"So I heard." Edda shook her head. "Accidents, the tent in flames, and someone drugging Alex? 'Tis hard to believe."
"Aye," Merry murmured, offering a smile to Lia as the maid appeared with food and drink for her.
"I hope you found Evelinde well?" Edda asked as the maid left.
Recalling Evelinde's comment that she should watch Edda when she told her of her happiness, Merry turned to smile at her widely and watched her expression as she gushed, "Oh, aye. She is wonderfully happy. 'Tis obvious she and Cullen are very much in love. The man dotes on her and she on him. 'Twas enough to make me jealous."
"What a relief," Edda said, and the words seemed genuine, as did her concern as she admitted, "I fear I have been fretting over the girl. We were not close, but still, she was my husband's daughter and I did worry how she would get along with the Devil of Donnachaidh. By all accounts he is a cold, heartless bastard." She paused and shook her head. "But I suppose such names mean little in Scotland, and these tales just spread and grow until they carry little truth. After all, they call you the Stewart Shrew and that title hardly fits, does it?" She laughed.
Merry smiled and then turned to her food, now thoroughly confused. The woman truly seemed happy and relieved that Evelinde was well. Either she was a much better actor than Evelinde had supposed, or the woman really had turned a new leaf. It made Merry feel guilty for the suspicions she'd allowed the others to bring about in her. She herself had been falsely accused and knew how hurtful it could be. Now she was anxious about her promise to see Edda sent away to visit her sister. She still intended to carry that plan through, but was troubled at the prospect and found herself unable to join in properly as Edda chattered away keeping her company. Fortunately, she had the excuse of eating and drinking to cover her silence, but she was grateful when she was done and could excuse herself to go check on how things had gone while she was away.
Merry's guilt and discomfort made her avoid Edda for the rest of the day, and it was not until supper that she spoke to the woman again. Her mother-in-law was as cheerful and happy to see her then as she'd been that morning, but--terribly aware of Alex beside her and knowing he suspected the woman as much as his sister did--Merry found herself extremely uncomfortable through that meal as well.
When the sup had ended and Edda suggested they relax by the fire to attend to mending, Merry forced a smile and promised to join her in a moment and then waited until she had moved away from the table before turning to Alex.
"You are finding dealing with Edda difficult," Alex said sympathetically the moment his stepmother was out of earshot.
Merry was surprised at his intuition, but nodded silently and managed a true if weak smile when he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to her lips. Once he'd straightened again, he peered at her solemnly and then suggested, "Mayhap it would be for the best did we send her away to her sister's as you suggested."
"Evelinde suggested it," Merry said quickly, feeling disloyal enough without taking the full burden of responsibility for sending the woman away. Still, she could not wholly shirk the responsibility. "But, aye, mayhap 'tis fer the best."
"Then I shall ask her sister's name and suggest a visit," he said simply.
"Evelinde told me the name," Merry murmured, but then paused. The sound of the great hall door opening had distracted him, and Alex was glancing toward it, a scowl claiming his lips as he saw who entered. Merry followed his gaze, her eyebrows rising slightly as she saw that it was Godfrey. The lad hadn't attended the sup and she'd thought he must be on a chore for Alex. Judging by her husband's irritated expression as he stood to meet the lad, if he had been on a chore for him, Godfrey hadn't been quick enough about the task.
"What the hell took you so long?" Alex asked irritably as the boy came to a stumbling halt before him. "I sent you to the village shortly after noon. You should have been back hours ago."
"I am sorry, my lord," Godfrey said quickly, and then, shamefaced, admitted, "I met a courier on the way, got turned around in the woods, and lost my way back. I have been wandering for hours. I--Here. He gave me this letter to bring to you."
Alex scowled, but took the letter and barked less angrily, "You missed the sup. Go to the kitchens and get yourself something to eat."
"Aye, my lord. Thank you, my lord." The boy hurried off, disappearing into the kitchens as quickly as his legs would carry him, probably more in a rush to escape his lord's angry glare than an eagerness to find food.
Merry's gaze slid back to her husband as he untied the ribbon around the scroll and then unrolled it. "What is it?"
