Their journey took them several days. It was arranged that they would stay overnight at several convents and monasteries along the way. The duke had sent ahead tomake the arrangements. Finally Stanton came into view and, unable to help herself, Adair surprised Andrew and the men escorting her by putting her horse into a gallop and riding fast for home. Once over their astonishment, Andrew and the duke’s men followed her.
The Stanton folk gleaning in the fields saw her coming, and waved to her. Adair waved back, beckoning them with an arm to follow her to the hall, which they did. And there in the courtyard she spoke to them from her mount, Andrew by her side.
“My good people, I have returned to you from our good duke with a new earl,” she said. “Andrew, born Lynbridge, has taken the name Radcliffe as both my father, Earl John, and King Edward wished. Tomorrow in the great hall we will wed, and you are all invited. Welcome home Andrew Radcliffe, Earl of Stanton!”
And the Stanton folk cheered mightily, pleased and contented by this turn of events. They knew Andrew.
They both respected and liked him. And it was past time that the lady had a husband, and that Stanton had a real earl again.
Chapter 6
“ My baby is getting married,” Elsbeth said excitedly. “ ’Tis past time. Why, when she was your age your mother already had you. He’s a lovely man.
Not the comeliest I’ve ever seen, mind you, but nice enough looking. You’re a fortunate lass.”
“I’m marrying for Stanton, Nursie,” Adair said. “If I don’t, who knows if the king might send me another like poor FitzTudor, or worse?”
“I know you’re marrying for Stanton,” Elsbeth replied. “You have to if we are to have heirs for the estate. But if you must take a husband to your bed—and you must—it does not hurt to have an attractive man by your side, my lass. I’ve heard it said he’s a good bedmate,” she concluded with a knowing wink.
“Heard it said by whom?” Adair demanded to know.
“I’ll put up with no mistresses from a husband of mine!”
“Word gets about the countryside,” Elsbeth said knowingly. “But your man is a will-o’-the-wisp where women are concerned. He has no favorites I’ve heard named on either side of the border. But the lasses smile and nod when they hear his name spoken.”
“Either side of the border?” Adair raised a dark eyebrow.
“There is no line drawn in the hills,” Elsbeth said. “Aman goes where he will. If he sees a pretty girl and wants her, it makes no difference if it be this side of the border or the other. All the men hereabouts are like that. The new earl is no different.”
“I see I must speak with Andrew,” Adair replied darkly. “I will have no nonsense with other women, or bastards scattered about the countryside.”
“Now, now, my dearie,” Elsbeth cautioned, “I do not believe the earl would either hurt or shame you. Do not embarrass him by making demands you should not.”
“I do not want a husband who is always in someone else’s bed,” Adair said stiffly.
“Then make certain he is content in his own bed,”Elsbeth replied pithily.
Adair flushed. “You well know that I have never been with a man,” she said.
“Well, tonight you will be, and knowing you’re a maid he’ll show you the way,” Elsbeth replied. “Passion can be a grand thing with the right man, my lass.”
“What if he isn’t the right man?” Adair wanted to know.
“Plain lust is pleasurable, no matter what the church may say.” Elsbeth chuckled. “Now come along, m’lady,”
the tiring woman said, helping her mistress from her bed. “Your bath will be ready and awaiting you in the day room. Nothing stirs a man’s desires like a sweet-smelling woman. I’ve put some of that nice scent in the water that Lady Margaret gave you on Twelfth Night two years past.”
They went into the little room off the bedchamber where an oaken bathtub was kept set up. Adair’s mother had wanted a separate bathing space, and her doting husband had been happy to comply with her wish. Cauldrons of hot water were hauled up from the kitchens by means of a wooden platform within a stone shaft that opened next to the tub. Two sturdy serving women would draw the platform up and tilt the large kettles into the tub. Then they would lower the platformback down to the kitchens for another cauldron of water. It was a far more efficient means of filling the tub than employing a line of serving men with buckets.
The servants were gone now as Adair entered her bathing chamber and climbed into her tub. She washed her dark hair. The water was nicely hot, and the fragrance of the gillyflowers was sweet. She soaped and rinsed herself, taking her time. The sky outside was still dark. To all intents she was already wed. The priest would bless them after the first Mass of the day. And Adair had declared a holiday for the Stanton folk. They would be invited into the hall for a feast. She had no idea what day of the week it was. The month was November, and before Martinmas, she knew, but the rest really didn’t matter. She had a husband, and her life was going to settle into a pattern revolving around the estate. And there would be children. It was a startling thought, but that was why you took a husband, wasn’t it? To have heirs. And she wanted heirs for Stanton.
She stepped from her tub, and Elsbeth swathed her in a large drying cloth. Then, sitting by the fire, Adair rubbed the water from her black hair with a smaller cloth and a brush. Slowly her long hair dried until it was silken and soft. “I will wear it loose,” she said. “There was no real marriage with FitzTudor, and I am yet a maid.”
“I’ve brought the violet damask gown you chose last night,” Elsbeth said, gesturing to the garment now laid upon the bed.
It had a draped neckline, and was cut with fullness from the neckline to its ribbon-trimmed hem. It had long tightly fitted sleeves. The gown was all of one piece, although the Duchess Anne had told Adair that at court a new fashion was just coming into being where skirts, bodices, and sleeves were all separate, allowing a wearer to interchange the pieces. It made it appear as if a lady had more costumes than usual. Here in the country, however, Adair had no time for such fashion. Her wedding dress was the best dress she owned, and she had worn it now for two years. The fabric had been a Twelfth Night gift from the king. He always gave his daughters a bolt of fabric as a gift, and she and Bessie had always shared their fabrics with Cicely so they might have larger wardrobes.
Adair ran her hand over the silk damask. “It was the nicest cloth he ever gave me,” she said softly as she drew a clean camise on, and then her gown over it.
