Haunted Knights (Montbryce~The Next Generation Historical Romance) Read online

  Paulina told of battles, of heroic victories, of Saxon revolts, of the great advances in architecture the Normans brought with them. Part of Sir Stephen’s story touched on another tale, Rosamunda’s favourite. She urged Paulina to recount it next.

  Her sister pouted, eying her sampler, though Rosamunda knew she loved the tale too. It would not take much to convince Paulina. She assumed her most pleading look.

  “Oh, very well.”

  Paulina shifted her weight in the chair. Entwining her fingers in the tangled strands of Rosamunda’s hair, she embarked on the story of two brothers of a noble Norman family, Antoine and Hugh de Montbryce, both heroes of the Battle of Hastings. “The Conqueror granted Hugh oversight of neighbouring Melton Manor, where he discovered his true love, Devona Melton.”

  Rosamunda sighed and laid her head in her sister’s lap.

  Paulina huffed. “You must do something with your hair. It looks like windblown straw.”

  Rosamunda blew out exasperated air from between her lips. It was a familiar scolding. She sat up, swatting away her sister’s fingers. There was no-one to see her hair.

  Paulina continued, a patient smirk on her face. “Antoine helped Hugh rescue Devona from an abusive husband. Grandfather assisted them with the loan of a rowboat.”

  Rosamunda had never known Sir Stephen, but it pleased her he had been willing to aid in the rescue of a damsel in distress. Surely he would not have locked away his granddaughters?

  Rosamunda never tired of the story of the intrepid Montbryces, of caves and secret passages. She imagined herself in the stead of Devona Melton. But who would be her hero, her champion? No man wanted to marry a woman with her impediment. There was no tall, dark knight from the chansons courtoises Vincent sang to ride to her rescue, showering her with courtly love.

  She grunted the question. “Melton?”

  Paulina reached to retrieve her embroidery.

  Rosamunda tore it once more from her grasp. Now it was Paulina’s turn to snort, but she carried on the tale. Paulina was only too aware of Rosamunda’s stubborn nature. “Lucien says the Montbryces still come from time to time from their castle in Normandie to visit Devona’s childhood home. He and Vincent have befriended Hugh’s two sons, Melton and Izzy de Montbryce, but they speak only in passing of their sister, Antoinette.”

  Rosamunda and Paulina had both laughed upon first hearing the name Izzy, until Lucien explained it was a nickname for Isembart.

  “They are also acquainted with Adam and Mathieu de Montbryce who come frequently from Normandie to East Preston, an estate granted to their father, one of your heroes, Antoine. Adam and Mathieu have a half brother, who has never accompanied them to England, and two sisters. Lucien and Vincent hardly mention them.”

  Rosamunda understood why their brothers perhaps had difficulty socializing with their friends’ sisters. She often daydreamed about these friends her brothers boasted of, and wondered if any of them ever visited Kingston Gorse.

  ~~~

  Paulina had long ago become resigned to a life cloistered in the upstairs chambers of her parents’ home, but shuddered at the lonely existence it might have been if her sister had not been incarcerated with her. She thanked God daily for denying Rosamunda the gift of speech.

  It riddled her with guilt. Her beautiful sister suffered confinement because she was mute. Their parents had failed to recognise her many talents. Rosamunda had a keen, inquiring mind. Her green eyes sparkled with laughter and her elfin smile lit up a room. Despite their situation, Rosamunda loved to laugh. She had no voice, yet Paulina understood everything she said, or did not say.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “He cannot sire children.”

  Denis recognised Mathieu might be right, but it angered him that their younger brother was adamant in his insistence Adam could no longer be the heir to Belisle.

  They had argued back and forth for a fortnight while Adam convalesced. Denis fisted his hands at his side. “You cannot be sure of that. His hearing has improved a little. The physicians agree the disease has apparently changed the size and appearance of his—”

  He glanced at his mother, not sure if this was appropriate conversation for a woman. He soldiered on. “But they also see no reason for his present inability to—”

  He had never felt so uncomfortable. His mother’s tear-filled eyes told him she understood his torment. He searched for alternative words to shaft, erection, arousal, but his mind went blank.

  Damned if he could recall the Latin words he and his brothers had bandied about with great hilarity in their youth. Latin would have sounded more dignified somehow.

  “Let’s not mince words here,” Mathieu interjected. “I am as distraught as anyone at my brother’s distress, but if it is permanent, Belisle will fall to me or my children anyway.”

  Denis strode to stand nose to hip with the brother he had never felt close to. “Unless you die first.”

  Mathieu braced his legs and looked down his nose scornfully. “You think Papa will give Belisle to you?”

  Denis shook with rage. Why had he threatened Mathieu? He had been driven by an instinctive need to defend Adam, not a desire for control of Belisle. How had their amiable relationship come to this?

  Antoine came between them, his voice tired. “We cannot allow this disaster to tear us apart as a family. Mathieu, you know Denis has no designs on Belisle, as Denis knows you want only to secure the succession. What has happened is God’s will. We must all bend to it, including Adam.”

