Title: The Lamentable Truth of Planning

Chapter: 7

~~~~~~~~~~

Adhemar seemed to be under the impression that Jocelyn’s continued funk was solely due to her lost love. It wasn’t, though she didn’t disabuse him of that notion. The secondary cause of her sadness was the seemingly endless parade of empty days blending into weeks to make months. Some days, her loneliness crashed over her so hard that she felt as though she was drowning in it. She’d no one friend to share her thoughts, hopes, and fears with like she’d had in Christiana.

It wasn’t just Christiana she missed. She missed Will far more, but as the days passed, it had become…bearable. She could get through a day without wanting to die from the loss of him; could think of something save her own feelings and even began to see the immediate world around her once more. She began to notice that the sun occasionally did still shine in the sky.

To herself she admitted that she still held a tiny hope that they could be together someday. It wasn’t a large hope, yet it remained there in her heart.

Turning from the window, Jocelyn walked the manor halls until she heard Adhemar’s voice. He was in consultation with the stewards, arguing with them over some matter and she peered into the room to watch. Never once did he let them forget he was in charge, taking them to task for any wastefulness he’d encountered.

She did like his voice. When he wasn’t shouting or being nasty it was quite pleasant to listen to. In fact, she’d become very used to hearing his instructions to Germaine when he came to their chamber at night. Adhemar always told Germaine what he expected for the next morning. Jocelyn would keep her back to them and pretend to be asleep, all the while listening to him talk. On occasion he would inquire if she was awake before accepting her silence and blowing out the candle.

He stopped talking, looking up and over at her. “Jocelyn?”

She hurried away before he could call her over. Of late, she’d felt torn regarding him. His letters had proven a fascination she couldn’t release. One by one, she read the letters from the past two years, pondering upon each one those things she learned about him. He admitted himself to be sarcastic, cynical, and unbending on many things, yet at the same time, she’d noticed sensitivity in certain areas. Like his young cousins. He was very fond of them all even if he wasn’t of their parents. He wrote of seeing Piers in a household he’d visited and how the boy had taken to the sword and was hopeless at a bow and arrow. He wrote of visiting an artisan just to buy a doll for Amelie and how pleased he’d been to pick one out for her.

He’d written of wanting a wife and how he’d planned to enter tournament again -- not only for the prestige that winning the title of ‘Champion’ again would bring, but also for the ease in looking over fresh maidens. He’d well-known men brought their daughters to tournament in hopes of snagging a winning competitor. As a former World Champion he’d gambled his chances of finding a good match in a single season were excellent. And so he’d glimpsed Jocelyn, setting in motion the events that would change all their lives in one way or another.

She took her sewing to the Great Hall and sat on the bench before the fire, thanking Germaine when he brought her a blanket for warmth. He was always doing things like that for her even though it wasn’t a part of his duties. Jocelyn half suspected he was keeping an eye on her per Adhemar’s orders, but Germaine was always so very nice to her that she thought she’d excuse him for it. Adhemar had been right. Germaine did take good care of her.

“Do you think you’re the only woman who ever lost love?” Anne sat down beside her, startling her, her gaze searching and very tired, as though she’d not been sleeping well at night. Perhaps she wasn’t. Katherine had been worse than ever with snide remarks, haranguing Anne at every opportunity. It had to be hard for Anne to be a guest in Adhemar’s house when she was used to having her own.

When Jocelyn had caught her breath again, she said, “You jest. You love Robert.” The two were always laughing and talking with loving emotion in their eyes -- something she didn’t think she’d ever have with Adhemar.

“I have affection for Robert,” Anne corrected, then bit her lip a moment before continuing, “I don’t love him.”

Jocelyn studied her. It sure looked like Anne loved Robert to her. “You must love him. You laugh and joke, tease him and…you have several children,” she protested.

“A decade makes a woman know her husband well. I laugh and joke and tease because it’s how our relationship has come to be. Robert likes to laugh. He loves a good joke and he only teases those he likes. As for children, love isn’t needed for conception, Jocelyn. Surely you know that.”

She looked away, cheeks suddenly warm. Yes, she knew it. “Well, it should be.”

Anne laughed, but it was a gentle one, of amusement. “Then there’d rarely be any children would there? How often is there real love in a marriage?” Picking up Jocelyn’s embroidery, she said, “I can have affection for him without loving him. Just be glad you weren’t stolen on your wedding day, kidnapped from your intended. By the time anyone realized what had happened, we were gone, and not a week later I was his wife in name and deed.”

“He manipulated you?” Turning her head, Jocelyn sought out Robert. He’d been nothing but kind and courteous to her and appeared to adore Anne and their children. She couldn’t imagine him forcing Anne to do anything at all. “Robert did?” Surely it wasn’t true?

“He offered to make right what had been done. He didn’t have to. He could have left me disgraced. Instead, he gave an alternative.”

“And in that emotional state--”

“I agreed. I made that choice. I left Adhemar and married Robert.”

Jocelyn’s breath left her for a long moment and she gasped. “Adhemar! I don’t….”

“It was Adhemar I was to marry; Adhemar I was stolen from.”

“How did I not know this?” She thought she’d known much about him, but this? It was a surprise. How had the gossip been kept silent from such a thing?

“It happened when we were still very young and the family tried to keep it quiet. Our wedding was going to be a small affair anyway. Only family and servants know better than to talk. Neither Adhemar’s family nor mine are tolerant of loose lips unless those lips benefit the family well.” She put the embroidery back down. “We all do things, both good and bad, in moments of extreme emotional distress.” Her stare was hard. “What decisions are you making and how are they affecting your household?”

Jocelyn shook her head. “I’m exactly what Adhemar claimed he wanted.”

Anne snorted. “If he truly wanted that dull miss, then why did he pursue the very antithesis of her? You deceive yourself. Adhemar wanted you no matter the goading words that left his lips.”

“And he got me, didn’t he?”

“But not the woman he thought he was getting.”

“I can’t be her, Anne. I can’t. Will’s smile, his voice…it’s all still in my mind.”

Anne’s hand clasped hers. “It will be for a long time. You can’t undo this, Jocelyn. You have to let him go. You can’t not live your life.”

Thrusting Anne’s hands from her, she stood. “Watch me.”

