The Brat Page 0,116

and then seven, and then eight, and still no marriage - but William and I continued to send messages to each other through servants and tradesmen coming and going from court. He kept his promise. He did not marry anyone else. He was waiting for me." Her voice cracked on the last word.

"And then the plague struck," Murie whispered with horror. She recalled the day she'd wondered aloud how those at Somerdale fared. Cecily had told her then that they'd fared no better than anywhere else, losing nearly half their people, including the steward, William.

Cecily nodded. "He was dead six months before I got word. His last words were to tell me he loved me."

Murie bit her lip. Cecily had fallen into a deep depression in the midst of the plague, but she'd just assumed it was the ordeal itself, the horror of it all, the fear, the death and the bodies piling up. She'd never known about this William or his importance to Cecily.

"I resigned myself to never marrying, to never having children of my own, to being a barren old woman stuck at that horrid court forever, for it seemed you were never going to wed," Cecily said bitterly. "And then the king ordered that you should.

"It mattered little to me when I first heard the news. It actually made me angry. If he'd only ordered this when you were fifteen, things would've been different. His own daughter was sent off to be married at fourteen in the midst of the plague, and she died from it, but he never bothered to order you." She shook her head with disgust.

"And then I met Baxley." Cecily's face softened. "And he was so handsome and charming.. . and he hinted that his lord was interested in you and that mayhap I would land at Aldous and we could be together. And it was like all of England opened up again for me. There was hope once more - a husband, children, a future." Her face darkened. "But you had to marry Malculinus for me to have it."

"You knew about the trick Malculinus and his sister planned to play," Murie said quietly.

Cecily nodded. "Baxley told me and warned me that if I normally slept on a pallet in your room not to scream or otherwise give away the game."

"And so you played up the St. Agnes Eve superstition, telling me about your sister who dreamed of a man she later married." Cecily nodded again. "I was so happy that night. I felt sure the trick would work, you would marry the handsome and rich lord Malculinus and we would go to Castle Aldous and live happily ever after."

Murie's mouth twisted with anger. "You mean you would. You would be at Aldous happy with Baxley, and I would be there as well, but I would be miserably married to Malculinus who had tricked me."

"You would have been happy," Cecily insisted. "You never would have known about the trick."

"But I soon would have come to realize the man had no character," Murie pointed out. "And by then it would have been too late."

"Character," Cecily snarled. "He does not need character. What matter if he is weak and cowardly? He is rich, with lots of servants. You wouldn't have had to slave away like a peasant to right Aldous Castle."

"Nay, I simply would have had to vie for my husband's attention with his mistress Lady Jane," she snapped. She blinked in surprise when Cecily's expression turned guilty. "You knew about Jane?"

The maid shrugged. "What matter if he was faithful? Men are never faithful."

Murie's eyes narrowed. "Your William was not faithful to you?"

"He was a man," Cecily said with a weary shrug. "What does it matter?"

"I suppose it does not," Murie acknowledged, and then shook her head. "None of this explains why you tried to kill Balan. I understand why you did not warn me of the trick and why you hoped it would succeed and I would marry Malculinus, but once Balan and I married ..." She shook her head and said, just to be sure, "You put the thistle under his saddle? And poisoned the meat?"

"Aye, I did it all - the horse, the meat, hitting him over the head by the river, the fire. It was all me, but every attempt went awry thanks to your interference." The maid's eyes turned angry again as she glared at Murie. "The thistle worked and sent the horse charging, but you charged after him and