“No, you may not ride out again with those men,” Lady Benedicta told Elaine. “Your absence yesterday left your chores undone. We don’t have enough maidservants to do your work as well as their own.”
“I’m sorry if you and the maids were inconvenienced,” Elaine said. “But, surely, finding a missing woman is more important than mending torn sheets or supervising the scrubbing of the stillroom floor.”
“Not if the woman is missing of her own volition.” Lady Benedicta’s mouth snapped shut on the abrupt, coldly spoken words.
Elaine knew there was no arguing with her in her present mood. Only a display of meek obedience would soften her. Elaine resolved to keep silence on the subject of Aglise for the entire day. She told herself it scarcely mattered whether she went with Desmond and Cadwallon, or not. When the men returned from their second day of searching, she’d learn if they had discovered any sign of her sister. If Desmond refused to answer her questions she would attempt to persuade the kindly Cadwallon to tell her what she wanted to know.
So, over the next few hours she hid her impatience while she mended torn linens. With her head bent over the work she allowed her thoughts to drift. They drifted to Desmond. Though he was far from ugly, he was not particularly handsome, either. Taller than most men, well muscled without being unpleasantly bulky, with light brown hair and grey eyes, he could have been almost any knight from her late father’s service at Dereham. Yet Desmond was clearly not an ordinary man. His sharp features displayed such intelligence, and his eyes were so alert as they took in everything happening around him, that Elaine found him compellingly attractive.
Her warm reaction to him shamed her. This was no time for her to be looking at a man with personal interest, not while Aglise was still missing. She should never have allowed him to hold her hand. That she could regard him, a man she barely knew, as anything more than a helper in the search for her sister was shocking. Perhaps she was not so very different from Aglise, after all.
“This is fine needlework,” Lady Benedicta said several hours later, while she and Elaine were in the linen room folding a newly repaired sheet. “You do sew an admirably fine seam.”
Elaine looked at her in surprise, for Lady Benedicta seldom praised her and the sheet was no better sewn than dozens of others she had repaired over the last two years.
“Thank you, my lady,” was all she said.
“Did Lord Royce’s men learn anything worthwhile yesterday?”
The question came suddenly, taking Elaine off guard. Fortunately, she didn’t have to think about her response.
“What they wanted,” she said, “was to ride around the island with someone who knows it well. They did stop here and there to ask if anyone had seen Aglise recently, but mostly they were interested in seeing places where she could be hiding, or beaches and harbors from which she could have left Jersey. They seem to believe she has left, which may be why they didn’t search more closely.”
Elaine didn’t mention the remarkably intense interest with which Desmond and Cadwallon had gone over every aspect of the landscape. She was sure that after only one day they knew as almost much about the island as she did. And then, of course, there had been Desmond’s sudden accusation that she was concealing information. She had turned aside his questions and Cadwallon’s later queries as they stood in the water, but she didn’t fool herself into believing either of them was finished with the subject.
“Of course, Aglise has left.” Lady Benedicta placed the folded sheet on a shelf and smoothed the linen with strong, capable hands. “I know you do not want to believe ill of your sister, but it is all too clear to me that she has fled with a lover.”
“What lover?” Elaine trembled with fear as she spoke. “Are you aware of any particular friendship my sister has?”
“I’d be the last person to whom Aglise would confess her misbehavior,” Lady Benedicta scoffed. “I should think you would know, since the two of you were so close.”
“We are close,” Elaine said. “Please, my lady, do not speak of Aglise as if she is gone forever.”
“She has certainly left Jersey forever,” Lady Benedicta stated firmly. “I am glad of it. She sorely abused our hospitality. You may choose to associate with her after you have left Warden’s Manor. That will be your decision, not mine. I am rid of Aglise.”
Elaine bit her lip and kept silent, knowing it was better not to argue with her foster mother.
“Where, exactly, did you ride yesterday?” Lady Benedicta asked. She wasn’t looking directly at Elaine, for she was busy distributing sprigs of dried lavender amongst the sheets to keep them sweet-smelling and to discourage moths or crawling vermin from making a feast of them.
“We took the road along the cliffs, then turned south to Saint Ouen’s Bay, and then along the southern shore back to Gorey.”
“Our men-at-arms searched all of those places several times,” Lady Benedicta noted with a disapproving sniff. “They found no trace of Aglise.”
“So I told them,” Elaine said. “They insisted they needed to see the island for themselves, so they can decide where to concentrate their efforts.”
