Joanna (42 page)

Geoffrey was fond of Lady Alinor. She had always been kind, even loving, to him, but there was no avoiding the fact that the word “honor” did not exist in her vocabulary and “right” when Lady Alinor said it meant what was of benefit to her and hers. Even Ian did not trust her in political matters. But would Lady Alinor, who had always been so good to him, use him in this heartless way? Not if she knew it was heartlessbut how could she know it? He had not been in love with Joanna when the marriage was proposed to him. He would never have dared look at his lord’s daughtereven if she was only a stepdaughterwith such an idea. Lady Alinor had every reason to believe he regarded Joanna as a sister. Perhaps she even believed he did not particularly desire the marriage. It seemed to him in retrospect that he had not acted very enthusiastic or even paid much attention to Joanna while Lady Alinor and Ian were still in England.

Would Joanna lend herself to such a deception? She had far more sense of “right” and “wrong” than her mother. Nonetheless, she was a woman, and women’s concepts of   honor were
most
peculiar. Geoffrey was sure Joanna would never intend to hurt him. Only she had no more reason in the beginning to believe she would be hurting him than Lady Alinor did. He had hardly spoken to her before her mother left the countryonly that one time in the garden. Geoffrey thought back on the occasion. He did not remember exactly what had been said, but certainly there had been no question of love. They had spoken of the suitability of the match and then about Joanna’s duties in managing the estate.

“You need not fear that Ian will be placed in a difficult position by this recall,” Salisbury said, misreading the troubled expression that had followed the joy on Geoffrey’s face. “I think we mustfor some years in any caseaccept Wales as being lost to us.”

Geoffrey blinked. He had completely forgotten his father and the troubles of the country, even though he was looking directly at him. Having been brought up with a strong sense of responsibility, he was ashamed of his inattention and indifference.

“I am sure you would not set any trap for Lord Ian,” Geoffrey said, “and it is true that he will find it easier than I to hold the north steady. I do not speak of his vassals, but Ian’s influence with the other men of the area is considerableof course, you know that.” Try as he would, Geoffrey’s mind would not stay fixed on the king’s troubles. He saw Salisbury shift his weight preparatory to rising. “Father,” he said hastily, “I know your hands are full enough and I know also that I should be thinking of greater matters, but my own affairs are dear to me even in times like these. I do not wish that this trouble should be allowed to interfere with my marriage. I would wish to take Joanna to wife as soon as possible.’’

A broad smile illuminated Salisbury’s face, momentarily wiping away the lines of strain and trouble. “Indeed you shall,” he replied heartily. “You have waited long enough. Far too long, in my belief. I never could understand why Lady Alinor insisted on betrothal instead of marriage. If   Joanna had been a child, there would have been some reason in it. Most girls of twelve or thirteen are too young to bear children, I think, but Joanna was past fifteen and a woman grown. You may be sure I will see to it. I will speak to John of the matter straight away. He will be glad to hear of it. It will give him something pleasant to think about for a change, and it will be a strong mark of support for him that Ian’s stepdaughter should marry his nephew. Hmmm. Yes.”

Salisbury gave his son another broad smile and left the room with more spring to his step than he had when he entered. It was just as well because Geoffrey could have found nothing to say. He was appalled at the thought of his wedding being used as a political lever, and Joanna would be fit to tear his eyes out with her nails when she heard. The labor and expense of preparing for hundreds of guests, most of whom she did not know or did not like, would fall upon her. Nonetheless, it was the best thing for his purposewhich was to have Joanna to wife.

Even if she was unwilling? The question could not be avoided. Geoffrey contemplated it with deep furrows between his brows. Then slowly his forehead smoothed and his mouth softened. No, Joanna was not unwilling. She might have agreed to a false betrothal at first believing he would care no more than she when the time came to break the pact, but never, never would she have pretended love or passion. She wanted him near as much as he wanted her. She had said so that night, just before he had seen the start of the fire in Southwark. Perhaps she did not yet love him, but surely she wanted him. It was the best, in fact the only, reason for her alternating warmth and withdrawal. When her own desires conquered her, she was all his; when she remembered her mother’s purpose, she turned, or tried to turn, cold.

