Page 130 of A Most Forgettable Girl

Mayhap he would have to brush up on his knightly skills again. Forty days in the King’s service was likely not enough in Gunnilde’s eyes. No, he needed to let her see him in his suit of armor more oftentimes than that, brandishing both sword and shield. He might not be a tourney-goer but he was a knight, damn it all! And clearly his wife needed reminding of that fact.

44

Gunnilde woke as Bennett lit the fire the next morning and lay there feeling miserable and alone, despite the fact James lay beside her still. She had made such a wretched mess of things, she saw that now. Her foolish meddling in the love affairs of others had led to disaster. She had wrecked three people’s lives—Constance, Douglas, and, worst of all, James.

If she had been a sensible woman, it might have occurred to her that Douglas’s admiration for Constance was a thing of no substance that would have faded in time, but no! She had been enchanted with the idea of his perfect, chivalrous love, encouraging him to believe it some grand and lasting passion.

And Constance...poor Constance, who had been betrothed to a truly estimable man. Gunnilde had wrought havoc on her life. Instead of congratulating her in the match, Gunnilde had viewed his suit as an inferior thing because he had not spouted pretty words or gazed longingly in her direction.

The fact was that regardless of this, James would have made Constance an excellent husband, as he had made her one. Only she was not deserving of her good fortune, she thought guiltily. James had been forced to marry her and his family, apart from Neville, considered it an affliction on their family name.

Feeling much chastened, she crept from the bed, washed in cold water, and pulled on her most sober-hued gown, a plain dress of dark blue which she had not worn since she came to court. Instead of wrapping and pinning her hair into her distinctive horns, she simply drew her hair back from her face, braided it, and donned her plainest veil, pinning it in place.

James stirred at this point, and Gunnilde made her escape, practically fleeing the bedchamber in her haste. She could not face him this morn. Not until she had fortified herself with sustenance.

She was surprised on entering the sitting room, for despite the early hour she found it full of people and the buzz of conversation in full swing. Neville, Harriet, Hal, Cuthbert, and Kit all had their heads bent together in an apparent counsel of war. They looked up as she entered the room, murmuring cautious greetings.

“Oh, Gunnilde!” Harriet said, jumping to her feet. “Right sorry I am that you are having all this worry!” She approached and they embraced warmly before Harriet drew her aside from the others to sit in the window seat.

Hal stood up to pour her a cup of foaming ale. “Thank you,” she murmured, taking it from him, and he squeezed her shoulder before returning to the others.

“Why are you all here so early?” Gunnilde asked before taking a sip. “Surely the boys should be preparing for today’s Revels, not sitting cloistered here.”

Harriet hesitated. “They would not dream of being left out of proceedings, and things are progressing apace with Sir Elias Northcott’s appeal. My mother heard that the King has granted an audience to his party first thing this morning. It is most unfortunate for Lord Vawdrey is not here to, well, guide the King as it were. He has journeyed to his brother’s seat for the Solstice.”

“Yes, I know but the King has other advisers, surely?”

“Yes, but my mother says none of them are so wise as Lord Vawdrey,” Harriet answered, looking worried.

“Do you really think that James and I will be dragged into proceedings?” Gunnilde asked in hushed tones. “I mean, even if the annulment is granted...” She could not find the words to continue her line of thought. Unless it was decided she was culpable in the matter, she thought with a fresh rush of panic. Oh gods, was it really all her fault?

“It is too bad of Constance!” Harriet burst out, surprising her greatly. “I always held her in such high esteem, but I declare I am quite vexed with her!”

“Vexed? With Constance? But why are you so upset with her?” Gunnilde asked in dazed accents.

“Because she has no right to say such things about you!” Harriet said indignantly. “It is being whispered all over court that she holds you to blame! Margaret and I were discussing the matter last night and how ridiculous it is to try and apportion blame elsewhere. Indeed, I have always thought Margaret, the most sensible of the Queen’s ladies, apart from yourself.”

Harriet thought she was sensible? “Margaret Pryor, you mean? Yes, she was kind to me on my wedding night.”

“I daresay she was, and why should she not be?” Harriet continued hotly. “It was not due to your machinations that you ended up at the altar that day, whatever they may say. The Queen demanded it by way of reparation, and you may be sure I informed Mistress Margaret of that fact.”

“But Harriet, you must not be so cross,” Gunnilde said, reaching for her hand, for her friend looked quite flushed.

“How can I be anything but cross when I hear the rumors circulating and Constance saying such undeserved things about you?”

Gunnilde’s heart quailed. “What exactly has she been saying?” she forced herself to ask.

“Why the most ridiculous things, apparently! That it was all a plot from the start and that you schemed to steal James from her!” Harriet began, then halted, seeing Gunnilde’s expression. “Forgive me, I did not mean to distress you.”

“No, it is better that I should know, rather than remain in ignorance,” she replied quietly.

Bennett entered at this point with a large tray of bread, fish, and butter. When the boys failed to fall on the provisions at once, Gunnilde realized they must really be concerned for her fate. Neville detached from their group and came across to ask if she and Harriet would join them in breaking their fast.

“No, I thank you,” Harriet responded swiftly. “For I am meeting with Winifred and her cousin. We have much to do this morn.” It occurred to Gunnilde that her little friend group would be countering any gossip as best they could. She felt a wave of gratitude wash over her.

“You must not despair, Gunnilde,” Neville said kindly. “Indeed, the tide of feeling has not yet turned against you here at court. Many people point out that Constance, and Constance alone, has brought this upon herself. That you, a country-bred girl can have had no undue influence over a powerful heiress raised in the first circles.”

“Yes, that is true,” Harriet agreed. “My own mother said that Constance made her bed and must now lie in it. And after all, you did not counsel her to elope. I refuse to believe you did that. Constance must face up to her own headstrong folly.”