Page 93 of Suddenly a Bride
“Could ye? We’d be so grateful, milady. I know things have not been right between you and Sir Edmund, and ’tis my fault, too. Lord Langston told me to put those papers under your door just when ye seemed happiest. I don’t know why, but it worked to make ye sad.” More tears slid down her cheeks as she whispered, “I felt like I killed somethin’ inside ye when I saw your face.”
“You almost did,” Gwyneth said gravely.
Lucy pulled another handkerchief from her sleeve and noisily blew her nose. “I know I don’t deserve your help, but Hugh and me, we love each other and want to be married, but we don’t know how to escape the earl. I know he’s goin’ to kill us!”
“How did you make him come all the way to Yorkshire?”
“We told him a lie, that the village was ready to revolt against Sir Edmund’s rule, and that they needed to come take control. But ’tis not true, milady. If Hugh and me weren’t makin’ mischief, everyone would be happy with Sir Edmund. Do ye think he’ll ever forgive us? Will you?” Her voice broke.
“I can’t answer that now. Let me get dressed, and we’ll both pay a visit to Mrs. Ludlow.”
Lucy brought Hugh to meet Gwyneth in the cold, bare lady’s garden, where the burly young man twisted his hat in shame. He couldn’t meet Gwyneth’s eyes as she berated them both for not coming to her earlier.
Hugh cleared his throat. “Milady, can ye not keep our identities secret from Captain Blackwell? Surely he’ll rest easy knowing it’s all over now.”
“I will not lie to my husband,” she said sternly.Not ever again.“And it’s not over, is it? I shall expect both of you to help me when the Langstons arrive. If only you’d told me this sooner. Did you think Sir Edmund could confront the earl without complete knowledge of what’s happened?”
And she must have said that forcefully, because neither of them dared respond.
Gwyneth went back into the kitchen to help with the preparations for the feast, but all she could hope was that with this information, Edmund would be able to plan his confrontation with the Langstons. At the first opportunity, she would speak to him privately.
But the earl and his countess arrived at mid-morning, before Gwyneth even saw her husband in passing.
~oOo~
With his arms across his chest, Edmund stood in the courtyard as a soft snow fell and watched his enemies arrive. They came in an elaborately decorated coach followed by a train of carts and wagons that stretched out through the gates. Shivering footmen climbed down stiffly from their perch at the back of the coach to open the door and help the occupants out.
The earl emerged first, dressed in a shimmering golden cloak, as if the queen would be in attendance at a Yorkshire Christmas. His wife came next, her face fixed in a dour frown, and her arms clasped about herself, shivering. When they both saw him and barely masked their hatred, Edmund was even more determined to show them that their son’s villainy had not succeeded, that Castle Wintering was full of happy people—especially the lord and lady. He was determined to win this challenge, but it was a hollow feeling.
He nodded instead of bowing. “A merry Christmas to you, Lord Langston.”
“Hardly merry in such a harsh climate,” the earl grumbled, sweeping past Edmund with his wife on his arm.
“Then ’tis a good thing I own this estate now.”
The barb hit its mark when the earl stiffened but didn’t look back.
Edmund followed them inside and watched Gwyneth lead her relatives away. Then he saw Alyce Hall standing inconspicuously to one side, as if she was avoiding her cousin.
“Alyce?” he said. “Is there something you need?”
“I have been waiting for you, Edmund.” She smiled fondly and took his arm. “My three younger daughters and I have a gift for you, but I didn’t want to wait until the New Year’s celebration to give it to you.”
“That is very generous,” he answered, not seeing a package in her hands.
She laughed. “You have to come with me to receive it.”
Arm in arm, they walked through the castle to the weaving room, which was empty because of the holiday. Alyce approached a cloth that was hanging on one wall and tugged it down to reveal a small tapestry. It had been woven and then embroidered, and he inhaled quickly as he realized it pictured Castle Wintering, the River Swale at its side, sparkling beneath the sun. There were shepherds guarding flocks on the hillside and people in their orchards. And at the gate, small but central, were two people—Gwyneth and himself, he realized. They were holding hands.
Amazed, Edmund reached out to touch the little figures.
At his side, Alyce said softly, “I’ve left room to add your children someday. We made this so you could see what you’ve done here.”
He stared down at her, not knowing what to say.
“I give it to you now,” she continued, “because I can sense that things are difficult between you and my daughter. She has not confided in me, so I can say little to help, except that no marriage is perfect. There will always be the occasional arguments, the disappointments. But as long as you love each other and talk about your differences and forgive each other—that is all that matters.”
“You are a good woman, Alyce,” Edmund said hoarsely.
