Lady of Hay by Barbara Erskine (english love story books .TXT) 📗

swallow her tears. "But why? Why Tim? He never hurt anyone. "

"It was an accident—"

"It wasn't an accident, " she cried miserably. "Nothing has been an accident. It has all happened by design. Every single thing, from that first time I met Sam in Edinburgh. I should have known then. I should have recognized the danger. " Her voice rose. "It has all been Sam, hasn't it? Every bit was staged by him. It wasn't real. You weren't King John. I wasn't Matilda. He set the whole thing up. He's been laughing at us all the time. "

Nick said nothing. He was gazing past her out of the car window, up at the silhouette of white stone against the brilliant blue of the sky.

He did not see the huge cracks in the masonry. He did not see the fallen slabs of stone or the weeds and the ivy. He was looking at the solid, newly built keep of a powerful great castle, with the three huge snarling leopards of England streaming in a blaze of red and gold from the topmost battlements.

He had been there before.

Epilogue 1

10 OCTOBER 1216

Margaret de Lacy pushed back her hood and carefully straightened her gown, shaking off the rain. The roars of merriment from inside the dining hall showed the people of Lynn were enjoying the feast they had prepared for the king as he progressed through the eastern counties of his realm. She took a deep breath and nodded to the page at the door, who, having bitten her coin, had pocketed it cheerfully. He pushed it open with a flourish and winked at her. The hall was packed with people and noisy, but determinedly Margaret pushed her way toward the high table where the king was eating.

He did not notice her at first, raising his goblet to toast the fat sheriff. There had been supplicants on and off all evening and he was disposed to be benevolent. Then he turned and saw the woman who waited at his elbow, her green eyes fixed quietly on his face. Slowly his smile faded and he lowered his goblet. Sweat stood out on his brow and he wiped it with the back of his hand. Rising to his feet, he pushed back his chair with sudden violence. Silence fell over the table as curious faces watched on every side.

John crossed himself, and she saw his lips move, questing, toying with a name.

She curtsied to the ground. "I am Margaret, sire. Her daughter. "

She heard the whispers running down the hall and saw the excitement and puzzlement on the faces near the king. He had grown pale as he watched her and his expression was guarded.

"I have come to beg a grant of land, Your Grace. To build a convent to my mother's memory. I hoped you would do that much for her—now. " She looked down, not wanting, suddenly, to see the pain in his eyes.

"Of course. " She hardly heard the words, but she saw his lips move. "Where?"

"In the Marches that she loved, sire. "

He saw her eyes through a swimming haze, green and beautiful, flecked with gold; the eyes of another woman.

Suddenly the king doubled over, racked with a spasm of pain. He clutched his stomach, retching, and the silence around him turned to cries of concern, but he waved help away. "Bring me pen and ink. " He gasped. "Quickly. You shall have your convent, Margaret de Lacy. For her sake. "

The clerk took down the record of the king's grant of land in the royal forest of Aconbury, south of Hereford, and the royal seal was appended to it, there in the hall at King's Lynn, before he allowed himself to be helped, groaning, to his bed. In the chaos that surrounded his illness Margaret slipped away, clutching her parchment.

Eight days later John Plantagenet was dead.

Epilogue 2

PARIS—JANUARY 1986

Judy was wearing a 1920s dress sewn with thousands of reflecting beads, her red hair brushed into a glossy cap over her forehead as she mingled with the guests. The paintings looked good. She was pleased with the exhibition, even more pleased with the catalogue, which under George Chippen's tender nursing had already gone into two reprints before preview day. There had been a huge demand for Tim Heacham's final piece of work.

Behind her Pete Leveson was supervising the champagne. She smiled at him over her shoulder. They had been married three days before.

Catching her eye, he put down the bottle he was holding and reached out for her hand. "Happy?"

She nodded.

"There's a huge crowd. I can't believe we asked this many. "

"I don't care how many come. Just as long as everyone enjoys themselves. "

Behind them, in the doorway, Bet Gunning flourished her invitation and took a glass of champagne from the nearest tray. Threading her way toward them, she smiled at Pete. "So are you going to write this exhibition up for me as well?"

"Try to stop me. " Pete stepped forward and gave her a kiss. "Aren't Nick and Jo with you?"

Bet took a sip of champagne. "They changed their plans, " she said. "When they got back from the States on Wednesday they decided to go straight on to Hay-on-Wye. " She glanced at Pete with a sudden glimmer of malicious humor. "Perhaps I owe you this one, Peter. I think they've gone to get married. "

"I see. " Pete chuckled. "And the story comes full circle. "

"As good stories always must. " Bet smiled. "I for one will drink to them. "

"And to the baby. " Judy lifted her glass innocently.

"What baby?" Bet swung around on her. "Jo is supposed to be writing a book!"

"I'm sure the two are not mutually exclusive, " Judy purred. "It's due at the beginning of May. Nick called us from New York to tell us. "

"And being the sweet, charitable girl she is, " Pete said softly, "Judy couldn't help but start wondering. "

"Wondering?" Bet echoed. She