Geoffrey proceeded to rack his brains for any reason Lady Alinor could have for arranging a false betrothal. The obvious one was that she did not wish to leave Joanna unprotected and the prey of any man yet wanted the girl to be free to make a different choice if she desired. But that was no secret; Lord Ian had avowed as much, although he had phrased it so that breaking the betrothal would only follow if Joanna discovered she
could
not love Geoffrey. The only other thing Geoffrey could think of was that Lady Alinor had foreseen the conspiracy against John and expected it to be successful. If John fell, Salisbury would fall with him and doubtless Geoffrey with his father. Naturally, Lady Alinor would not wish to be tied in blood to him in that situation.

Geoffrey took his upper lip between his teeth and chewed it gently. He would not blame Lady Alinor for that; in fact, he would not wish to drag Joanna down with him. Then he shook his head. No harm could come of what he had done. Long before Lord Ian could return to England the immediate crisis would be over. If the majority of the army disbanded as the king ordered, there would be no chance of taking John by force and killing or deposing him. In that case, even if the worst should befall and an active rebellion should begin, there could be no question of a sudden fall from power to a state of outlawry for the king’s adherents. There might be a long and bitter civil war, but the end of that was certainly no foregone conclusion.

Nor was there any doubt that Lady Alinor would be ranged with the king’s adherents in such a war. It would not be by her choice. She would do her uttermost to remain neutral and separate from both king and rebels, but she would not succeed. Lady Alinor was a strong woman and in many things she had her way. In this matter, however, Lord Ian would be adamant. He had sworn to uphold the king. More than that, Ian truly believed that, however bad John was, he was better than the chaos that would follow any attempt to overturn him. Lady Alinor could only abandon the king’s party by abandoning her husband, and, life or death, win or lose, she would never leave or hurt Lord Ian.

Thus, Lady Alinor could be no more involved in the king’s fate if Joanna was married to the king’s nephew than   if she were not. The marriage could harm no one and, if his father was correct, might do much good. Not only was Ian a man of great influence in the north, but he had become a close friend of the earl of Pembroke. If Ian came from Ireland where he had been close with Pembroke and he permitted his stepdaughter to marry the king’s nephew, it would be assumed that Pembroke also favored the marriage. This would be doubly a warning to those of rebellious tendency. Pembroke also held Joanna very dear because she was the daughter of his closest friend, now six years dead, and Pembroke was the greatest military leader England had since the death of King Richard.

My father was right, Geoffrey thought. This marriage will be a very good thing in all ways. He returned to the table, sat down, and drew the parchment toward him again. By the time he had dipped his quill, a rather mischievous smile was lifting his lips. He read what he had written and then continued, “. . . it would not be safe for John to leave the country. It is most truly said, however, that it is an ill wind that blows no one some good. All this evil is likely to bring me my heart’s desire at last. My father was just with me and tells me that he writes this very evening to bring Lord Ian and your mother home.”

At this point Geoffrey paused and brushed his nose absently with the feather of the quill. Should he be an arrant coward and cast the blame for the gigantic and hurried wedding they would probably have onto his father? He grinned at the idea but dismissed it. This was too good an opportunity to make it irrevocably clear to Joanna that he expected and intended to many her and would not agree to breaking their marriage contract.

“As soon as I heard this, I told him it was my dearest wish that we should be married at once, as soon as was possible after your mother arrived. What followed you will not like as well, but I believe you will see the necessity and will curb your wrath.”

Geoffrey was not so sure Joanna would curb her wrath,   but so long as she agreed he did not really care if she were angry. He went on to explain the political situation and the effect that their marriage would have.

“So you see,” he wrote finally, “there can be no question of delay. Each day that the wedding is not announced will harden the conviction that Lord Ian (and because of his intimacy with him, the earl of Pembroke) is seeking to sever his bonds to the king. I cannot deny that this gives me the greatest pleasurenot for the reasons it should, that our marriage may save this realm a bloody war where brother might be pitted against brother, but out of pure selfishness. Joanna, my Joanna, anything that will bring you into my arms would be welcome to me. I am glad that our wedding may do much good, but were it otherwise, were it even that every good I have named would be an evil instead, I would still insist that we be married forthwith. Make ready then, dear heart, for I hope in only a few weeks you will be really, completely, and entirely mine.”

