Gilbert thought perhaps his head was beginning to hurt. Helen had ranted at him for hours on end last night. It seems Liana had given some order for new cottages to be built in the walled town at the foot of the castle. Helen was horrified that Liana planned to use Neville money to pay for these cottages rather than let the peasants pay for them themselves. Helen had been so angry and screeched so loudly that all six of Gilbert’s hawks had flown from their perches into the rafters. They had been hooded to keep them calm and the blind, panicked flight had caused one bird to break its neck. Gilbert knew that something had to be done; he couldn’t bear losing more of his beloved hawks.
His first thought was to fit the two women with armor and let them joust for who remained and who left, but women had weapons harder than steel: They had words.
“I think Helen believes you’ll be, well, happier in your own home. With your own husband and a few brats.” Gilbert couldn’t imagine being happier than on the Neville lands, but who knew about women?
Liana walked to the window and looked out across the inner courtyard, across the thick castle walls and below to the walled town. This was just one of the estates her family owned, only one of the many she managed. Her mother had spent long years training Liana how to treat the people, how to check the steward’s records, and how to bring in a profit every year that would be used to buy more land.
Liana had been angry when her father said he was going to marry a pretty young widow. She didn’t like the idea of another woman’s trying to take her mother’s place and she had a premonition of trouble, but Gilbert Neville had his own stubborn streak and sincerely believed he should be allowed to do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. For the most part, Liana was pleased he wasn’t one of those men who thought of nothing but war and weapons. He stayed with his hounds and his hawks and left the more important matters first to his wife, then to his daughter.
Until now. Now he’d married the vain Helen, whose foremost thought was profit so that she could buy more and richer clothes. Helen kept five women working long hours sewing on her gowns. There was one woman who did nothing but sew on seed pearls. Last month alone, Helen had purchased twenty-four pelts of fur, and the month before that she had bought a basketful of ermine pelts, thinking no more of the expense than if she’d purchased a basket of corn. Liana knew that if she turned over the running of the estates to Helen, she’d bleed the peasants dry just so she could have a belt of gold and diamonds.
“Well?” Gilbert asked from behind Liana. Women! he thought. He was going to miss the day’s hunting if he didn’t get an answer from his daughter
. The way Helen was acting, she might climb on a horse and follow him just so she could continue to berate him.
Liana turned to her father. “Tell my stepmother I will marry if I find a suitable man.”
Gilbert looked relieved. “That seems fair enough. I’ll tell her, and she’ll be happy.” He started out the door, then paused and put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder in a rare display of affection. Gilbert wasn’t a man to look at the past, but at this moment he wished he’d never seen Helen, never married her. He hadn’t realized how comfortable he’d been with his daughter to look after his simple needs and a maid now and then to care for his baser needs. He shrugged. There was no use regretting what couldn’t be changed. “We’ll find you a lusty young man who’ll give you a dozen brats to fret over.” He left the room.
Liana sat down hard on the feather mattress of her bed and waved her maid out of the room. Liana held her hands up and saw how they were shaking. She’d once faced a crowd of peasants armed with sickles and axes alone, with three terrified maids behind her, yet she’d kept her head and turned the rabble away by giving them what food she carried with her and jobs on her land. She’d dealt with drunken soldiers; she had once escaped a rape by an overzealous suitor. She had been able to deflect one disaster after another with calmness, assurance, and peace of mind.
But the idea of marriage terrified her. Not just frightened her, but deep-down, inside-her-soul terrified her. Two years ago she had seen her cousin Margaret married off to a man chosen by the girl’s father. Before the marriage the man had written love sonnets to Margaret’s beauty. Margaret used to talk about how her forthcoming marriage was a love match and she so looked forward to a life with this beloved man.
After the marriage, the man showed his true self. He sold most of Margaret’s immense dowry to pay his huge debts. He left Margaret in an old, decaying, cold castle with but a few retainers, then went to court, where he spent most of the rest of her dowry on jewels for his many high-born whores.
