Page 12 of Her Noble Groom
Chapter nine
Y uletide brought twelve days of blessed relief from toil, and an open invitation to dine at the manor house on Christmas and Twelfth Night.
A year ago, Thomasse had sat on the dais with her father dining on fine dishes.
This year, they ate with the peasants and shared their humble fare.
Another reminder of how much their lives had changed.
The winter days passed in quiet routine, each day much like the last. It was a fortnight prior to Ash Wednesday when her father declared the fishing sparse and the waters dangerous. He would sojourn to Mont Orgueil in hopes of receiving tidings of King Henry and the royal family.
He left with scant thought for Thomasse’s safety.
Keeping the door securely barred did not dispel her fear whenever loud male voices sounded beyond the door as the French soldiers patrolled the shores.
Nor the anger that rose when the smell of roasting mutton wafted through the shutters—another sheep stolen from a poor tenant farmer.
And each night, she prayed for her father’s safe return.
He had now been gone thirteen days, and she had never known such loneliness. Her work and an occasional chat with James were the only distractions during her father’s absence.
She wrapped her cloak tightly around her to stave off the February chill as she meandered through the village street. As she rounded the curve, she was surprised to see James waiting for her by the well. He greeted her warmly. “There is a betrothal celebration tonight. Would you care to join us?”
With her days spent laboring and her nights alone, she yearned for a bit of mirth. What harm could come of it?
She smiled. “That would be lovely. ”
They veered onto the byway leading toward the tenant farms. Children bounded out from behind a cottage, shrieking with delight, oblivious to the cold, and chasing a black-haired dog that kept just out of their reach.
The sounds of the celebration could be heard before they reached the cottage.
Inside, the guests milled about. Mothers chatted with babes on their hips, while tots sat on their fathers’ shoulders.
The espoused couple, sat in the middle, the maiden’s cheeks flushed, as guests shouted ribald comments—“Keep her warm, ye swain. Cold wife, cold cock”—“Keep yer manyard stiff till her belly starts a-swellin’. ”
Thomasse gawked. Never had she attended a celebration quite like this.
In her younger years, she had been relegated to the nursery, forbidden to join in the fun.
As a young lady, she had been instructed in proper behavior, acceptable subjects for polite conversation, good table manners, and admonished to always maintain her dignity.
As the sun set, the cottage darkened, and instruments magically appeared. The guests took turns singing and dancing. Even the children joined in the fun.
Thomasse stood next to the wall as she watched. At the parties she had attended in England, every guest had been adorned in their finery, so self-important. And while there had been laughter, it felt polite rather than joyous.
Even the dancing was different. She was accustomed to promenades, where guests preened like peacocks, eager to be admired. But tonight’s dancing was all hand clapping and foot stomping—energetic and fun, accompanied by smiles and sincere laughter.
James interrupted her musings. “Shall we dance?”
She nodded eagerly. They joined the circle, moving right to left and back again, as she tried to mimic their movements.
And when she moved the wrong direction and kicked when she should have clapped, no one seemed to mind.
Just a bit of mirth, along with encouragement that she would soon get it right.
When the dance was finished, she collapsed on the ground with the others, overcome in gales of laughter.
The thunder of hooves silenced the merriment.
Soldiers! The guests hushed, praying they would ride past, but a knock sounded on the door.
The host cracked it open and six soldiers shoved their way inside, swords drawn.
They brandished their weapons in the faces of frightened women and children, barking out orders in French.
“Gatherings are forbidden. Go home or be arrested.”
The host pointed to the door. “Get out! You have no right to enter my home.”
A soldier grabbed him, twisting his arm behind his back. Everyone gasped when they heard a crack and the host screamed in pain.
The soldiers laughed. “Serves him right for defying us,” one said in French. “Make an example of him. Hang him outside on the tree.”
Two soldiers shoved the host toward the door.
It was too much for Thomasse. She had stood by while these isle folk were punished for lacking the means to pay tribute—but to be terrorized for having a bit of fun? These people had done nothing wrong and did not deserve to be treated like criminals.
“ Arrête . Stop,” she yelled as she pushed her way through the guests. “ Ils ne veulent pas de mal. They mean no harm.”
A soldier wheeled about and pointed his sword at her breast. Her heart pounded, and her legs shook. What was she thinking? She might be brutalized and hanged for interfering.
The soldier leered at her, slowly licked his lips, then spoke to the other soldiers, “What do you think? Should we let the Jersey dog go for a turn with the damsel?”
“Indeed! I can hear the wench moaning, begging for more already,” another soldier replied, making sucking sounds with his lips. “Her honey, sweet on my tongue.”
“How dare you speak to me thus?” Thomasse placed her hands on her hips. Where she continued to find the courage to speak, she could not comprehend. “Are you not here to hold the isle for King Henry? I am the daughter of a loyal knight.”
“Think you are too noble for our ilk? Not tonight, ma chérie,” a third soldier sneered.
