicating that the ladies should sit.  She waited until they had made themselves comfortable before saying, "Lady Jennet, I should like to hear your story in your own words, please."

   The maiden gave me a nervous look, then took up the tale, telling Countess Celsie of her father's longstanding friendship with Lord Odwyn, a neighboring lord who owned a manor and good hunting grounds adjacent to Levington.  Lord Odwyn had been heretofore unsuccessful in the wooing of a bride, and to her horror, her father had offered him her hand in marriage in hopes that the Odwyn lands could be consolidated into the baronial holdings in their heir's generation.  Jennet, upon a closer acquaintance with the man her father had selected to become her husband, had pleaded with her father not to pursue the match, but Lord Garulf had remained adamant, so in desperation she had run away, seizing upon her family steward's stories of his childhood in Desse for inspiration as to how she might support herself.  She had felt sure that becoming a barmaid could not be such a difficult life, had been certain her father would never think to look for her in a tavern, and while she'd realized her earnings would not keep her in the manner in which she'd grown accustomed as a noblewoman, they would at least keep her out of Lord Odwyn's hands long enough for her to come up with some better solution.  And that had been the extent of her planning at the point in which I had happened upon her.  

   The story continued on, covering ground which I was already familiar with.  My attention was divided by the sight of a quiet young woman standing in the corner of the room, dressed in clothing that was modest in both cut and quality.  I wondered how long she had been there—had she just newly entered, slipping in by the rear door, or had she been there all along?  I doubted she had; I'd surely have sensed her presence before that point if she'd been there earlier.  The entrance close behind her was curtained, so she could easily have slipped into the room while the Levington heiress was still speaking.  As if noticing the direction of my gaze, Countess Celsie glanced in the direction of the newcomer and smiled gently, extending a hand of welcome.  The woman bobbed a curtsey that was properly deferential yet not in the least bit nervous or obsequious, despite the apparent differences between her own rank and that of the noblewoman seated at the head of the chamber.  I guessed her to be one of the residents of the countess's sanctuary, and therefore on a more familiar basis with the noblewoman than her apparent rank might indicate.  As Lady Jennet wound up her story, the countess acknowledged the newcomer with a bow of her head, but said nothing to her immediately.  Instead, she turned back towards Lady Jennet.  "I see.  So, nothing could possibly induce you to return to your father's hall?  Do you not miss him?"

   Lady Jennet hesitated briefly.  "I do, my lady," she said reluctantly, "but as long as he persists in his demand that I marry Lord Odwyn, I can see no help for it.  I love my lord father, despite his flaws and blind spots, but he's not the one who has to wed and bed that...that lout he's picked out for me!  I would rather take my chances living on my own in the world than live with that!"

   "Ah, which leads nicely into this introduction, ladies."  Countess Celsie turned towards the new arrival.  "Thank you for coming, Mistress Minerva.  Would you be so kind as to explain to those present the circumstances which led you to apply for shelter within our sanctuary?"  She turned her gaze to Lady Jennet.  "I think you might find Mistress Min's story most informative.  In some few respects, it's quite similar to yours."

   Jennet's emerald eyes flew to Mistress Min's face in curiosity.  Mistress Min, in turn, bobbed her a brisk curtsey and stepped forward, the motion drawing her closer to the firelight so she could be seen more clearly.  For the first time I noticed the scarring on the left side of her face, which marred otherwise pretty features.  "I run off from me da and me home, all right," she told us, "seeking t' escape a marriage t' a man I didna want.  He were a bad sort, with a mean temper and th' village gossips said he kilt his first wife, but me da was in his debt and he promised t' forgive it if he could wed with me, so me da had th' banns posted.  So I run off, thought t' make me own way in th' world. I could sew a fine seam, and I figured t' be a sempstress."

   Lady Jennet's brow furrowed in puzzlement.  "So, what happened?  That sounds like a good choice."

   Mistress Min shook her head.  "Nay.  I didna have enough coin t' pay for room and board t' start out, and without room and board, much less th' supplies I'd need, I couldna set up me own shop.  I was nearly out o' coin and trying t' figure out what t' do, when a woman offered me a room.  She said if I'd work for her, she'd take care o' me right and proper."

   "Then all worked out well for you in the end?"  Jennet's face lit up.

   "Nay.  She were a panderer, that 'un.  She pretended t' be me friend, and she give me honest work and a bed t' sleep in right enough, but one night she brought up a man...."  Her gaze flitted towards me. "Twice as big as that 'un, he were, strong and brutal.  And then I learnt th' hard way what sort o' work she had in mind for me."

   Jennet's eyes widened in horror as she took in the woman's meaning.  "But you fought him, didn't you?"

   "Aye, I fought and screeched like ennathing, but it were o' no use.  He had his orders t' break me will, and eventually he did.  I didna have any fight left, save t' survive."

