Chapter
One
England
1445
Either your daughter goes or I do,” Helen Neville said sternly, hands on hips as she looked down at her husband, Gilbert. He was stretched out on a cushioned window seat, the sun streaming in through the old stone window past blue-painted wooden shutters. He was rubbing the ears of his favorite hound while eating tasty little bits of ground meat.
As usual, Gilbert didn’t make any response to Helen’s demand, and she clenched her fists in anger. He was twelve years older than she and lazy beyond anything she’d ever known. In spite of the fact that he spent most of his time on a horse following a soaring hawk, his belly was large and growing bigger by the day. She had married him for his money, of course, married him for his gold plate, for his thousands of hectares of land, for his eight castles (two of which he’d never seen), for his horses, his army of men, for the beautiful clothes he could give her and her two children. She had read a list of Gilbert Neville’s possessions and said yes to the marriage proposal without even asking to see the man.
Now, a year after their marriage, Helen asked herself, If she had met Gilbert and seen his slothfulness, would she have wondered who ran his estates? Did he have a superior steward? She knew he had only one legitimate child, a pale, shy-looking girl who said not a word to Helen before the marriage, but perhaps Gilbert had an illegitimate son who ran his estates.
After they were married and Helen knew she had a husband who was as lazy in bed as he was out of it, she found out who ran the Neville lands.
Liana! Helen wished she’d never heard the name. That sweet-looking, shy-seeming daughter of Gilbert’s was a devil in disguise. Liana, like her mother before her, ran everything. Liana sat at the steward’s table while the peasants paid their yearly rents. Liana rode through the countryside and saw to fields and ordered broken roofs repaired. Liana decided when a castle had become too dirty and the crops depleted and told the retainers it was time to move. Three times in the last year Helen had first heard that they were moving when she saw a maid packing her bedding.
It had done no good to explain to Gilbert or Liana that she, Helen, was now the lady of the manor and that Liana should relinquish her power to her stepmother. Both of them had merely looked at Helen curiously, as if one of the stone heads of the gutters had begun to speak, then Liana had gone back to ruling and Gilbert had returned to doing nothing.
Helen had tried to take charge on her own, and for a while she thought she was succeeding—until she found out that each servant was asking Liana for verification before carrying out her order.
At first, Helen’s complaints to Gilbert had been mild, and usually after she had pleased him in bed.
Gilbert had paid her little mind. “Let Liana do what she likes. You can’t stop her. You could no more stop Liana or her mother than you could stop the fall of a boulder. It was and is best to get out of their way.” He’d turned over and gone to sleep, but Helen had lain awake all night, her body hot with rage.
By morning she was ready to be a boulder, too. She was older than Liana and, if need be, much more cunning. After her first husband had died and his younger brother had inherited the estates, Helen and her two little girls had been pushed aside by her sister-in-law. Helen had had to stand by and watch as duties that had once been hers were taken over by a younger, much less competent woman. When Gilbert Neville’s proposal came, she leaped at the chance to once again have her own household, her own home. But now her place was being usurped by a small, pale girl who should have been married and sent away from her father’s house years ago.
Helen had tried to talk to Liana, had tried to tell her of the pleasures of having her own husband, her own children, her own household.
Liana had blinked at her with those big blue eyes of hers, looking as meek as an angel on the chapel ceiling. “But who will take care of my father’s estates?” she’d asked simply.
Helen gritted her teeth. “I am your father’s wife. I will do what needs to be done.”
Liana’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Helen’s sumptuous velvet dress with a train in back, at the low V neck in front and in back that exposed a great deal of her beautiful shoulders, at the heavily embroidered, padded headdress, and smiled. “The sun would burn you in that.”
Helen found herself defending her words. “I would dress suitably to ride a horse. I’m sure I can ride as well as you can. Liana, it’s not proper that you remain in your father’s house. You are nearly twenty years old. Y
ou should have your own home, your own—”
“Yes, yes,” Liana said. “I’m sure you’re right, but I must go now. There was a fire in the village last night and I must see to the damage.”
Helen had stood there, her face red, her temper black. What good did it do her to be married to one of the richest men in England, to live in one castle after another where the riches were more than she’d ever believed possible? Thick, colorful tapestries hung from every wall, every ceiling was painted with biblical scenes, every bed, table, and chair was covered with an embroidered cloth. Liana kept a roomful of women who did nothing but bend over tapestry frames and ply their needles. The food was divine, as Liana enticed cooks with excellent wages and fur-trimmed gowns for their wives. The latrines, the moat, the stables, the courtyards were always clean, as Liana liked cleanliness.
