Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning

Chapter: 11

~~~~~~~~~~

With a glance over his shoulder at Mark, Will forged ahead. “Start small. Speak to her and when she talks, listen. Ask her opinion, even if you don’t care to hear it.”

“I do that already. She ignored me.”

“But are you really listening to her?” Placing his hands on his hips, Will shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this. It’s not enough that she’s your wife. She has to be immortal.” Adhemar was staring at him as though he was insane and Will decided he must be at this point. He’d have to be to help Adhemar woo Jocelyn didn’t he?

“I should have her portrait painted,” Adhemar ventured, looking rather confused.

“Not exactly, though Jocelyn might enjoy that eventually. That’s not quite what I mean.”

“Just what do you mean?”

It was bizarre to have Adhemar’s rapt attention upon him without malice in his eyes and condescension in his attitude. “She must be your Aphrodite, your Venus, that unattainable goddess you can’t believe is before you in human form. Your ears strain to catch the slightest sound she makes. Your eyes can’t help but be drawn to her ravishing beauty and you feel blessed to do so. You long,” he warmed to the descriptions, “for even the brush of her clothes against you, certain that to have her naked hand upon yours is to die from ecstasy.” Will paused, brows raised.

There was quiet a long moment and then Adhemar snorted, letting loose a short bark of laughter. “Damn, you’re good at that.”

“It takes practice. I wasn’t very good in the beginning.”

Adhemar shook his head. “I can’t speak like that. She’d know in an instant that the words weren’t mine.”

“So say such things when alone until they are natural.”

“And have my servants and family think I’m going daft?”

Will thought a moment. That wasn’t such a bad idea. “Yes. Or rather, let Jocelyn hear you practice as though by accident. Then she’ll know you’re trying to please her. She’ll see you as human.”

“Human?” Adhemar began to pace. “You sound like my Uncle.”

“Is there anyone in your household who can compose such speech for you?”

“Germaine is improving. He looks to your former herald as his ideal.”

“But he’s not good enough. It must be someone who’s a natural, like Geoff is.”

Adhemar looked up in thought, then closed his eyes and shuddered, resignation rippling his features. “There is…one,” he said slowly. “My Uncle. He adores silly speech. He and his wife are positively nauseating in it.”

Simple. “Have him help you then.”

“I will not.”

“Do it.”

“No. Impossible. I refuse.”

“Adhemar. For Jocelyn.”

“Ask me to give her the sun, William, and I would attempt it, but do not ask me to ask a favor of my Uncle.”

“Well why not? He’s there. He’s a resource you can --”

“Because I don’t want him stealing another bride from me!”

Will’s mouth dropped open. Another bride? When on earth had that happened? He couldn’t recall hearing at any time in recent years that Adhemar was to marry.

“Uncle has a lamentable habit of charming women, much like you do. Women adore him before he even opens his mouth and looses his glib tongue upon them.”

“He stole a bride from you?”

“Yes. Don’t you recall the….” Adhemar drew in a sharp breath. “The scandal. You wouldn’t, would you,” he mused to himself. “We weren’t in the same sphere then.”

Will decided it best to take that as a compliment. Adhemar had apparently forgotten Will wouldn’t know noble gossip from years earlier. He was about to pursue the subject, when Mark’s voice rang out.

“My lord! Sir William! Your match has been moved up. We must go now.”

“I have to go,” Will told him. “I won’t forfeit a match just to give you advice on Jocelyn.”

Adhemar waved him away with one hand, his attention on the ground, a though something there was of great interest.

Will didn’t stay, striding away, somewhat surprised when Adhemar didn’t demand he return until he was told to go. Mark was in a tizzy, muttering under his breath in a manner suggesting that he was extremely nervous. Will caught snips of his voice, referencing London and Prince Edward. He almost couldn’t wait to hear what his introduction would be.

