One of her eyes was swollen tightly shut, the other was a mere slit. Blood had dried on her lips and chin and beneath her nose, but it was hardly noticeable against the deep blue-black bruises surrounding the whole of her face. She was loath to imagine what her chest and arms looked like, for Richer had not confined his blows to her head.
She was clothed as fully as she had been when Richer left her. And someone had kept Wilda from coming to her last evening, so she had not disrobed at all. She had, she guessed, lapsed into unconsciousness soon after Richer left, and not wakened since.
“I think I have looked better,” Leonie said, setting the mirror down. “I thought he had broken my nose, but now I think it will mend—along with the rest of me.”
“How can you jest, my lady?”
“Because it is better than crying, and that is what I will do if I think of what this beating accomplished.”
“You will marry him then?”
“You know about it?”
“My lady, the horses are saddled and waiting. Everything is prepared and ready…except you.”
Leonie would have given anything to stop this, but now that she had given her word, sworn on all that was holy as well as her mother’s grave, she would have to marry Rolfe d’Ambert. It did not matter that the vow had been beaten out of her—she had said the words and she would have to abide by them.
Oh, how she wanted to cry. She had been so sure she could withstand Richer’s hands, but she was wrong. He had slapped her again and again, and when, her cheeks scarlet, she did not cower or beg, he began using his fists. She had borne as much as she could, believing that the beating could not be worse than whatever the Black Wolf planned for her. But when she realized that Richer would kill her if he was not stopped, and that there was no one to stop him, she had given up. If her father could let this happen, he would not save her.
No one interfered. No one came, even when she screamed. She knew then that there would be no help, and so she did what she had to do.
Sir Guibert would kill Richer for her, but what good was that? The scum was only following her father’s orders. And although she was choking in sorrow and hatred for her father, she did not wish for more violence. Therefore, she would have to conceal what had been done to her.
“Bring me my medicines, Wilda, then find me a suitable gown to be married in. I care not if my husband knows I was forced to wed him, but no one else is to know. Do you understand? Find me a veil, a dark one, and gloves, I think. I have had a recurrence of my childhood rashes, and there is no time to make the ointment to relieve it. Do you hear? That is what you will go and tell my aunt and Sir Guibert.”
“But you outgrew those rashes.”
“I know, but it is not impossible that I became so nervous about meeting my future husband that the rash reappeared. And it is also understandable that I would wish to hide it. Just make sure Sir Guibert believes the story. Do that now, then return and help me dress. And carry my medicines along to Crewel. I will have more need of them later.”
Alone, Leonie put her head in her hands and sobbed. This day was going to be one horror after another.
For the swelling and bruises she applied a mixture of the marsh mallow root and oil of roses. For her nerves and the overall aching she drank a sedating syrup made from chamomile flowers. She would have taken a mixture of white poppy, but she didn’t think she should fall asleep during the wedding ceremony.
By the time Wilda returned, Leonie was already feeling the effects of the sedative.
“You told Sir Guibert what I bid you?”
“Aye. He was most sympathetic and said he would himself explain to your husband the reason why you will be veiled. And your aunt began to cry. She wanted to come to you now but Lady Judith has kept her busy through the night and all morning. Why, I don’t believe she has had any sleep.”
“It is just as well. I do not want her to see me like this.” Looking at her young maid squarely, she said, “Tell me something, Wilda. Have you ever had a man?”
“My lady! I—”
“I will not scold you, Wilda,” Leonie quickly assured her. “My mother died without preparing me, thinking she would have time for it later. And I could not ask Aunt Beatrix about these things. I want to know what I will face today. Tell me.”
Wilda lowered her eyes, speaking softly. “It will be painful the first time, my lady. It is the tearing of your maidenhead that causes the pain and the bleeding that will be displayed on your sheets the next morning. But it is not a great pain and is quickly over. Afterward—is most enjoyable.”
“Truly? The other girls at court said it was horrible.”
