Page 21 of When I Fall in Love (De Piaget #4)
N icholas carried a candle with him down the passageway. He wouldn’t have bothered with such a thing for himself, but he thought that it might give him yet another moment or two to admire Jennifer before the sun rose. He paused at the door, but before he could knock, the door opened. Jennifer was standing there, very much awake and seemingly prepared to follow him in whatever madness he planned to combine. Her hair was loose today and she was smiling.
She was spectacular.
“You did mean early,” she said with a smile.
“But you were ready.”
“I couldn’t exactly sleep late when you’re agreeing to take me on your day now, could I?” she asked. She stepped out into the passageway and shut the door behind her. “Where to first?”
Into my arms was almost out of his mouth before he could stop it. He feared, though, that once he had her there, he would never want to let her go.
“First?” he repeated, dragging himself back to the present. “Well, often I attend mass in the morning. Does that suit?”
“It’s your day,” she said with a smile. “I’m happy to go where you go.”
Oh, that she might always feel thus. Nicholas nodded, offered her his arm in his most gallant fashion, and led her down the stairs, through the great hall, and across the courtyard to the chapel.
Moments later, he was sitting next to her on a hard wooden bench, listening to mass. Well, to be perfectly honest, he was pretending to listen to mass. He was actually excruciatingly aware of the woman sitting next to him with her hands folded demurely in her lap and her eyes fixed on the priest. He couldn’t say he was doing the same. He was watching her, simply because he couldn’t help himself.
Did they have mass in her day?
Did anyone pay the priest any heed at all if she was there to look at instead?
“Nicholas,” she murmured.
“What?”
“Pay attention.”
“I am paying attention.”
“Pay attention to the mass. The friar is glaring at you.”
He looked at Friar Osbert and found that that was indeed the case, so he bowed his head. But he smiled. He was tempted to hold Jennifer’s hand, but he didn’t dare. As she had said, his father’s priest was not happy with him and such a thing would have only irritated the man further. So, instead, he sat on his hands as he had done when he’d been ten-and-two, sitting next to Robin and trying not to hit him.
At least for a few moments. Eventually, he couldn’t help himself. He extended his little finger and touched a bit of her skirt.
She froze, then looked down. She stared at his hand for several moments, then looked at him from under her eyelashes.
She smiled.
Nicholas smiled weakly in return.
Friar Osbert cleared his throat pointedly.
“Pay attention,” Nicholas whispered.
She shot him a glare, then turned her attentions fully back to the priest. But she was smiling, apparently in spite of herself.
Nicholas bowed his head and kept his eyes focused on the stone floor between his feet, but he couldn’t help a smile as well.
By the saints, what he’d been reduced to.
Several hours later, he realized that attending mass had simply been the start to a spectacularly useless morning.
He had managed to break his fast fairly successfully after escaping the chapel, but things had deteriorated rapidly after that. He hadn’t heard anything his father’s steward tried to tell him; he’d been far too distracted by the sight of Jennifer sitting before the fire in his father’s solar. After embarrassing himself there, he’d added to his stature by almost finding himself slain by Miles in the lists. In his defense, he’d been likewise distracted there by Jennifer sitting on a bench near the wall.
After being profoundly grateful for an unpierced belly, he had attended to all the business of the day, and then hastened upstairs to have a bit of a wash and dress himself for the more important activities of wooing a beautiful woman.
He hurried back down to the great hall to collect Jennifer from where he’d left her. She was alone, simply standing there staring into the fire.
He paused at the edge of the stairwell and looked his fill. She had a very contemplative air about her and he wondered what she was thinking. Did she look at his father’s hall and find it lacking? Surely she was accustomed to unbelievable luxuries. He hadn’t peeked into his father’s trunk and examined her Future clothing, but he had been tempted. Fortunately, he did have some small bit of self-control left.
A very small bit.
And what did she think of him? She’d been kind and even given him the odd compliment, but perhaps she was being polite. After all, he hadn’t shown her much to recommend himself so far. He’d been vile, rude, and unchivalrous. He’d housed her in a keep that was falling down. He’d left her with her only security being his younger brothers.
’Twas a pity he hadn’t met her in France. She might have even thought his hall there fine enough to tempt her to stay in the past—though he supposed she didn’t think she had a choice but to stay. He pursed his lips and looked heavenward. He couldn’t tell her about a gate until he was certain he knew where a working gate lay. He couldn’t do that until he’d talked to Jake. And he wasn’t going to talk to Jake that day.
It wasn’t wrong to ignore the fact that he might have a way to help her home just so he could keep her near and hope beyond hope that she would learn to love him. Was it?
He couldn’t bring himself to examine that.
