Page 40 of His Forsaken Bride

“I should so like to have seen Lord Vawdrey led about by the nose for once,” said the Queen sadly. “But I can see you are not the woman to do this.”

“No, your majesty,” she whispered. For one horrible moment, she thought her eyes would fill with tears, but she blinked them very fast and it passed.

“Well,” said the Queen dismissively. “I doubt I shall see you much at court, Lady Vawdrey,” she said with a yawn. “I expect your husband will tuck you away in darkest Vawdreyshire before the month is out.”

“Sitchmarsh,” Fen corrected her automatically.

The queen sat up in her seat and for a moment, Fen thought she would get scolded for impertinence, but then she realized the queen was staring past her. “Ah, how providential!” exclaimed Queen Armenal clapping her hands together. “Who do you suppose I have just spotted across the room?” she asked Fenella in barely concealed excitement.

“I hardly know, your highness,” Fen murmured, wondering if she could fall back from the royal presence any time soon.

“Ah, but it is none other than your former husband,” said the Queen with delight. “And the woman who supplanted you!” She clapped her hands imperiously and an attendant darted forward. Fen froze. “Tell me,” said the Queen turning back to her as the attendant sped away into the crowd. “Have you seen him since his return from the north?”

Fen looked at the Queen’s gleeful face with ill-disguised horror. “N-no, your majesty, that is…” her voice tailed away and she turned to see the crowds parting and Ambrose approaching the dais with his new bride, Lady Colleen. She swayed and suddenly felt a hard body had come up behind her, propping her up and placing a possessive hand at her side. She breathed out, recognizing Lord Vawdrey’s presence and leant back into him in relief.

Oswald Vawdrey’s thumb stroked against her side. He leant down to murmur in her ear. “Don’t be afraid. It is probably for the best to get this awkward encounter out of the way at once.”

She nodded obediently, though in truth this seemed the very worst way of doing it, in front of an avid audience of courtiers. Through glassy eyes she focused on Ambrose’s approach. Far from seeming discomfited, he had a puffed look about him as he bustled forward, nose stuck in the air. He was wearing the pearl-studded tunic from his wedding feast, she noticed. He paused to help Lady Colleen mount the steps to the dais. Strangely enough, he seemed a lot shorter than she remembered. Could he have shrunk in the last two years?

“Sir Arthur,” the Queen greeted him. Fen watched a spasm cross his face as the Queen got his name wrong, but he bowed very low and presented his leg to her. He was wearing burgundy tights and Fen remembered Armenal’s words earlier about calves. Doubtless Ambrose would not have been selected on the strength of his legs, she thought distractedly. Ambrose straightened up, but his eyes scrupulously avoided Fenella and instead fixed on the Queen. His wife hovered at his side, her gaze darting from Queen Armenal to the watching courtiers as if she could not decide which she would rather look at. She curtseyed so low that her forehead nearly grazed the floor.

“Sir Arthur, Lady Thane,” said the Queen. “May I present to you Earl and Countess Vawdrey, who I believe you will have something in common with.” The Queen paused as their audience drew in a collective baited breath. “Being so recently newly-wed,” she added slyly and a shiver of mirth ran through the crowd.

“How do you do,” said Lord Vawdrey, sounding politely bored.

Fen fixed a smile on her face and dropped into a shallow curtsey. She couldn’t go any deeper as Oswald’s hand clamped on her side prevented it.

“I hope there is no awkwardness in this encounter,” said the Queen archly. “Is this the first time that all of you have met since your divorce and subsequent re-marriages?” she enquired.

“Yes, your majesty,” said Ambrose, dropping into another bow. His wife bobbed again beside him.

Fen noticed how studiously he avoided looking at her. Coward, she thought with surprise. Had he thought to cast her off and never be troubled by seeing her again? She had not thought so ill of him. Her face was starting to hurt from the forced smiling and the encounter was starting to take on the properties of a nightmare. She placed a hand on Oswald Vawdrey’s at her waist, as if to draw strength from his show of solidarity. Just as she thought it couldn’t get any worse, she noticed the discreet string of pearls around Lady Colleen’s throat. Surely not, she thought, her breath coming in very short, painful pants. The last time she had seen those they had been safely stored in her own jewelry box at Thurrold. She must be mistaken, she thought in anguish. Her replacement could not be flaunting her own mother’s pearls? She knew them so well, the small necklet with the red enamel clasp. Every seventh stone was not a pearl at all, but a gold colored glass bead. Her straining eyes could see the very same details on the small necklace around Ambrose’s bride’s neck. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, she realized there could be no mistake. Ambrose had gifted her pearls to his new wife. And he had no right, she thought, her hand trembling as she placed it absently to her own throat. He had no right to give her own dear mother’s pearls to that woman! She felt sick. Almost, she fancied she could see a gloating look on Colleen Thane’s face, but that must be in her own mind, she told herself. Ambrose probably had not even told his new wife that he had not bought her them himself. Unable to help herself she looked across again and found Lady Thane was looking right at her now, as she very slowly raised a hand to touch the necklace. It would look like a casual movement to any onlooker, but herself. Fen gasped sharply. A smirk passed over the new Lady Thane’s face which almost knocked Fen off her feet. She did know. She knew she was wearing Fen’s necklace, and she was triumphant of the fact! Fen’s heart started thudding in her chest and she tightened her grip on her Oswald’s fingers so hard that her fingers turned white.