  ~~~

  Antoine de Montbryce blinked away tears and hoped that when he opened his mouth to speak, sorrow would not choke off his words. He had never imagined he would be forced to ask his eldest son to renounce his birthright.

  He gripped his wife’s trembling hand. His daughters, Bernardine and Florymonde clung to each other by the hearth, sobbing quietly. His youngest son, Mathieu, and his stepson, Denis, flanked the women, one holding his head high, jaw clenched, the other with stunned disbelief evident on his swarthy face.

  Adam stood by the hearth in the gallery where they had shared many happy family gatherings. He shifted his weight nervously. Did he suspect what was about to befall him? Was his torment not great enough? He turned to the fire as his father approached.

  Antoine swallowed the lump in his throat and put a hand on Adam’s shoulder, turning him so they were face to face. “Look at me, mon fils.”

  Adam obeyed. Antoine saw the torment in his son’s blue eyes. He prayed for strength and hoped his words would penetrate Adam’s deafness.

  Adam narrowed his eyes to stare at Mathieu, then at Denis. He held up his hand. “I know what you intend to say, Papa, and I agree I am no longer suited to the role of heir.”

  Mathieu took a step forward, but Antoine waved him off. This had to be done, but he would do it. Adam’s gaze seemed fixed on his father’s mouth. Was he hoping to read there words of reassurance that Belisle had not been taken from him? It broke Antoine’s heart he could utter no such denial. He resisted the temptation to raise his voice. “You are a courageous man, Adam. You must trust that what has happened to you will not be forever. You may recover your hearing, and your—”

  He kept his gaze fixed on Adam’s face. “Perhaps both maladies are temporary. But the succession must be secured.”

  Adam squared his shoulders, clenched his jaw, and fisted his hands at his side. “Mon père, I accede to your wishes. It is evident I will never sire children. Belisle needs heirs, and I am now only half a man.”

  Denis flinched, his brow furrowed.

  Adam strode over to Mathieu and embraced him. “You will make a fine Seigneur for Belisle, brother. In these troubled times a warrior needs all his abilities. Belisle deserves better. It deserves you.”

  Mathieu returned the embrace, but seemed at a loss for words. Bernadine and Florymonde sobbed louder as Adam hugged each of them in turn before returning to his father. Raking his hands through his hair, he rasped, “I have decided to leave Belis
le, make a new life, and learn to live with my deafness.”

  Sybilla came to him and cradled her son’s face in her hands. “But why must you leave us? Why not stay here, regain your health with the help of those who love you?”

  Adam’s eyes filled with tears. “I am aware you love me, but your faces are full of pity. I must go.”

  Antoine recognized his son’s determination. He gritted his teeth and clasped Adam’s hand, speaking slowly. “Where will you go?”

  “With your permission, I will go to inspect your estates in England. I thought to use East Preston as a base.”

