Isabella wished she might have had the chance to listen to Amaury’s tales. He must have met people whose clothing and manners would astonish her. He must have endured much – while she had remained at Marnis, following her father’s instructions, as capricious as they might be, and striving to avoid her step-mother as much as possible.
How many women were dismissed to a convent within days of becoming a bride and a wife? Isabella had to think her fate was somewhat unusual and did not like that she was special in that way.
She tugged at the buckle on Denis’ belt and something jingled in his purse. Curious, she opened the pouch upon his belt and found a trio of keys mingled with a few coins. The keys were brass and of goodly size, each different from the others but linked together on a ring as if they shared a common purpose. Isabella had never seen them before.
Did her brother have a secret?
What if she assumed that secret? Audacity, it seemed, had taken hold of her thoughts.
On impulse, Isabella tucked the keys into the top of her stocking. It was not easy to push them beneath the garter, and she was forcing the second one past that barrier as someone tried the door. Isabella jumped in surprise, her fingers shaking as she hastened to ensure she was not discovered at her task.
The latch was shaken furiously, then that person pounded upon the wood. “You will not keep me from my son!” Faydide fairly screeched, loosing her fury upon the door. “I demand admittance! I demand to see my boy! I demand…”
The third key slipped behind the garter and Isabella hastened to unlock the door. As she walked, the cold brass slid down her calf to rest against the inside of her ankle, but she gave no indication of its chill as she opened the door. “It was not my intention to deny you anything,” she said mildly and curtseyed to her step-mother.
Faydide pushed past Isabella, her maid lingering in the hall with a horrified expression. Isabella closed the door against her.
“His eyes are yet open,” Faydide complained and sure enough, the lids had popped open again. Trust Denis to ensure that Isabella was found lacking.
She moved back to the table and eased them closed again. One popped open immediately, giving her half-brother a comical appearance, as if he winked at the world.
“It is disrespectful,” Faydide hissed. “It is vulgar and unnecessary, and undoubtedly spiteful on your behalf.”
“I invite you to close them,” Isabella countered, keeping her voice calm. “I have much more to do before he can be washed.”
“Ungrateful wench,” Faydide muttered. She did try to close the errant lid, and succeeded on the third attempt. She had time to look triumphant, then the first eye popped open again. “You did this!”
“I assure you, I did not. You should hold them closed for a moment, perhaps.” To her surprise, Faydide followed her advice. The older woman’s lips tightened as she surveyed the fallen man, though curiously, she did not weep for her son now that there was no one to see her tears. “Everything is lost,” she said, almost beneath her breath, and Isabella wondered at the words.
She did not ask for an explanation for she knew Faydide would not reply.
Instead, she worked the padded aketon free of Denis’ shoulders and caught her breath at the savagery of the wound he had been dealt. His very innards spilled forth once the garment was loosed. She and Faydide stared in horror.
“No accident,” Faydide said quietly and Isabella could only nod agreement.
“He was meant to die and quickly. You should not have seen it.”
“I have seen worse. Those brutes from Montvieux have no decency,” Faydide declared. “I knew they would insist upon avenging themselves, as if the death of their ancient father was the fault of any mortal. I knew their suspicion and hatred would guide their hands against us. And now, my boy, my beloved boy, has paid the price!” She was stroking the hair back from Denis’brow, his eyes now remaining closed. Isabella had eased him to his back and placed his tunic over his savaged torso.
“Who do you mean?”
“The sons, of course. The younger brothers. They blamed your father for their father’s death. And so they took their vengeance upon my poor innocent boy. He died for no good reason but greed and avarice.”
Denis, in Isabella’s view, had never been innocent.
She cleared her throat slightly, trying not to recall Sebastian’s early and angry departure. “Have you any evidence for such a charge?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you see them attack Denis? Did you hear of a conspiracy against him, formed by them?”
“It only makes sense. Did you see the pride in that knight’s bearing? That Amaury de Montvieux had expectations when he arrived at these gates, to be sure.”
“Perhaps he thought to welcome the felicitations of his wife’s father upon the match that man had insisted upon.”
Faydide inhaled sharply. “You are insolent! Your father was right to declare your nuptials to be false. Why, if you were wed in truth to Amaury de Montvieux, he might make a claim to Marnis!”
Isabella glanced up, for she had not thought of that. “I doubt he desires as much.”
