Page 20 of Lord Tristram's Love Match

She suddenly felt guilty for the joyous news she wished to share with her mother. And she felt guilty that Sir Edward had decided upon this match without having the courtesy to ask for his wife’s advice. Judith had tried to speak to her father upon this, but he had been set in arranging a hasty marriage for her, proclaiming he knew what was best for his daughter. Suddenly, Judith’s genuine happiness over her match seemed out of place in her mother’s chambers. Yet, as always, her mother soon inquired after her, and Judith found herself speaking of her new husband, or at least attempting to do so.

“My lord Tristram… He is…”

Judith stopped herself with a short, strained laugh. She’d meant to say Lord Tristram de Brunne was simply wondrous, but now, seeing her mother’s keen eyes upon her, she came to understand the word was childish and silly.

“He is a good, worthy man,” she said instead. “And I can see he means to be a kind, courteous husband to me. In truth I couldn’t be…”

Again, a silly word came into her head. She’d meant to tell her mother she couldn’t have been happier, but surely, her mother had always warned her not to be shallow about this world and its perils. Happiness was hard to come by, her mother had always told her.

“You are happy in this match your father made for you,” her mother suddenly told her with a smile, embracing her warmly, and Judith felt relieved and grateful for her words.

“Aye! I-I know I may be fanciful, but I truly think Lord Tristram and I… that we can have a happy marriage. I just can’t wait for him to meet you! He promised he’d come as soon as he was able to visit. And you’ll see he is indeed a worthy man.”

“I am certain he is,” her mother nodded with a smile, but Judith could catch a hint of distress in her voice.

It was natural for her mother to worry on her behalf, and Judith prayed Tristram would get here soon. Once her mother got to know him, she would certainly see what Judith already saw, that her daughter could not have wished for a better husband. So Judith hoped fervently Tristram would come as soon as could be, but the weeks turned into months and still Tristram wouldn’t come. He sent word to her often. At first it was tedious business at King Henry’s court which kept him away.

“I am certain he will get here eventually,” her mother told her with an encouraging smile whenever she caught Judith glancing despondently through the window instead of focusing on the tapestry she’d been embroidering.

But Judith caught a note of distress in her mother’s voice, and she felt wary of it. She wrote to Tristram urging him to try to do away with the tedious business which kept him from her. Yet the reply she received was disheartening.

“Tristram’s mother has fallen ill with a fever,” Judith said in anguish coming upon her mother one evening, after she’d received the letter the messenger had brought her.

She felt worried for Lady Aelis, Tristram’s mother, who had been most kind and courteous to her upon her marriage to her son.

“Don’t you think it would be better to seek London in order to aid Lady Aelis in her hour of need?” she said, thinking Tristram and his mother may need her at this time.

“Has your husband asked for your aid?” her mother inquired.

Judith perused the letter once more. Tristram was worried for his mother’s health and thought it more prudent to be by her side in this hour of need, but he was not asking for Judith to come and help him care for her.

“He has two sisters, doesn’t he, your husband?” her mother went on.

Judith nodded. One of Tristram’s sisters was at this time also by their mother’s side and this was perchance why Tristram didn’t feel the need to call upon his wife’s assistance. And Tristram had already written that his other sister was coming from her demesne to look upon their mother.

“I’m sure then that Lady Aelis’ daughters will provide the best care. And, after all, you are as yet untrained and untutored in both the healing arts and household matters,” Lady Fenice added.

Judith nodded, with a slight blush. Her mother was right. Here, Lady Fenice’s trusted companion, the redoubtable Dame Berthe, held the reins of their household under her mother’s very distant supervision. Judith had sought to aid in this ever since she’d grown older, but Lady Fenice had assured her there was plenty of time ahead of her to learn. Instead, her mother had trained her in the gentler arts ladies should master, so Judith was a fine weaver and embroiderer. Yet it was not in these arts that her talent truly lay. She was indeed an accomplished lute player and her singing voice was very fine. She could read and write Occitan and Norman and English and even understand Latin when required of her. She well recalled Tristram had spoken to her of his own home which lay in the vicinity of Winchester, where he hoped they would settle once she felt ready. She would soon need to learn the required accomplishments of tending a household.

As if she’d guessed her daughter’s thoughts, Lady Fenice nodded as she spoke, “There’s time enough to train you to become mistress of your own demesne. Since I suppose your husband will one day command you to leave your childhood home.”

Judith nearly flinched at the wordcommand, because she was already having a hard time thinking she would ever have to leave Redmore. She loved her home and it was painful to picture her life in a different place.

“Tristram – he hasn’t pressed me for it. He understood I needed to be here by your side. Just as he now needs to be by his mother’s side. You do not think I should go to him?”

“He hasn’t sent for you. But I am sure he will be glad to see you if you think you must join him,” her mother told her, and Judith saw again she was trying to put on an encouraging smile.

In spite of this reassurance, her mother’s face was an open book to Judith, and she began to fear that Lady Fenice, who was at present feeling poorly yet again, could not spare her at this time.

“I shall write to Tristram and tell him we’ll send prayers for his mother’s swift recovery!”

And she did write to Tristram, hoping Lady Aelis would soon feel better and that the fever was only a passing ailment. Yet a month later, dire news reached them, that God had seen fit to take the lady Aelis from among the living. Tristram’s letter held bleak news and a warning. The same fever which had claimed his mother’s life had swept several households in the city of London, and it was not wise for Judith to try to join him there at this time.

“How wretched he must feel to have his dear mother gone!” Judith said with a deep sigh. “Perchance, in spite of his warning, I should go to be with him. I am safe and sound and have never been ill in my life.”

Her mother shook her head though, reminding her that her husband’s words were wise. He had commanded she should stay at Redmore and it would be unwise to disobey him at this time. Still, Judith disliked the use of the wordcommandjust as much as she had the first time when her mother had used it to speak of Tristram. But she recalled she’d never heard true command in Tristram’s voice whenever he spoke to her. She paused to think upon the danger which awaited her in London. She feared less for herself than for the loved ones who now resided there.

“But Father is in London,” she whispered in anguish.

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