The Lamentable Truth of Planning

Chapter: 4

~~~~~~~~~~

“I apologize for arriving so late --” He should have waited until morning, shouldn’t he? It was too late in the evening for this, long after dusk. Likely he’d woken everyone up. He was doing this the wrong way, wasn’t he? Too bad Geoff was no longer with him or he could have asked. Was it too obvious he just wanted this done with and for life to continue on?

The prioress’s smile was wry. “As if I cannot imagine why a young man would hurry to see his bride.”

Will swallowed hard. “My man will be here in the morning just after dawn with a wagon for Christiana’s things. Are they packed?”

“Yes, my lord. She’s been ready for days for your arrival.”

“Good.” What else could he say? Will wracked his brain for some sort of conversation and was willingly distracted by the sight of Christiana coming towards him, accompanied by a single nun. She looked tired, smothering a yawn with one hand. Her hair was slightly mussed, as though she’d already been asleep when he’d arrived, and he noticed she’d neglected the lower tie on her surcoat. Upon reaching his side, she made a bow with her head.

“My lord.”

For the first time, Will really looked at her and saw a woman he knew next to nothing about. He could speak of Jocelyn’s favorite things, her preferences, but Christiana was a mystery. What he knew of her had come mostly from Roland. His parting advice had been thus, ‘Remember that she’s a woman, not a goddess.’

Christiana met his gaze for seconds before lowering her own gaze and clasping her hands together. “I’m ready.”

Ready? Oh right. Their wedding. He turned his attention back to the prioress.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you a priest here to marry us?”

Christiana was surprised by the request. She’d assumed they’d travel so his father could be present.

The prioress departed on her task. Immediately, Sister Rachel -- who’d woken Christiana -- stepped close to the door, giving them a small measure of privacy to speak should they choose to do so. Christiana liked Sister Rachel. The news that Sir William was waiting below at this late hour had been gently given, the young woman helping Christiana to dress, though there’d been no time to do anything about her tangled hair.

She touched a hand to it, wishing she’d not neglected to braid it before slipping into bed. What would he think of her for that? She must look a sight!

Will leaned closer. “My father is currently a guest in Geoff’s wife’s house. She graciously consented to that until we can move him into our own house.”

“What of his rooms?” Hadn’t he had a couple rooms there in London? She saw his jaw tighten.

“He has none. I’d not the heart to tell him he’d been evicted, so I told him he’s to come live with us. We’ll take care of him.”

The move wasn’t unexpected though it was unusual. Christiana nodded. After years away from a parent he’d greatly loved, it didn’t surprise her that Sir William wished to care for his now blind father.

“We’ll make our home this winter, then collect him at the tournament finals. Philippa adores him and she’ll do anything Geoff asks if he says it in verse.”

She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “Where is our house located?” She’d no idea where her father had obtained property; hadn’t been aware of it. She’d little contact with her family for a long time.

Before he could answer, the prioress had returned with the priest.

This was it. This was the moment that changed her life forever. No more would she be a middle class maid, but a lady, with all of the responsibility that came with it. Her stomach did nervous flips inside her, a sweat dampening her palms.

“Clasp hands.” The priest smiled.

It was a slight comfort to realize that Sir William’s hands were as clammy as hers. He wasn’t as calm as he appeared. In moments, the vows had been spoken with the prioress and a few nuns as witnesses. Was the moment following awkward or was it only in her mind?

He held one of her hands in his until the door to the chamber Jocelyn had used was closed. He was nobility and she was now too, so of course the grandest guest room had been prepared, right? Will released her.

“I weighed the options for you Christiana, really I did. He’d planned to leave you in his house for life if I didn’t choose you. He was going to leave off finding you a husband entirely. It was unfair to you.”

Christiana merely nodded, moving towards the bed. He didn’t know Avery well enough to know those words were another negotiation tactic, one used against Will’s sense of honor and right, his romantic views on life. Aye, Avery had grasped Will’s character well enough. He’d believed the lie. She had no doubt Avery had several men lined up as potential husbands for her and Will was the best of them.

