‘There’s plenty for you to do. I’ve seen how slack things have become since you took over as chatelaine.’
Lady Margaret flinched, but she ignored the criticism. ‘My lady, I am not referring to my confinement.’
The silver needle stilled. ‘No?’
‘No, my lady. It’s for Cecily that I’m afraid. She’s not up to this wedding, and you know it.’
‘My son wishes her to marry,’ Lady Adeliza said, curtly. ‘He wants to make amends for causing her fall, he feels responsible.’
Lady Margaret’s crimson skirts swept the floor and she sank onto a stool next to her mother-in-law. ‘I understand that. However, you must see that this marriage cannot take place. My lady, Geoffrey is not unreasonable. He can be persuaded. If you and I were united in our condemnation of the match, then he would-’
‘I doubt it. There’s more to this than Cecily’s wedding.’
‘I don’t see it. He could send her to a nunnery and-’
‘You think Cecily’s delicate constitution would thrive in a nunnery? Margaret, I appreciate your concern but Geoffrey is set on this. Wild rumours are flying the length and breadth of the kingdom – rumours concerning the Angevin cub. Our King is being tested. There’s trouble brewing and my son wants to be prepared. Oliver de Warenne is a godsend and this marriage would bind him to us.’
‘There are others at Ingerthorpe and they are knights already,’ Inga put in jerkily. When both ladies turned their heads in her direction she flushed and muttered an awkward apology.
Catching Marie’s eye, Rosamund was amused to see the nurse put a finger to her lips. She was already holding her breath and needed no warning to remind her that if either of the ladies’ eyes fell on her, they would cut short their conversation or else complete it in French.
Lady Adeliza was raising an eloquent eyebrow. ‘There is, of course, Sir Gerard, but he’s living in the past. As for Sir Brian...’ her lip curled.
There was a smothered gasp and one of the women lifted her head from her work. It was Lady Adeliza’s other daughter, Lady Blanche. Her eyes blazed with such naked hostility that Rosamund almost echoed Blanche’s gasp with one of her own. Clearly, Lady Blanche did not share her mother’s view of Ingerthorpe’s youngest household knight.
Lady Adeliza ignored her daughter and patted Lady Margaret’s arm. ‘Our cousin de Warenne’s arrival here was most timely. Geoffrey will knight him, and when he’s married to Cecily, the bond with our family will be unbreakable. With the trouble that’s coming, we need a man with real experience.’
Lady Margaret searched the older woman’s face. ‘And you would sacrifice Cecily in this cause, your own daughter?’
‘The girl ceased being my daughter the day her wits were knocked from her skull.’
Lady Blanche winced, but her head didn’t lift from her needlework.
Lady Adeliza made a clucking sound. ‘God’s Bones, Margaret, we’re speaking English! What are you up to?’
Lady Margaret’s eyes flickered briefly towards Rosamund. ‘I was worried lest Cecily should hear us and be distressed,’ she said, lightly.
With a jolt, Rosamund realised that Lady Margaret wanted her to understand what was being said. Why? Did she believe she could influence Oliver? Did she want her to ask him not to marry Lady Cecily?
Lady Adeliza snorted. ‘Small matter that would be. Girl?’ She looked expectantly at Rosamund.
‘My lady?’
Lady Adeliza’s wave encompassed Lady Margaret’s distended stomach. ‘Since Marie will soon be too busy caring for a real infant to have time for a full-grown one, you are to care for my daughter, Lady Cecily’
‘As you wish, my lady.’
Marie gestured at the closed door and Rosamund went towards it.
‘Girl?’ Lady Adeliza’s imperious voice held her back, and for a moment her dark eyes looked almost vulnerable. ‘My oldest daughter might be...different, but I’ll not have you make a mock of her. I would have you remember she’s a Fitz Neal. And she’s very sick. Maybe mortal sick.’
Rosamund swallowed down an unexpected lump in her throat, and nodded. It would seem her judgement of Baron Geoffrey’s mother might have been a little hasty. Lady Adeliza was not as hard-hearted as she would like to make out.
***
Her evening meal finished, Rosamund set down her empty ale pot and left the trestle. On the dais, Oliver was laughing at some comment of Sir Brian’s. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his dark head was flung back, his face was creased with merriment.
Her duties with Lady Cecily were over for the day, so she was free to explore. As she wandered past the other trestles, heading for the main entrance, a castle guard snatched at her skirts. His eyes were glazed with too much ale, and his smile was more leer than smile.