Liana, Liana, Liana, Helen thought, putting her fists to her temples. With the servants, it was always what Lady Liana wanted, what Lady Liana had ordered, or even what Gilbert’s first wife had established. Helen might not have existed for all the power she had in the running of the Neville properties.
It was when Helen’s two little girls had begun to quote Liana that Helen’s anger came to the boiling point. Young Elizabeth had wanted a pony of her own, and Helen had smiled and said she could have it. Elizabeth had merely blinked at her mother, then said, “I’ll ask Liana,” and run off.
It was that incident that had caused Helen to now give her husband an ultimatum. “I am less than nothing in this house,” she said to Gilbert. She didn’t bother to keep her voice down, even though she was well aware of the listening servants around them. They were Liana’s servants, well-trained, obedient men and women who knew their young mistress’s generosity as well as her wrath and who would, upon request, have laid down their lives for her.
“Either your daughter goes or I do,” Helen repeated.
Gilbert looked over the tray of meats that were molded into shapes of the twelve apostles. He chose St. Paul and popped him into his mouth. “And what am I to do with her?” he asked lazily. There wasn’t much on earth that could excite Gilbert Neville. Comfort, a good hawk, a good hound, good food, and peace were all he asked in life. He had no idea what his first wife had done to increase the wealth his father had left him and the huge dowry she had brought to the marriage, nor did he know what his daughter did. To his mind, the estates ran themselves. The peasants farmed; the nobility hawked; the king made laws. And it also seemed that women quarreled.
He had seen the beautiful young widow Helen Peverill as she rode across her dead husband’s land. Her dark hair had been streaming down her back, her large breasts were nearly coming out of her gown, and the wind plastered her skirts to strong, healthy thighs. Gilbert had experienced a rare moment of lust and had told her brother-in-law he’d like to marry Helen. Gilbert hadn’t done much after that until Liana told him it was time for the wedding. After one lusty wedding night, Gilbert was satisfied with Helen and expected her to go off and do whatever women did all day. But she hadn’t. Instead, she had begun to nag and nag—about Liana, of all things. Liana was such a sweet, pretty child, always seeing that the musicians played songs that Gilbert liked, telling the maids to bring him food and, on long winter evenings, telling stories to entertain him. He could not understand why Helen wanted Liana to go away. Liana was so quiet, one hardly knew she was around.
“I guess Liana can have a husband if she wants one,” Gilbert said, yawning. He believed in people doing what they wanted to. He thought the men worked in the fields from daylight to dark because they wanted to.
Helen tried to calm herself. “Of course Liana doesn’t want a husband. Whyever should she want a man to tell her what to do when she has absolute freedom—and absolute power—here? If I had had such power in my dead husband’s home, I would never have left.” She threw up her hands in a gesture of helpless anger. “To have power and no man to cater to! Liana has heaven on earth. She will never leave here.”
Even though Gilbert didn’t understand Helen’s complaints, her screeching was beginning to bother him. “I will speak to Liana and see if there is a husband she wants.”
“You have to command her to take a husband,” Helen said. “You have to choose a man for her and tell her she is to marry him.”
Gilbert looked down at his hound and smiled in memory. “I crossed Liana’s mother once and only once. I am not about to make the same error again and cross her daughter.”
“If you do not get your daughter out of my house, you will regret crossing me,” Helen said before turning on her heel and leaving the room.
Gilbert scratched his hound’s ears. This new wife was as a kitten to a lion compared to his first wife. He really couldn’t understand what Helen was angry about. It had never crossed his mind that a person would actually want responsibility. He picked up a molded St. Mark and ate it thoughtfully. Vaguely, he remembered someone warning him against having two women in the same household. Perhaps he would talk to Liana and see what she thought of this idea of getting a husband. If Helen carried out her threat and moved to another estate, he’d miss her in his bed. But if Liana did marry, perhaps she would marry someone with good breeding hawks.
“So,” Liana said softly, “my esteemed stepmother wants to throw me out of my own home, out of the home my mother worked to increase and I have managed for three years.”