Marriage Under Siege. Anne O'Brien
is merely Lord Edward’s personal recommendation with the best interests of the lady and of the estate at heart.’
‘I feel free to doubt that Lord Edward ever had anyone’s best interests at heart but his own.’ Mansell’s words and tone were critical and condemning, but his eyes remained fixed on Honoria, and they were kind.
‘I have to say, my lord,’ Wellings continued, ‘that on this occasion I find room for agreement with Lord Edward. In the light of present events and the uncertainty of war it would be most unwise to leave a lady without protection. Leintwardine Manor would be almost impossible to fortify, an easy target for anyone wishing to take control if its security was not looked to. And a lady on her own …’ He looked anxiously at Lady Mansell. ‘As for raising the annual sum from the property, run-down as it is …’ He shook his head. ‘I advise you to think carefully, my lady, before severing your ties with the Bramptons. Unless, my lord, you yourself are bound into an alliance with a young lady?’
‘No.’
Mansell walked across the room and handed the document to Honoria so that she might read of her proposed fate for herself. She took the paper in fingers that were not quite steady and dropped her gaze from his at last.
‘If you decide to take the advice of Lord Edward, I might suggest that you do so promptly,’ Wellings continued. ‘To bring the properties back into the estate will give you, my lord, every legal right to look to the preservation of Leintwardine Manor and Ingram House.’
‘Thank you, sir, for your time and your timely advice. I believe there is much value in what you say.’ He kept his attention on Honoria’s bent head as she read.
‘It is my pleasure. I hope to be of use to you in the future. To both of you.’ The business completed to his satisfaction, Wellings rose to his feet and bowed.
‘Lady Mansell and I need a few private words in respect of the codicil, Mr Wellings. If you wish to gather up your papers, I will send Foxton with some refreshment. I will see you before you leave, of course.’
He took Honoria’s unresisting hand, removed the document from her fingers and then drew her hand through his arm, making the decision for them both.
‘My lady, I suggest we repair to the solar to consider this new situation.’
The solar was warm and inviting if either of them had been in the frame of mind to give it more than a cursory glance. The only appreciative presence was Morrighan, banished from the legal discussions earlier in the day, but now together again with her mistress. She curled her long limbs before the fire, in pleasure at being reunited with such comfort.
The solar was well placed, deliberately so by the Norman-French de Bramptons, who had constructed the castle principally for their safety rather than their comfort, to benefit from whatever sunshine there might be in winter. Pale gold beams spilled through the windows to gild the panelling and the sparse furnishings. The room had been given a woman’s touch. Of all the rooms in the castle that Mansell had investigated, with increasing disfavour since his arrival, this was the only one to bear signs of personal occupancy and attention. It smelled faintly of herbs—lavender, he presumed. The furniture—a chest, a table, carved armchairs—was carefully chosen from what little the castle could offer and had been recently polished. A bright rug covered the smoothly worn floorboards before the fireplace, its colour warming the austere grey stone. Hand-worked cushions helped to soften a window seat that had a view out over an inner courtyard. A bunch of brave snowdrops gleamed white and green in a small pottery vessel on the table. It was clear to him that Honoria had made the room her own and enjoyed its privacy.
But now they stood facing each other across the void of the oak table, Lord Edward’s final document lying between them, the black ink stark in the sun.
‘Please sit, my lady.’ Mansell indicated the carved chair next to her. He poured small beer for them both, pushed the pewter tankard towards her and lowered himself thoughtfully on the seat opposite, hands resting on the table top. He knew that he must tread carefully. Did he really want this aloof, enigmatic lady as his bride? He was not at all certain that he wanted this responsibility along with all the other complications of his now far-flung estates, but did he have a choice? He could hardly throw her to the wolves of local politics and warfare. And there was something about her that tugged at his senses, at some chivalric instinct to protect. Perhaps her vulnerability, her isolation within the community of Brampton Percy. But marriage! He took a deep breath and a mouthful of Lord Edward’s ale, wincing in disgust as he contemplated his next words.
Honoria found herself contemplating not her future, but the hands spread masterfully on the table top. They were wide-palmed, long-fingered and elegant, but with considerable strength. She noted the calluses along the edge of his thumbs from frequent friction with sword and reins. They were hands that would take and hold fast. Was she willing to put her future into those hands? She longed for it, she admitted to herself in a blaze of honesty, but at the same time shrank from the prospect. She pushed the tankard aside and waited.
‘We need to talk, my lady—without polite pretence or dissimulation.’ Mansell’s tone was flat and matter of fact, as if embarking on a business transaction where time was of the essence, but his eyes were compelling. ‘But remember Wellings’s advice. There is no compulsion here. There is no need to feel that you are under any obligation but to your own wishes in the matter. I believe that you will value that—your freedom of choice—more than anything. Am I correct?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded. His approach and understanding put her at her ease again, she found herself able to quell the sense of panic which had begun to tighten its hold, and concentrate on the practicalities.
‘Firstly, then, it is necessary for you to tell me—is it possible that you carry Lord Edward’s child? If that is so, then the whole of the will as far as my inheritance could be invalid and we must refer again to Wellings.’
Lady Mansell’s eyes flew to his, all her composure in tatters once more, before she hid her consternation with a sweep of lashes. She looks astonished, he thought. As if she had never even considered the prospect.
‘No.’ He could not identify the emotion in her voice.
‘Are you quite certain?’ He kept his voice gentle.
‘I am certain, my lord. I am not breeding.’
‘Very well. Then tell me what you wish for. Your jointure is secure in all details. You have the manor and the London property, with sufficient income to allow you to live independently. I presume the estate is capable of raising it, if it is taken in hand. Sir William Croft seemed to think so.’
‘Yes. It is what I hoped for. And I have thought about it carefully. If I live at Leintwardine, I do not believe that I would be in any danger. My neighbours, apart from yourself, would all be Royalist and most of them connected by family to the Bramptons. And since I have no intention whatsoever of dabbling in local politics, I think that no one would threaten my peace or my safety. Leintwardine Manor is small and insignificant—hardly a key property in county affairs.’ She clasped her hands on the table, fingers tightly linked, as if her determination would make it so. ‘If there was a threat, I should know about it. Eleanor Croft, Sir William’s wife, would ensure that I be warned.’
‘You seem very sure.’ His brows rose.
‘Yes.’ Honoria chose not to explain her certainty.
‘You may be right.’ But why? He tucked the thought away, to be perused at a later date. ‘But you should consider, my lady, the alternative possibilities. What if the Royalists do not prosper? What if Parliament is able to put considerable forces into the field in the west and can overcome His Majesty? A superior Parliamentarian force might be victorious and see Leintwardine as a jewel for its collection. The garrison at Gloucester is not so far away, after all, and if Sir William Waller should bring his forces to strengthen it, well …’ He shrugged, rose to his feet and moved restlessly around the room, his tall frame dominating the space. ‘And I am not convinced that your sex or your family connections would automatically safeguard you from attack.’