Not to mention that if he was married, he wouldn’t go after Jocelyn again, even if Adhemar died and she was technically free to remarry. He wasn’t the sort. He’d honor any vow he took until the very end.

“And selfish as it sounds, I do need a wife with your qualifications. Without…Jocelyn…” he verbally tripped over her name, but continued on as though he hadn’t, “and with Geoff gone, I can’t navigate this new world I’m in. It was either admit defeat in understanding the rules or marry and I don’t admit defeat. I don’t retreat if I can see a way not to.”

The lie was in his eyes. He wasn’t mercenary. A part of him sought to save her -- because he couldn’t save Jocelyn she suspected. He was, after all, a credit to the title of ‘knight’. Those honorable men in minstrels tales had come to life in this man before her. Jocelyn hadn’t been able to believe her good fortune. She’d marveled that grand tales had come to life just for her and that she was blessed.

And now it was Christiana to have the blessing, not Jocelyn.

“I understand,” she said with a tiny nod, then bit her lip. She’d have to learn to stop nodding at everything. It wasn’t how a lady behaved. In the coming weeks and months, Will would need her to be as ladylike as possible. And it was possible, for she’d observed Jocelyn for years. She’d simply have to put into practice everything she’d seen.

They stared at each other for long moments, him standing at one side of the bed and her at the other. Suddenly, he drew in a sharp breath.

“I can’t bed you tonight, Christiana, I just can’t. It’s not that you’re not pretty, because you are. You’re very pretty.”

Even broken up inside, he sought to soothe her vanity, though it was hardly wounded like he thought. She understood all of that.

Will shrugged, a glimmer of helplessness taking root in his eyes. “It’s just --”

“You love my lady Jocelyn still.”

“As of a little while ago, she’s no longer your lady,” he reminded her.

“I’ll think of her as such for a long time to come.” Out of all she knew, he perhaps knew the best the state she now found herself in. New to the noble title. Floundering a bit within it. “Sir Will --”

“Just Will, Christiana. Or William if you like. I’ll answer to either and a wife should call her husband by name.”

“You should know that I never aspired to this. I didn’t ask…”

“I know. Sometimes our stars move all on their own without any input from us on the matter.” Reaching down, he flipped the covers back. “We should sleep. It’s late already and we need to leave at dawn. Winter is coming fast and we’ve preparations to make so I’d like to be…” He paused, then shrugged. “home.”

To a place that had been a home to neither of them to this point. “Yes.”

Still, neither of them moved. Will remained bent, hands flat on the mattress. Christiana hugged herself. What now? The bed looked very wide and conspicuous between them, a reminder of what would eventually transpire. Again, her stomach flipped about in her belly.

“Are you wearing your dress to bed,” he asked.

“Oh…” She shrugged. “I hadn’t thought about it. I suppose no? I’ll be more comfortable in my shift….” Christiana grasped the fabric of her skirts tight in her hands. Would he take that the wrong way? She wasn’t wanton, yet her words could be taken as such, couldn’t they? “I mean physically it’s hard to sleep comfortably in a bed with all these layers of skirts.”

His gaze dipped down. “I would think it would be. They tangle, yes?”

She breathed a sigh of relief that he’d understood her meaning. “Yes.” Christiana reached for the tie at her waist and stopped, holding the ends of the ribbon. “Would you turn around?”

“Oh, of course.” Standing tall, he turned away. His coat was removed and set on the chair.

Christiana turned her back to him. Surely she could manage to strip to her shift? It wasn’t as though they weren’t married. They were. For an entire…what?…half an hour? Some day he’d even see her naked. The thought made her feel even more awkward than she already did. She’d not let even Roland see her naked. No man, none at all, had seen her in the altogether since she was a baby.

Turning back, she found he’d stripped to his pants, his chest bare. Jocelyn was right, she decided. He was magnificent.

“I’ll blow out the candle,” he offered.

Christiana jumped at the suggestion, “Yes,” hurrying under the covers. She closed her eyes and prayed to fall asleep quickly.