“It’s a waste of time, when the silly girl is already gone,” Lady Benedicta said. She paused, a few sprigs of lavender still in her hands, and shot an irritated glance in Elaine’s direction. “Really, I am most displeased with you for writing that letter. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for bothering Lord Royce when he has far more important matters to attend to. You should not have encouraged him to send his men here. I’m sure they could be put to better use elsewhere.”
“I suppose you are right, if you truly believe Aglise is gone from Jersey,” Elaine admitted with a sigh.
“If you will only think honestly about your sister’s character, you will realize I am, indeed, right. Aglise is a foolish, troublesome girl. Now that Lord Bertrand has determined she is not on Jersey, the problem of finding her rests on your mother’s shoulders, not on yours – nor on my lord Bertrand’s shoulders, or even upon our two visitors.”
“Yes, my lady.” Elaine did her best to sound meek, though she was angry enough to rip apart the shelves that were so neatly stacked with clean linens. She didn’t think she could bear another disparaging word from Lady Benedicta on the subject of Aglise. Nothing, nothing, was more important than finding Aglise, and everyone who knew her ought to be seriously concerned until she was found.
“They discovered nothing, did they?”
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” Elaine said. “I was wool-gathering. What did you ask me?”
“Pay attention when I speak. Your knights-errant found no useful evidence?”
“No, my lady.” Elaine realized that Lady Benedicta’s persistent queries weren’t aimed solely at criticizing Aglise. She suspected Elaine of knowing more about Aglise’s disappearance than she was telling, and she saw it as her duty to discover what that knowledge was. Doubtless she also felt compelled to do all she could to guard Lord Bertrand’s honor as designated protector of the sisters and, thus, to safeguard her own good name as well. The possibility of a scandal brought upon them by Aglise’s conduct must be deeply troubling to Lady Benedicta. Though Elaine experienced a stirring of reluctant sympathy toward her foster mother, she was not going to betray her sister. She thanked heaven that she could answer Lady Benedicta’s last question honestly.
“If Desmond and Cadwallon had discovered anything at all to do with Aglise, I would have told you and Lord Bertrand at once. They learned nothing that I am aware of.”
“Well then, we may dare to hope they will go away and leave us in peace.”
“I believe they are only waiting for the ship that brought them to return for them,” Elaine said. She tactfully refrained from pointing out that on any given day Lord Bertrand’s men-at-arms, many of whom were frequently drunk, did far more to disturb the peace of Warden’s Manor than Lord Royce’s two men.
“They needn’t wait at all,” said Lady Benedicta. “Any ship leaving Gorey Harbour for Normandy can take them along as passengers.”
“But, if you should suggest as much to them, my lady,” Elaine said, trying her best to sound as if it were an innocent question, “won’t you seem inhospitable?”
Lady Benedicta did not respond. With her lips pressed together in a stern expression, she finished counting the sheets, then stalked out of the room, her skirts swishing along the floor. Over her shoulder she called a brusque command for Elaine to see the solar thoroughly cleaned before the morning ended.
At the midday meal Lord Bertrand was even more emphatic than his wife that Desmond and Cadwallon ought to finish their work and leave as soon as possible. Again he berated Elaine for having written the letter to Royce that had brought the two men to Jersey.
“I’ve a good mind to send you back to your mother, perhaps in Lord Cadwallon’s charge,” Lord Bertrand threatened, scowling at her. “After a few days with Irmina, you will learn to appreciate our kindness.”
“I cannot leave until I know where Aglise is,” Elaine protested, afraid if she did leave the island, she would never solve the mystery of her sister’s disappearance. For reasons she dared not explain out loud, she was certain the truth about Aglise lay on Jersey.
Upon hearing her words, Lord Bertrand’s scowl deepened, though he said no more on the subject.
Through all of the trivial domestic irritations of the afternoon that followed, Elaine pondered the question she could not dismiss from her mind. Should she confess to Desmond and Cadwallon what little she knew about the most intimate details of her sister’s recent life? Was it time to destroy Aglise’s good name in hope the information, once revealed, would aid in finding her?
Aglise had not confided in Elaine; she had chosen to keep silent and she had proven to be amazingly discreet. But Elaine, knowing and loving her sister so well, had finally discovered the truth.