“My dear,” drawled Lord Vawdrey. “Perhaps you could loose your grip before I lose all sensation in my hand.”

She glanced up at him, and found they had been excused from the royal presence. The Thanes were descending the steps from the dais and Oswald Vawdrey was ushering her to follow. “I’m sorry, my lord,” she said quickly and followed his lead. Everyone was drifting toward the long tables now as rows of servants bought out the first course. To her surprise she found that Lord Vawdrey led her to the nearest table, whereas the Thanes were now disappearing down the hall. Then she comprehended those present would all be seated according to rank. And Earl Vawdrey ranked considerably higher than Sir Ambrose Thane. A chair was drawn out for her and she was seated as trays of glazed meats were circulated by squires and pages. Behind the top table was a dazzling array of velvet-draped steps covered in golden plates laden with food. In the center of their table was a large jelly in the shape of a swan, fully decorated with feathers and a golden beak. Fen had to stop herself from staring at all the sights. She was introduced to Lord and Lady Schaeffer who they were sat next to. Lord Schaeffer was grey and bearded and dressed in conservative navy blue, with an air of affluence. His wife was a very handsome woman in her fifties with a regal bearing. Both were polite and welcoming and Fen tried to smile and say the right thing although she felt dazed and miserable after her run-in with Ambrose. The first course, a sturgeon served in parsley and vinegar was served and Fenella forced down a few bites, listening while Lord Schaeffer talked about the privy council with Oswald. She could not follow what they were discussing, though it sounded like the possible replacement of a member. Her goblet was filled with mead and a troop of musicians dressed in red and green filtered into the hall and started to play. Fenella found she could not help but glance toward where the Thanes sat further down the hall. Colleen was whispering with a stuck-up looking older woman, who was gazing around them in disapproval. Fen noticed they had not yet been served with any food or drink, which might be the source of her displeasure. Her own first course had been whisked away in the meantime and another plate set before her. She found herself speculating if the older woman was Colleen’s mother and wondered how Ambrose would like having a mother-in-law. Her own mother had died years before their wedding.

“Fenella, do you think you could tear your gaze away from the Thanes long enough to eat a bite?” asked Oswald smoothly.

Fenella looked down in embarrassment at her untouched goose in garlic and grape sauce. She blushed. “I – that is –” she closed her eyes briefly, trying to reign in her misery. “I’m sorry.”

“Are you feeling unwell?” he asked coolly.

“No, not unwell-”

“Then kindly pull yourself together, Fenella. You’re making a spectacle of yourself and of me.” She looked up quickly at him, but there was something very disquieting about the fact that he could look so urbane, and yet speak so cuttingly at the same time. Blinking back her tears, she took a swig of honey mead. It was stronger than the one they made back home. She managed to force a smile to her lips and forced her attention to the musicians at the other end of the hall. She could just about hear them over the babble of conversation and tapped her foot in time to the song which had a tune she recognized though the words were quite different to the ones she had learned in her youth. She sipped steadily at the mead while they waited for the next course and was surprised when she reached the bottom of the cup. She glanced at Oswald who was still engaged in conversation with Lord Schaeffer. She had disappointed him, she thought sadly. Made bold by the mead, she leant into him and angled her head up to whisper in his ear. “I’m sorry, my lord.” He inclined his head slightly but other than that gave her no reaction. She felt horrible and churned up inside. He had bought her so many beautiful things and she had repaid him by looking like a cast-off wife who was pining for her former spouse. For that is what everyone would think, she thought wretchedly. Slipping her arm through his, she tried again. “It’s not what you think,” she said in a low voice. This time he gave her no discernible reaction at all, did not even look at her. Instead he struck up a conversation with another courtier sat on the opposite side of the table. To make it worse, Lady Schaeffer sent a sympathetic look her way which spoke volumes. Everyone thought her a pitiable thing.

“What a lovely necklace, Lady Vawdrey,” the older woman said heartily. “The stones seem to glow with an inner fire. Are they genuine rubies?”

“Yes, indeed,” rallied Fen, withdrawing her arm from her husband and touching the chain. “I am fortunate to have such a generous husband.” In truth, it was probably worth five times what her pearl necklace was.

“Indeed. Mine refuses to buy me anymore jewels,” sighed Lady Schaeffer. She cast a sly look at her husband who was too caught up in his conversation to respond to the jibe. “Still, we have been married thirty-two years,” she acknowledged with a shrug.

“You forget Lady Schaeffer,” piped up a lady sat two seats down from Fenella in an arch, carrying voice. “That Lord and Lady Vawdrey have been married for some twelve years.” She turned wide, incredulous eyes toward Fen. “Is that not so Lady Vawdrey?” Opposite her another lady giggled. Fenella did not have the faintest idea who they were, but their spiteful expressions reminded her of a girl she had grown up with who was always there with a nasty jibe if you exposed any kind of vulnerability. Doubtless they were of the same ilk as Nan Crosby with her cruel tongue.

“I’m afraid we haven’t been introduced,” answered Fen coolly. Then she deliberately turned her back to them and addressed Lady Schaeffer. “I wonder if you enjoy partaking of a walk in the mornings, Lady Schaeffer? My husband has kindly had my dog fetched to Aphrany, but I do not yet know of any good walks, here in the castle grounds.”

Lady Schaeffer’s eyes gleamed a moment in appreciation. “But I would love to show you around the grounds, Lady Vawdrey,” she answered swiftly. “And I myself have a hound who dearly needs the exercise.”