~~~~~~~~~~

For days, Will had been trying to make a decision regarding himself and Christiana, well aware that something needed to change. He disliked the need to put Jocelyn away, but it wasn’t fair to Christiana to be called ‘wife’ without being on in full. Nor, he decided, was it fair to himself. He was denying circumstances had changed and living in a past that was gone. By keeping Jocelyn in his thoughts, he couldn’t put Christiana there and she was the one he needed to be thinking about. He needed to think of her as his, for they’d the rest of their entire lives to live. If he continued to wish for Jocelyn, Christiana could grow bitter and angry and what sort of years would they have then? He’d seen miserable couples before and always sworn he’d never be a part of one.

Kate was right. All of her counsel led to this. He had to forget Jocelyn to make this marriage to Christiana work. How was he going to go about it?

For starters, he stopped leaving their room immediately after dressing, talking to her -- which had gotten easier as Kate had promised. Christiana responded by easing from bed and dressing. He could see her hands shaking, yet they both ignored it, pretending this was an everyday occurrence. Ultimately, that insistence on pretending made it easier to stay. Secondly, he presented the screen to her, letting himself enjoy the hug she’d given him in thanks. Finally, he began coming to their room just when she’d be in her bath.

They were little things really. Each went a long way towards easing him to her. He put his mind to it and what William Thatcher put his mind to, he damn well accomplished if it was within his power. He was going to bring himself into the present. With his wife. If it killed him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Something had changed between them and there’d been no warning, nothing that told Christiana it was coming. They simply went to bed one evening and the very next day was different. She’d woken to find a query in his gaze, questions there that he didn’t speak aloud. Unable to think how to reply when she didn’t know the specific questions, Christiana had remained silent.

Will had gotten dressed and once more broke their routine by staying while she dressed, chatting with her about plans for the day and things he’d forgotten to tell her the previous night. He’d watched her, but not steadily. She’d notice him looking at her and her hands would shake, yet when she glanced back up, he was looking elsewhere. He’d remained while Kate brushed out her hair and braided two sections, then held out his arm for her to take as they left the chamber.

He was calmer than he’d been, awkward no longer, and very much the man who’d wooed Jocelyn. Had his eyes finally turned her way? Christiana didn’t dare believe it. She must be imagining things is all. He’d always been this way, she decided. That awkwardness had merely been her projecting her own uncertainty into their interactions.

Days went by in a quick rush, the temperatures starting to warm slightly. No longer were the breezes frigid and icy, merely cold and chilly.

Will came in the Hall and strode to her, a mischievous grin tugging his lips. Holding out a hand, he waited until she set one of hers on it, then bowed and kissed the back. “I’ve a surprise for you,” he murmured.

“What is it?” Knowing him it could be anything.

