Free Lady Isobel's Champion by Carol Townend Page A

widened. ‘No sign of cruelty?’
    ‘Men can be cruel, my lady, and noblemen more than most,’ Elise said, shrugging. ‘They have power, and power breeds cruelty. All I am saying is that I have observed no sign of cruelty in Count Lucien.’
    ‘I am relieved to hear it,’ Isobel said frankly. Elise’s remarks had knocked her back, strengthening her suspicion that Elise was no innocent. ‘Until today, I hadn’t seen Count Lucien in years. It has long been my fear that he mislikes me.’
    ‘He mislikes you?’ Elise’s needle stopped pushing through the altar cloth, her voice sharpened. ‘My lady, I doubt that is true. And even if it is, it has no relevance, since your marriage is a dynastic one. You should be pleased that your father, Viscount Gautier, was able to arrange such an advantageous match.’
    ‘Naturally, I am very grateful.’ Isobel forced out the words, though now she was actually talking about the fear that had been haunting her for months, inside she felt anything but grateful. She felt ignorant. How was she to learn about the physical aspects of marriage, when open discussion was frowned upon? Anna’s dark hints had piled fear on fear. Isobel wanted reassurance, not only because she was afraid of what happened in the marriage bed, but also because of the consequences. Women died in childbirth every day.
    ‘I should like to get to know Count Lucien before we are married.’
    Elise gave her a tight smile. ‘God willing, you will have years to get to know each other. In any case, Count Lucien is not a complete stranger. You met him at your betrothal. Surely you have seen him many times since then?’
    Isobel found herself touching Elise’s arm, seeking a reassurance that she suspected Elise was not willing to give. Elise responded pleasantly enough, but her manner was formal. She is keeping her distance. Something—someone—has hurt her, and she is unwilling to trust me.
    ‘Until I arrived at the Abbey, the only time I met Count Lucien was at our betrothal. I was eleven, he...he was fifteen. Elise, I am afraid...afraid...’ Isobel was appalled to hear her voice crack as she remembered her poor mother and her vain attempts to provide a male heir for Turenne . The strain robbed Mama of her life. Isobel was the only child to have survived. Attending Lady Maude’s various lyings-in, she had stood by helplessly as her mother’s face had distorted in agony. The screams had cut her to the quick. Lady Maude’s death had left Isobel with a dread of childbirth. I have to overcome my fears. I have to!
    ‘You are thinking of Lady Maude, I believe,’ Elise said.
    ‘I...yes.’
    ‘Have you discussed your fears with the Abbess?’
    Isobel stared at the rows of fluted columns that marched round the cloisters. ‘I tried. The Abbess told me to put my trust in God. I can’t help thinking that it’s all very well for a nun, sworn to a life of chastity and prayer, to tell me to put my faith in God. It is not so easy when you have watched your mother’s life ebb away.’
    ‘What happened to your mother may not happen to you.’
    Isobel stared blindly at the blue silk on her knee. ‘I know that, of course, but...’
    ‘Your fear lingers.’
    Isobel gave a jerky nod.
    Elise set another stitch before looking up again. ‘There are ways to prevent conception, my lady.’
    Isobel stared. ‘I can see that you know them. Please, continue...’
    ‘Some methods are better than others. My lady, if you wish to make enquiries, a local apothecary might be a good place to start. When you are married, you might find one and—’ A soft footfall made Elise break off, two nuns had entered the cloisters. ‘Later, I shall tell you later.’
    Isobel leaned in to whisper. ‘Do you know where to find an apothecary in Troyes?’
    Elise nodded.
    ‘You must show me, as soon as possible. This afternoon.’
    ‘What about the Abbess?’
    Isobel frowned at the nuns processing along the path, at the tall columns ranging