   "But...."  The maiden stared at Countess Celsie in confusion, then back at Mistress Min.  "You managed to run away again. Or you'd not be here now."

   "Aye, I did.  A year later, and countless men, I managed t' slip out one night when th' madam forgot t' lock me door once th' last man o' th' evening left."  She shrugged.  "Course, I were free, but still had no more than I did when I started.  Less, in fact, just th' clothes on me back."

   "So you came here?" Lady Avisa asked quietly, her expression a mixture of horror and compassion.

   Mistress Min's gaze moved to meet hers.  'No, m'lady.  I didna know about this shelter then.  I made for a port town, and...."  She shrugged.  "I was still pretty enough t' attract th' sailors an' dock workers in th' only way I knew how by then.  But at least that time th' money was me own.  I was able t' get by well enough for another two years, though I was nearly killed a time or two."  She glanced at me.  "Some men can be nasty, violent sorts if they're drunk or cross, begging yer pardon for saying so, sir.  And some have twisted notions o' pleasure."

   I glanced down at my feet uncomfortably.  She had no need to beg my pardon; if anything, I felt a sudden unaccountable need to beg for hers.  "Some men are rotters," I mumbled.

   "Aye."  She favored me with a fleeting smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, then turned back to Lady Jennet.  "I worked all night and sometimes in th' day just t' earn enough t' stay alive and buy me daily needs.  Sometimes I thought o' going home and seeing if me da would take me back, but I knew he wouldna.  Sometimes I thought if I'd just married that mean old man who'd wanted me in th' first place, at least mayhap I coulda fought back or run off after we was wed.  Th' whole town knew what he were like; someone might have took me in.  He were thrice me age, he might coulda died, and then I'd be a respectable widow, free to marry a man o' me own choice or none at all.   I dinna know... I keep going through it in me head, wondering if I coulda done something different.  I thought t' save meself from a bad situation, but I only found meself a worse one."  She sighed.  "At least he were only one man wanting t' use me, not th' whole damn randy lot.  Begging yer pardon, sir."

   "What happened to your face, if I might ask?" Lady Avisa asked softly, raising a hand to trace her own cheek.  

   Mistress Min raised her hand to the scarred cheek in question.  "A jealous laundry woman found her husband with me and tossed a pot o' lye at me head.  Ruined me livelihood, it did.  Near blinded me in that eye, and even after me skin healed, I had t' lower me rates t' attract custom.  They'll pay more for pretty lasses, y'see.  I tried me hand at begging, then, and offering quick trysts in dark alleys—whatever would keep me alive."

   "How did you end up here?" Lady Jennet asked, looking shocked and subdued.

   Mistress Min smiled at the countess, who returned it with a gentle smile of her own.  "Th' Earl o' Derry found me.  I was on th' street corner begging as he passed by, asked if he had a farthing or two t' spare." She blushed slightly.  "I may have offered him a quick fumble in th' alley, but he said he weren't needing that sort o' service from me.  He asked me about th' scar, and I told him how I got it, and he asked a few more questions then said he thought his wife would like t' meet me.  O' course, I didna believe that for a moment.  I figured he were up t' no good.  But th' next morning up she rides, with one o' th' other house-sisters alongside her, and they offered t' take me in and teach me another trade here in Derry at th' Saint Nicholas Sanctuary.  I still didna believe they were up t' no good, but I figured even if they locked me up and forced me t' whore for them like me former madam did, at least I'd have a roof over me head and a steady meal or two every day."  She grinned at the countess.  "O' course, I was glad t' be mistaken about their intentions."

   Countess Celsie turned towards Lady Jennet.  "My dear, these are the sorts of stories I hear regularly at my mission.  My sanctuary is meant for those women who truly have no safe place left to go, and who need assistance in restoring their lives.  Are you quite certain that you qualify?"

   Lady Jennet's gaze dropped, her eyes filling with tears.  "Maybe not, my lady, but I don't know what else to do.  I have nowhere else to go, and I won't marry Lord Odwyn!" She stared around the room wildly, her eyes fixing on mine.  "In fact, I can't!  I'm betrothed to him!" she exclaimed, pointing to me.

   My jaw dropped.  "I beg your pardon?"  This was a turn of events I hadn't anticipated.  "When did that happen?!"

   The maiden's chin tilted up as she gave me a look of challenge.  "Oh, you remember, darling.  You weren't that drunk!"

   I glanced at Countess Celsie in dismay, knowing it was my word against Lady Jennet's.  The Countess was Deryni, though; had she been Truth-Reading as Jennet spoke?  Was there some way I could signal her to do so now?

   Lady Avisa gave an unladylike snort, capturing everyone's attention.  "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Lady Jennet.  Whatever Sir Sextus may or may not have said to you while he was under the influence, you must certainly have misunderstood."  Her eyes met mine.  "You see, Jennet, I made Sir Sextus an offer back in May, a full month before you ever met him.  And he gave me his acceptance."  She gave the demoiselle a feral smile.  "He can hardly keep both of us.  A nice effort, though."