Castles and manor houses, crowded and enclosed upon themselves as they were, especially in isolated locations such as Jersey, were not places where secrets could easily be kept for long. Elaine had pieced together snatches of accidentally overheard conversations, the impression given by glances exchanged when seemingly no one else was looking, the blush that often lay on Aglise’s soft cheeks, and she was certain she had reached the correct conclusions. Moreover, since Elaine had discovered what Aglise was involved in, it was likely other people had made the same discovery.
When Desmond and Cadwallon appeared in the great hall that evening Elaine scarcely knew whether to be glad to see them or worried that they, too, would soon uncover facts damaging to Aglise. The question of how much to reveal to them gnawed at her. She took her seat beside Desmond at the high table wishing she dared lay her head on his chest and pour out all her fears.
Then she reminded herself that beautiful Aglise might have done the same thing and immediately received the comfort and understanding tenderness she sought. Elaine, who thought of herself as the plain, quiet, uninteresting sister, knew better than to expect tenderness from any man.
Desmond noted Elaine’s pale face and carefully contained manner and wondered what had caused it, and why she was studiously avoiding his gaze. Before he could pursue the matter his host intervened, speaking with a heartiness that Desmond found false.
“Well, good sirs, have you finished your investigation?” Lord Bertrand asked.
“Not yet,” Desmond answered, doing his best to sound noncommittal.
“Since Jersey is so small, I am surprised it has taken you so long to search all of it,” Lord Bertrand continued. “Though, from what I’ve been told, you have questioned everyone who lives here in Warden’s Manor and most of the folk in Gorey village, too.”
“We have been busy,” said Cadwallon with one of his broad grins.
Lord Bertrand sent Cadwallon a look that Desmond, watching closely, could not decipher. But the quick glance put all of Desmond’s senses on alert.
“I have finished dictating my replies to the letters you brought from King Henry and from Royce,” Lord Bertrand said. “My secretary promises he will have them ready for my seal first thing tomorrow morning. So, if you have been waiting for them, my lord, you need delay your leave taking no longer.”
Desmond felt Elaine, who was seated between himself and Lord Bertrand, stiffen as if in shock at such rudeness. She turned from Lord Bertrand to cast a worried gaze upon Desmond, who smiled in hope of reassuring her.
“How much longer will your investigation take?” she asked.
“We will need another day, I think,” Desmond said, careful to show no sign of annoyance with his host. “Two days more, at most.”
“Why so long?” demanded Lord Bertrand, frowning at him. “Have you found some indication of where Aglise has gone? I cannot think you have; my men-at-arms overlooked nothing. I supervised their search, myself.”
“You were most thorough, which is surely why we are unable to detect any sign of Lady Aglise,” said Cadwallon. When Lord Bertrand swiveled in his seat to glare at his other guest, Cadwallon continued, “We have, after all, merely been following in your careful footsteps, my lord. Since we have so far uncovered no trace at all of Lady Aglise, and if the last few people to whom we want to speak can offer no suggestions for further investigation, then we must conclude that she has departed from Jersey, just as you and Lady Benedicta have said from the first.”
“But -” Elaine must have seen the slight shake of his head that Desmond gave her, for she stopped whatever she was going to say.
“Speaking for myself,” Cadwallon went on, extending his smile from his host to Lady Benedicta, “I will be grateful if Desmond and I reach King Henry’s court to find Lady Aglise ensconced there, with all the squires and young knights tripping over themselves to dance attendance on her. Everyone does say she is wondrously lovely. Despite the distress her unexplained absence has caused to her sister, and to you, my gracious lord and lady, I think we will all be happy at such a conclusion.”
“Certainly, we will,” said Lady Benedicta, though her mouth was hard and the glance she bestowed on Cadwallon was cool.
“We do appreciate your generous hospitality,” Cadwallon said, continuing his pretense of bland cheerfulness. “We’ll not intrude upon it longer than we must. My lord, if you will grant us two more days in which to complete the thorough search Royce commanded us to make, then we will depart and you’ll not see us again, unless we have the pleasure of meeting you and your lady at court, at some future time.”
“Two days, then,” Lord Bertrand agreed. “I’ll not countermand my old friend, Royce’s, orders. But, what of the ship that brought you here? Isn’t it supposed to reach Gorey Harbor on a particular day?”