"'Tis just a letter from his father, checking on how he is faring," Alex said. "He frets about the boy unnecessarily. I think 'tis because he is so small for his age and looks so much younger than he is." He paused to glance at her and then added with a grin, "I hope our own sons inherit their size from me."
Merry smiled faintly, her mind immediately moving to ponder their possible children and what they might look like as she asked, "How old is Godfrey?"
"Sixteen. Near a man, really, and much older than most boys are when sent away to squire, but as I say, I suspect his size and young looks have made his parents overprotective," Alex murmured as he turned back to continue reading the missive.
Merry's eyes widened with surprise. "Godfrey is indeed small and young-looking for his age. I would ha'e guessed him to be no more than twelve or thirteen. He barely has any meat or muscle on him."
"Aye, well, he's stronger than he looks," Alex murmured, setting the letter on the table. He then gave her a quick kiss even as he got to his feet to move toward the kitchen. "Excuse me, wife, I forgot to ask him how he fared with the task I'd set him. We can continue this discussion about sending Edda away later in our room where prying ears will not hear."
Merry nodded her understanding and watched him head to the kitchens before moving to join Edda by the fire as she'd promised.
"Alex looked annoyed," Edda commented as Merry took the seat across from her and began to poke through the endless mending that needed doing. "Is Godfrey failing in his position of squire?"
"Nay. Well, I do not think so. Alex apparently sent the boy to the village after lunch and expected him back much sooner, but Godfrey got lost on the return journey."
"From the village?" Edda asked with a bark of disbelieving laughter. She shook her head. "That boy is forever getting himself lost. He needs a couple of lessons in navigating ere he's let loose again, else he'll find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time and beset by bandits."
"Aye," Merry said, and decided she would mention as much to her husband this evening when they retired to their room.
"I need a refill on my mead, Merry," Edda announced suddenly, setting her sewing aside. "How about you?"
"Nay. I am fine, but I can fetch it fer ye, if ye like," Merry offered, eager for an excuse to escape the mending. It was not one of her favorite tasks.
"Nay, nay, that is all right," Edda said, getting to her feet. "My fingers are sore and stiff from sewing and I could use the chance to stretch my legs. You go on and get started, I shall return directly."
Merry watched her go and then glanced down to the braies in her lap and grimaced. She really wasn't in the mood for sewing, but it had to be done. She set to work, her thoughts wandering as she sewed, and then glanced up eagerly when the kitchen door opened once more and she saw Edda returning.
"I have decided I am rather weary tonight, Merry," the older woman announced, pausing beside her chair. "I think I shall retire early and finish this tomorrow night."
"Oh, all right," Merry murmured, and then offered a smile. "Well, good sleep then, Edda."
"Thank you, dear. And you, too. See you in the morning."
Merry nodded and watched her head off, then glanced back to her sewing once more, but managed only one stitch before restlessness had her setting it aside and wandering to the trestle table. She thought she would wait there for her husband's return and then suggest they, too, r
etire early. She was not tired herself, but was bored, and they might as well retire to their rooms where they could discuss Edda in privacy and decide how they were to approach her on taking a visit with her sister.
Merry settled at the table and began to toy absently with the letter from Godfrey's father, rolling the scroll around on the tabletop as she waited. After another moment's passing, she then unrolled the scroll for something to do and glanced over the contents with a bored eye. It was exactly what Alex had said it was, a letter from Godfrey's father asking about his welfare and how he was working out as squire. It wasn't until her eye slid to the signature that Merry's ennui died an abrupt death.
"Lord Alfred Duquet," she breathed the name aloud, her mind suddenly in an uproar. Evelinde had said Duquet was the name of Edda's sister's husband. Godfrey was Edda's nephew? Surely Alex would have mentioned it, she thought, and then recalled his saying that he'd forgotten Edda even had a sister and could not recall her name. He didn't know, she realized. And neither Godfrey nor Edda had mentioned it. Why?
