for she was never certain if the swift violence he often exhibited toward her mother might not be turned upon her one day. In her secret heart Belle wondered if she would have been brave, or if she would have given way to fear, as Alette so often had before her husband. Robert de Manneville had been kind to his only daughter, but she had still been a child when hewent away. Now she was almost relieved that he would never return.
Her brothers had been another matter. William, the elder, was ten years her senior. Though she would have never admitted it to her mother, Alette had been correct when she said he tolerated her only for their father’s goodwill. On the rare occasions they had been alone, William enjoyed taunting his half sister with the fact that his mother was of far, far more noble birth than her mother. Yet Belle knew her mother’s kin were of the nobility, and more than just respectable. He also mocked her for being bigger than other girls her age when petite was the ideal for women of breeding. “You are a carrot-topped calf who will one day grow into a carrot-topped cow,” William liked to tell her. Fortunately, he spent most of his time in Normandy as he grew older, so she was spared his nastiness. She was quite delighted he would not return from his crusade, and even more so that he had left no wife or legitimate issue.
Richard de Manneville, the younger of her father’s two sons, had been less hostile to his little sister. Six years her senior, he had spent more time than his elder sibling in the lady Alette’s care. He had a mercurial temperament, unlike the stolid and snobbish William. Usually he was kind to Isabelle, but sometimes when there was no one about to see, he would lash out at her angrily, overwhelmed by jealousy that she would have Langston, and William, Manneville. There was not enough money to put him with the Church and assure him a position of importance. Richard de Manneville would have to make his way as a knight. He would have to earn his own prestige and fortune.
Such a fate did not appeal at all to Richard. Sometimes in his anger he would pinch his little sister where it would not show. His thin fingers were adept at rendering her black and blue. Belle quickly learned to defend herself from her brother, sometimes using her fists, sometimes kicking out at him. Such behavior never failed to amuse him. It would set him to laughing so hard that his rage swiftly dissolved. Isabelle couldimagine Richard being absolutely delighted when his brother was killed in battle, leaving Manneville all to him.
And these were the only men of her own class that she had ever known, Belle thought. Oh, occasionally a noble visitor would pass through, requesting a night’s lodging, but they would ride in late and depart early, leaving no visible impression upon her. For over four years she and her mother had lived alone at Langston except for the servants. For three of those years, since she was twelve, she had managed the estate without any help from anyone. She had been very frightened when the old steward died, but unless she wanted them to starve, or to have her serfs rebel or run away, she knew that she had to take charge and be strong. Any sign of weakness would have led to their ruin. Until the male peasants, serf and freed, understood she was lady of the estate in deed as well as fact, they would try to bully her.
Each day she would ride out, no matter the weather. She delegated authority where she could, but oversaw all with a very sharp eye. What she did not know about planting, threshing, and harvesting, she quickly learned from the women on the estate, who in defiance of their men wanted the lady to succeed. Belle even learned to prune the fruit trees herself. She was not afraid to alight from her horse to chase poultry into the barn in a sudden storm. She administered justice, turning a blind eye to the tenant who poached an occasional rabbit from her fields to feed his family; hanging
Her brothers had been another matter. William, the elder, was ten years her senior. Though she would have never admitted it to her mother, Alette had been correct when she said he tolerated her only for their father’s goodwill. On the rare occasions they had been alone, William enjoyed taunting his half sister with the fact that his mother was of far, far more noble birth than her mother. Yet Belle knew her mother’s kin were of the nobility, and more than just respectable. He also mocked her for being bigger than other girls her age when petite was the ideal for women of breeding. “You are a carrot-topped calf who will one day grow into a carrot-topped cow,” William liked to tell her. Fortunately, he spent most of his time in Normandy as he grew older, so she was spared his nastiness. She was quite delighted he would not return from his crusade, and even more so that he had left no wife or legitimate issue.
Richard de Manneville, the younger of her father’s two sons, had been less hostile to his little sister. Six years her senior, he had spent more time than his elder sibling in the lady Alette’s care. He had a mercurial temperament, unlike the stolid and snobbish William. Usually he was kind to Isabelle, but sometimes when there was no one about to see, he would lash out at her angrily, overwhelmed by jealousy that she would have Langston, and William, Manneville. There was not enough money to put him with the Church and assure him a position of importance. Richard de Manneville would have to make his way as a knight. He would have to earn his own prestige and fortune.
Such a fate did not appeal at all to Richard. Sometimes in his anger he would pinch his little sister where it would not show. His thin fingers were adept at rendering her black and blue. Belle quickly learned to defend herself from her brother, sometimes using her fists, sometimes kicking out at him. Such behavior never failed to amuse him. It would set him to laughing so hard that his rage swiftly dissolved. Isabelle couldimagine Richard being absolutely delighted when his brother was killed in battle, leaving Manneville all to him.
And these were the only men of her own class that she had ever known, Belle thought. Oh, occasionally a noble visitor would pass through, requesting a night’s lodging, but they would ride in late and depart early, leaving no visible impression upon her. For over four years she and her mother had lived alone at Langston except for the servants. For three of those years, since she was twelve, she had managed the estate without any help from anyone. She had been very frightened when the old steward died, but unless she wanted them to starve, or to have her serfs rebel or run away, she knew that she had to take charge and be strong. Any sign of weakness would have led to their ruin. Until the male peasants, serf and freed, understood she was lady of the estate in deed as well as fact, they would try to bully her.
Each day she would ride out, no matter the weather. She delegated authority where she could, but oversaw all with a very sharp eye. What she did not know about planting, threshing, and harvesting, she quickly learned from the women on the estate, who in defiance of their men wanted the lady to succeed. Belle even learned to prune the fruit trees herself. She was not afraid to alight from her horse to chase poultry into the barn in a sudden storm. She administered justice, turning a blind eye to the tenant who poached an occasional rabbit from her fields to feed his family; hanging
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