~~~~~~~~~~

Tournament was much changed in the months that had passed and none for the better. Jocelyn perused the stands, searching for friendly faces and found none there, only vicious, harping gossips. They hated her, that much was apparent. While Adhemar may have lost that final joust, he had still been quite the prize, his familial connections and wealth coveted by many. That she could snag him in the end was a source of frustration to many. Those same women she’d snubbed the previous season took great delight in snubbing her back in this one.

Adhemar had been right and it galled her to admit it. So far, in only a short while, she’d been the victim of snide hit-and-runs by jealous women, hurtful teasing about foolish love lost and naïve actions. She’d been tempted to lash out as well, yet Adhemar’s advice had stuck in her mind. Instead, she’d plastered what had to be an infuriating little smile to her lips and refrained from comment, falling back on her aloof manner from the start of the previous season. When she refused to respond as they wanted, they called her a ‘bitch’ under their breath and moved on.

She watched Adhemar’s match, the very first of the day. His opponent was carried away unconscious. Despite his defeat in London, his supporters were as rabid as ever.

Smoothing her dress, Jocelyn stared at the field, watching, but not seeing, two more matches. Perhaps leaving the tent had been a bad idea. Adhemar hadn’t ordered her to attend, only insisting she go to the evening banquet with him. He didn’t much care what she did the rest of the day as long as she presented the proper show of wifeliness in public. She could leave now and he wouldn’t care.

She sighed. Maybe she would leave and rejoin Bess. They could go to the market and shop, or visit the cathedral. Something, anything, to lift this malaise setting over her, for she’d found nothing at the arena thus far to soothe her soul, only a sense of dissatisfaction in all she saw and heard. At least Bess was kind.

Turning her head in order to check the path to the exit, Jocelyn paused, glimpsing a face and form of a dear one coming towards her. The sun seemed to shine a bit brighter, the day lightening.

Christiana.

Smiling, Jocelyn stood. Joy made her grin wide and she almost laughed in delight and relief. Here, at last, was an ally to wile the day away with!

Christiana still moved with a lithe grace, yet there was something different about her, a quiet authority in her carriage. With a jolt, it hit Jocelyn that Christiana no longer moved like a servant, her gaze raised as a lady’s would be.

What’s this, she thought, pleased by the change and by the thought that her former maid was obviously content. She couldn’t wait to catch up.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate couldn’t believe what she was seeing. No, no, no! “Wat. Wat. Wat!” She smacked his arm in a repeated effort to gain his attention.

Shaking her hand from his arm, he turned impatient eyes to her. “What, Kate? Why’re you hitting me? I have to get the horse ready.”

“Look!” She flung out her arm, fingers pointing to the stands.

“What am I supposed to be…” His gulp was audible. “Oh hell and damnation!”

Christiana had finally reached the stands and was making her way towards Jocelyn.

Kate made herself breathe slow and even, trying to reign in her racing heart. Jocelyn and Adhemar weren’t supposed to be here. Everyone had said so. He hadn’t been there the night before. He was supposed to be at his home, yet somehow, Kate wasn’t truly surprised. It was just like that man to decide to join in after all.

Wonderful, she thought with a sour grimace. All these weeks of working to get Will to see Christiana as his wife and seeing Jocelyn will end that in a second.

“What’s she doing here?”

“Obviously Adhemar is competing.”

“Obviously,” he replied, sarcasm dripping from the word. Wat began gesturing, arms swinging. “But what’s she doing here?” He added kicking the dirt to his gestures. “All these fonging weeks…” Dust billowed up. “…up in smoke…”

She took several steps back from him, tuning out his tirade -- he voiced her own sentiments rather well -- and tried to think on how to salvage the situation. She couldn’t very well go up there and ask Jocelyn to leave, could she? Or could she….

“What’s going on?”

Kate mentally employed several of Wat’s favorite curses and turned. Will was there, half smiling, half frowning at Wat, who’d paused in the act of jumping up and down. “Nothing.”

There was the barest bit of suspicion on his features. “Wat? Tell me. What’s going on?”

Wat straightened with a care that was ludicrous. “Um…nothing. Just…warming up for later. You know…in case…you lose…?”

