She grabbed Linnea’s face with a hand that felt like pincers. “What do you hope to gain?”
Linnea was at a loss for words. How could she ever explain to this woman who refused to believe anything but the worst of her? “I love my sister,” she began.
“You love your sister,” the old woman sneered. “Better to say you love the idea of becoming mistress here.”
“No! No, I do this for Beatrix, not myself.”
Lady Harriet snorted in disbelief. But before the old woman could speak again, Sir Edgar did.
“‘Tis a good idea,” he admitted. Linnea had not expected any support from him, but she was glad to have it. “’Tis better for all of us that she wed de la Manse,” he continued. “We must save Beatrix for a more worthy man.”
Lady Harriet shot him a contemptuous look. Then abruptly, her expression turned crafty. Linnea shivered when the old woman’s hard eyes fastened upon her.
“If she marries him and keeps him happily occupied while Maynard heals … or else dies …” The old woman ignored Edgar’s strangled gasp at that and continued on. “We will still have the ability to find a suitable husband for Beatrix—a strong knight who can then challenge de la Manse’s weakened claim to Maidenstone, and win it back for us.” Lady Harriet smiled, only it did not reassure Linnea at all. She nodded her ancient head. “Yes, Linnea is the last in line to inherit Maidenstone. If de la Manse marries her, his claim will not be so strong. And it will purchase for us the time to plot against him. Besides,” she added, “if he weds her as Beatrix, they will not truly be wed. We can later petition to have the marriage annulled.”
Linnea stared fearfully at her grandmother. Her grandmother’s sudden glee at this idea had a sobering effect. What had she said? Keep him happily occupied? It struck her now precisely what she’d proposed. Wed this man who’d nearly killed her brother. Share a bed with that towering knight who’d stared at her so coldly, who’d inquired whether she was unmarried. Be a wife to the very beast who sought to steal her home.
A crushing wave of panic made her legs go weak. If Beatrix had not taken her arm, her knees surely would have buckled.
“You cannot do this, Linnea. I have benefited so long from being the firstborn of us, and you have suffered for being second. You cannot now step in to take this responsibility that is mine and mine alone.”
“Why can’t she?” Lady Harriet challenged. “This is her opportunity finally to do something good for this family. To make penance for her corrupt soul. To prove herself once and for all,” she added, as the idea took hold in her mind.
Beatrix started to protest again, but Linnea cut her off with a searching look. She did not want to take Beatrix’s place. Not really. The very thought terrified her. But how much worse it would be to let Beatrix go through with it. She knew that she herself could bear it; she wasn’t as certain about her sister. And then there was her grandmother’s point. She could finally prove herself to them. To all of them.
“Grandmother is right,” Linnea told Beatrix. “Though my suggestion was impulsive, now that Father has explained it all, I’m more determined than ever to go through with it.”
“But he will—” though Beatrix broke off, Linnea knew what she meant.
She clenched her teeth. “To share their husband’s bed is something women have borne through the ages. I will bear it.”
“But … but what if you have his child?”
“There are ways to prevent that,” Lady Harriet answered brusquely. “Besides, what will it matter if she has a child? Its father will be dead. There will be no need for an annulment and the child can be gotten rid of—sent away,” she amended with an offhanded shrug. “But enough of this debate. There is much we must do if we are to succeed.”
Without admitting Linnea’s idea was a good one, or that her son’s plan for restoring Maidenstone
Linnea was at a loss for words. How could she ever explain to this woman who refused to believe anything but the worst of her? “I love my sister,” she began.
“You love your sister,” the old woman sneered. “Better to say you love the idea of becoming mistress here.”
“No! No, I do this for Beatrix, not myself.”
Lady Harriet snorted in disbelief. But before the old woman could speak again, Sir Edgar did.
“‘Tis a good idea,” he admitted. Linnea had not expected any support from him, but she was glad to have it. “’Tis better for all of us that she wed de la Manse,” he continued. “We must save Beatrix for a more worthy man.”
Lady Harriet shot him a contemptuous look. Then abruptly, her expression turned crafty. Linnea shivered when the old woman’s hard eyes fastened upon her.
“If she marries him and keeps him happily occupied while Maynard heals … or else dies …” The old woman ignored Edgar’s strangled gasp at that and continued on. “We will still have the ability to find a suitable husband for Beatrix—a strong knight who can then challenge de la Manse’s weakened claim to Maidenstone, and win it back for us.” Lady Harriet smiled, only it did not reassure Linnea at all. She nodded her ancient head. “Yes, Linnea is the last in line to inherit Maidenstone. If de la Manse marries her, his claim will not be so strong. And it will purchase for us the time to plot against him. Besides,” she added, “if he weds her as Beatrix, they will not truly be wed. We can later petition to have the marriage annulled.”
Linnea stared fearfully at her grandmother. Her grandmother’s sudden glee at this idea had a sobering effect. What had she said? Keep him happily occupied? It struck her now precisely what she’d proposed. Wed this man who’d nearly killed her brother. Share a bed with that towering knight who’d stared at her so coldly, who’d inquired whether she was unmarried. Be a wife to the very beast who sought to steal her home.
A crushing wave of panic made her legs go weak. If Beatrix had not taken her arm, her knees surely would have buckled.
“You cannot do this, Linnea. I have benefited so long from being the firstborn of us, and you have suffered for being second. You cannot now step in to take this responsibility that is mine and mine alone.”
“Why can’t she?” Lady Harriet challenged. “This is her opportunity finally to do something good for this family. To make penance for her corrupt soul. To prove herself once and for all,” she added, as the idea took hold in her mind.
Beatrix started to protest again, but Linnea cut her off with a searching look. She did not want to take Beatrix’s place. Not really. The very thought terrified her. But how much worse it would be to let Beatrix go through with it. She knew that she herself could bear it; she wasn’t as certain about her sister. And then there was her grandmother’s point. She could finally prove herself to them. To all of them.
“Grandmother is right,” Linnea told Beatrix. “Though my suggestion was impulsive, now that Father has explained it all, I’m more determined than ever to go through with it.”
“But he will—” though Beatrix broke off, Linnea knew what she meant.
She clenched her teeth. “To share their husband’s bed is something women have borne through the ages. I will bear it.”
“But … but what if you have his child?”
“There are ways to prevent that,” Lady Harriet answered brusquely. “Besides, what will it matter if she has a child? Its father will be dead. There will be no need for an annulment and the child can be gotten rid of—sent away,” she amended with an offhanded shrug. “But enough of this debate. There is much we must do if we are to succeed.”
Without admitting Linnea’s idea was a good one, or that her son’s plan for restoring Maidenstone
Similar Books
