Sybilla hoped the woman wasn’t there to present her son as a match for one of the Foxe sisters. The very idea of a Mallory and a Foxe was absurd.
Judith Angwedd swept into Fallstowe’s great hall and down the center aisle created by the dining tables as if she floated rather than walked on two legs, her son lumbering along behind her. She was a tall woman, on the spare side, and of the eccentric habit of wearing her dull red hair long and straight down her back, but short and rolled into perfect, thumbsized curls on the sides and top of her head. Her face was paunchy and waxen, like the thick butter Gillwick manor was known for producing, and her dirt-brown eyes sat in fatty folds not matching the rest of her thin figure. She had extremely large teeth, wide and long and white, and was quite proud of them by theway her tongue constantly attended to their polishing. Judith Angwedd could in no way be called a handsome woman.
Her son was her male counterpart. Tall like his mother, but blocky and wide, his large, flat face was surrounded by the same childish, fat, red curls. His eyes, too, were like Judith Angwedd’s, enveloped in swollen flesh to the point that they seemed to be in danger of being swallowed by his face. And Bevan Mallory’s face appeared just hateful enough to do it. The purple-red hue of his nose emboldened rather than detracted from the brown freckles splashed across his cheeks. Sybilla thought he looked mean and stupid, and she wondered if he would prove her suspicions when she first heard him speak. Although the Mallorys had been in attendance at a handful of functions at which Sybilla had also been present, the two families had never had cause for direct conversation. The strange Gillwick clan had never been invited to Fallstowe castle, as far as Sybilla could recall.
“Lady Foxe.” Judith Angwedd floated to a stop before Sybilla’s dais and sank into a deep curtsey. Behind his mother, Bevan bowed sloppily. “I do beg your pardon for arriving so unannounced, and I must confess straight away that my appearance is in part to ask for your assistance.”
Sybilla’s eyebrows rose. The woman obviously thought much of herself to request anything from Fallstowe. She was little more than a commoner. Perhaps if Gillwick lay in a town, Judith Angwedd would be considered a burgess’s wife, but the announcement of requested aid was very strange any matter, and set Sybilla immediately on alert.
“Indeed? Our houses are not well connected, but ofcourse I am always willing to offer what I can in the spirit of Christian charity. What troubles you, Lady Judith?”
The woman’s brow gave a flicker of displeasure at being reminded of her station, but she continued. “As you likely have heard, my husband, Lord Warin Mallory, died only a fortnight ago.”
“No, I hadn’t,” Sybilla replied mildly, not caring in the least. Perhaps Judith Angwedd was to ask for money, then. “May God receive his soul.”
Judith Angwedd’s color was high now. “Thank you, my lady,” she gritted out. “Unfortunately, his death caused his other son a great deal of distress, to the point that I’m afraid he went quite mad.”
“You have another child?” Sybilla asked, her eyes going to Bevan, whose face was now entirely covered by the purplish tinge.
“Piers is not my child,” Judith Angwedd hissed, and even to Sybilla, who was known to be cool of nature, the words were icy. “He is a bastard born by a common whore of our village. A farm hand. No one of any consequence.”
“I see,” Sybilla said, although she did not. “What has this to do with Fallstowe, Lady Judith?”
“Upon Warin’s death, Piers was overcome with the mad notion that it should be he who inherits Gillwick Manor rather than Warin’s older andlegitimateson,myBevan. So possessed was he by this idea that he attacked Bevan, and tried to kill him.”
Again, Sybilla’s eyes flicked to the heretofore silent Bevan. “He looks fine to me.”
“Well, Bevan overpowered him, of course,” Judith Angwedd simpered proudly. “But now Piers is nowhere to be found, and we believe him to be quite dangerous. He isn’t here, is he?”
“No,” Sybilla said without hesitation. “I would have been informed had a troubled man come upon Fallstowe’s gate. Why would you think him to come here?”
Judith Angwedd looked uncomfortable for only a moment. “Bevan and I are to appear before the court of King’s Bench in less than a fortnight—perhaps Piers travels there with the idea that he will plead his delusional cause with Edward. Fallstowe lies directly in the path between Gillwick and the crown, and so I thought …” She paused, letting her wide teeth flash for an instant. “You haven’t had any horses stolen, have you? Chickens? Anything of the like?”
Sybilla laughed out loud. “I’ve not counted them myself, but no, I’ve not heard that our henhouses have been breached. I’m sorry I cannot be of any help to you, Lady Judith.”
“I see. Well, if you would happen to—”
At that moment, Graves leaned close to Sybilla’s shoulder, so that the visitors could not hear him. Sybilla held up a palm to Judith Angwedd, signaling the woman to petulant silence.
“Has there been word from Lady Alys, Madam?”
Sybilla’s brow creased. Likely this Piers had wandered into the forest or the river and was either dead or had in some other way made himself of no consequence to Fallstowe or its inhabitants. But as far as Sybilla knew, Alys had yet to return to the keep, and the youngest Foxe sister was just foolish and headstrong enough to engage anyone she came across to her own cause now that she was to wed.
“Shall I send a rider?” Graves asked when Sybilla had yet to answer.
Sybilla gave only the briefest nod, and Graves made not a whisper of sound as he left to do her bidding. As Sybilla turned her attention back to the fuming JudithAngwedd and her purple son, she heard the approaching cackle of Etheldred Cobb. A sharp pain began throbbing beneath the delicate tissue of her temples. Sybilla wanted nothing more than to dismiss Judith Angwedd from the hall and retire to her rooms for the evening, leaving the Cobbs to a lonely supper. But she would not, as long as there was even the slightest chance Alys could have run upon a dangerous person.
“Lady Judith,” Sybilla began, seeming to have to force her mouth to form the words. “Fallstowe entertains other guests this evening.” She stopped, and Judith Angwedd’s face fell into an offended scowl. The woman’s discomfiture suited Sybilla, but she forged ahead with the invitation. “But I would be pleased if you and your son would join us for a meal before taking your leave.”
Judith Angwedd’s padded eyes widened to the best of their ability, and after one stunned moment, she curtsied.
“It would be our honor to dine in such a grand hall as Fallstowe’s, Lady Sybilla,” the woman simpered.
“Why, Judith Angwedd, it’s been three years, I’d wager.” Etheldred Cobb entered the hall with Clement and maid Mary on her heels, and the old woman seemed unreasonably pleased to see the Gillwick party.
Judith Angwedd straightened and her brows rose. “Lady Etheldred, Lord Clement. What a lovely surprise. You remember Bevan, of course. What brings you to Fallstowe?”
“Yes, ho there, Bevan. Eating well, I see.” Etheldred Cobb pulled her own sizeable mass onto the dais and took a seat at Sybilla’s table as if the chair had been inscribed with her name, while her maid moved alone to one of the common tables on the floor. “Clement and I decided to stay on a bit after the winter feast. Strange—I don’t recall seeing you among the guests.” The slight flew through theair with the surety of the straightest arrow. “And, of course, with Clement and Lady Alys soon to wed … well, pray God one day you may know how loathe young people in love are to part from one another, eh Bevan?”
