Lady of the English - By Elizabeth Chadwick Page 0,68

avoid muddying her shoes, she noticed a group of men talking together as they waited for their grooms. Something about the way they were hunched towards each other set her on edge, but she did not know why. There was Hugh Bigod, lord of Framlingham: a short man as snappy and belligerent as the terrier dogs causing fights in the yard. She did not trust him and she knew Henry kept a close watch on his doings. With him were William Martel, one of Henry’s stewards, and also Waleran de Meulan. The latter was cocking his head to listen to what they had to say, which was unusual, because although he was of their affinity, his tastes were generally more refined and intellectual. She caught Martel’s eye. He bowed to her and as she inclined her head in return, the others turned, made their obeisance, and dispersed across the yard. Her feeling of unease increased, although it was nothing she could name.

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Adeliza spent the next few days packing her baggage for a sea crossing to England and hoped it would come about this time.

She had suggested to Henry before he set out for his week’s hunting that perhaps he should hand over just one of the disputed dower castles as a token, and he had grumbled that he required no advice from her about how to rule his dominions.

However, later, she had heard him voicing the same thing to his eldest son, Robert, and of course, by then, it was Henry’s idea. Naturally he expected concessions in return and peace from Geoffrey, but at least it was a step forward. Now, if only Matilda and Geoffrey would accept the olive branch and cease pressing Henry so hard, perhaps they might have peace to celebrate Christ’s mass, in England.

She sat down in the window embrasure to compose a letter to Matilda, counselling her to be tactful and conciliatory with her father. She enquired after little Henry and Geoffrey too.

She had embroidered smocks for both infants, picking away at the tiny stitches when the light was good enough at midday.

But sewing gowns for another woman’s children was a labour of love that left her hollow with yearning.

She was dipping her quill in the ink when she happened to glance up and, through the open window, saw a horseman galloping through the gateway and dismounting almost before his horse had stopped. She recognised his broad figure as he strode towards the manor and wondered what brought William D’Albini to her in such haste. Her heart began to thump and, calling to Juliana, she abandoned her letters and hurried to the hall.

He stood by the fire, clutching his hat in his hands and rotating it by its brim as he might count prayer beads in church.

His tangled dark curls had obviously not seen a comb in a while and his garments were heavily mud-spattered. The expression in his large hazel eyes filled her with alarm.

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“Madam,” he said as he saw her, and fell to his knees.

She gestured him to rise and bade a servant bring him wine.

“Your news can wait until you have wet your throat,” she said, and was proud of her control. Whatever it was, she knew her life was about to change.

She watched him take the proffered cup in his large right hand, raise it to his lips, and drink thirstily.

“Thank you, madam.” He returned the cup to the servant and hesitated, glancing around. “Perhaps this is for your ears alone for the moment.”

She waved the man out of earshot; Juliana too. “What is it?”

“Madam, you should prepare yourself for grave news. The king was stricken with sickness and fever five nights since. We thought it was but the result of dining too heavily, but he worsened, and this morning he joined his Holy Father in heaven. I offered to bear the tidings here, although I regret with all my heart that I should cause you grief.” Adeliza stared at him, disbelieving. His words seemed to have stopped her own breath. She opened her mouth to question and deny, but no sound emerged. The edges of her vision darkened and she swayed.

“Madam!” She heard his exclamation and felt the strength of his arms as he caught her. He shouted for help and supported her to the bench by the fire while Juliana hastened to attend her. Adeliza knew she was breathing again, for the vile taint of burning feathers assaulted her