Betrayal in the Tudor Court. Darcey Bonnette

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      After a fleet dance that left Cecily and Brey collapsing in each other’s arms breathless and giggling, Lord Hal rose. “What a delight to watch these children at their revels! And what a delight it shall be to watch them grow in the sacred union we have chosen for them.” He paused, casting fond eyes at the children who stood stock still before the assemblage. “Tonight we would like to announce the betrothal of my son, Lord Aubrey Pierce, to Baroness Cecily Burkhart.” He raised his cup. “To the future!”

      “The future!” echoed the guests.

      None was more surprised than Cecily herself.

      She stared at her intended with wide eyes, cocking her head, trying to imagine his features sculpted and angled with five, ten years of age added to his seven years. She could not.

      Brey offered a shy smile. “I guess this means we can hunt snakes together for the rest of our lives!” he cried then, as though finding a great deal of refuge in the thought.

      Cecily’s shoulders relaxed as she imagined traipsing through the vast forest of Sumerton alongside of cheerful, gentle Brey. “And we can pick berries, too,” she added.

      “And go hunting and hawking,” he said. “That will be fun.” He cast a sidelong glance at his parents. Lord Hal was leaning in to offer Grace a peck on the cheek. “What else do you think we have to do?” Brey asked.

      Cecily grimaced. “Certainly not that,” she said. “At least not till we’ve grown proper.”

      “Yes,” he agreed, sighing in relief. “Meantime, we shall look for snakes.”

      “Yes,” said Cecily. “I should like that.”

      At once the children were swarmed by well-wishers eager to congratulate them. They were hugged and pinched and kissed. Brey grimaced and wiped the kisses away. Both were soothed from the onslaught by sweetmeats.

      “What a commodity!” Cecily overheard one of the lords exclaiming to Lord Hal. “God’s body, man, I expect this child is one of the wealthiest heiresses in the kingdom. A fine suit—I rather wish I had snatched her up for one of my sons!”

      “Thank you, Lord Norfolk,” answered Lord Hal. “We are most pleased with the arrangement.”

      Cecily’s heart pounded. A commodity. An arrangement. When did a person become a commodity? She had never thought of herself that way. A commodity was a bolt of fabric, a fine jewel perhaps, but her? At once the heat of the room and stench of the different pomanders stifled Cecily. She suppressed the urge to gag as she removed herself from the assemblage. She needed a moment to think about her new estate.

      She cooled herself in the hall. She longed to remove her sleeves and run about bare armed but dared not. She did not want to be unladylike. She rolled them up instead. No one was watching, after all. She sank to the floor and leaned against the cool stone wall, closing her eyes, blinking back tears. She could not stave off the dark thoughts.

      She was betrothed. She wondered what her parents thought of the match. She supposed it was inevitable that she should, as the Pierces’ ward, marry their heir. It was custom. It was one of the main reasons why people took on wards.

      It was good business. She was a good commodity.

      “Lady Cecily.”

      Cecily started at the husky male voice, looking up to find Father Alec standing before her.

      “Are you well, little one?” he asked.

      Cecily nodded, brushing the tears aside with the back of her hand. “Do you expect the Pierces like me?” she asked.

      “I expect the Pierces love you,” answered Father Alec. He paused a moment, then sat beside her. “Why do you ask?”

      “I expect they like me a great deal more for the money and the lands,” she said, scowling at her slippers. “And the title, of course.”

      The priest drew in a breath. “Well, Lady Cecily, I will not lie to you. I am certain your assets made you quite attractive as they thought of securing Brey’s future. But even had your parents lived it is likely you would have been made a ward to someone and allied to their son in marriage.” He sighed. “Someday you will have children, Lady Cecily, and you will want to secure for them the best future possible as well. There are obvious benefits of your wealth that please the Pierces no doubt, but look what else they’re gaining! They will have a beautiful, bright, and sensitive daughter-in-law.” He reached out, seizing her chin between thumb and forefinger. “For all you may be bringing to them, you, Lady Cecily, your soul, your self, are irreplaceably priceless and they know that.”

      Cecily brightened at the thought.

      “This, Lady Cecily, is an opportunity,” Father Alec continued. “You are very young and it may be hard to see now, but you have the chance to shape Brey’s whole life, to mould him”—he offered a brief chuckle—“to train him, if you will, into your ideal husband. You have more influence than you know. What’s more, Lady Cecily, is that you are not going to marry a stranger. You are going to grow up as friends. Few realise how special and rare that is to find in a marriage.” He smiled. “Do you like the Pierces, Lady Cecily?”

      Cecily offered a fervent nod. They were the only people she could call family now and they were easy to like. Easy to love.

      “Do you like Brey?” he asked.

      She nodded again. Indeed, Brey was as sweet a boy as one could find.

      “Then I think you have a better start than most,” he told her, taking her hand in his. He rose. “Come now! You’ll be missed!”

      Cecily rose and followed him back to the celebration.

      She would dismiss her uncharitable thoughts and be what Father Alec said: irreplaceably priceless.

      Lent sobered Sumerton, and though there was still a modest amount of entertaining, it was nothing compared to the rest of the year’s revels. Mirabella enjoyed Lent; in its deprivation of physical pleasures she found solace. Quietude. She spent hours in prayer and meditation, enveloping herself in the rare peace her home afforded during this fleeting time of year.

      When not absorbed in her devotions, Mirabella passed the grey winter days in embroidering, riding, and lessons. One favourite pastime for all of the children became listening to Father Alec’s tales of his travels through Europe.

      “After Cambridge I wanted to see a bit of the world,” he told them one afternoon. “So I travelled abroad. I was given a letter of introduction to study under the great Erasmus; it was he who recommended me to your parents.” He nodded toward Mirabella and Brey.

      “What else did you do?” asked Brey, his tone fringed with impatience.

      Father Alec offered a conspiratorial smile. “I camped with Gypsies, I preached to bandits and vagabonds—I was held at knifepoint on more than a few occasions.” He chuckled. “I met greatness in humility and humility in greatness.”

      “Wasn’t your family terribly worried?” Cecily asked him.

      Father Alec’s face softened. His hazel eyes grew distant. “My family was gone by then, victims of the sweat.” СКАЧАТЬ