Free The Lords of Arden by Helen Burton

Lord, to taunt a child!’
Out of the corner of his eye, Warwick had noticed the woman ride into the
court, a groom flanking her mare on each side. He had seen her dismount,
issuing directions to her servants, and was watching as Harry gathered up his
long length, leapt from the cart and bowed low. She was young, she was tall for
a woman, slim and dark, she had eyes like the summer sea, beneath finely arched
brows which winged away towards her temples. Beauchamp remembered the darkness
of a tower stair at Windsor, almost five years before, a wretched boy of
fifteen and a girl in a dress sewn with silver stars.
     Harry was saying, ‘Surely you know each
other? Thomas, let me present the Lady Aylesbury of Edstone - Sir Roger's
charming wife. You do know Sir Roger? He's a near neighbour of yours in
Warwickshire. Orabella, Thomas Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick.’ Thomas bowed but he
had a hand still on the child's collar. Lady Aylesbury sank into a deep
reverence, the skirts of her tawny surcote belling out about her. She let him
raise her, amusement and recognition on the perfect oval of her face.
     Harry said, ‘Are you good with children,
Orabella? I hear you have a son of your own. Is he well?’
     ‘Philip is thriving,’ smiled Orabella. She
put one long manicured finger under the boy's pointed chin. ‘Are you hungry?’
     ‘Yes, My Lady.’
     ‘Then shall we strike a bargain? A good
breakfast for your Christian name, that's fair exchange surely?’
     ‘I suppose so.’
     ‘Well, then?’
     ‘Can I eat first?’
     ‘That's not placing much trust in a
lady's word, is it?’
     ‘My name is Richard and I am very
hungry.’
     Lady Aylesbury gave Harry a very
unladylike wink and guided her new protégé towards the kitchens. In three yards
he had pushed one small and very grubby hand into hers and had sidled closer to
her voluminous skirts.
     Harry sighed, ‘Orabella could seduce
anything on two legs. She'll have the boy's life history and the names of his
uncles and aunts, pet rabbit and the kitchen cockroaches. Why does he interest
you? There are dozens of runaways following the baggage wagons; there’ll be
more before we reach Berwick.’
     ‘I thought you thought we were still
going to Ireland,’ said Thomas.
     ‘Did I say so? I don't remember, and I
asked you a question.’
     Beauchamp shrugged his shoulders. ‘There's
something tugging at my mind, a woman once, her name was Lora. Oh, none of
mine, this goes back a long way. They said he always chose amethysts because
they complemented her violet eyes....’
     ‘He didn't have violet eyes, they were
dark as you can get.’
     ‘No, and it doesn't matter. It would be
too much of a coincidence, his child in my hands, a son I doubt he even knows
exists. I wonder…’
     
    ~o0o~
     
    Orabella D'Aylesbury, Lady of Edstone in
the County of Warwick, found her way to Thomas de Beauchamp's chamber later
that day, after the boards had been cleared of the last traces of supper, the
scraps carted away to be fed to the poor of the town and the company generally
dispersed. The little page with the lint blond hair opened the door, studying
her, head on one side. Beauchamp sent him off to bed.
     ‘Am I to remain here on the threshold?’
enquired milady with a lift of one expressive eyebrow. Thomas was not the
innocent of their first meeting. He had an illegitimate daughter back at Warwick with her nurse; child of an adolescent liaison with a gypsy dancer. The girl had
arrived at the castle one Christmas with a motley troupe of tumblers and conjurers.
She proved the star attraction, able to walk on her hands, displaying shapely
calves beneath the scarlet silk of her Turkish-style trousers, and her ankles
boasted bands of brass bells which tinkled prettily as she turned her
cartwheels. She could dance too; exotic dances from the East, accompanied by
the castanets or a ribboned tambourine. She was young and wild and black-haired
and Thomas was bewitched.