After an initial thrill of pleasure which his handwriting always gave her and which Joanna firmly repressed, she read Geoffrey’s letter with relative calm until she came to the final part. It was no surprise to her that John’s subjects had been driven to conspire against him. The possibility of conspiracy and rebellion had seemed very strong to her the last time she had been at court. She was grateful to Geoffrey for his quick warning. There would be time enough to inform her mother’s vassals and castellans to prepare to defend themselves, to avoid all contact with those suspected of rebel sympathies, and to offer no aid or comfort to the king’s men either. They should arm well and keep to themselves, using the good excuse that their lord and lady were out of the country and they had no orders as to what next to do.

As for Clyro, Joanna thought, it would be safe enough. Sir Peter need only be told not to house nor defend the king’s men and to send a discreet messenger to Lord Llewelyn with news of John’s order to disband the army. Llewelyn would, of course, already have heard of so important a move on the borders of Wales, but it would be a strong symbol of good will to send the information. In any case, Joanna was not concerned for Clyro as long as Llewelyn could control the other Welsh princes. His bond with Ian was strong, far too strong to risk over a small, unimportant piece of property like Clyro.

When she came to the news of Salisbury’s sending for Ian, she drew breath sharply and her eyes flew so quickly over the remaining words that she got little sense from them. All that came clear, terribly clear, were Geoffrey’s final words. His, she would be his, completely and entirely his. A huge upwelling of joy drowned in a tide of fear. Was it not likely that Geoffrey would go straight from his marriage bed to fight the king’s enemies? She could not bear it. She could not. Her eyes slid back a few lines and guilt mingled with fear. Geoffrey loved her. He was so eager. She had been greatly at fault to yield to his lovemaking. She had given him good cause to believe that she was as eager as he to be wed. What should she do? What could she do?

Perhaps her mother could help. Joanna sought further back in the letter, hoping for information as to when Ian and Alinor might be expected to arrive. If she sent a messenger at once, could he arrive in Ireland before her mother and Ian left? What Joanna found instead of the information she sought was Geoffrey’s explanation of the political situation and the significance her marriage to him would have. She read and reread the lines and found herself utterly convinced by his reasoning.

Joanna knew that the political situation would make no difference to Ian or Alinor. If she said she was unwilling to marry Geoffrey, they would break the contract and face the consequences without the slightest hesitation. Joanna shuddered. It might have been possible to sacrifice Geoffrey. She could have told herself that he would soon console himself with a new love. It simply was not possible, however,   to contemplate the real danger and trouble her refusal would bring to every person in the world she loved. No longer was it merely a matter of their disappointment at the failure of a match they thought would be a source of happiness and benefit to all. Now her refusal would result in disaster.  
p.

Lady Alinor allowed her maid to brush her hair the full number of strokes and determinedly kept her eyes away from Ian’s squire, who seemed to be taking ten times as long as usual to disrobe his lord. She did not clench her teeth nor her fists, and she even made shift to smile at Gertrude and thank her in the usual way. Ian said nothing to his squire, staring absently over the boy’s head at a handsome tapestry that adorned the wall and somewhat moderated the chill damp which oozed through the stones. However, that was usual. Lord Ian was not a great babbler of idle nothings.

When he was naked and ready for bed, Ian tousled the squire’s hair and said, “Court dress for tomorrow, Stephen.” The boy groaned and Ian laughed and slapped him lightly on the shoulder as a dismissal.

He followed Gertrude out of the room, closing the door behind him. Almost instantly Lady Alinor leapt to her feet, but Ian shook his head and she sat down again abruptly and began buffing her nails with a chamois fastened to an oval piece of wood. In a few minutes there was a scratch at the door. Ian, who had climbed into bed and propped himself against the pillows, flashed a smile at his wife and called, “Come.” One of Isabella’s ladies entered promptly. She asked most solicitously whether Lady Alinor had everything she needed, whether the queen could provide any comfort, any article that might have been sent on ahead to Roselynde because Alinor had not known that her journey would be interrupted.