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Day Three
Llelo
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Llelo hesitated outside Margaret’s door, his hand raised to knock but reluctant to do so. This was a true job of an investigator. Part of him was honored that his father had given it to him, and the rest of him was mortified to tell Margaret what he knew.
But then he decided that she didn’t need to know how he knew, and his father was right that if he told her Douglas had confessed to being her lover, then that might be enough to get her to talk. She had talked to Llelo’s mother already, and the experience might be fresh enough in her mind—and the consequences so far minor enough—that she would be willing to do it again. And maybe talking to someone as young and potentially as unthreatening as Llelo would be easier than talking to his father. Llelo suspected that this was another reason his father had sent him. Though it was now too late to do so, Llelo wished he’d enlisted Hamelin, who had been as much a witness as he.
So he knocked.
After a count of three, he heard footsteps, and then the door was opened by a serving girl. Llelo shouldn’t have been flustered, since it was no surprise that Margaret wouldn’t answer her own door, but the two of them stared at each other for a moment, and then the girl dropped into a curtsey. “Sir Llelo. I’m Jonet.”
Llelo had just managed to stop himself from bowing his head to her, which would have been odd and inappropriate, but her manner with him was more like that of a friend. He remembered her name from Dai’s recounting, and Llelo could see why Dai had been happy to talk to her. She was a very pretty girl.
“I was hoping to speak to Lady Margaret.”
“Tell him to come in.” Lady Margaret’s voice came from within the room, confirming in Llelo’s mind yet again that she had, in fact, been the woman with Lord Douglas in the chapel.
Jonet stepped back and allowed him entry, and Llelo moved past her to find Lady Margaret sitting near an open window through which warm air was blowing.
Margaret indicated the door with a tip of her head. “You may leave us.”
Jonet’s lips twitched for a moment, but she curtseyed and then obeyed, closing the door behind her and stopping the easy flow of air.
Llelo had remained standing, but now Margaret flapped a hand in his direction. “Don’t loom over me like that. Pour yourself some wine and sit. Pour me some too while you’re at it. I can see you are here at your father’s behest and have more questions. I imagine I’m not going to like them.” She paused as she studied him. “I’m interested that he sent you instead of coming himself.”
Rather than replying right away, Llelo did as she asked. When his mother had questioned Lady Margaret, copious amounts of wine had been poured down her throat, and Llelo supposed he preferred insobriety to having her sob into his chest. It was still very odd to him to know what he did about her relationship with Lord Douglas. They were both twenty years older than his parents. He would have thought that made them old enough to know better.
Llelo accepted the straight-backed chair Margaret indicated, took a sip of the very good wine, and said, “We have learned from Lord Douglas that you and he have been lovers.”
Not unexpectedly, Margaret recoiled and in the process slopped some of her wine out of her cup and onto her hand. But then, just as abruptly, she settled back into her seat.
She mopped and took a large swallow of her drink, after which she said, in a totally calm voice, “He said that?”
“Yes, Madam.”
“Why?”
“Because my father told him he already knew so there was no point in lying.”
Margaret’s face contorted into a moue. “I don’t believe you. Why would you even think to ask him such a question?”
Llelo wavered in his own mind, noting she was asking her own questions instead of answering his, but then he sighed and felt he had to confess, just as his father had done to Douglas, “Because you were not alone in the chapel two nights ago.”
According to Gareth, Douglas’s face had paled at this news. Margaret flushed to the roots of her hair. “No.”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Who?”
“I cannot tell you that.”
“Whoever it is, they’re lying.”
“Then why, when confronted with the fact, did Lord Douglas admit it was true?”
Margaret looked down at her hands. “Even if it is true, which I’m not saying it is, why does it matter?”
“Because of what happens now.”
She frowned. “What happens now?”
Llelo stood and held out his hand to her. “You need to come with me.” He paused and said gently. “You may want to finish the wine in your goblet first.”