“I believe the Daisy is presently berthed in Normandy, at Lessay,” Desmond spoke up, unwilling to leave all the arrangements to Cadwallon, though the two of them had agreed in advance on how they would handle Lord Bertrand. Desmond was beginning to see how useful Cadwallon could be when he employed his lazy, cheerful manner. No one would suspect such a slow-witted fellow of devious motives, not even when he invoked the powerful name of Lord Royce. Still, in spite of his comrade’s deceptive cleverness, Desmond was in charge of the mission and he didn’t want Cadwallon to forget it. “We can send a message to Captain Piers by way of one of the fishing boats, asking him to sail here and lay just off Gorey Harbor until we signal our readiness to leave.”
“Yes, that makes sense.” Lord Bertrand nodded. “You shall have your two days, though what you will do with them, I cannot imagine.”
“My lord,” Ewan said to Cadwallon as soon as the men and their squires were back in their guest chamber, “I believe I’ve learned something important this evening.”
“You mean, you deliberately overheard it,” Richard accused. “You were listening outside the armory door. I saw you.”
“We are supposed to listen to anything that might provide helpful information,” Ewan defended himself with some heat.
“What did you hear?” Desmond asked. He held up one hand to silence what would certainly be further criticism from Richard.
“There’s a tale being whispered around the castle that Lady Aglise was deeply involved with a man,” Ewan revealed. “Very deeply involved, if you understand me, my lord. I’d rather not repeat the scandalous remarks the men-at-arms made about her.”
“Aha!” Cadwallon exclaimed. “So, Lady Benedicta’s conjectures have some base in fact.”
“Ewan said it was a whispered tale, which means it is merely a rumor,” Richard objected. “Rumors can’t always be trusted. Men-at-arms are worse gossips than washerwomen.”
“Who is the man?” Desmond asked of Ewan. “Do you know?”
“I didn’t hear a name,” the squire answered. “I couldn’t stay outside the armory door long enough to learn anything more, for fear I’d be seen and questioned. This is not a particularly friendly manor; I’d rather the other squires didn’t take me in dislike for snooping where I shouldn’t be. Not to mention, I didn’t want to offend the men-at-arms I was listening to, or Lord Bertrand, either.”
“You were wise to leave before you were caught,” Cadwallon said. “What is it, Desmond? You don’t look happy about this news.”
“I find it perplexing.” Desmond spoke slowly, reasoning out loud in the certain conviction that Cadwallon or the others would correct him if they thought he was in error. Being challenged to explain his conclusions and how he had reached them almost always resulted in clearer thought. “From what I’ve heard of Lady Aglise’s character, and judging by what I know of her mother’s character, I believe Lady Irmina may have imparted her desire for high position to her daughter, and may have taught Aglise to use her beauty to attain her ambitions. Therefore, I doubt if Aglise was a lady to be satisfied with a mere squire or a man-at-arms – unless the son of a great noble is fostering under Lord Bertrand’s tutelage?” He looked from Richard to Ewan.
“Not here,” Richard said. “Warden’s Manor is strategically important, but it’s not the kind of place to which great nobles send their sons. It’s too rough and ready, too much a military stronghold. Lady Benedicta has no interest in teaching obstreperous boys courtly manners or how to treat ladies with gallantry. Oh, possibly a highborn lad who’s in disgrace might be sent here for the sake of the strict training and the discipline Lord Bertrand can provide, but I don’t know of such a squire. Ewan, do you?”
“No,” Ewan admitted with a sigh. Then, brightening, “What about Lord Bertrand’s sons as candidates for Lady Aglise’s romantic interest? He has two, I believe.”
“So he has,” Desmond agreed. “Both are being fostered in Normandy.”
“Are they near to Aglise in age?” Cadwallon asked. “For all his austere way of life, Lord Bertrand is no minor noble, and he does have good family connections. Then, there is his long friendship with Royce, which gives him ready access to King Henry. Perhaps we are wrong and Aglise isn’t dead. If she is aiming at marriage with one of Bertrand’s sons, she may have run off to be with him.”
“I suppose it’s possible,” Desmond said, frowning because he couldn’t accept what Cadwallon was suggesting. First, he firmly believed Aglise was dead. Second, he didn’t see how she could have found the opportunity, either in Normandy or Jersey, to bedazzle Lord Bertrand’s sons.
The third, and strongest, reason for his doubt was the rigid propriety displayed by Lady Benedicta. Desmond was sure she was a strict chaperone, who would not allow a beautiful, flirtatious girl like Aglise the chance to become involved with her sons, or with any visiting noble. Lady Benedicta might disregard a quiet girl like Elaine, who was quick-witted and surprisingly lovely in her own discreet way, but she’d be sure to maintain a careful watch over someone like Aglise.
