Chosen for the Marriage Bed. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ began to open the packages on the bed, intent on discovering a suitable gown. An impossibility, Elizabeth acknowledged, knowing the contents. Meanwhile with cold stiff fingers she unpinned and removed the heavy wimple. As she held the coarse cloth in her hands, Elizabeth sensed and heard the reaction. And knew why. She herself had grown used to it—almost.

      ‘Oh.’ Anne’s eyes danced. ‘How shocking!’

      ‘The nuns,’ Elizabeth found herself explaining, ‘believe that long hair encourages vanity and distracts a woman from her vocation and the true meaning of life. At least they did not shave my head. It could be worse.’

      ‘Not much worse!’ Anne answered with devastating frankness.

      True enough, even though the comment was pure malice. The shortest of dark hair covered her head. Soft and short, raggedly cut, it hugged her skull, hardly a covering at all.

      Knowing that she had no control over the next few minutes, Elizabeth tensed against what must follow, grateful that the candles in the room were few, the light dimly shadowed. Her gown was removed and then her chemise until she stood, clammy and damp in shivering flesh beside the steaming tub. A little draught touched the skin of her neck and shoulder, as of a door opening, and with it a sudden presentiment. Elizabeth lifted her head, quickly glancing over her shoulder, to see that the door was indeed partially opened. There, unmoving on the thresh-old, was a dark figure. He must have knocked and, receiving no answer, opened it to ask after her needs. This was far worse than any of her imaginings. Richard Malinder, shockingly aware of the most intimate of her secrets.

      Elizabeth stood immobile, as unmoving as he, her eyes wide and lips parted in dread, appalled at what she knew he must see. His face might be expressionless, but she could imagine the thoughts clamouring in his mind. To her horror his gaze moved from hers to slide over her shoulders, her back, down to buttocks and thighs. Then back to hold hers again. Light, insubstantial his appraisal might be, yet she felt that his keen eyes had taken possession of every inch of her skin—and presumably found her undesirable. How mortifying! Elizabeth shivered in awareness at the chill in that direct judgement, the only blessing that the flickering of the candles might mask the worst of the scars.

      And that was not the worst of it. By the Virgin! Would he come in? Would he find a need to comment, to draw even more attention to her with its ensuing degradation? And if he did, would she be forced to abandon what dignity she had left to snatch up her robe to cover herself and her shame? Elizabeth prayed he had enough sensitivity to retreat and not inflict any more humiliation on her. Was it not bad enough that his beautiful cousin should see her punishment revealed?

      Even as the thought crossed her mind, as if hearing her silent plea, as if reading the dismay on her face, Richard Malinder bowed, and withdrew before the others in the room knew of his presence, closing the door softly. Leaving Elizabeth to claw back her control. The whole had only lasted a matter of seconds, yet it had seemed to Elizabeth a lifetime of raw exposure, to be scrutinised and judged.

      Meanwhile, Anne Malinder, unaware, looked at Elizabeth with emerald-eyed interest.

      ‘What did they do to you?’

      In her mind, Elizabeth saw herself as Anne would see her. As Richard Malinder must have seen her. She carried no extra flesh. Her ribs could be detected beneath her skin, as could the press of bones at hip and shoulder. Her breasts were small and undeveloped. Almost a child’s body in its slightness, despite her age and obvious womanhood. She could almost hear the condemnation. If Richard wanted a wife for childbearing, he had not chosen well. Overcome with shame, as if her deficiencies were all her own fault, Elizabeth turned her back on her unwelcome audience to pick up a bedgown and so hide herself from this too public view and inspection. An action that allowed the candlelight to glimmer along silver welts. Healed but visible. As she realised what her action had revealed to Anne Malinder, Elizabeth stiffened again, but it was too late.

      A fraught silence descended. Until the sharp tension was broken by a quick and attractive gurgle of laughter. Mistress Anne covered her smiling mouth with her hands in what Elizabeth instantly recognised as a parody of regretful sympathy. Her eyes shone brilliantly.

      ‘What do you suppose Richard will say when he sees you?’

      For the first time Elizabeth truly looked at the girl who stood beside the bed with one of her desperately unattractive and unfashionable gowns in her pretty hands. And immediately recognised in Anne Malinder a danger. There was no friendship offered in those sparkling green eyes.

      But was Mistress Anne Malinder not accurate in her observation? Elizabeth decided Anne was everything that she was not. Beautiful, well groomed, compliant, socially at ease in this household. And cousin to Lord Richard. In that one moment of blinding recognition, Elizabeth had no doubts of the girl’s intentions. She wanted Richard for herself, and resented Elizabeth’s presence. To be so outspoken suggested a child-like naïvety but Elizabeth recognised the sly deliberation for what it was. Recognised the deliberately fashionable clothing that displayed Mistress Anne’s figure to perfection, and would highlight her own failings. No wonder the Lord of Ledenshall had looked as if struck with a battle-axe when Anne had so cunningly positioned herself in close proximity to the new bride!

      But would Richard care what she, Elizabeth, looked like? As long as he had the alliance he desired and a wife who would bear him an heir, he would not care at all. She was only a replacement for Maude, after all. She must not forget it.

      ‘Forgive me, my lady.’ Anne smiled, eyes wide in regret. It could almost have been a simper, but the charm was heavy, as if Anne was aware of her lack of discretion and would make amends. There was no harm in offering an apology after all since the damage had been done. ‘I should not have been so outspoken,’ she murmured. ‘I meant no ill.’ But it was difficult for the girl to disguise the glow of triumph in her eyes.

      Yes, you did! Elizabeth swallowed the words. Recognising an enemy, swamped with alarm at Richard Malinder’s reaction to what he had seen, Elizabeth returned the smile as she pinned the girl with her night-dark eyes in which there was no humour. ‘Why should you ask forgiveness? You spoke nothing but the truth, as all here must recognise. Perhaps I will tell you what my lord has to say, Mistress Anne, when he has made his thoughts known to me. And if I consider his words to be any of your concern, of course. And now—’ she turned her back on the girl ‘—I would welcome that hot water!’

      Elizabeth realised that she had stoked the enmity further, but sank into the warm water in delicious relief. So much for a comfortable homecoming as Richard Malinder’s betrothed. Elizabeth sighed. She would think about it all tomorrow.

      For now, the battle lines had been drawn.

      As she tumbled into sleep, one impression remained with Elizabeth. The sleek dark hair, the bold grey eyes, the austere features of Richard Malinder. How much had he seen of her in that brief appraisal? It had been cursory enough, and she had been in the shadows, but was it enough to cause him to regret his decision to take her? She had been able to read nothing on his face, but could well imagine. Dismay at best, but perhaps revulsion, outrage. And what would he say when he saw her uncovered and fully revealed in his marriage bed? Their marriage would have, of necessity, to be consummated. He was hardly marrying her for the sharpness of her wit or for her unusual education, was he? What if he touched her only out of necessity, because he had no choice, or even worse out of pity for her deficiencies? The thought appalled her.

      Retreating rapidly from so intimate a female preserve, to stand silently for some minutes outside the door, Richard was forced to consider the impression that had been made on him with the sharp bite of a lance against unprotected flesh. In retrospect he should not have gone there, and had known better than to linger СКАЧАТЬ