“Can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not quite ready yet.” With a tug, she was yanked to her feet, him leading her out of the Hall and into the kitchen where they watched Agnes assisting John with food preparations. By now, Agnes and John were used to interruptions and carried on without stopping. The two had settled easily into the household.

From the Hall came several loud bangs and thuds, followed by cursing in three male voices. Will’s grin widened.

“Can’t you at least hint what it is,” she asked, attempting to decipher anything at all from those noises.

He shook his head, grin never lessening. “No.”

Finally, George came through the doorway, his face red and breaths gasping. “All set, my lord.”

Now she was tugged into the Hall, but her surprise wasn’t there. Will led her up the stairs and into their chamber, drawing her in front of him. Before the fireplace, right by the bathing tub, was a screen. It was wood and someone had painted a bold design on the three panels.

“For me?”

“I know you get cold in your baths and this should help with the drafts.”

Turning, Christiana threw her arms about him. “Thank you!”

He returned the embrace, his arms squeezing, face turning into her hair.

A few nights later, he came in while Kate was assisting her in her bath. They’d been having a lovely chat about Kate’s adventures during tournament when he’d walked in as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Though startled, Christiana made herself sit in the water and not reach for one of the cloths Kate held.

He remained on the other side of the screen and Christiana was very aware of his presence there.

She dismissed Kate. “It’s late. Don’t wait for me to finish. Find your bed.”

With a speculative glance towards the other side of the screen, Kate set the cloths on the stool. “You’re certain?”

Christiana also looked at the screen, her heart beating very fast. She nodded. “Yes.”

Before she left, Kate laid a clean shift across the top of the screen.

Will was in bed when she emerged from behind that screen, the covers bunched at his waist and his hands behind his head. Christiana let her gaze linger on that bare chest. “We need to find you a maid,” he remarked, staring up at the ceiling. “Kate spends half her time yawning these days. I worry she’s trying to do too much in addition to her business.”

“I’ve tried to tell her I can manage without her,” she said, crossing to her side of the bed and blowing out the candle before climbing in. He was nearly in the middle of the bed, leaving her little room. Uncertain if she should just ask him to move over, Christiana laid on her side facing him. “She insists I need her.”

“You need someone. It’s expected. I’ll speak to Agnes in the morning. We might be able to find a girl nearby you can train.” He turned his head on the pillow, looking at her. “You don’t have to sleep on the little section, you know. I don’t bite. Come here.”

Carefully, she slid across the remaining inches that separated them, putting her head on his chest as he indicated. One arm went around her. It was comfortable, but where did she put her hand? On his chest? He solved the dilemma for her, clasping her hand in his. She was surprised how quickly she fell asleep.

The tone of their relationship changed a bit more, subtly shifting until she felt an undercurrent of expectation whenever he was in the room with her. He had a way of making her feel she was the only woman he saw, despite her knowing he had to still be wanting Jocelyn. Was this how Jocelyn had felt? Her day brightened when he was there with her -- even if they were both in a foul mood. Arguments were an excuse to do something thoughtful later in the day to make up for it and she couldn’t stop looking at him and marveling that he was hers. The weeks were hours and how was it possible that time flew so swiftly?

In one month the new tournament season would begin.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kate had already put in a busy day when a voice intruded upon her inner musings.

“Good afternoon. I wonder if I might intrude?”

Turning, she found Gavin before her and smiled. “Can you pay? I don’t work for free.”

“No one does,” he said, returning her smile, “and yes, I can pay.”

“Then you may intrude.”

He needed her skills to re-shoe his horse. As she worked to remedy his situation, they chatted in an amiable fashion. Kate had always found him agreeable and though it’d irk Wat to know it, attractive. He’d a violent and immediate dislike to Gavin on their journey here. The attraction she had to Gavin wasn’t the same sort she’d had to Geoff, but rather the same one she had for Will. Given enough time, she thought she and Gavin could be friends. She trusted him without knowing how she knew she could.

“So what brings you this way?”

Walking about her work area, he studied it and then the grounds outside. “Business for my lord.”

“What sort?”

Gavin glanced over his shoulder at her. “Oh, you know. This and that. He’s a venture that may pan out and bring him some well-needed funds. Circumstances haven’t been the best for him of late. I’m…investigating the possibilities of that venture while he deals with other matters.”

Kate paused. Hadn’t he claimed to be a miller? “You said you were a miller,” she reminded him.

He laughed and nodded. “Yes, well, I’ve been one when I’ve had to. I’m rather like your Wat, I suppose. My work title doesn’t encompass all of the duties I’m bidden to perform.”

“He’s not my Wat, Gavin.”