Not for any good purpose, she decided with grim certainty and headed for the kitchens. This was something she needed to talk to Alex about at once. If Godfrey was Edda's nephew, he might very well have been the one behind the attacks on their journey, she thought, and suddenly recalled that he was the first person she'd run into on bringing Alex back from the waterfall. He'd claimed--and she'd believed him when he said--that he was coming from camp to relieve himself, but now she wondered if he hadn't been checking to see if his attempt had succeeded and his lord was dead. He certainly hadn't continued on with his chore to relieve himself that she knew of.
Merry didn't like to believe the thoughts now crowding her head, for she liked Godfrey, but this news placed suspicion firmly on his head...and Edda's, she realized unhappily, suddenly sure the kind woman who had been so welcoming to her since her arrival was just a facade. Evelinde had been certain Edda could not have changed, but Merry had been sure she was wrong. Now, however, she tended to think her sister-in-law might be right. It still didn't all make sense, but with this new bit of information perhaps she and Alex could sort it out. Or at least question the pair of them and get to the bottom of matters, she hoped, pushing the kitchen door open and peering around the busy room for her husband.
Her mouth tightened with displeasure when she didn't spot either him or Godfrey, and then her gaze landed on Una chatting with the old servant, Bet, and she headed in her direction.
"Una? Have you seen Alex?"
"Aye. He took Godfrey up to the tower."
"Whatever for?" she asked with surprise.
"Well, he was in here asking Godfrey about something he'd sent him to the village for when Edda came in and teased the boy about his complete lack of direction. She said only a fool could get lost on the way back from the village, or someone completely ignorant of navigation. She then asked Alex had he not taught the boy to navigate by the moss on the trees during the day and the stars at night." Una grimaced and muttered, "The cow. She was making like 'twas all teasing, but she was criticizing him for all that."
Merry felt her mouth compress, knowing Edda's words had probably felt as sharp to Alex as her own insult to his sense of responsibility when she'd suggested it was not well done of him to plan a trip to Donnachaidh without first tending to his men's fighting skills here.
"I thought he'd snap at her, but no such luck," Una said glumly.
Merry raised an eyebrow at the disappointment in her voice. Una's comments made it more and more obvious that not only was she not warming to Alex's stepmother, but instead she seemed to be growing a stronger antipathy to her, but Merry had no idea why that was. Even the maid could not explain it, claiming 'twas just a feeling she had about the woman.
"Anyway," Una went on, drawing her attention back to her explanation, "yer husband decided he'd teach the boy what he could tonight and ushered him off up to the tower to train him in how to navigate by the stars."
"I did not see them pass through the great hall."
"Nay, he used the back stairs." Una turned and gestured to a stairwell in the back corner of the room. "It meets up with the stairs from the second floor about halfway up."
"Is there a guard on that tower?" Merry asked sharply, a bad feeling flowing through her.
"Nay. Well, there was, but he came down to find a warm drink just as Edda entered, and when Alex decided to take Godfrey up there, he said he'd keep an eye out and suggested the guard give his legs a stretch. He's going to send for him when he's done."
"Then he and Godfrey are alone up there?" she asked with sudden alarm.
"Aye," Una answered, and then asked, "What is it? Ye've gone all pale."
"Godfrey is Edda's nephew," Merry muttered, and rushed for the stairs, suddenly sure her husband should not be alone with Godfrey.
chapter Sixteen
Merry was perhaps halfway up the winding tower staircase when Edda suddenly stepped out of the shadows a step or two above her. The woman's appearance brought an abrupt halt to her headlong rush, and Merry eyed her warily and pressed a hand to the stone wall to steady herself.
"Edda," she greeted, managing to keep her voice polite.
"Why, Merry dear, wherever are you headed in such a hurry?" Edda asked lightly, gracing her with one of her sweet smiles.
Merry considered her briefly, and then said, "I thought to go join Alex and Godfrey on the roof."
"What a lovely idea," Edda responded at once. "I could do with a bit of fresh air myself. Why do we not go up together?"
When she hesitated, wondering how to handle this, Edda suddenly slipped her hand out from behind her back, revealing a small but lethal-looking dagger with a jeweled handle. Her smile suddenly as sharp as the blade's edge, she suggested, "Why do you not lead the way?"