“Sour as milk. Cette garce needs a proper ride,” the first soldier said.
Another soldier shoved the host into the center of the cottage. “Nay, better to gut this one like a fish before he swings. ”
“Unless you wish to anger the true king of England, I demand you leave these people in peace.”
The first soldier curled his lip in contempt. “Of course, your ladyship, but only if these scum return to their homes forthwith.”
“As you wish.” She appealed to James for help. “I hope you can convince everyone to leave.”
James repeated the soldiers’ demands, and the guests quickly dispersed into the night. The brewster stopped to squeeze Thomasse’s arm and whispered “Gramercy.”
The soldiers released the host, who fell to the floor, groaning. They stumped out of the cottage. The first soldier turned back. “Next time there will be no mercy.”
Thomasse rushed to the host’s side. “He needs someone to set his arm.”
“It will have to wait,” James said. “’Tis too dangerous to fetch a healer tonight.”
Thomasse looked up and saw the man’s family and the espoused couple huddled, their faces fraught with worry.
“Can I have your apron?” Thomasse asked the woman she thought was the host’s wife. “I can make a sling to take some of the pressure off until the healer arrives.”
Once the man’s arm was tended to, he was carefully laid on his mat for the night.
After receiving assurances that someone would fetch Madame de Beauvoir in the morning, Thomasse and James slipped out of the cottage.
She closed her eyes and offered a silent prayer of gratitude that the situation had resolved peacefully and without serious injury.
Her knees buckled, and she felt herself falling.
J ames caught Thomasse as she collapsed.
She turned in his arms and rested her head on his shoulder.
The scent of her jasmine perfume, mixed with the relief that she was safe, made him momentarily forget everything else.
Her body trembled, and the sudden, overwhelming desire to kiss her took him by surprise.
But he had no right. Despite her current misfortune, she had been born a lady above his station.
And nigh betrothed according to her father, although he had seen no sign of its verity.
A soldier shouted, and he whispered, “We need to get out of here.”
Gripping her arm tightly, they hastened away from the cottage, retracing their steps along the byway from which they had come. Once out of sight of the soldiers, he said, “That was very brave. Without your intervention, someone may have died or been imprisoned tonight.”
Her blue eyes met his, her voice breathy. “I have never been more frightened.” She dropped her gaze. “Well, except for when you drew me out of the water.”
“A most fortunate rescue.” Something she had said to the soldiers nagged him. “Is it true your father is one of King Henry’s knights?”
She bit her lip. “I merely said what I thought advantageous in the moment.” The tremor in her voice hinted that she might not be telling the entire truth.
“Where is your father? He has been gone for some time. Should the seigneur organize a search party?”
Her eyes darted from side-to-side. “It has been but a few days. I am certain he will return soon, when he completes his business.”
“Business? What business could a fisher have that requires such a lengthy absence?”
“He heard a name spoken, someone he had met previously,” Thomasse said, avoiding his gaze. “He hopes they might help speed our return to England.”
He watched her face closely. “And left his daughter unprotected?”
Thomasse pushed her braid behind her shoulder. “It was impossible for me to go. I promised your mother—”
“’Tis dangerous for a woman alone, particularly now you have drawn the attention of the soldiers. Stay with my family tonight.”
Thomasse straightened. “I can care for myself.”
He touched her arm, and it was like something sparked. He searched her face, wondering if she felt it too. “But if the soldiers show up at your cottage—”
“The door will be barred.”
“You think a barred door will keep them out? One woman against several determined soldiers is hardly a fair fight.”
She looked down the path leading to St. Ouen’s Manor. “If you think it best. I suppose one night will not matter.”
James tucked her arm through his as they walked back to the village, troubled by the feelings awakened by this woman.
J ames pushed open the door to his mother’s cottage and beckoned for Thomasse to follow him inside. Colette and several children sat around the fire. All were quiet, probably still shaken by the night’s events. In unison, they looked up, staring at her and James.
“I brought Thomasse here. I think it unsafe for her to return home to an empty cottage tonight,” James said.
“Of course, she must stay,” said Colette. “And you too, James. During these times, ’tis not safe for anyone after dark.”
He retrieved mats and blankets for Thomasse and himself. She lay down and wrapped the blanket around her. She closed her eyes, but sleep did not come, her mind replaying the events of the evening over and over.
She rolled onto her side. James, already asleep, breathed deeply. His face was so much more handsome when devoid of worry. He had called her brave, and she thought he might kiss her. Would it have been gentle or fierce with passion? For some reason, she wanted to know.
Sleep finally descended, and she dreamed of lying amongst the flowers, the sun warm on her skin, her lover beside her, amber eyes filled with love.
She awoke, her body warm, damp with sweat, wishing the dream could linger. When she finally opened her eyes, James’s mat was empty. She breathed a sigh of relief, certain if he had been there, her face would have revealed her secret.