What in the name of heaven was he thinking? Desmond sternly reminded himself to keep his thoughts away from the subject of Elaine, and on the question of what had happened to Aglise.
“If I ride with them today,” Elaine said to Lady Benedicta, “I can answer their questions and lay their curiosity to rest. Then, perhaps, they will leave Jersey even sooner than they promised.”
It was early morning and the two women were in the solar, breaking their fast with bread, cheese and ale. Long rays of sunlight streamed through the narrow windows, turning the forbidding grey stone walls to gold.
“I have been told that Sir Desmond sent his squire to Normandy at dawn, aboard a fishing vessel. Richard carries a message summoning the captain of the ship, Daisy,” Elaine said, not mentioning that the person who had told her so was Ewan. “If we can satisfy both Lord Cadwallon and Sir Desmond that Aglise has indeed gone elsewhere, they may choose to depart as soon as the Daisy reaches Gorey Harbor.”
“What change is this? Only yesterday, you were insisting your foolish sister is hiding somewhere on Jersey,” Lady Benedicta said.
Her probing gaze on Elaine’s face hinted at a serious inquisition to come, but Elaine was used to the lady’s methods. She assumed a blank expression, trying her best to look innocent, without a trace of worry on her face or in her eyes. Elaine was glad Lady Benedicta was not standing close enough to hear the rapid beating of her heart, which was the result of telling lies. She tried to keep her voice low and calm.
“It’s true that after Lord Bertrand’s men-at-arms searched the island, I could not believe they had found no trace of Aglise,” Elaine said. “I thought they might have missed some little detail that would indicate where Aglise is. But Royce’s agents, who are surely better skilled in tracking missing people than Lord Bertand’s men, have searched for two entire days, and neither did they uncover any sign of her. I think I must finally accept the explanation you have offered these two months and more. Aglise has left Jersey, and if she is to be found, we need to extend the search for her to Normandy or even to England. So, I think the sooner Desmond and Cadwallon leave here and begin to look elsewhere, the sooner they will locate her – and the sooner my worry will cease. I know you won’t approve of what I am about to say, my lady, but I will be relieved and happy if Aglise is found hiding in a castle or a manor house with a man whom she loves, who loves her in return.”
“I never thought to hear you sound as foolish as your sister,” Lady Benedicta said. “Yet, I do understand that where she is concerned, your feelings are more tender and less sensible than they ought to be. I, too, hope Aglise will be found safe and well, though I will never speak to her again, and I will never forgive her for the damage she has caused to my lord Bertrand’s good name – and to mine.”
“Then, may I accompany Desmond and Cadwallon?” Elaine tried to sound calm and unperturbed, though she was raging with eagerness to be on horseback and away from the manor. Out in the open, away from listeners, she could speak honestly to Desmond.
“They have most likely left already,” Lady Benedicta said with a glance out the nearest window. “I fear you are too late.”
“I can catch up to them,” Elaine said. “Please, my lady, have I your permission?”
The challenging look Lady Benedicta bestowed upon her told Elaine that she had allowed her eagerness to creep into her voice, and for a moment she feared her plea would be denied.
“Very well,” Lady Benedicta said grudgingly. “But this is the last time I will agree to such a request. I do not approve of you riding with two men and no chaperone.”
“There isn’t a woman in the castle who could keep up with us,” Elaine said.
“Really?” Lady Benedicta’s frown should have frozen Elaine in her place. “Your remark suggests you are riding for sport and not for any serious purpose. If I did not know you so well, I’d suspect you of entertaining some reason other than the desire to find Aglise.”
“Certainly not, my lady. Aglise is all I think of. May I go now?” Elaine made a hasty curtsey and escaped from the solar before Lady Benedicta could call her back.
She didn’t think she had given anything away, and she couldn’t imagine how Lady Benedicta could have guessed her true purpose.
After pausing in her own room just long enough to snatch up her cloak, Elaine hurried down the steps to the hall and out the main entrance to the courtyard. Ewan was waiting for her in the stable, with her horse and his saddled and ready.
“Lord Cadwallon and Sir Desmond left about half an hour ago,” Ewan informed her. He helped her to mount and then they rode through the gate and up to the ridge just beyond the fork in the road. From there Elaine saw the two men in the distance riding slowly along the track that edged the cliffs.
Taking a deep breath to steady her fluttering stomach, knowing she had little time left in which to do what must be done, she kicked her horse’s sides and made for the cliff path.