Beatrice wasn’t going to argue the point with him. There were two sorts of people. Some were made in the image of God and others were nearly Him. “I am going to do this, Tom,” she said. “All you have to decide is whether you are going to stand in my way or help me.”
Broad face impassive, Tom stilled and searched her eyes.
Beatrice held her breath.
“I must be mad.” Tom looked past her at the twilight spilling into the stable and sighed. “My mother, for sure, is going to flay me alive for this. And I would not blame her.” He threw up his hands. “Of course I am going to help you, Bea.”
“Oh, Tom.” Beatrice finally breathed. Victory. She flung her arms around his neck. There was nowhere a better man than Tom and he was her best friend.
He wheezed as she tightened her grip.
“But—” He unwrapped her from his neck. “You are not going alone, because I will go with you.”
Beatrice didn’t want Tom along. She wanted Garrett. She chewed the inside of her cheek. Tom wouldn’t approve of Garrett and he might be difficult. Then again, it was better than Tom putting a stop to the entire scheme. If he came with her, he would have no opportunity to tell tales on her. “I love you, Tom.”
Tom bent and grabbed his pitchfork. “Remember you do when my mother gets hold of me.”
Chapter 7
Beatrice opened the door to her mother’s chamber. Lady Mary sat in her bed, propped against a mountain of pillows. Her braid trailed over her shoulder and pooled in her lap. It had once been bright as new gold, but was dulled with age now. Her face, as unlined as a woman half her age, lit in a smile as warm as the sunlight pouring in.
The chamber smelled of roses. All around were those little touches that spoke of Lady Mary. The huge bowl of flowers by her bed. An embroidered fire screen before the hearth, stitched by her mother’s hand. And fine silks draped over the chest at the foot of the bed.
Beatrice’s belly churned with the lies she was about to utter.
“Sweet Bea.” Her mother patted the silver fur bed throw beside her. “Come and tell me what you are planning for today.”
She couldn’t do that. Beatrice climbed on the bed and tucked her feet into the silky pelt like she had every morning since Lady Mary had been confined to her bed. She would miss her mother. There would be no more morning visits until she got back from London. Her heart gave a sharp twist. “The weather is fine today.”
“I see so.” Lady Mary gestured toward the open casement. “You should take Simon and little Arthur to collect seashells.”
“What?” Her mouth dried, and she eyed the cup of tea beside her mother.
“I said you should take Simon and Arthur to the beach.”
“I would if they were here.”
“And they are not here?” Mother raised an eyebrow. Lady’s Mary’s eyes were the same piercing blue as Faye’s. They could strip you to your chainse.
Beatrice adjusted her skirts over her legs and played for time. She pointed to the cup. “May I?”
Lady Mary pulled a face. “Please. It is one of nurse’s tisanes.”
Beatrice put the cup back on the gleaming oak table. Her mouth wasn’t that dry.
“I thought I heard Simon this morning.” Mother folded her arms over her large belly.
“Nay. Perhaps it was a child from the village?”
Lady Mary pursed her lips. “It sounded just like Simon.”
“It may have.” Beatrice’s throat tightened. She hated lying to her mother. “But Simon is at Calder Castle with his mother and his father so you could not have heard him.”
Lady Mary studied her.
Beatrice dug her nails into her palms to stop herself from fidgeting. Please, just this once let Mother not see through her. Her heart pounded so loudly, her mother must be able to hear it.
“Did Godfrey arrive?”
Beatrice unclenched her hands. She wiped damp palms on her knee. “He did. The Army of God still holds London, but he has not seen father or the boys.”
“I pray they are well.” Lady Mary sighed and looked out the casement. Her mouth was drawn down at the corners and she looked tired and sad.
Renewed determination surged through Beatrice. This was why she had Tom preparing supplies right this minute. When Sir Arthur and her brothers were back, her mother would smile again. She touched her palm to her mother’s belly. “How is the babe?”
“Restless.” Her mother covered her hand with her long, delicate fingers. “He is a strong lad.”
“Lad?”
“What girl would cause her mother such discomfort?”
Guilt took a swipe at Beatrice. She had caused her mother all manner of discomfort and was about to add to her tally. When she returned from London, there would be no more upheavals and trouble. She would settle down and become a good daughter, just like Faye.
“Look at me, Bea.” Lady Mary squeezed her hand. “You do not cause me discomfort.”
Of course, her mother would say so, because she was her mother. Her mother was uncanny the way she could read her face so easily. Bea forced a smile to her lips. “Not at this minute, I am not.”
“There.” Her mother smiled. “We are in perfect agreement. Now, tell me what you plan for the rest of this lovely day.”
Beatrice chatted with her mother until Nurse came in with instructions for Lady Mary to rest.
“See you on the morrow, Sweet Bea,” her mother said.
It was time to say good-bye. Beatrice’s throat closed around a huge lump. She ducked her head to hide her face from Nurse’s view.
“Actually.” Her voice came out in a rasp and she cleared her throat.
Her mother raised her brows.
The prepared excuse lodged behind Beatrice’s breastbone. She forced the words out on a rush of breath. “I thought I might go to the sisters at St. Thomas in the morning.”
“Did you?” Nurse glared from beneath her wimple.
It was easier to look at Nurse than her mother. “I thought I might light a candle for father and William and Roger.”
“And our chapel will not suffice? Father Thomas has run short of candles?”
Beatrice raised her chin and met Nurse’s penetrating stare.
Nurse jammed her hands on her hips.
“I think it is a fine idea.” Lady Mary’s soft voice broke the joined battle.
Beatrice let her breath out slowly. Her mother was a saint and she was a liar and a worm.
“Light one for the babe and your mother while you are there.”
Beatrice pressed a kiss to her mother’s cheek. She inhaled the comforting rose scent clinging to her mother. “I love you.”
“And you, Sweet Bea.”
* * * *
In the moonlight, Beatrice slipped out the postern gate. It clanged shut behind her and she jumped. The rest of the keep was at Vespers.
Tom waited for her just as they had arranged. He had three horses and all the provisions for their journey. “Did you leave the message for Faye?”
Beatrice rolled her eyes and mounted. Just because Tom had agreed to help her, didn’t