Belinda: A Maiden of the Early 1300's

Waiting

"I take it," said Lord Edward when Belinda brought the milk to the kitchen, "that I shall be seeing more of young de Croix soon?" He nodded to the door and Belinda blushed crimson. Her uncle had a perfect view of the courtyard and the gate.

"I hope so," Belinda confessed. She rinsed out a rag and laid it on the feverish brow of an injured knight. It occurred to her that her hands were shaking and hoped her uncle didn't notice.

Lord Edward watched her for a few minutes before he closed his eyes again. She knew his head pained him but he said, "Tell me of my brother. Why have you come here?" Belinda explained about her mother, the promise to her father and the unwanted wedding. When she'd finished, Lord Edward nodded. "You did right in coming, My Dear. I only wish you could have arrived under better circumstances."

Belinda shook her head. "No, Uncle," she objected. "If I had come sooner, I would be of no use to you now." Unspoken lay the import of her words; if she had been in the castle during the attack, she too would have been a victim of the vicious brigands that had attacked and murdered the women, including Lord Edward's wife. Hastily, Belinda continued. "And if I had tarried, I might have come too late."

"Quite so," he murmured and fell silent. For the vast majority of his men, her aid had come too late already.

Belinda finished ministering to her charges and turned her attention to the broth she was making from a goat that Sir Hugh had butchered for her. She thought of the dead that were beginning to smell in the hall, of who the youngest was a mere babe in arms; of the looted rooms, the silent village. "Why, Uncle?" she begged at last. "Why did they do all this? What reason would the brigands have for such villainy?"

"I am not like your father," Lord Edward remarked, seeming to ignore the question. "Your father was a wise, forgiving man, one who acted thoughtfully and without haste. I have always been a strong leader, a stern master. We quarreled, your father and I. That was why he left. Looking back, I daresay it was the worst decision I ever made, not asking him to stay. Our father always said we balanced each other out, so different were Edwin and I. We were twins, you know; I the elder by only an hour or so."

"Father never spoke much of you," Belinda confessed. "He spoke of Carleigh and where it lay, made me promise to seek your aid after his death, but he never told stories of his youth before he went south with the king. Still, he made me promise, said you would protect me. Surely he must have loved you a great deal and counted on that regard being returned."

"Or he must have known I have no heir." The comment was a bitter one.

"No heir?" questioned Belinda in disbelief. "No distant relative, a cousin or nephew perhaps?"

"Not even that," assured Lord Edward. "My wife is- was- barren. When I die, if you and de Croix have borne no son, my estate will return to the king." He grinned at her blush. "I am old, Girl, not blind."

"But how do you know Sir Hugh is suitable?" questioned Belinda curiously. "Lady Anne doesn't seem to think he is."

Lord Edward coughed and Belinda hurried to give him a drink. He answered her when he'd drunk his fill. "I know Hugh de Croix's father and grandsire quite well. That boy is his father all over again. The question is," he opened his eyes long enough to study her pointedly. "Do you find de Croix suitable?"

"I do not remember him as a gambler or overly fond of ale," Belinda mused. "He treats his horse well and doesn't kick at the dogs when they annoy him. Certainly, he is a charmer when he wants to be!" She lowered her eyes as a warm flush threatened to creep into her cheeks again.

Carleigh chuckled. "Do all the ladies find him so?"

Belinda had to shake her head. The ladies barely noticed him at all, for he was no heir, nor boasting of an overly fine face. "Not to say so over the embroidery frames," she allowed, guessing the reason her uncle asked. "By that, I must assume that he must not be much by way of flirting. Truth be told, Uncle, I haven't noticed much of anything since Father died last winter. I never thought to compare any man of Shelburne favorably to Father."