~~~~~~~~~~

To Will’s surprise, he slept well beside Christiana. Far better than he had in weeks. He woke pressed against her, one arm about her slender waist holding her close. The fabric of her shift was soft on his skin and for a few confusing moments he imagined it was Jocelyn beside him.

He breathed in deeply. The scent was wrong. Jocelyn had always worn a light perfume she’d claimed she and Christiana made together. It was always on her, a delicate, floral fragrance. This was not her. There was no specific scent he could name. It was pleasant, but not Jocelyn. There was no way he could continue to think of her beside him when the scent emphatically told him he was dreaming her.

He opened his eyes.

Christiana still slept, curled on her side, her breaths deep and even.

Rolling onto his back, he sighed. Good morning, reality, he thought. Time for a brand new day. While he still wasn’t sure marrying Christiana was the right thing to do, here he was. Whatever came, they’d have to deal with it together. Reaching over, he shook her awake before standing to get dressed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sheets were a pristine snowy white.

Christiana tied her surcoat, reluctant to bring up the subject. She suspected Jocelyn’s father had paid to have the good Sisters notify him if there was proof of either union consummated. “My lord,” she began, then felt her cheeks go hot with a flush as she corrected herself. “Will.”

He joined her at the bedside. “What?”

“The sheets.” She gestured. “They’re so…white.”

“That they are.” He studied them, a tiny frown on his brow. “What’s wrong with…oh. White. Blood. Is that absolutely necessary?”

“For a noble bride it had better be there.”

“Who would question --”

“Anyone. Both of us had better be above reproach right now. By birth we’re both common, Will. What they did to you in London they wouldn’t hesitate to repeat if they thought something was amiss, Prince Edward’s decree or not.” She’d seen many times how the nobility could turn on one of their own.

He blinked. “I’ll get my knife.”

By the time they were done staging the room, it looked as though they’d had quite the passionate night. He smiled. “Well that should do it. Let anyone try and claim differently, eh?”

There was no breakfast at this early hour. They’d travel, then stop after a couple hours for a small meal, saving their larger meal for late afternoon. It was a small relief to hear that Roland had gone to work for Princess Joan. The awkwardness that would have inevitably been there from his presence was gone. While she was sad he’d decided to leave his friends, it was best. It was better if Will didn’t wonder about them.

For awhile Christiana rode in the wagon with all of their belongings, wrapped in a blanket while Wat drove and Kate rode. She was glad to have little in the way of conversation at first. She wanted a chance to really think on her new life, yet discovered quickly that solitude was wearing. When Will suggested she ride beside him for awhile, she readily agreed.

Kate joined Wat in the wagon, leaving that horse for her.

Will spoke to her as they rode, bits of conversation she decided were designed to make her at ease with him. “Your sisters are married,” he began. “One to the son of a cloth merchant and the other to the steward of a minor lord somewhere in southern Aquitaine.”

She’d not thought of her sisters in years, for Jocelyn had seemed like a sister instead of her lady a good portion of the time. Glancing at him, she saw he’d tucked the longer strands of hair framing his face behind his ears, a pensive expression lending a hardness to his features.

“He believes both to be happy.”

“Then I’m happy for them.” Christiana had not known them well enough to feel much of anything for them so why not be happy that they were?

“He said he hopes that you’ll be as well.”

“I will be.” At his searching stare, Christiana tilted her head. “Well, I hope I will be. I always thought you to be a good man.” Aside from some of those strange compliments, like the one referring to the flanks of his horse. Those were not so good.

“Thank you.” Attention returning to the road, he picked up their pace a bit. Behind them, Wat and Kate were talking in heated tones about something she couldn’t quite make out.

“This land we have is on the edge of Anjou.”

“I don’t recall him having any land.”

“It was a recent acquisition. He was still trying to decided whether to sell it or keep it when Geoff asked if he’d any properties with buildings of any sort. I’m afraid we let him assume I was wanting to add to my great list of houses if possible.”

“In a way you are. Your first house just happens to be a tent.,” she pointed out.

Once more, he watched her before replying with a grin, “You’re a positive thinker aren’t you?”

“I was trained to be. We all were. Avery had a tendency to see the worst, so his second wife -- Jocelyn’s first step-mother -- had us trained so we’d always look on the shiny, sunny side. She claimed it made her days easier.”

“Did it?”

“I never asked. It wasn’t my place to do so. Tell me more about the land.”