“They lied. Or they repeated what their mothers told them.” She shrugged. “For some women it is always painful because they believe it is a sin to enjoy it. But as long as you have some feeling for your husband—” Wilda gasped, realizing her blunder. “Oh, my lady, I am sorry. I know you have no liking for the man.”
“So I am doomed always to feel pain? But he has no liking for me, either, so perhaps he will not bother me often. I thank you for telling me, Wilda.”
Leonie told herself to stay calm. She could not go to Crewel trembling in dread. If he hoped to see her cower, he had much to learn about Leonie of Montwyn.
Chapter 9
LEONIE instantly recognized the woman who waited in the large hall of Crewel to greet the wedding party. She introduced herself as Lady Amelia, ward of Rolfe d’Ambert, but Leonie knew her as the woman who had given the Black Wolf her favor on the tourney field and accepted his passionate kiss. Ward? Mistress, without a doubt. But Leonie wasn’t sorry. The Black Wolf could have a hundred mistresses, as long as he left her alone.
“Sir William, Lady Judith, do you make yourselves comfortable and my lord Rolfe will greet you in a moment,” Amelia said in a most agreeable tone. She turned to Leonie then. “My lady, if you will come with me, I will show you to a chamber where you may wait until the ceremony begins.”
Leonie said not a word. She followed the older woman, glad to be gone from her father and Judith’s company. She had said not a word to either of them during the journey to Crewel. Her father had tried to talk to her, but she had turned away from him.
Leonie knew Crewel well. She knew that Amelia was taking her to the small room next to the chapel in the forebuilding. Crewel was not like Pershwick at all. Sir Edmond had looked to his comfort in all things, and Leonie remembered that one of the reasons she enjoyed coming to Crewel as a child was the fascination of always finding something changed. Once it was a new room added above the raised dais at the lord’s end of the hall. Later that space was enclosed to become the lord’s chamber. Then a room was added at the opposite end of the hall above the servants’ smaller hearth, when Alain was knighted. Soon after that the space between the two large chambers was filled in, and now there was a whole second floor with many stairways circling up to it from the hall. The original ceiling had been so high that, even with the second floor, the ceiling was still high above everything.
It was a place of comfort, and it offered privacy where Pershwick did not, but Leonie’s nervousness was mounting. It struck her suddenly that the Black Wolf’s mistress had greeted them in the hall. What peculiar behavior. He was treating her contemptuously even before the wedding.
The small room that Amelia brought her to contained two stools and a table with a bottle of wine and glasses on it. “It may be a while before they are ready for you, Lady Leonie. The marriage contract must be agreed upon first.”
“I am in no hurry,” Leonie replied without feeling, leaving Amelia wondering what to think of her. She had been ready to hate her rival, eager to spite her in any way possible. But the girl before her was no bigger than a child. She even sounded like a child. With her cloak drawn tightly about her and a long veil covering her head and face, there was no telling what she looked like. Girls were married at thirteen and fourteen, or even younger, so she could be very young. That would certainly change Amelia’s thinking, for she could hardly see a child as a rival.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Amelia asked. “Would you like to remove your veil or…?”
Leonie shook her head. “If you would send me my maid Wilda, I would be grateful.”
“As you will,” Amelia replied with a heavy sigh. In that instant, she determined she would come back soon and catch Leonie unawares. Surely the girl would remove the veil after she sat in that tiny room a while. It was hot in there.
She found the maid and sent her to Lady Leonie and then, hearing Rolfe’s angry voice in the hall, hurried in the other direction, toward the kitchens, to make sure preparations were running smoothly.
That was not something Amelia would ordinarily concern herself with, having customarily left the running of Rolfe’s household to the Crewel steward, but she most particularly did not wish to return to the chamber she had moved her belongings into just that morning. That room was a reminder that, at least for the present, she was not first lady at Crewel Keep.
In the tiny room next to the chapel, Leonie heard a voice raised in anger. She recognized it from that day in the woods. The Black Wolf. But it was the first time Wilda had heard him, and even though they could not make out his words, the poor girl’s eyes went wide with fright. Leonie could not reassure her, not without lying, so she kept quiet, adding more sedative to her wine.