   I stared at the dowager baroness.  It was true enough that she'd made me an offer in May and that I had accepted it, but it had been her offer of a position as her steward!  But it dawned on me that Lady Jennet didn't know that.  Granted, if the countess was Truth-Reading us, all she'd know was that Lady Avisa had just spoken truth and that Lady Jennet had lied.  But I'd remain a free man, which was all that mattered to me at the moment.

   Feeling a bit lightheaded, I grinned back at my employer.  "Yes, Lady Jennet, Lady Avisa is quite right.  I did accept her offer back in May.  The sixth of May, to be exact."  As I spoke, I sensed the countess's mind brush against mine.  As I'd suspected, she was using her powers to discern the truth of what we were telling her now that we'd presented her with conflicting accounts.  

   "But...."  The maiden looked betrayed.  "I thought you were just her steward.  You never once mentioned you were betrothed to her!"

   I raised my eyebrows at her. "My lady, I'm sorry, but you never asked!"

   Jennet's eyes filled with tears as she turned back to our hostess.  "Please, my lady, I can't go back!  I don't care what I have to do to stay, but I just can't marry Lord Odwyn!"  She threw herself at Countess Celsie's feet, weeping.

   "Then don't."  The countess chuckled at Jennet's incredulous look as the maiden's face jerked up to stare at her.  "I'm sure your father didn't mention it—it would hardly have served his purpose, after all—but a coerced marriage isn't binding in the eyes of the Church.  All you need do is refuse to agree to the betrothal contract.  Or, if it's too late to avoid the betrothal, then you can at least refuse to exchange marriage vows.  A betrothal is binding, alas, but if not followed by marriage within a reasonable span of time, it can generally be nullified later on the grounds of breach of contract, if you're willing to wait a few years.  Granted, you wouldn't be able to accept any other offers until you're released from your betrothal vows, but at least you wouldn't be wed against your will.  Were you betrothed to Lord Odwyn?"

   Lady Jennet shook her head slowly, looking stunned.  "No, not yet."  She whirled to face me.  "You mean to say all I ever had to do was tell the bloody bugger 'No?'" she stormed.

   "I...Yes, I suppose so," I stammered, wondering why she was directing that fury at me.   I'd figured she'd known that all along.

   "You snuck me out of my father's castle in the middle of the night, took me to the woman you're betrothed to, dragged me most of the way across the kingdom and let me throw myself at you without ever telling me you belonged to someone else, and all I had to do was say NO to Lord Odwyn?!" she screamed.

   My cheeks turned hot.  "I didn't...it's not like I ever asked you to offer yourself to me...and I never took you up on it...." If looks could kill, I'd have been dead twice over.

   The countess stifled what might have been a laugh.  "Lady Jennet, if your father were to have a change of heart, would you be willing to return home with him?"

   "Well...."  Jennet looked baffled.  "Yes, my lady, I would, but I doubt he ever will."

   Countess Celsie gave her a cryptic smile.  "You might be surprised."  She glanced at Mistress Min, who curtseyed and walked towards the curtained door, parting the curtain to beckon to someone in the room beyond..  A moment later, a man stepped through, bowing towards the countess.  His eyes sought out Lady Jennet, and upon spotting her, gave her a tentative smile.

   I stared at him in shock.  It was Lord Garulf of Levington, Jennet's father.


Chapter Twelve:  http://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?topic=737.0

[Jerusha]

Well done Countess Celsie! 

Now, why do I think Sir Sextus may not be as safely off the hook as he may think he is .... 

[Evie]

Even assuming Celsie's presence prevents Jennet's father from throttling him outright, Sextus still has an explanation to Kelson to look forward to.  Assuming Kelson ever gets wind of this little misadventure, that is....   

[AnnieUK]

The limitations of truth reading - one has to ask the right questions.  And even then, listen carefully to how much evasion and double speak there is in the answers!

[derynifanatic64]

As Dr. Sam Beckett from "Quantum Leap" would say--"OH BOY!!"

[Alkari]

* Grins happily at deliciously tangled web* 

And I do look forward to hearing Grub's reactions to all the goings on 

[Elkhound]

The plot thickens!

Let's hope it doesn't curdle.

[Alkari]

Let's hope it doesn't curdle.

A curdled plot for characters?  Now, would our Evie ever allow that to happen?   

[Evie]

No, I'm the kinder, gentler Evie who has turned over a new leaf....

Oh, wait, I'm not, am I?   

[Jerusha]

Thank goodness!  You had me worried for a moment.   

[Elkhound]

As Dr. Sam Beckett from "Quantum Leap" would say--"OH BOY!!"

Now THERE'S an idea for a crossover!