“Right.” Will drew the word out over several seconds, grinning, his glance sweeping Wat, then turning to the stands. His amused grin faded, gaze thoughtful. “I see.” Those words were clipped, curt. Swiveling on his heel, he put his back to the stands and proffered his left arm. “Kate, would you secure Christiana’s token? I can’t have my wife’s favor fluttering away during the match. Wat, re-check my saddle.”

“Will?” Kate complied, making sure the delicate fabric was tied and tucked securely. Christiana had been working on the embroidery for weeks.

He sighed, voice low. “I already knew. They arrived late last night and Adhemar sent a message early this morning.”

“Arrogant wretch,” she bit out.

“His herald said he wished for fair matches and that springing Jocelyn on me would not be fair. He wishes no distractions when we meet on the field, only skill to skill.”

Kate peered up at him. His expression was stony and she had the feeling there was far more to it that what he’d said. Adhemar was up to something. “Now he wants fair? After everything he did before he wants fairness?” She let loose an incredulous laugh.

“I don’t care what he wants. Jocelyn is in the past. Christiana is my wife now and I’ll honor her and her alone. I made that vow, Kate. I made it before God and witnesses. I put myself where I am by my own choices and I’m a big boy. If there are consequences, I’ll take them.”

“You always do,” she told him, then nodded towards the field. “They’ll be calling you soon.”

“Let’s finish getting ready.”

She couldn’t help but wonder what fallout, if any, there’d be from Will’s decisions.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jocelyn’s joy at seeing her couldn’t have been more blindingly obvious. Everything about her at that moment relayed her happiness. Christiana hated to destroy it. That Adhemar would shackle her with that task that he himself should have performed months ago annoyed her.

“You’re here!”

She was embraced as a friend would do, Jocelyn gripping her arms and rubbing her hands up and down them a moment before motioning to the seat beside her. Christiana tried not to let her shock show. Jocelyn was far thinner than she should be, a shadow of her former self. There was dark shadows beneath her eyes and Christiana judged her clothes to be far too loose.

“So, tell me all that’s happened these past months.” Jocelyn’s fingers touched her cheek. “I’d have happiness through your obvious good fortune. You look beautiful! You’re married then? He’s good to you?” She laughed. “Well, of course he must be. You’re almost glowing with good health.”

“I’ve married, yes, and he’s a very good man. Honorable, kind.” This was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.

Jocelyn nodded, waiting for more. “And?”

“I’m happy.” She prayed desperately for Divine guidance, but frustratingly, none was forthcoming.

“And I’m very pleased to hear it. I’d despaired of you when we parted. Tell me about your husband. Is he here with you? Does he compete even? Will I meet him? You must join us at banquet!” She glanced at the field, quickly turning back to Christiana. “It’ll be nice to have you there. We’ll be quite the merry party at our end of the table I think.”

“Jocelyn…”

“Is he handsome? I bet he is, isn’t he? Yes? And young? Tell me before I burst!”

She half turned away, looking at the field. They were still setting up for the next match. At the far end, she thought she saw Will preparing…. “He’s both young and handsome. A better man than he I’ve not ever glimpsed. He’s not perfect, of course, but none of us are. We’ve a house in the country, nothing big, you understand, but to us, it’s a palace. I run my own household. We’d a surprisingly comfortable winter. I had not dreamed to be so blessed as I’ve been.”

Taking her hand, Jocelyn squeezed it. “Does this wonderful husband have a name?”

She should say it plain, with no hedging about. That would be best. Christiana looked at Jocelyn. “It’s Sir Will.”

That sunny, pleased smile faded, returned briefly as though she thought Christiana was joking, then finally disappeared completely. She blinked several times, bit her lip. “Of…of where?”

“Of Cheapside, Jocelyn. William, the Thatcher’s son.”

She snatched her hand away. “My…Will,” she whispered in question.

“No,” Christiana corrected firmly. “My Will. My husband.”

Jocelyn blanched at the possessive tone, quickly turning away, her attention apparently on the field. She said nothing, indeed seemed to barely be breathing at all. “Yours,” she managed minutes later.

