There was something more important which Gwenn wanted to discuss with her aunt, preferably out of earshot of the other women. She and Ned had not been allocated the quarters their married status merited, and while Gwenn was happy to be near the children, she had duties to Ned. She could see their separation was making him miserable.
On the beach, Marzina spread out the blankets, and Felicia set the basket to one side, next to a sea-smoothed boulder.
The wind whipped Gwenn’s veil round her face and, ignoring her aunt’s disapproving expression, she unpinned it and removed it. After a moment’s contemplation, she divested Philippe of his linen swaddling bands and tunic. Gurgling with pleasure, he began to crawl across the gently sloping sands.
‘Is it wise to remove all his clothes?’ Alis panted, sinking onto the blankets and cushions amid a froth of silken skirts. She waved at the maidservant. ‘Go after him, Felicia, there’s a dear, and see he comes to no harm.’
Felicia kicked off her leather shoes, hitched up her skirts, and smilingly obeyed. Felicia could do worse than be maidservant to her aunt, Gwenn realised. ‘It will do Philippe good to move about without restrictions,’ she said. ‘Besides, the air is warm.’
‘Won’t the sand scratch his delicate skin?’
Gwenn shook her head.
‘You are sure, Gwenn? You have more experience with babies than I do. I want to learn.’
‘They are very resilient, Aunt. Philippe is tougher than he looks.’
‘If you say so, dear.’ Alis heaved another sigh and dabbed her sweat-damp brow delicately with the edge of her veil. ‘It was further than I remembered from the manor.’
Gwenn hid a smile, for the walk had only been a short one. Katarin trotted up, mutely asking for help in removing her belt. She wanted to take her dress off to play in the sand with her brother and Felicia, and the belt buckle, a brass one which had been a gift from Alis, was too stiff for her growing fingers. Thinking to encourage her sister to use her tongue, Gwenn affected not to understand. Huge hazel eyes blinked, and the little girl nudged her on the shoulder, wrenching at the bright yellow buckle.
‘Why, Katarin!’ Gwenn feigned surprise. ‘Do you want something?’
Another tug on the belt. Another appealing look.
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand you,’ Gwenn said. ‘Do you want something?’
Her sister nodded vigorously.
‘Tell me, Katarin. Speak. What do you want me to do?’
Katarin pointed at her belt, caught Gwenn’s hand and guided it to her waist.
‘No. I won’t do it. Not till you speak. You must tell me, Katarin. Use your tongue, I know you can.’ Obdurately, Katarin shook her head. The child understood her, the shock of the killings at Kermaria had not damaged her sister’s intelligence, thank the Lord, only her will to communicate.
‘Try. Try, Katarin. Please, sweetheart.’
A sheen of tears coated the child’s hazel eyes, but her tongue did not loosen. Backing away from Gwenn, she gave Alis, reclining on her silken cushions, a hopeful glance.
Gwenn surrendered and took off her sister’s belt. When Katarin’s bliaud had been removed and she was clad only in her shift, the child gave Gwenn a shaky smile and scampered down the beach after her brother. Marzina, without being asked, followed Katarin.
Alis turned her soft blue eyes on Gwenn. ‘Don’t you think you make it worse when you try and force your sister to talk?’ she asked gently. ‘Perhaps you should let the sickness run its course?’
‘She should have recovered already. We’ve been here three days, and you’re kindness itself. She eats well, she sleeps well – she must know she is safe.’
‘Your sister needs time.’
‘Alan said that.’
‘Alan?’ Her aunt looked down her nose in a superior manner. ‘Oh, you mean that other mercenary, Captain le Bret.’
Her aunt, though she possessed a heart of gold, appeared to have prejudices. Gwenn tossed back her plait. ‘Aye, Alan.’ She refused to refer to him as Captain le Bret. ‘The man who guided us here. Our friend.’ And one whom she missed every minute of the day...
Since Alan had gone, Gwenn had not felt at peace with herself. She had attributed her distress to understandable grief at the sudden loss of her family and her home. But if Alan’s absence was not contributing to her unhappiness, why did she keep thinking of him? Why did she want to look into those cool grey eyes and touch that raven-dark hair?
Alis blanched. It was as though her aunt had read her niece’s thoughts. ‘A friend? That man? Oh, my dear, no.’
‘Why not? Why can’t Alan be my friend?’
‘But, my dear,’ Alis waved her hands in delicate confusion, ‘a mercenary... They can’t be trusted.’
Ned, her husband, was a mercenary. So they were coming to it, though not in the manner that Gwenn had anticipated. Marzina and Felicia were out of earshot with the children near the shoreline. She plunged in. ‘Tell me, Aunt, what’s the difference between my husband and his cousin, and the men who guard your manor?’
‘My dear, the men who guard Ploumanach are bound to the land.’
‘Slaves?’
‘My dear! Indeed they are not! Their families have served the Wymark family for generations. I would not dream of questioning their loyalty.’
Noticing that her fingers had curled into her palms, Gwenn deliberately uncurled them, and made her hands rest loosely in her lap. She did not want to alienate this amiable woman who had put a roof over their heads, but she had to speak up for Ned and Alan. ‘Aunt, I’ve learned that mercenaries can be as loyal as men born to a place. Ned served my father honestly and diligently. He risked his life for mine, and–’
‘And you should not have let him force you into marrying him.’
‘Ned did not force me!’ Her fingers curled up again. She straightened them.
‘My dear,’ Alis went on, placid but immovable, ‘I’m sure that Captain Fletcher is a nice enough lad, but can’t you see he is not...er.. quite suitable? I am glad that we are talking so freely about this, Gwenn, as it has been disturbing me. Things cannot remain as they are.’
‘Things? What do you mean?’
‘I’m talking about the so-called marriage between you and Captain Fletcher.’
‘So-called? We were married. At St Félix-in-the-Wood. Prior Hubert married us himself, with the monks as our witnesses. There is no doubt about it, Aunt.’
‘My poor girl,’ Lady Alis said, soothingly. ‘All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll ask our priest what can be done about getting you an annulment.’
‘An...an annulment?’
‘There’s no need for you to worry, my dear. No one would contest the fact that your marriage should not have taken place. What with you in a state of shock...’
‘But–’
‘I don’t suppose the marriage has been consummated, has it? You haven’t let him...touch you, have you, Gwenn?’
For all that she gritted her teeth, Gwenn felt her colour rise.
‘Oh dear.’ Alis sighed, drawing her own conclusions. ‘The beast. I had hoped he’d spared you that. It would have made matters easier if you were a virgin. However,’ the soft voice brightened, ‘all is not lost, I am sure. This very afternoon, I promise you I shall go and speak to Father Per–’
‘Aunt, you will do no such thing! Ned and I were married in the sight of God. I have sworn to keep faith with him, and keep faith I will. If you cannot accept our marriage, then we shall leave Ploumanach.’
‘My dear–’
‘No, hear me out. Ned loves me,’ a look of distress marred the unruffled calm of Alis’s face, ‘and I have no doubt you think that terribly vulgar. But he does love me, and I am his lawful wife, and I am not going to let you or anyone else change that.’
‘You could make a better alliance.’
‘A better alliance?’ Gwenn set her teeth. Darting a glance down the beach she saw the children and their companions were safely playing with a pile of shells, out of earshot. ‘A better alliance? I doubt it. Ned deserves a loyal wife, and I...I am very fond of him. If you cannot see your way to providing for us in the same way that you provide for the other married folk working on your estate, then we shall leave.’