Liana knew how fortunate she was to have the power of running her father’s estates. She knew that no woman had any power unless it was granted to her by a man. Men had been asking for her hand in marriage since she was four years old. She had been betrothed once, when she was eight, but the young man had died before she was ten. Her father had never bothered to accept any offers after that and so Liana had quietly been able to escape marriage. When some suitor had pressed his petition, all Liana had had to do was remind Gilbert of what chaos her marriage would cause and Gilbert refused the offer.
But now this greedy Helen was interfering. Liana considered turning all power of running the estates over to her stepmother and retiring to their estate in Wales. Yes, that would be remote enough. She could live there in privacy, and soon both Helen and her father would forget about her.
Liana stood up, her fists clenched at her side, her simple, unornamented velvet gown sweeping the tile floor. Helen would never allow her to live in peace. Helen would pursue her to the ends of the earth to make sure her stepdaughter was as miserable as all women seemed to be in marriage.
Liana picked up her hand mirror from a little table by the window and stared at her reflection. In spite of all the love poems eager young men who wanted to marry her had written, in spite of the songs the traveling singers who were paid by her had sung, she could not see that she was a beauty. She was too pale, too blonde, too…too innocent-looking to be a beauty. Helen was beautiful, with her snapping dark eyes that let everyone know she had secrets, with her sultry way of looking at men. Liana sometimes thought the reason she could control the servants so well was because she was sexless. When Helen walked across the courtyard, men stopped what they were doing and looked at her. Men tugged their forelocks in respect to Liana, but they didn’t stand gaping or guffaw and punch each other when she passed.
She moved to the window and looked down into the courtyard. A pretty milkmaid was being teased by an assistant farrier, the boy’s hands reaching for the girl’s round, shapely body.
Liana turned away, for the sight was too painful for her to bear. Never could she hope for some young man to chase her around a well. She could never find out if some young man wanted to chase her. Her father’s people would always treat her with the respect of her station and address her as “my lady.” Her suitors would do anything to win her hand because they wanted her dowry. It wouldn’t matter if she were a hunchback with three eyes; she would still receive flowery compliments and glowing praise of her beauty. Once, a man had sent her a poem about the beauty of her feet. As if he’d ever seen them!
“My lady.”
Liana looked up to see her maid, Joice, standing in the doorway. Joice was the closest thing to a friend that Liana had. Being only ten years older than Liana, Joice was almost like a sister. Liana’s mother had hired Joice to care for Liana when Liana was just a baby and Joice had been little more than a child herself. Liana’s mother had taught her daughter to run estates, but when Liana had had a bad dream, it was Joice who’d comforted her. It was Joice who’d stayed up with her through childhood illnesses and Joice who’d taught her about things other than estate management. Joice had explained how babies were made and what the man who’d tried to rape her had wanted.
“My lady,” Joice said, always careful to show respect to her young charge. Liana could afford to be friendly, but Joice was always aware of her place, always aware that tomorrow she could be without a roof over her head or food on the table. She did not volunteer advice that might not be wanted. “There is a dispute in the kitchen and—”
“You are fond of your husband, Joice?”
The maid hesitated before answering. The entire castle knew what Lady Helen was demanding, and the people were of the belief that if Liana left, the Neville estates would be dust in six years. “Aye, my lady, I am.”
“Did you choose him or was he chosen for you?”
“Your mother chose him, but I believe she wanted to please me, so I was married to a young and healthy man and I have come to love him.”
Liana’s head came up. “Have you?”
“Oh yes, my lady, that often happens.” Joice felt she was on safe ground here. All women were afraid before their marriage. “When one spends long winter nights together, love often follows.”
Liana turned away. If one could spend time together, she thought. If your greedy husband didn’t send you away. She looked back at her maid. “Am I pretty, Joice? I mean actually pretty enough so that a man might be interested in me and not in all this?” She moved her arm to indicate the silk-hung bed, the tapestry on the north wall, the silver-gilt ewer, the carved oak furniture.
“Oh yes, my lady,” Joice answered glibly. “You are very pretty, beautiful actually. There is no man high or low who could resist you. Your hair—”