The Damsel's Defiance Read Online Free PDF Page A

her measured combing. With a thudding anxiety, she recognised the mute, shuttered look on Emmeline’s face; her daughter would give her no further details on the matter. It was the same expression Felice received when she asked her daughter about her marriage to Giffard de Lonnieres; she would learn nothing of that relationship, of that she was certain. To this day, Felice was certain she had made the right decision in marrying Emmeline to Giffard—he, a rich merchant, had offered for Emmeline two years after Anselm’s death. Felice had supposed her daughter to be happy in the marriage; she saw her daughter often as Giffard lived in Barfleur when he was not away on a trading voyage. But when Giffard had died in a hunting accident, Emmeline had seemed strangely unmoved.
    After plaiting her daughter’s hair into two long, fat braids that shone like golden ropes down her slender back, Felice reached into the wicker basket to draw out a heavy linen veil, anchoring it to her daughter’s head with a circlet of gold filigree. Concentrating, with pursed lips, she secured the fabric further with jewelled pins. Felice would make certain that her daughter’s hair would never be seen in public again. Oh, the shame of it!
    ‘Geoffrey also brought a message from Sylvie,’ Emmeline ventured after a while, the sweet melody of her voice breaking the amiable silence that had fallen between them. She withdrew the crackling parchment from her embroidered pouch. The rain pattered softly on the taut hides stretched overthe window apertures; inside the cottage the light dimmed, evidence of the thick cloud that had gathered outside.
    Felice pursed her lips. ‘What does she say?’ she asked reluctantly. She had never forgiven her elder daughter for abandoning her child.
    ‘Matters are not good in England, maman. I would go to her.’
    ‘Why would you want to do that? Sylvie made her choice when she left Barfleur with…that man. When she left her baby.’ Felice leaned over to stab the fire violently with an iron poker. A shower of sparks rose up the thick stone chimney, making the flames leap around the cauldron of hot water suspended over the burning wood. The yeasty smell of bread baking in the side oven began to permeate the room.
    Setting her cup back on the table, Emmeline turned to look at her mother, her green eyes shining out of her pale, heart-shaped face. ‘Because she is our kith and kin? Because we have a duty to look out for her, to care for her, despite what she did?’
    ‘You have a kind heart, daughter,’ Felice replied, her expression bleak, ‘but when I remember what happened…’ she shook her head ‘…I find it hard to forgive her.’
    ‘She had no idea Rose was ill when she left—how could she? It was not her fault.’
    Felice nodded abruptly before turning to lift a warm, crusty round of bread from the oven. Emmeline’s stomach growled; she had been awake since first light, searching the white mist from her chamber window.
    ‘But how can you go, Emmeline?’ Felice raised her head suddenly as she cut thick pieces from the loaf. ‘How can you sail the ship for no return? No one will give you coin for a visit to your sister! We cannot afford it.’
    ‘I have an idea, Mother,’ Emmeline replied enigmatically, chewing a hunk of bread. Her interest had been caught by the chance remark made by Lord Talvas’s man on the quayside.‘I have an inkling that the Empress Maud has need of a passage to England.’
    Felice let out a small shriek and clutched the windowsill. As the only daughter of King Henry I, the Empress Maud had a fearsome reputation, with a temper to match.
    ‘Emmeline, you mustn’t meddle with the likes of her…Why would she travel at this time of year…who knows what will happen?’
    Emmeline shrugged. ‘Nothing will happen, Mother. I have no need to know why she wants to journey to England. All I know is that she’ll pay handsomely for the privilege of crossing the Channel, as long as I