He sighed deeply and stepped out into the hall. She looked up, saw him, and smiled.
He made it across the floor, but he honestly couldn’t have said how. He stopped in front of her and bowed.
“How do you fare?” he asked, straightening.
“Very well, thank you, my lord. What now?”
“I thought perhaps you might like to see the village,” he said. “To see how a simple peasant lives.”
“I likely should—”
“Nay, not for that reason,” he said with a snort. He took her hand and led her toward the door. “I think you should simply because you should know how my father’s people live. You won’t find this elsewhere in England.”
“Why not?”
“Come with me and see.”
He walked with her out of the great hall and down the stairs to the courtyard. He tried to look at everything with a fresh eye, imagining himself coming from inconceivable comfort and luxury.
He nodded purposefully at a pair of his father’s guards as they walked through the barbican gates.
They’d made their way across the drawbridge before Jennifer looked over her shoulder. Then she glanced up at him.
“Don’t look now, but we’re being followed.”
“I know,” he said with a smile. “I asked them to come.”
“Really? Don’t you usually go into the village on your own?”
“Usually,” he answered, “but today I am not alone and having a pair of my father’s guardsmen to hand is simply added safety.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
“It is my pleasure.”
They walked in silence for a bit longer. “Nicholas?”
“Aye?”
“Why don’t you have guardsmen of your own? Or a squire?”
He considered. “I haven’t really had the opportunity for it. Before Robin wed, we spent so much time traveling it wasn’t possible. Then Amanda wed and I went with Petter and his lads to work on Raventhorpe.” He looked at her with a smile. “Do you think I should have a clutch of squires and pages dogging my steps?”
“I think their fathers would count themselves fortunate to have you care for their sons.”
“Think you?” he asked seriously.
“Don’t you?”
He shrugged. “I’m capable enough, I suppose.”
“Please,” she said wryly. “You can’t not know you’re much more than that.”
“Perhaps,” he said with a smile.
He continued on, walking next to her with his hands clasped behind his back, trying to watch her surreptitiously so he might see her reaction. She was looking around her, wide-eyed. He wondered, far less casually than he would have liked, what she thought of it all. Robin had it aright. He should have listened to Jake whilst he’d had the chance.
Then the village was upon him and he had no more time for speculation. He greeted most all the inhabitants by name, though he was the first to admit that there had been several additions in the persons of babes and a spouse or two he didn’t know. He talked with men about their crops, picked up a youngling who seemed determined to become too familiar with his sword, and paused to play a game with the lads. The village elders requested a conference, which he agreed to only after Jennifer said she would be fine on her own. He left his father’s men with her and went to the village hall to speak with the leaders of his father’s people.
It took longer than he’d wanted it to, but when he finally found Jennifer, he realized that his delay had been amply rewarded. He found her on the green, sitting on a stump with a baby on her lap, talking with a handful of young mothers and a pair of old grandmothers. She looked perfectly at ease and had a way about her that seemed to make others feel equally at ease.
Yet she was no peasant. Her manners were too fine, her grace too apparent.
She was luminous. He decided, as he watched her and lost his heart more with each moment that passed, that her beauty came from inside. She was his mother and her goodness; Amanda and her fire; Isabelle and her love of all things beautiful. She was everything he’d looked for.
She made Joanna’s brittle beauties look cold and distant.
He decided suddenly that no matter what happened, he would see that she lived the life of a fine lady. If she couldn’t return to her time yet did not want him, he would see her dowered properly. He could do nothing less.
But the thought of her wanting anyone but him was enough to sober him abruptly.
Then Jennifer lifted her eyes and caught sight of him.
She smiled.
He would have staggered, but he was made of more sturdy stuff than that. He smiled in return, then waited until she had finished conversing with the women. She thanked a mother for the loan of her child, returned the babe gently, then excused herself. Nicholas nodded to the women, then looked at his lady.
“Well?” he asked.
“I have a lot to think about,” she said honestly.
“Would you care to see the rest of the village?”
“I would.”
“Then let us continue on.”
He showed her the houses of the miller, the baker, the village smith. He showed her dwellings that were well fashioned and those inhabited by less prosperous folk. He walked with her past fields and pastures. And all the while, she didn’t say aught. She merely watched everything with a grave expression.
He suspected she was trying to put herself in a peasant’s place and wondering how she would manage.
He supposed he should wonder the same thing. But for the insistence of Gwennelyn de Piaget on seeing if he existed, he would have been orphaned at six and likely been tilling some piece of earth for another man himself.
’Twas sobering, truly.
Jennifer stopped on the edge of a large field planted with wheat and looked at Nicholas. “It seems like a hard life,” she said, finally.
