The Countess Bride

“This is a big decision, Catherine, one that should be about running to something and not running from something else. Do not think you must rush into taking your vows. Speak to Father Elwood. Speak even to my husband, who can be helpful when least expected. And know that you would always have a place here at Greystone or even at one of the other Harbridge estates if you needed it.”

Catherine walked to the countess, took her hand and, bowing her head, touched her forehead to it. “I am more grateful than you will ever know.” Stepping back, she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“One more question before we must join the others in the solar,” the countess said, as she stood and smoothed out more of the wrinkles in her gown caused by her daughter wriggling on her lap. “Geoff knows of your love, but does he know of your plans?”

“Nay, my lady. He knows not and I would prefer it that way. He has enough to consider in these next weeks.”

“When you had words the other night, you did not share this with him?”

So, they had been seen. The heat of a blush crept into her cheeks. “Nay, my lady.”

“Then, may I ask of what you spoke?”

“He sought my help.” She was reluctant to reveal Geoff’s request.

“For? Come, Catherine, you need not fear giving me the truth of this.”

“He asked my advice in choosing a wife.”

The words hung in the air, with nothing but the sound of the countess’s huff in reply.

“Men can be so…so…”

Lady Harbridge’s hands fisted and released several times and her mouth opened and closed. She seemed to be having difficulty selecting a word, so Catherine offered several. “Stubborn? Exasperating? Stupid? Transparent?”

Laughing, the countess nodded in agreement with all of them. “Transparent? So you know his real reasons, then, for his request?”

“I know it is contrived, my lady. If I accept his request, it gives him an excuse to seek me out and it gives me a reason to be present for this time. We both know this is the last time we will see each other.”

The countess’s own heart broke at the situation, but if Catherine could accept it with such honor, then Emalie would support her in this. She reached out and lifted Catherine’s chin.

“You demonstrate such honor and sense and true love in accepting this and in helping Geoffrey. Surely it will all turn out for the best.” Before they both broke out in tears, Emalie knew she must do something. “Come now, Catherine. The women await us in the solar and I would influence the advice you plan to give him about his choice of wife.”

“A boon, my lady?”

“If it is in my power to grant you, Catherine, I will.”

“Before I take my vows, would you give me the truth of these last three years? The whole of it?”

Emalie could feel the smile leave her face, and tried to simply nod in reply. But this was something that was owed this young woman. “When that time comes, Catherine, if you wish me to tell you, I will. For now, though, will you accept my counsel and not dwell on it?”

Catherine nodded in turn, but said nothing. She opened the door and stood back, so that Emalie could leave first. Alyce waited outside to accompany them about their activities. Emalie thought to ask Catherine about attending the evening banquet, but decided not to press for much more from the girl, given the disclosures made in these last few minutes.

Walking down the stairs that led to the solar, Emalie was disturbed that she had no way of helping Catherine and Geoffrey’s plight. For although she was convinced that Catherine would make a wonderful wife for Geoff, she knew well the responsibilities he bore with the titles and lands he inherited, and the people who would count on him for protection and their living.

Her husband had warned her not to get in the middle of this and she knew she must not. So, if everything in this matter was so clear, why did she feel so miserable about its probable but necessary outcome?

Chapter Six

He knew he should take this selection more seriously, but after spending most of his day chasing game and being chased, ’twas a difficult thing to do. Five cups of the special wine brought from Château d’Azure also made it difficult to keep all the details he’d learned about the women clear in his mind.

Melissande was the beautiful “fainter” from Quercy. Marguerite had brown hair and was from Brittany. Mathilde with her olive complexion and black hair came from near the land of the dark-skinned Moors. Maude was the one he’d met before at her father’s court in Orleans, and so he remembered her without help. And the two P ladies were plump.

Geoff grimaced to himself. That was not completely true, but it helped him keep their names separate from the others. Phillippa had brown hair like his mother’s cousin Phillip, and Petronilla was simply the other one.

Leaning back in his chair, he could look to his left and his right and see each of them. They smiled at him, nodded and even preened before him. He had danced with each one tonight, spoken to each, and yet they still remained as a group in his thoughts. Not one of them stood out as someone to marry. None of them. This was not an auspicious beginning to choosing a wife.

His gaze was drawn to the tables below, where Luc and Fatin sat. Luc was laughing at something his wife said, and as he moved closer to her, Geoff could see Catherine. ’Twas a surprise, for she seldom took part in meals like this one, usually withdrawing whenever the hall was filled with more than just the people of Greystone. Even from here, he could see her discomfort. He looked around and noticed that he was the only one studying her.

“Emalie?” he whispered to his sister-by-marriage. “What did you threaten to get Catherine to attend tonight?”

“I but invited her to join us, Geoff.”

“I do not remember the last time she willingly ate in the hall.”

“Nor do I,” his brother said, leaning into their conversation. “I, too, wondered at her appearance here tonight. Emalie?”

“I assure you, my lord, I but invited her to eat with us. There is nothing nefarious in her sharing a meal, is there?”

Not wanting to be the cause of, or in the middle of, another disagreement between his brother and Emalie, Geoff decided to take advantage of Catherine’s presence and ask her to dance. Since he had already danced with each of his prospective brides, another dance with one would single that one out in a way he did not wish to do. Dancing with Catherine would help him avoid that.

Standing as the musicians began playing a lively tune, he nodded to his brother and walked from the high table, down the steps to where Catherine sat. From the corner of his eye he saw Emalie grab at Christian’s arm to keep him in his seat. It did not matter. Geoff had danced with many women in this hall in the past few years and this would be no declaration to anything or anyone.

He knew the significance of it—he would share, for the first and last time, a dance with the woman he loved. Only they need know the importance of this. He caught her gaze as he approached, and for a moment he thought she would run. She did not.

He held out his hand to her and waited. It took but a moment for her to place hers in his, but in that burst of time, he prayed and hoped as he never had before that she would grant him this favor. She did. He led her to the clearing on the floor where other couples lined up in preparation for the dance. Geoff purposely joined the line in the middle so that they were neither first nor last, for those dancers drew the eyes of onlookers.

Side by side, with hands in the air, they waited. He would not speak to her until the steps began, for conversations during the dance could be hidden behind turns and steps and bows. With much laughing and noise, the dance started and they moved along with the others.

“I feared you would refuse me this dance,” he whispered as one of the steps brought them face-to-face for a few moments.

“I could not refuse you, my lord.” Her enigmatic smile gave him no clue to her thoughts.

“My name is…” he began.

“My lord Dumont,” she finished. He realized that others were straining to listen to their words.

The dance moved faster and they parted and returned several times before he could speak to her again. Her face was aglow from the exertion of the dance, and Geoff realized how lovely she was. The others struggled to put on a pleasing appearance for him, but Catherine did nothing to enhance her beauty.

“I do not remember seeing you dance before, Catherine.”

“You have it aright, my lord. I have never danced before. Not here at Greystone, that is.” She turned, their hands entwined, and they slid across the floor as one.

“And yet you know this dance?” She moved effortlessly with him, never appearing to count, as he did, to keep himself in step with the other dancers.

“I have watched it many, many times, my lord.”

“I am pleased that you have allowed me to share your first dance…here at Greystone.”