Christiana could see the struggle on her face, that desperate attempt to keep from breaking down right there. After long minutes, Jocelyn managed to school her features into a cold, hard mask. “Jocelyn?”

“When?” It was a demand, not a request.

“About a week after you left with Count Adhemar.”

“Do you claim to love him?”

On this point, she refused to lie, even for Jocelyn. Yes, she’d come to love William Thatcher. “I do.”

“How long,” she inquired, but didn’t give any time for an answer before rushing on with words couched in fiery anger. “How long did you love him? From the start? When I was telling you everything, were you coveting what I had with him, plotting to get him for yourself? Did you aid my father in shackling me to Adhemar? Was that your prize, Christiana? Hmm? Did my father promise you Will?” She scoffed. “I mean, who are you to marry him anyway? You’re a…a peasant! You’re not a lady. You’re not a noble. You’re just a maid. You’re a…” She made a choking cough, covering her mouth with a shaking hand and squeezing her eyes shut as tears spilled forth. “How could he!”

It was unclear which he Jocelyn referred to. Will? Her father? Adhemar? She didn’t try to touch her, knowing Jocelyn would shove her away if she did. “You know exactly how I can marry him. I’m the daughter of a now successful middle class merchant and he is a former peasant himself of low title. That makes it possible. I am his wife and that makes me a lady, if not in title, then in status. Did you expect him to never marry because he couldn’t have you?”

“Yes!” Her hands dropped to her lap. “No. No, I….” Several times, she looked as though she was going to speak, yet didn’t and then she bowed her head. “Tell me, Christiana, did…Adhemar know?”

“Yes.”

Jocelyn went very still, sniffing once. “Did he know all this time?”

“I believe he did.”

Her head turned. If her anger had been hot a moment earlier, it had now grown opposite, icy. Christiana had only seen Jocelyn this upset once before, at her brother. Her brother had regretted making her that way and still did. “And he left it to you to tell me?”

Christiana nodded. “He stopped me on my way here.”

Jocelyn’s lips pursed and she stood, stalking away and leaving Christiana to wonder if they parted as friend or foe.

~~~~~~~~~~

The shock of the news Jocelyn had heard numbed her even as it infuriated. Her lips parted, horrible things tumbling forth. Of course, she knew Christiana had never done such a hateful thing, but she couldn’t stop the words, couldn’t bear to look at her. Her imagination went wild, replacing herself in those treasured memories of Will with Christiana. Christiana held the position she’d wanted. The truth of her…their…situation was never more evident than now.

Even if Adhemar were to die today, Jocelyn couldn’t marry Will for he was already married. There were no second chances. She was Adhemar’s wife as certainly as Christiana was Will’s. There was no changing it no matter how hard she wished or prayed. It was all real and done. No going back. Will was fully lost to her.

Adhemar had known. Of course he would. He adored gossip. People from all over sent him letters filled with gossip. But if he’d know, surely he would have told her? Then again….

A decidedly red haze descended over her vision, her anger making her shake.

That horrible, scheming wretch! How dare he keep this from her!

Jocelyn hurried from the arena as fast as she could.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thatcher wouldn’t have known the gossip from years earlier. How on earth had he forgotten such a detail? To forget was to put the man on the same level as himself and they were hardly on the same level. Adhemar’s thoughts turned inward as he slowly walked to his tent. He was still considering his lapse, when a feminine voice cried out, “Wretched bastard!” Seconds later, something hard hit his head and sent him reeling into the dirt.

Through a spinning head and eyes that could barely focus, he was able to make out Jocelyn before him, a piece of his armor in her hands.

She raised it again. “Arrogant, contemptible --”

“The wrath of my Aphrodite. Smite me goddess, for I am unworthy.”

At least, that was what he thought he mumbled.

Her eyes widened and he saw her drop the armor onto the foot of his favorite page. “What did you say?”

He opened his mouth to reiterate and found unconsciousness swallowing him up.