Amusement danced in his eyes, lips quirking up just a little. “Would he do anything for you, Kate?”

She thought about it a moment. He would and had. “I suppose.”

“Then he is yours.”

“I don’t care to test your theory.” The words came out in a snippy tone and Kate saw Gavin’s little smile fade.

“Such things are always tested eventually, I’ve found.” He returned to her work surface and shrugged. “It’s like the saying ‘the truth will out’. There’s no escaping either.”

An odd expression lingered upon his almost fine features, but Kate didn’t know him well enough to figure it out. Instead, she completed her task and when he’d paid, she asked, “Are you and your lord near here?” His clothes didn’t carry any crest that she saw.

Gavin paused before answering, as though he had to word it carefully. “Not usually, no. Like I said, his circumstances took a downfall, so we’re not at his home. We’re lodging elsewhere at present, but yes, we’re near if an hour north can be called near.”

“Perhaps you’ll travel this way again, then.”

“Perhaps,” he agreed with a nod of his head. “And perhaps I’ll see you at tournament if your lord goes. Mine doesn’t plan to compete, though he does plan to attend.”

“Sir William will be competing.”

“Best of luck to him then. I wish him many glorious wins.”

Kate watched him go and stood still for long moments after he was out of her sight. She’d the strangest feeling that Gavin was warning her about something.

~~~~~~~~~~

Robert had a plan to rebuild his wealth. If it went well, then he’d gain untold of riches in a quick amount of time. He didn’t tell Anne, as she wouldn’t approve at all, yet neither did he tell Adhemar. Adhemar would approve. However, he’d likely want far more of the potential profits than Robert was already going to give him. Therefore, Robert saw no need to actually inform Adhemar of his plan. Why give an already wealthy man even more wealth when Robert and family needed it more?

He’d sent his man out to investigate and hoped to have his plan finalized soon. When done, he swore he’d never go to such lengths ever again.

Stepping into the Hall, he noticed Jocelyn and Anne together by the fire. To his surprise, gloomy Jocelyn was smiling. Whatever Anne was saying had her even laughing, so it was a good thing she’d not noticed Adhemar in his usual place at the upstairs railing. Robert hoped that someday Jocelyn would realize there was far more to Adhemar than the man she’d seen at tournament. Adhemar was never at his best when in the throes of anger at an opponent.

God knew Adhemar wasn’t a saint -- far from it --, but he did care for Jocelyn. It was obvious in how he looked at her even. He’d been attempting in recent weeks to make her perform various household duties only to be thwarted in those attempts by Katherine, who staunchly refused to relinquish the tasks. The household had been hers to oversee for far too long and she saw no reason to let her grip on it go. After despairing that her favorite son would wed, she now refused to believe he had.

Likely aided well by the fact that the entire household knew Jocelyn and Adhemar hadn’t been intimate these long weeks. That one secret was very hard to keep. Strange that Jocelyn and Adhemar seemed to believe no one knew, especially since servants were in and out of Adhemar’s chambers at all hours for various reasons. If the household was smaller, with only a handful of servants, Robert could see how such a secret could be kept. The only reason his and Anne’s indiscretion had been kept secret had been largely due to Katherine’s threats and the large quantity of alcohol the household at large had drunk that previous night.

Robert knew very well what Katherine was thinking. Jocelyn wasn’t performing her wifely duty in the bedroom, so she wasn’t being a wife, ergo she’d no place to take over household duties.

Rather than argue, Jocelyn had let Katherine continue. Robert often wondered what would happen when Jocelyn got it into her head to be a wife in full. He suspected Katherine would not be long in the household.

~~~~~~~~~~

Adhemar fantasized about Jocelyn. He thought about her warm and willing so much that it was painful when the real Jocelyn entered the room and a cold wall went up between them. How could he change that? He didn’t have a single idea. Women didn’t make much sense half the time and Jocelyn even less. He’d never quite understood her. She rarely reacted the way he expected a woman to react and it was vexing him horribly.

Was Uncle right? Should he let Anne tell her? What good would it do save bring her pity down on him and pity was the last thing he wanted from her.

As a consequence to his odd uncertainty on what to do, he began walk the manor at all hours of day and night, his insomnia flaring up and leaving him short on sleep. Jocelyn, of course, looked well rested. He’d even noticed her wearing something other than black, brown, and navy. Granted it was dark green, but it was a change.

To himself, he mentally counted the days until tournament season. Twenty. While he despised admitting it, he needed help with Jocelyn and there was only one person he knew who’d ever handled her well.

William Thatcher.