Merry's mouth tightened, but she had little choice but to do as Edda said and started forward. It wasn't until she was passing Edda that she saw the door she'd been standing in front of. The door to the second floor, Merry supposed, stiffening when she felt the tip of Edda's blade press into her back.
"I had a feeling you might be a problem when I saw your expression as you read the letter at the table. Godfrey told me it was from his father. You recognized the name, didn't you?"
Merry nodded. "Evelinde said your sister was married to a Lord Duquet. I thought it too much of a coincidence that Godfrey's father was also a Lord Duquet."
"Hmm. I thought so," Edda said, and Merry couldn't help but notice that the sweet, affectionate voice was gone, a cold and even smug one in its place.
"I thought ye'd gone to yer room," Merry muttered, continuing grimly up the stairs.
"I did, but only to fetch my knife. 'Twas as I was leaving my room and walking by the stairs that I happened to glance down and see you seated at the trestle table in the great hall, reading the letter from Godfrey's father."
"Ye mean yer brother-in-law, do ye no'?" she asked dryly.
"Aye, he is that, too," Edda admitted. "Though I've never had much use for either him or my sister. They are a pair of mealymouthed, whey-faced cows; perfect for each other, but hardly interesting otherwise."
"And Godfrey?" Merry asked grimly.
"Oh, he at least shows some promise," she said, and then clucked her tongue and added, "Unfortunately, he is young yet and prone to make mistakes."
Thank God, Merry thought unhappily. Those mistakes were probably the only reason Alex still lived, and if she was lucky, he might make another tonight and she and Alex might yet get out of this.
"Speaking of my nephew," Edda said suddenly, prodding her with the blade, "do move more quickly, Merry, I am eager to see that all is well in the tower. If Godfrey hasn't erred yet again, Alex should already be lying broken on the stones below the tower."
Merry prayed that wasn't true and paused to peer back at her as she asked, "Why are ye doin' all o' this?"
"Because I am not ready to give up my position as Lady d'Aumesbery," Edda said simply.
"Killing Alex would not achieve that for you," Merry pointed out. "Neither will killing both of us. D'Aumesbery will merely go to Evelinde and Cullen and their heirs."
"No, it will not," Edda assured her firmly, and jabbed her angrily with the blade for the suggestion.
Merry winced as it made a shallow cut in her back, but merely shook her head and continued walking. To her mind, the woman's plan could never work. D'Aumesbery certainly would go to Evelinde and Cullen did Edda succeed in killing both Alex and her this night. The woman was obviously mad, she decided, and then reminded herself that being mad merely made her more dangerous. She then gave up trying to sort out Edda's reasoning in favor of trying to anticipate what was coming and find a way to save both herself and Alex.
Unfortunately, she had little time to think. They had almost reached the tower by then, and all too soon they were stepping out into the starlit night. Merry immediately glanced around, searching out her husband, but any hopes she might have pinned on him died the moment she saw him lying unconscious before Godfrey. He had either fallen across the top of the parapet when Godfrey had attacked him unexpectedly, or he had fallen on the floor and Godfrey had so far managed to get him half over the bulwark. She could not tell if her husband was dead or just unconscious, but knew he must be one or the other for he was completely still and silent as the boy pushed and prodded at his limp form, trying to push him up and over the wall.
"Dammit, Godfrey! Can you do nothing right?" Edda snapped, urging Merry across the tower toward them. "Alex should be lying broken and dead in the bailey below by now."
"Oh, aye," Godfrey grunted, not bothering to look around as he worked. "And if you think 'tis that easy, why do you not get over here and try to push him off? I have no stomach for this bit of business anyway."
"That became more than obvious to me with your repeated failures to kill him on the way to and back from Scotland," Edda said dryly, catching Merry's arm and drawing her to a halt several feet from the pair. "Unfortunately, you shall have to manage it on your own as I am presently otherwise engaged."
"Ha ha," Godfrey snapped, sounding nothing like the sweet, shy lad she'd known since arriving at d'Aumesbery. It seemed Edda was not the only actor in the family. "Why do you not--"