“I don’t know much really. He was happy to have it off his hands, but Geoff said that doesn’t necessarily mean anything bad about the lands, just that he didn’t want the responsibility for them. I’ve the papers in my trunk if you’d like to look at them later. We’ll be meeting his replacement there. Geoff was sending him on ahead to make a listing of anything the house needs. We looked over our coins and separated out the sum we can expect to pay for up to five men for the winter. We can spend less if they’ll accept shelter and food.”

“Will five be enough?”

“It’ll have to be. We’ll know more once we get there. When Geoff looked over the papers, he said I was by far the luckiest man he’d ever met, which was a good thing for him as he’d the worst luck of all men. He wouldn’t explain what he meant. With him the comment could mean anything.”

They rode in silence for awhile, listening to the low sound of Wat and Kate arguing.

~~~~~~~~~~

That Gavin was chatting up Kate again. Again! And she was letting him.

The second day of their journey, they’d met up with a large group of travelers and joined them, partly for safety in numbers and partly for Will and Christiana to practice social interactions together. This meant that Wat and Kate sat apart from them in the evenings. Somewhere in the third day a new man had joined them and promptly decided Kate was of interest.

Wat paused in crossing to them. To be honest, this man looked more like a noble than the miller he’d claimed to be. His clothes, though worn, were of obvious quality. Not that it meant anything. They could have been won in a game of chance like Geoff had enjoyed far too often, or he could have taken them off a dead man.

The clothes weren’t the only suspicious thing about him. He smiled too much and watched Kate a little too closely. From where Wat stood, Gavin -- a noble’s name if he’d ever heard one -- looked like a wolf dressed like a sheep trying to insinuate himself into the fold. He asked Kate about her business, questions she’d smiled at. Apparently, this Gavin had a knowledge of smithing. He’d been able to fully understand Kate’s technical answers and now he took every opportunity to talk to her. He’d gotten her life story from her within a day.

A single day!

Wat’s dislike had nothing to do with his own affections for Kate. Well, almost nothing. Since their talk that night she’d relaxed again around him. Clearing the air had done wonders to bringing the playfulness back into their friendship.

He just didn’t trust the man. A glib tongue like he possessed was nothing but trouble.

“So your lord is the famous Sir William?”

Wat rolled his eyes. As though they’d not said it fifty times already.

Gavin looked at Kate with surprise. “Then the smith who designed his light armor really is a woman? It’s you.”

“It’s me.” Kate smiled. “Many have tried the technique, but I’ve got it perfected. No one else so far can do what I do.”

“You’re a very special woman.”

Wat about gagged when Gavin’s warm gaze traveled down her and back up. Did she not see through this rogue? He was being more than obvious in his attentions.

Thankfully, Gavin headed off with the rest of the travelers instead of following them at the stretch of road they needed. He didn’t even stop to say goodbye to Kate.

~~~~~~~~~~

Adhemar re-read the letter with dark amusement rising. Jocelyn’s scheming parent had gotten everything he’d wanted. Men to protect them so he could save his own funds on such an expense. His ‘treasured’ daughter out of his household. Her untrustworthy maid married off, thereby negating his obligation towards her. He’d gotten his own wants at the expense of all involved.

Thatcher, Jocelyn, Christiana, that man of Thatcher’s. Even at Adhemar’s expense. Literally. It took money to keep an army anywhere. Adhemar wondered if he himself had been blind not to see all of the maneuvering Avery had done.

Although, he’d been rather distracted by Thatcher at the time….

He leaned back in his chair. Despite time having passed, Jocelyn was still in a somewhat fragile emotional state. He didn’t think it would benefit her at all to learn just who her former beloved had married.

Former, his mind snickered. As though she doesn’t carry him about in her heart and mind daily, oblivious to anyone else.

He’d not pressed her for physical intimacy. Her corpse impression left him cold. Instead, he’d begun puzzling her out as best he could. There were things he knew she enjoyed, so he’d added them to the daily routine. A merchant was invited in with cloth samples, yet Jocelyn was uninterested in any of them, giving the barest of glances at the wares before walking back up the stairs. Nor was she interested in the musicians or in going on a hunt. Her interest was entirely taken up by moping about staring out the windows at the countryside. That or pretending to sew with Anne while really avoiding his mother.

