Remembrance Read online

  John did not like this at all. “Can you not control your daughters, madam? Do you mean to make whores of them?”

  Alida stiffened. “I have not had the care of this daughter these many years.” She managed to sound hurt that she had been deprived of this daughter for so long, as well as hint that had she had such care, the girl would be the epitome of virtue.

  When John raised one eyebrow at her, she did not understand his meaning. The truth was, John found his stiff daughters, with their pious ways and their perfect manners, to be quite boring. Only the saucy Joanna interested him on the rare times when she challenged him.

  Alida continued. “The corset and hood belonged to Callasandra and since that night she has not been more than inches away from the side of that young man, that Talis.”

  John sat there blinking at her. All day yesterday and today Talis had been with him. They had been training in the courtyard and Talis had been especially good, alert and strong, twice knocking Hugh to the ground until Hugh was complaining about being too old for the games. In the afternoon they had all walked about the gardens, with John showing Talis where everything was, telling him what he planned to do. Since finding Talis, John acted as though he might die tomorrow, and he wanted his son to know everything.

  “You are mistaken,” he said. “There has been no girl near my son.”

  It took Alida a moment to still the sarcasm that came to her lips. Well did she know that a purple dragon with flaming nostrils could stand next to that boy John claimed as his son, and John would not notice it. Unless, of course, the dragon threatened Talis’s life, then John would no doubt put himself between the fire and his beloved son.

  She smiled at him. “You are too busy with weighty matters to notice a pale girl near him, but she is there. She has been near him constantly these last few days. You must send her away.”

  “What does she matter?” John asked, not wanting to thwart his son. “If the boy wants her, what do I care? If it makes him happy to have the girl admiring him, what does it matter to me?”

  With her hands balled into fists, Alida tried to control her temper. Mere minutes ago her husband had come to her, long-faced, miserable because he was eaten with jealousy, afraid he was going to lose the adoration of his precious son if the boy married. John had tried to conceal his misery, but it had been easy to guess that he wanted his wife to give him a reason not to allow Talis to marry. Why else would he have come to his wife? Had John wanted Talis to marry he would have said yes and never considered consulting his wife.

  But now that Alida had done her wifely duty and played the villain, John was tying her hands by refusing to physically separate the children. Their daily proximity was going to be crying nine months from now.

  “It is not seemly,” Alida said weakly, knowing this argument was going to have no sway on her husband. No doubt if the boy wanted a gaggle of whores near him, John would allow it.

  Tired of all this talk, John heaved himself up and started to leave the room. He had now dumped most of the problem on his wife; he had accomplished what he wanted. “I will speak to Rasher,” he said. “This must be done.” He would rather have hot irons placed on his body than go to that man and beg.

  On impulse, Alida said, “May I go in your place?”

  John looked at her.

  “May I go to him and speak for you? I have heard that Gilbert Rasher has not felt kindly toward you over these years.”

  At this John laughed, letting her know he knew more than she had assumed he did.

  Encouraged, she smiled at him. “Perhaps a woman’s softness might get more from him. I hear he is now between wives and we have a few unmarried daughters.”

  John smiled broader. “Rasher’s taste gets younger the older he gets. Although, what he needs is Edith.”

  At that jest, at the thought of the prim, bossy Edith with a drunken wastrel like Gilbert Rasher, both of them laughed heartily. For the first time in years, they shared some of the intimacy they had known at the beginning of their marriage, before John gave up the idea of getting a son from her.

  “Yes,” he said, his hand on the door. “Perhaps you could bargain with him.” There was gratitude in his voice. As he opened the door, on impulse, he turned back to her and kissed her sweetly on the mouth. A kiss of friendship, of years shared, a kiss hinting that there might perhaps be more later.

  “I will do my best,” she said; then, after he left, she leaned on the door and closed her eyes.

  For a moment, Alida leaned back against the door. This was her fault, she thought. She was the one to have caused all of this. If only on that night so many years ago she had not demanded that she be carried to the chamber where that poor girl was dying. If Alida had not interfered, that boy John loved so much would not have been born.

  Stepping away from the door, Alida knew that it was too late for regrets. All she could do now was try to right her wrongs.

  First of all, she could not allow that charismatic young man, Talis, to stay at Hadley Hall. Whether he stayed as John’s son or as John’s daughter’s husband, was immaterial. If Talis remained near John, John would give him everything: land as well as all his love and attention. All the children Alida had given him would receive nothing. John would ignore his daughters more than he already did; they would never get husbands. John would as soon toss his sons away as look at them again.

  No, Alida had to get rid of Talis. But how? She well knew that if Talis continued asking to marry Callie, John would soon overlook his jealousy and allow the boy to marry.

  Alida’s head came up. The solution was to prevent Talis from asking. The solution lay in making the children stop wanting to marry each other. What did they know about love and marriage, anyway? They were children and they had never even seen other people who might be worthy of their affections.

  She had to separate them, both physically and within their own minds. If she could plant a seed of doubt within the minds of the children, make them doubt their love for each other, in time they’d no longer want to marry each other.

  Yes, she thought, her mind racing with the beginnings of a plan. If everything worked out the way she planned, in the end, the only person who would be hurt would be John. And at that thought Alida’s heart soared. She wanted to hurt him.

  As for the others, she would have to be quite unkind to her own daughter at first, but she’d make it up to Callie later. Later she would find Callie a husband of the best sort, a man who would love and take care of her. Talis would go to court, find favor with the queen, and marry some beautiful heiress. Her own sons would inherit what was rightfully theirs. If John were not “saving” all his money to give to Talis, Alida would be able to persuade him to dower his daughters for husbands.

  Yes, Alida thought, smiling. She would be able to go to her grave knowing that she had straightened the horror of what she had done so long ago. Now, with death so very near her, she knew she had to make amends. When she saw Talis’s mother in heaven, she wanted to be able to tell her that she had taken care of that poor girl’s son.

  Opening the door, Alida called to a passing maid. “Where is Penella?” she asked.

  The girl was young and new. “Penella?”

  “In the kitchens, ma’am,” said a woman peeping around a corner. “You sent her to the kitchens years ago.”

  “Send her to me. Instantly.” Knowing that her time on earth was limited made Alida want to make amends for the bad that she had done in her life. Penella had been a good maid, a loyal one, but she had betrayed that loyalty once and Alida had not been able to forgive her. But now Alida felt that perhaps Penella had learned her lesson, and besides, Alida needed someone she could fully trust.

  “Can I trust you?” Alida said, her voice cold as she looked at her former maid, standing as close to the fire as she dared. In the years Penella had been in the kitchens, she had aged centuries. Alida would not have recognized her: emaciated, grizzled hair, raw hands, deep lines in her face, stooped shoulders.