“I didn’t know that he had promised to marry you,” Cristen returned calmly.
“Of course he did,” Elizabeth snapped, her eyes gleaming all the more. “All the world knows that we were betrothed.”
“I did not realize that papers had been signed,” Cristen said with mild surprise.
Elizabeth’s gaze narrowed, becoming more catlike than ever. “My father died before the papers could be signed. But the marriage was arranged and well you know it, Lady Cristen.”
“I know that Lord Guy arranged it with your father,” Cristen agreed in a perfectly pleasant voice. “However, I do not believe that Hugh was consulted.”
Elizabeth stiffened visibly. “What are you implying?” she demanded. “Are you implying that Lord Hugh was going to refuse to marry me?”
Cristen fine brows lifted into two aloof arches over her luminous brown eyes. “Did I say that?”
Elizabeth’s beautiful pale skin was flushed with anger. “Well, let me tell you, my lady, that Lord Hugh was not the only one who was not going to agree to our marriage.”
Cristen peered into her wine cup to hide her sudden alertness. “Indeed?” she said softly.
“Aye, indeed! Don’t think that you have stolen away from me a prize that I ever wanted. My heart has long been given elsewhere, and where my heart lies, so shall my hand in marriage. I told that to my father and I shall tell it to the king as well!” Elizabeth’s voice rang with temper and pride.
Cristen turned her head and gave her companion a look that was simultaneously sympathetic and admiring. “Good for you, Lady Elizabeth. For your sake, I hope the king will approve your choice.”
“He will approve my choice or I will refuse to marry at all,” Elizabeth said loftily.
Cristen’s eyes filled with respect. “That is very brave of you,” she said. “It is so difficult to be a woman, don’t you think? One has so little power.”
Elizabeth raised her chin. “I have power. I am the de Beauté heiress. My lands will go with me when I marry. The king cannot take them away from me without looking like a churl. Nor can he force me to wed someone I do not like. The pope has said so.”
Cristen chose not to dispute these remarkable statements. “Would you really go into a convent if the king does not approve your choice?” she asked in wonder.
Elizabeth laughed scornfully. “Can you imagine me in a convent?”
Cristen smiled and shook her head. “But what would be your alternative?”
“There are ways to marry without the approval of one’s overlord,” Elizabeth announced.
“An elopement?” Cristen said.
“If necessary,” Elizabeth said, lifting her chin even higher.
“You must truly be in love, Lady Elizabeth,” Cristen said soberly.
Elizabeth looked at her, and Cristen could see the exact moment when she realized what she had just given away.
“I can count on your discretion, can’t I, Lady Cristen?”
“Of course you can,” Cristen replied in her most soothing tone. “I of all people understand how you must feel. It is a terrible thing to think of losing the man that one loves.”
Elizabeth smiled radiantly. “I knew you would understand.”
“I do,” Cristen replied. “Believe me, I do.”
Later that evening, after Nicholas and Iseult had been put to bed with Benjamin to keep guard, Hugh and Cristen sat together in the main hall of Ralf’s house and Cristen told him about her conversation with Elizabeth de Beauté. They were alone, as Thomas and Mabel had made an excuse to busy themselves in the kitchen.
“Why on earth did she tell you all this?” Hugh asked in astonishment. He was sitting in Ralf’s old chair by the fire.
Cristen raised one eyebrow. “Because she was insulted when I implied that you were going to refuse to marry her. She told me so that I would know that she didn’t want you either.”
“Good heavens,” said Hugh, still astonished.
“She is not accustomed to rejection,” Cristen said.
He laughed, stretched out his legs in front of him, and crossed his booted feet at the ankles.
Cristen, seated in Adela’s old chair, looked at him thoughtfully. “Who do you think the man is?”
“It has to be Richard,” Hugh replied. “They appear to be very close.”
Cristen nodded her agreement. “If it is Richard, however, she must have known him for longer than we thought. Even Richard could not charm an already betrothed girl into defying her father on the acquaintance of a few weeks. He must have fixed his interest with her earlier.”
“Mmm. It would be just Richard’s style to pick out a wealthy, high-born girl like Elizabeth and make her fall in love with him. Undoubtedly he was hoping that she would be able to convince her father to let him marry her.” He raised an ironic eyebrow. “Richard would love to be the next Earl of Lincoln.”
Cristen frowned. “If that theory is correct, Hugh, it means Richard would want the earl alive rather than dead. I should think that Elizabeth’s doting father would be more likely than the king to allow her to choose her own husband.”
Hugh leaned his head against the back of his chair and rested his hands on the chair arms. “Perhaps,” he agreed. “But what if the earl had discovered the market stall cheat? If he knew about it, and if Richard is indeed the man behind it, then it would be imperative for Richard to get him out of the way. Under those circumstances, the earl would never allow Richard to marry his daughter.”
The light from the fire illuminated Hugh’s dark head as it lay against the high chair back. Cristen looked at his relaxed figure and nodded thoughtfully.
Comfortable silence reigned as they both pursued their own thoughts.
Finally Cristen said, “What are we going to do if we can’t find relatives to care for Nicholas and Iseult?”
“I doubt that there are any relatives I would feel comfortable entrusting them to,” Hugh replied. “I suppose we could prevail upon a distant cousin to take them in, but can you imagine what their lives would be like under such circumstances?”
“Shall we take them, then?” Cristen asked.
“Would you mind?”
She lifted affronted eyebrows.
“I only asked for form’s sake,” he assured her.
She smiled.
“So there is another reason that we must be married soon,” Hugh said.
“Aye.”
“Can you just see us, Richard and me, trotting in one after the other to beg the king to allow us to marry the girl of our choice?” Hugh said with irony.
“Your situations are rather different,” she pointed out. “Richard wants to marry above his station and you want to marry below yours.”
Hugh held out his hand, and Cristen got up from her chair and went over to join him in his. He put an arm around her shoulders and they sat quietly, their bodies pressed together in the confines of the chair, her head resting on his shoulder.
They stayed that way as the fire slowly died down.
Finally Hugh said, “I should go.”
She sighed. “I know.”
Neither of them moved.
The room was growing cold when finally Hugh kissed the top of the silky brown head that lay on his shoulder. “Soon I won’t have to leave you at all,” he said fiercely.
“That will be wonderful,” she replied softly. And smiled so that he wouldn’t see the fear she harbored in her heart.
Precisely at noon on Friday, the king’s Chief Justiciar of England, Lord Richard Basset, entered the city of Lincoln. With him he bore the official seal of his office: the device of a knight in full armor striking with his sword a rampant monster that grasped in its mouth a helpless, naked figure.
Lord Richard was received by the sheriff and the bishop, and was made comfortable in the guest chamber of the bishop’s house.
He was a very busy man, the chief justiciar announced, and he had to be back in London within the week. Therefore, the trial of Bernard Radvers would begin promptly on the morrow.