  Denis stepped forward. “I will come with you, Adam, be your ears until you heal. Perhaps two half men will make a whole!”

  ~~~

  Sybilla de Montbryce’s throat tightened. Long ago, after Denis’ birth, despair for his future had threatened to destroy her. Indeed, as she lay on the floor in a stupor after unsuccessfully trying to prevent the midwives from racing off with him, a part of her had perhaps hoped their murderous intent might come to fruition. The despicable old man her father had sold her to lay dead. She was a prisoner of the hated Normans. How was she to care for a deformed child?

  But the intervention of her maidservant, Oda, aided by Antoine, had given Denis a chance at life. Antoine’s love had saved her from madness and her son from a lifetime of rejection and degradation. Her firstborn’s life had not been easy, but he had become a source of pride.

  She hugged that pride to her heart now as he insisted on accompanying his brother. Adam had lost much. With Denis’ help, he might survive the catastrophe that had befallen him. A spark of hope flickered in her breast.

  ~~~

  A maelstrom of emotions swirled in Adam’s heart. He and Denis had long been friends, the Giant and the Dwarf. But the giant had been brought low, and no longer cared about the future.

  Denis’ devastation at his half-brother’s illness was obvious, but his eyes had never held pity, rather compassion. Denis despised those who pitied him.

  “I will not be a good travelling companion,” Adam rasped.

  Denis put his fingers at the corners of his mouth and forced a wide grin, wagging his head from side to side. “Whereas I am well regarded as a jocular fellow people love to travel with.”

  He linked his arm with Adam’s. “We will make a perfect pair, as we always have, mon frère.”

  Adam clenched his jaw, trying to break the link. “I am not the same. Things are different now.”

  Denis braced his legs, poking Adam in the belly. “You are still my brother, and without your agreement I will follow you to East Preston.”

