Page 26 of Burying Venus
Righting herself as she realised she was not one of the chosen, Mrs Aisling said, ‘I don’t imagine my legs could carry me down. And seeing those filthy prisoners would disturb me. That Lord Robert should go near such violent, evil people! That poor man.’
‘Is Noelle here?’ Dermot asked.
‘Dear me, no! Lord Tristan needed something or other done upstairs, I can’t recall what,’ Mrs Aisling said. No movement betrayed this lie, only her constant squint. She tilted her chin, doubtless realising he guessed the implication, and smiled as though she were a saint. ‘Go on then, take Amy with you. But mind your manners in front of the gentleman witchfinder, girl. Not one man down there cares to look at you!’
Unable to stomach it, Dermot inched away. He could not bear anyone who conducted humiliations in public. Too many times had Will and Stephen been witnesses to Béchard’s outbursts, and it made him all the angrier.
‘I…’ a feminine voice came, startling Dermot from his trance. He had been recalling the time Béchard struck him in the head with a pan. ‘Am I really to go down with you?’ Amy said.
‘I wanted to ask Noelle,’ Dermot blurted. So rarely did he speak to women that he started walking up the stairs. It only occurred to him halfway that it would’ve been quicker to go down and use the door to the side.
‘I am sorry,’ Dermot said. He watched her smooth her blonde locks into place as they walked the length of the ramparts, and when they came to the stairs he stood to the side so she could go down first.
‘Oh!’ Amy cried. ‘Poor Noelle. You needn’t apologise, this is my doing!’
Hurrying down after her, he put a finger to his mouth, cautious of any would-be spies.
‘You are right,’ Amy said. ‘Tristan came for me, you see. But Noelle, seeing me in such a state, did go with him. But I didn’t ask her to!’
He suspected this was a usual occurrence with the maids. Mrs Aisling likely viewed it as tacit approval of her girls, and now Béchard sat in the kitchen comprehending the same thing.
‘I understand you,’ Dermot said.
‘Oh, but I think you don’t,’ Amy said, and Dermot paused at such a meek girl challenging him. ‘How can you understand? Have you had some lech drooling over you as you start a fire, covered in soot and face red from heat? And you can’t say no, else you and your mother would starve?’
‘Do you not do the same with Will?’ Dermot said. They were coming to the courtyard. He knew this only by the blistering gale that hit him, which at least numbed his burning cheeks.
Amy hastened to meet him, blocking his way. She confronted him in the manner of a woman safe in the knowledge it would not come to blows. ‘And I suppose you men can’t tell one woman from the other, so if an old hag wanted to bed you it would be no matter. You pull a girl apart for the slightest fault and speak to me as if a woman would have a man whose features she does not like by choice! Why, yes, I would go to bed with Will, but you? Never.’
Struck by this, Dermot ran his hand along the cold railing. He had been much cheered by Maldred’s attentions. Such an ethereal beauty serving him brought about all sorts of delusions, even the conquest of Thorne. And, having always entertained the idea of bedding Aubrey, he perhaps came to believe himself capable of the feat. To hear a woman speak so was damning.
Sighing, Amy said, ‘It’s just… poor Noelle. I had not asked her to do it, never would I wish such a thing on her. And now hereI am, to go down with you to the dungeon while she suffers up there.’ She kept walking and Dermot could do nothing but follow, disgruntled but at least cooled by the wind.
‘She is my dearest friend,’ Amy continued.
After what had been said, Dermot did not care to listen. He quickened his pace so she would be forced to hurry after. Striving to recover his dignity, he said, ‘Tristan is not bad looking.’
The guards would certainly hear them coming, odious men that they were. They did not count as staff, instead they were Robert’s dogs brought from the mainland. Seeing themselves as superior, they bullied any man in their way and were hot to run for Robert with any complaint, even if it was a look that lasted too long. Dermot had long been wary of them and kept his head down as they came into view.
‘Not bad looking,’ Amy echoed. ‘Well, why didn’t you tell us maids you thought so? All this time you could’ve been doing the bending over.’
It was said too close to the guards. Dermot put a hand to his cheek and near burnt his palm.
‘Rare to see a woman so lovely in these parts,’ one of the guards said.
Neither seemed to have heard Amy’s remark, which brought Dermot some relief. Never had he fantasised about being bedded; that was for the likes of Aubrey. But still his cock stirred as he thought on how Tristan’s long hair might be used for mastery. Surely an unexpected pull would elicit a cry. Such a wanton creature could easily be tamed, be there a man strong enough to do it.
‘A woman at his side and away in fairyland, he is! Damn these kitchen staff. Great fools and more trouble than they’re worth,’ the man to the right said.
‘They get all Lord Stanley’s scraps,’ the first said. It was then Dermot noticed the man was leering at him, and he was only pacified when he realised Amy had gone to stand behind him. Certainly he had no designs on any guard. They were mere hounds itching to lick Robert’s boots.
‘Would you open the hatch?’ Dermot said, and for some unfathomable reason this made them laugh.
‘Lord Robert has already gone down with the witchfinder,’ the second began. His admiration was so apparent that Dermot thought him either demented or infatuated. ‘He told us to wait for you, else I wouldn’t lower myself to talking to a kitchen boy.’
‘Kitchen boy! He’s in his twenties. Not much to show for it, mind you!’ The two of them laughed, grasping the hatch. It was a lofty, metal thing Dermot thought unlikely to move until they hefted it over the edge. ‘Get gone. And don’t think we’re going to help you get the maid down. Do it yourself, else she can expect a good handling.’
Saying nothing, Dermot took a breath and descended. He did not have the inclination to coddle the woman after what had been said and only hoped she would be able to keep steady.