“How so?” he asked.
“Farming is never easy,” she said.
“Neither is being a lord,” Nicholas said frankly. “There are perils associated with both.”
She sat down on a rock wall and looked up at him. “Tell me.”
He sat down next to her, lifted his face briefly to the early summer sun, then turned to her.
“My father’s villeins work three days a week for him, farming his land. That is a usual amount of time for a man to farm his lord’s earth. What is different is my father pays them for their labor as well. Not much,” he added, “but something. I don’t know another lord who concedes so much. He bears a portion of the cost of grinding their wheat and baking their bread as well. When the girls wed, he sends gifts. When there is a death, he sees to the widows and orphans.”
“As you did with Mark’s family,” she said quietly.
He shrugged. “I did what was needful.”
“I never meant to suggest that I thought your father was a hard taskmaster,” she said. “Farming just seems a harsh life to me.”
Nicholas smiled ruefully. “It is my own defensiveness that speaks. My sire is very, very wealthy and there are those in England who believe he has garnered his wealth from the backs of his peasants.”
“They seem to be quite happy to be here.”
“For the most part, I daresay they are,” he agreed. “To be sure, there is some comfort in knowing that if an enemy approached, they could retreat to the castle and my father would protect them.”
“That would comfort me.” She paused. “And what of you? You have a keep in France, don’t you?”
“Aye.”
“Is it large?”
“Very,” he admitted.
“And how do you treat your people?”
“As my father treats his.”
She smiled. “Do you like it there? In France?”
“Aye,” he said. “The wine is perfection and my cook is beyond compare. And the view is lovely as well.”
“Why aren’t you there?” she asked.
“Fate,” he said with a smile. And so it was. If he had been in France, he wouldn’t have ridden to Ledenham’s abbey that day and ... He shuddered.
“Nicholas?”
“A chill,” he said promptly. Aye, he wouldn’t have ridden to the abbey that day and he would have missed finding the treasure sitting next to him.
He could scarce bear the thought.
“Shall we keep walking,” he managed, “or would you care to return to the keep?”
“I’m just following you today,” she said, looking not unhappy by that. “What do you need to do?”
Nicholas gazed over the fields and gave it serious thought. He could have trained a bit more. He could have considered his own coffers and made himself a budget for the new keep. He had missives to write, books to read, escape routes to plan before his grandmother returned ...
Then he saw a collection of wagons traveling slowly up toward the keep.
“Merchants are coming,” he said, nodding. “We could see if they have anything needful.”
“What would you buy?” she asked. “What do you need?”
“Ah, nothing in particular,” he said. Save your own sweet self. “But it seems a shame to have them make the journey and not at least be polite enough to look at their wares.”
She watched the carts as well, then turned to him. “Would they have knitting needles?”
“Knitting needles?” he echoed. Future implements, obviously. He frowned. “Ah, I don’t think I’ve seen any in quite some time.” Especially if some time were to mean never at all. “And their purpose, again?”
“To take yarn and turn it into useful things. Socks, tunics, gloves. That sort of thing.” She paused. “We could make a pair if we had some straight sticks.”
He paused. “Your tunic, the one in my sire’s trunk—is it made thus?”
“It is,” she nodded.
“Then we will see what can be procured. Otherwise, I’ll make what you need.”
“Can you?” she asked, rising with him.
The saints pity him, he had no idea. But he wasn’t about to tell her that.
“Quite possibly,” he said, hoping it would be true.
They walked back to the castle. Nicholas watched her as they walked. She smiled and waved to a few of the women she’d met. She caught a toddler who ran toward her, picked her up, and cuddled her close before she set her down and sent her back to her mother. Aye, she was the equal of any nobly bom woman he knew. And he would see that she lived that kind of life. Somehow.
The merchants were already setting up their wares in the courtyard by the time they reached it. Nicholas recognized the cloth merchant. The man, Bertrand, came often to tempt the lady of Artane with his very fine goods. Nicholas hung back as Montgomery and John materialized and spirited Jennifer away to see the baubles and pretties a trinket man had brought with him. He walked over to Bertrand and clasped hands with him.
“Good day, Bertrand,” he said.
“A good day to you as well, my lord,” Bertrand said with a bow. “I understand your mother is not at home.”
“A disappointment, no doubt,” Nicholas said with a smile, “but never fear. I will take her place today. I have a guest in need of a new wardrobe. Dresses for court, simpler gowns for everyday, as well as all the other things a lady might need.”
“Where is the lady in quest—ah,” he nodded, interrupting himself. “The noblewoman over there.”
“Aye.”
“Fine tastes?” Bertrand asked.