  The determined jut of Denis’ chin convinced Adam there was no point arguing further. “Very well. We leave on the morrow.”

  ~~~

  Denis breathed a sigh of relief as Adam took his leave of their grieving parents and sisters in the windswept bailey of the castle. Mathieu had rasped his adieu in the Great Hall after the family had broken its fast in uncomfortable silence.

  Spring seemed to have given way to winter’s last hurrah. Denis hoped for better weather for their crossing of the Narrow Sea.

  He had expected his half-brother to fight harder. Denis had tasted the bitterness of despair and rejection. He had learned to rise above it, to be the best man he could be, despite his stunted stature.

  Could he help Adam? Denis had been born a dwarf, whereas Adam was a strapping warrior ladies swooned over. His illness had seemingly robbed him of his potency as a male and his hearing. A long convalescence had left him pale and dispirited.

  The physician remained puzzled by Adam’s impotency, and his brother refused to discuss it further. Denis prayed it was a temporary malady. Whenever he felt low, he usually found a good romp in the hay with a willing wench the perfect cure. Obviously that was not a solution for Adam in the present circumstances.

  His brother had never treated him as half a man. Denis resolved not to allow self pity to destroy his beleaguered brother.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Agnès tapped at the door of her mistress’s chamber, expecting no reply. She entered, as she did every morning, knowing she would find Maudine Lallement curled with her knees to her chest in the small bed.

  As usual, the lady of Kingston Gorse was bemoaning that she had awakened at all. “Another day of grinding misery, Agnès. Death would be preferable to the burdensome guilt I carry daily.”

  Agnès knew all about guilt. She muttered gentle admonitions to the woman she had served, but never liked, for more than twenty years. “Come along, milady. I’ll brush your hair. It always makes you feel better.”

  With a deep sigh, her mistress stirred to perch on the side of the bed. Agnès took up the brush and waited for the litany to begin.

  “After two boys, the birth of a daughter was a source of great joy. I had more than satisfied the need to provide an heir.”

  Agnès knew the girl in question only too well, having been her reluctant guardian for many a year. She put her hand on top of her mistress’s head and stroked the brush through the lank strands of dull grey hair.

  Maudine shivered. “You’re the only one I can confide in now. My husband turned away from me long ago. Agnès, you are my witness. For a year I doted on my daughter, often to the detriment of my sons. If Paulina seemed not to be growing as fast as my boys had, I did not remark on it. Boys were boys. Girls grew more slowly.”

  Agnès nodded as she brushed. She knew her role well. “I remember that time. ‘Twas as you say.”

  “By the time Paulina was two, I knew in my heart something was amiss. I saw it in my husband’s eyes.”

  Agnès held her tongue. If she showed her true feelings, her horror at what was to come next, her mistress would cast her out. Maudine Lallement had never been an understanding or patient woman.

  A tear trickled down the wrinkled cheek. “I prayed daily. I fasted for long periods of time, hoping my penance would bring God’s mercy. I fashioned a knotted belt which I wore around my waist, pulling it tighter each day.”

  Agnès sniffled appropriately. “We feared for you then, milady. ‘Twas a bad time.”

  Maudine nodded furiously. “I was afraid of birthing another cursed child, and refused to lie with my husband, until the fateful day he tore the clothes from my body and discovered the knots had eaten into my flesh.”

  She shuddered. “I will long recall the agony as he carefully peeled the cord from my body, tears streaming down his face.”

  Agnès took a deep breath. She had tried to no avail to forget the sound of those screams. “We heard you in the servants’ quarters. Sir Marc fled to the garden after, and retched till we thought he might choke. But he never said a word of what had caused your pain.”

  True enough, though Agnès had been summoned to tend her mistress’s ghastly wounds. Bile rose in her throat even now at the memory.

  Maudine fidgeted nervously as Agnès put down the brush and fingered the hair into three parts for braiding.

  “We discussed our daughter’s slow growth. I had to atone in order to lift the curse on her.”

  Agnès recognised her cue and paused in her plaiting. “What did he say?”

  Maudine shrugged. “He shook his head. Paulina was small, but he insisted she would grow. She needed love, as did our sons.”

  Anger twisted her thin face. “I snarled at him and told him I could not love a creation of the devil. His sons would be shunned when people learned they had a deformed sister.

  “He lost his temper, and forbade me to carry on with my penance. I told him I would not lie with him again until our daughter was shut away.

  “He argued and cajoled, but from that day forth I have shunned my daughter. He installed her in the suite in the attic. You and her nursemaid went with her. I capitulated and allowed him into my bed. Nine months later, Rosamunda was born.”

  Agnès doubted Maudine Lallement knew she told this tale every day. Agnès bore it. She and Thomas had lived for twenty years with the shame a
nd regret of not having fled the cursed house then. She supposed her mistress needed someone to confirm the righteousness of what she had done, even if it was a lowly servant who had witnessed the long ago events.

  For Agnès too the daily diatribe was a penance she deserved for the part she had played in the unjust imprisonment of two young women. She prayed for God’s mercy on her soul as she coaxed her mistress to dress.

  ~~~

  Rosamunda threw her arms around her brother’s neck, then pummeled his chest with her fists.

  “She’s annoyed because you promised to come two days ago,” Paulina explained.

  Lucien suffered the blows with good humour. He shielded his chest, laughing. “Ouch! What a warrior my sister is!”

  Rosamunda pushed him away, her face flushing to the roots of her tangled hair. “Why did you not come?” she mouthed, trying to see what he had behind his back. “Rosemary?”

  Lucien produced the sprigs, waving them under her nose. “You and your rosemary baths. Little did I know the first time I brought it, you would insist on a regular supply.”

  Rosamunda grabbed the herb, rubbing a sprig or two between her thumb and forefinger. She rolled her eyes as she inhaled the aroma.

  Paulina explained. “She likes the way it perfumes the bath water and the scent it leaves in her hair. Thomas will only haul hot water up here once a sennight.”

  Lucien picked up Rosamunda, tickling her ribs as he twirled. She giggled breathlessly, then insisted he put her down and tickle her sister. Paulina would never ask, but Rosamunda knew she loved her brothers’ good natured teasing.

  It rankled that Paulina believed she had no place in the world, no right to a voice because she was tiny. Her sister squirmed in Lucien’s arms, pretending not to be enjoying the fun.

  Lucien bent to plant a kiss atop Paulina’s head. “Vincent and I have been away, renewing our acquaintance with Melton de Montbryce.”