The agreement

Chapter Eleven

Emma allowed Bessie to wash and dress her, her mind racing. She saw her reflection in the polished metal mirror. The maid had done well, she'd found a dress that had been made for the first wife but never worn. The poor woman must have been near her height but slightly less curvy and the dress was more fitted than the style usually intended. Emma fingered the green silk, absentmindedly admiring the colour while hoping she didn't faint from the overwhelming rush of terror in the pit of her stomach.

But the worse thing was she couldn't even name what she was so frightened of, Bessie had said a wedding, not necessarily hers, but even if it was hers who would she marry now that William was dead?

She realised that Bessie was chatting softly as she combed and styled Emma's hair, trying gently to brush out three days of knots.

"Now that man you rode in with, the one who is so protective of you, oh My Lord, if I was a little younger.." she chuckled as she pinned up strands of blonde hair.

Emma turned to look at her, her face taut. "Guy of Gisborne, he's my uncle's master of arms" she replied. "And he's probably just glad to be rid of me". She felt tears building but pushed them down. She was brought up to be strong and she only had her pride left. As she walked out of the room and down to the hall below, she hoped that it would be enough to get her through.

Leaning against the dais John laughed quietly with a nervous looking priest who keep playing with the carved wooden rosary that hung from his rope belt. Catching sight of Emma approaching he eyed her appreciatively, making her feel very self-conscious and all too aware that the gown was really too tight in some very obvious places. She looked around her and saw Guy at a table further down the hall, with another monk, signing a scroll.

John caught her glance. "Yes, today has been a very lucky day for Gisborne. I have always admired his dedication and loyalty, and ability to tolerate your uncle without killing him. Very valuable traits" he laughed mirthlessly. "I've decided to make him the new custodian of Bowes and its estates. Of course Vaisey will be furious, his former whipping boy almost more powerful than him" John almost giggled at the thought of it.

"But of course with such a change of fortune Guy will need to become a proper lord of the manor. And every lord needs a lady" he beckoned over Robert's widow who was lurking nearby, looking decidedly happier than before. He stroked her cheek tenderly, and smiled back at Emma. "But unfortunately I have other plans for this one" she almost simpered as he shooed her off with a grin and a pat on the bottom. Emma stood stock still trying to keep her face impassive; not giving John the pleasure of seeing her relief that Guy wasn't marrying that young pretty slip of a thing. But, then, if not her then who? She started, realisation dawning.

John called to Guy who finally looked up and saw Emma, his face unreadable. "Gisborne, I've just thought of the perfect way to cement your new status here, and of course it will also send your former master into a rage he might never recover from. I suppose you should at least be glad she doesn't look like her uncle..."

Emma has to grab the table next to her to stop herself from falling, her eyes wildly staring at the rushes at her feet. She heard a curt "As you wish my Lord" from Guy but she was too afraid to look at him and so kept her head down, face flushed.

The wedding ceremony later that afternoon as John had declared that the royal court had other visits to make, probably to other poor unsuspecting subjects. The vows were short and to the point with Emma mechanically repeating the words, her mind in turmoil. Love, obey, honour, the words felt like salt in her mouth. She couldn't even look at him but she could feel him close beside her and when she timidly raised her gaze to his face as they were hand-fasted, he didn't return her look. Did he hate her? She knew he could be cruel and hold grudges against those who had wronged him, was that the live that faced her? John had said it himself, through her Guy could avenge his anger to Vaisey. She shuddered. But maybe, just maybe....

The evening was worse, with John and his retinue toasting their nuptials with more joy that either of them showed. Guy sat and drank, closed off from everyone around him buried in his thoughts. Emma fled to the chamber as soon as John permitted her, his arm draped around the tipsy looking widow.

Bessie was lighting candles in the chamber as she entered, the scent of the expensive bee's wax perfuming the air. Emma's resolve to be strong crumbled at the sight of her kindly face. She could hold back the sobs no longer and they racked her body as she threw herself into Bessie's arms.

Emma couldn't remember the last time she had cried like this, it wasn't the simple grief she had felt at the death of her father, but tears of shame and self-pity and fear. She'd been sold like a two headed chicken to a travelling show, she cried in between sobs as the woman stroked her back. Bessie raised an eyebrow at the rather strange analogy, but let her cry on without comment. She was no better than the punchline in a joke aimed at her uncle, designed to anger him and give Guy an opportunity to revenge himself on the Vaisey family. And dear God, Guy would want revenge, at the way she had betrayed him, at the way he had had to live with Vaisey's petty taunts and humiliations. And then there was Marion, his one true love who had made a fool of him and run off to live in poverty in the bloody woods!

Bessie softly grabbed her shoulders and lifted her head up. "But you love him" she said quietly, it wasn't a question. She wiped away tears with the corner of her rough spun apron. Emma could only nod. "Then that's a start lass" she sighed, "And although I don't know much about men or your past or his, I do know one thing, start as you mean to go on. And frankly from what I've seen, neither of you seem very good at talking so find another way to show him how you feel. After all, he might be just as confused about what you want too, remember neither of you were given a choice in this matter. He might be worried that you didn't want this either." Emma smiled slightly in response and hoped that Bessie was right.

Patting her kindly one last time the maid took her leave, leaving Emma alone with her thoughts and a flask of wine which she gulped down, the sour taste of old tears in her mouth countered by the surprisingly good claret. With no idea of what else to do she changed into the soft night gown that had been left out for her and got into bed, thinking in passing that at least the bed smelt fresh. The wine had made her drowsy and her eyes slowly closed and she fell quickly asleep, the sound of the hall below washing over her.

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