“Very frugal, more than likely,” Nicholas said, “but as I am buying, we will not concern ourselves with what she would allow herself to buy.”
“Most generous, my lord.”
“She deserves nothing less.”
Bertrand nodded, bowed again, then set to rearranging his cart. Nicholas could see that already he was laying out things that would suit Jennifer’s coloring, as well as simpler, but still quite fine, cloth for undergarments and such. A very intelligent man, but that was his business.
Nicholas turned away and found Jennifer with Montgomery and John yapping at her sides like pups. Nicholas drew her away and steered her to the cloth merchant. She looked everything over, skimmed over the more common things, and caught her breath at the stuff that was of the finest quality. She fingered all of it, making appreciative noises.
“Beautiful,” she said finally, smiling at the merchant. “You’re very skilled. Do you weave these yourself, or just design them?”
“I used to weave,” the man admitted readily, “but now I just tell the weavers what to do.”
“It shows,” Jennifer said with a smile. “You are obviously a man of very good taste, with an eye for very beautiful things. Unfortunately, I’m not looking for anything right now. Perhaps another time.”
Nicholas looked over her head at the man. “All of it,” he mouthed.
The man started to cough. He straightened, wiped his eyes, and made Jennifer a bow. “I wish you good health, my lady, and a need for cloth at another time.”
Jennifer nodded and turned away without disappointment. She smiled up at Nicholas. “What now?”
“A rest in my mother’s solar?” he suggested. “I’ll see you up—”
She shook her head. “I can find it. I imagine you have lord of the castle business to take care of now, don’t you?”
“Aye,” he admitted. “I should see the merchants fed and sent on their way.”
“I’ll wait for you upstairs, then,” she said, sounding not displeased by the necessity. “Thank you for a lovely day.”
He nodded and watched her walk into the great hall and considered her reaction for several minutes. He simply couldn’t imagine any of his grandmother’s ladies being forced to walk away empty-handed without screeching over it. Yet Jennifer seemed unconcerned.
He looked at Bertrand. The man was looking at Jennifer as well, then he turned to Nicholas.
“Remarkable,” he offered.
“She is,” Nicholas agreed. “Now, if you’ll bring what I like along with whatever else you think would suit her to my father’s solar, I’ll settle with you.”
“Of course, Lord Nicholas.”
Nicholas quickly looked over the rest of the goods. He found three bobbins of undyed wool, very soft and fine, and he paid for them without haggling. Knitting needles were completely beyond his experience, but he found half a dozen long, very thin sticks of straight wood for joining furniture and purchased them without complaint.
He started toward the house, then stopped.
He wasn’t one to unnerve easily, but there was something about the feel of the courtyard that he didn’t like. He looked for the two guardsmen who had come with him to the village. Both of them were watching the front gates closely, as if they felt the same thing. Nicholas went back down the stairs and stopped next to them.
“Sir Etienne,” he said quietly.
Etienne turned immediately. “Aye, my lord?”
“You are uneasy as well.”
“Aye, my lord,” he said with a frown. “There’s no accounting for why, but there you have it.”
“I will see to the merchants. Will you watch here and perhaps noise your feelings through the garrison?”
“Of course, my lord. Immediately.”
Nicholas sent Montgomery up to his mother’s solar with a meal for Jennifer, then made quick work of feeding the merchants and sending them on their way. He made certain his brothers were inside the gates, spoke a final time with Sir Etienne, then retreated to his mother’s solar. He opened the door, walked in, and collapsed in a chair.
“You’re out of breath,” Jennifer said with a smile.
“I’ve been myself, my brother, and my father all in the past hour,” he said dryly. He held up his dowels. “What think you?”
“Perfect,” she said. “But thinner and pointed there.”
He set to with his knife and turned them into things that looked like very thin arrows without the fletching. She seemed very pleased, though, and that was enough for him. He handed them to her with the bobbins of yarn and was amply rewarded for his efforts. She looked as if he’d brought her a chest full of gold.
She held the yarn and her needles in her arms and smiled at him. “I’m happy now. What else do you have to do today?”
“Kiss you?”
She looked at him in surprise, then blushed a quite lovely shade of red and laughed. “Is that so.”
“Hmmm,” he said. “But since you don’t fling and I wouldn’t think to ask you to, I’ll forbear.”
“Chivalrous of you.”
“Aye,” he said sourly, “isn’t it.”
She laughed. “Yes, actually, it is.”
The door opened suddenly and his brothers tumbled inside. By the saints, was he to have no privacy with her at all?
But Jennifer looked happy, he could spend the rest of the day looking at her which would make him happy, and there were still many, many days ahead to look forward to.
It was enough for now.