Katherine pretended to like Jocelyn just as much as she’d once pretended to like Anne. His mother was very good at pretending. She’d pretended to love his father right up until his body was in the grave. She’d pretended she stayed here in his home because he was the best of her children. Really he was the one who’d the most power and what his mother loved was power. She wielded her power over Anne with a smug turn to her lips. Sometimes he almost felt sorry for Anne.

As for Anne, mostly he tolerated her presence. He may have loved her once, but that time was long gone. Adhemar would be happy if he never had to see either Anne or Uncle Robert ever again. He was doomed to disappointment in that however, for he’d agreed to give them shelter until Robert could somehow grow his fortune back. How Uncle planned to do that was beyond him.

As he sat pondering his family, Jocelyn entered the room and took a chair by the fire. She looked his way, then turned so that her back was to him.

He poured wine for himself and for her. “I’m curious. What did you envision your life with him to be like?” Carrying both cups to the chairs there, he found her staring at him as though he’d lost his mind.

Jocelyn reached for one cup, careful not to let her fingers brush his. “Why are you asking?”

“Like I said. I’m curious. While Edward decreed he could keep that wealth he’d won, it was a paltry bit. A parcel of land with nothing upon it. A couple chickens, a few horses, coin. What sort of life did you think you’d have?”

Her gaze lowered to the cup. She ran one finger around the rim, her expression shifting from suspicion to wariness. “A house. Not opulent but comfortable.”

“Servants?”

“Yes.” Her tone implied it was a given.

Adhemar tried not to let his thoughts on that assumption show in order to keep her talking. It wasn’t often he could get her to speak more than a few words at once to him. “Go on.”

“Food to eat, warm fires in the winter. I’d have clothes made to commemorate those places we’d travel during tournament. There’d be poetry in the evenings and love….” She took a sip of her wine. Drawing in a sharp breath, she seemed to remember herself and who she spoke to, for she shook her head. “No doubt you think it silly.”

“No, not at all,” he lied. “Did you think the beginning of your life would be that way? I mean, he’d no house on that land he had, did he?”

Jocelyn’s mouth opened yet no sound issued forth.

“And he’d three men and that farris?” He set his wine on the table between their chairs. “I suppose he could have hired men with his coin, but after purchasing land, hiring laborers to build your comfortable house and then furnishing it, he’d need to make a killing at every tournament,” literally, he added silently, “in order to recoup the loss. Setting up a household from next to nothing would be a daunting task to many, though I’m certain you’d have born those initial discomforts with grace.”

“Discomforts.” Jocelyn repeated, then took a long gulp from her wine.

“Oh yes. Discomforts.” Leaning his head back against the chair, Adhemar considered how best to continue. “Until a house could have been built, you’d have lived in inns and your tent. There would have been little funds for fripperies to begin with and little funds for hiring servants, meaning economy would have been important in the first few years.”

“Why years?” Cup drained, she set it down with a thump. “He always did well at tournament. He even beat you in the end.”

Adhemar tried to ignore the quiet taunt, though it caused a tightening throughout his shoulders and back. “It takes time to build comfort like we have here. It’s not instantaneous with a title. Surely you know that? It takes work and constant vigilance to keep finances in check. One must budget for every household expense if one wishes to survive with any sort of wealth intact. Sometimes there is no extra for frivolous expenditures. Your life with him would have been back breaking in the beginning, but I’m sure your love would have born up under the hardship. After all, you were both passionate people and an excess of passion cannot cool under the strain of difficult times.”

Jocelyn flushed. “I stood by him at the end when everyone else was spitting on him. I sent messages to Prince Edward, never daring to think he’d actually read them, or that he’d intervene. I was willing to run away and give up this life. You know nothing of what we felt for each other.”

He’d pushed her too far.

She stood. “You poke fun at me just like you always did him. Look at the naïve girl with her head filled with silly ideas!”

Raising his brows, he couldn’t resist asking, “So you admit you’re naïve and they are silly?”

Jocelyn gasped, then reigned in her anger, that blank mask she was becoming quite good at slipping into place. “I’ll be sewing with Anne this afternoon.”

Adhemar watched her go and silently cursed his tendency towards scorn and sarcasm. Their chat could have gone much better.