Chapter Six
For the best part of the return journey from Nottingham, Sir Edward had debated whether or not it was wise to alert Marian to Sir Guy's interest in her welfare. He knew all too well that she had taken a dislike to the young knight on the basis of his working for Vaysey but, Edward reflected, the concern displayed by the young man had seemed genuine enough. He wondered if Gisborne would make a suitable son in law. Goodness knows, Edward mused to himself, she seems little enough inclined to marry and she is not getting any younger. Quickly, he shook the thought from his mind. They knew very little about the mysterious man in black other than the fact he had no land and no family; very little, in fact, to recommend him as a husband at all.
As the carriage drew into Knighton village, he could just make out the crouched figure of his daughter as she tended the vegetable patch she had nurtured over the previous year. She had told her father that it would be nice to be able to provide for themselves, but few of the vegetables had made their way into the kitchen at Knighton Hall. When he had questioned her about the lack, she had put it down to a bad harvest but Edward had noticed that the villagers had made it so the spring looking healthier than usual. Quietly, and in his own way, Sir Edward was proud of his daughter; her generous nature and her free spirit. All the same, it was these same qualities that gave her father the feeling that she was slipping away. The free spirit was gradually becoming willfulness and her generosity akin to charity – something the new sheriff wholly disagreed with.
Marian stood on hearing the carriage clatter towards the house and a smile lit her face as her father descended. He seemed more frail with each day, and with the passing of each day, Marian fought against showing her father the concern she knew he would not welcome.
"You left very early this morning, Father," she said in a tone that Edward instantly recognised as a reprimand. He took her hand and kissed her cheek.
"I had a great deal to do before the Council met," he replied, smiling.
"You must be hungry. I am told that you did not eat breakfast before you left. There are eggs and meat on the table. I shall join you in a moment," she said. Edward smiled and headed for the door. Marian had returned her attentions to her little garden again when Edward turned.
"Sir Guy enquired after your health and asked that I convey his regards," he said.
Marian looked back to her father, her expression one of surprise and her mouth slightly open as if hoping the right words would find their own way from her lips.
"That was very kind of him," she managed at last.
"Perhaps he is not what we expected." Edward regarded his daughter closely.
"Perhaps." Marian smiled and rubbed her hands together to loosen the soil. "Come, I need to wash before we eat." She took her father's arm and led him inside.
XXX
Locksley was not home. Despite this being the place Sir Guy returned to when his duties did not keep him at the castle, it was not his home. Thornton was polite and the servants were mostly silent and perhaps afraid. It was not the household he had envisioned for himself – his Gisborne. Sighing, Guy dismounted and handed the horse's reins to the waiting stable boy. The house looked cold and unwelcoming with the only visible light shining from one small window. Slowly he entered, removed his long leather coat, and dropped into a large chair beside the fire. Thornton took a flat wooden plate containing a slab of pigeon pie from one of the more nervous serving girls and placed it on a low table beside Gisborne before pouring some ale. Gisborne took the cup gratefully and drank deeply.
"Well?" Guy asked as Thornton hovered.
"I wondered if I might speak with you about the village, sir?" Thornton began. "The winter has been difficult and has left a good deal of damage in its wake."
Guy looked up at the elderly retainer for the first time, frowning slightly. "Speak your mind," he snapped, not in the mood for Thornton's cryptic conversation.
"They are happy to effect repairs themselves but resources are limited," Thornton continued, slightly irked by Guy's tetchiness. Guy looked out of the window towards the village and at the pinpricks of light that cut through the darkness. His thoughts were drawn back to his conversation with Marian, and the warmth in her voice as she expressed her confidence that he would assist the peasants. When he turned back to Thornton, the old man noticed that something about his master's expression had altered, softened.
"Do what you think is necessary. Keep me informed." Guy reached for his food. "Is there anything else?"
Thornton had always considered himself a good judge of character, but Gisborne had been so little in Locksley that the old servant had not yet got the measure of him, and so approached every conversation with caution and a little apprehension.
"One small matter, my lord," he began. "One of the kitchen girls has asked for permission to visit her mother."
Silence fell heavily on the room and Thornton wondered if he should perhaps have picked a better time. Gisborne was silent for a few moments, then frowned.
"Bring the girl to me," he said. Thornton started to object, suggesting that there was no need for Guy to waste his time with such trivial matters, but his master was most insistent and Thornton was obliged to acquiesce.
A few short moments later a young girl followed Thornton into the room. Gisborne noticed that her tiny white hands trembled and she was reluctant to step from Thornton's shadow. However, Gisborne gave her no option as he sent Thornton away with a sharp "Thank you," and a dismissive wave of his hand. The girl stared fixedly at the floor and swallowed hard. None of the servants had really got to know their new master, but the very fact that he was one of Vaysey's men was enough to evoke fear.
"You have asked to visit your mother. She is not here, in the village?" Gisborne enquired.
The girl did not raise her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but could make no sound, so simply shook her head.
"Is she unwell?" Guy turned away and wandered to the fireplace where he stared at the flames licking at the rear of the grate. He did not see the girl nod and rounded on her. "I asked if she was unwell."
"Yes, my lord," the girl squeaked.
"The winter has been hard for everyone," he muttered. "I am sure that she will be pleased to see you."
"I am her only child, my lord. My brothers and sisters are dead. And she loves the flowers I take to her," the girl replied, finding confidence from somewhere deep within her.
"Very well. You may go," Gisborne resumed his seat and picked up his mug of ale again. Suddenly he cried out for the girl to stop. She turned slowly, quivering once again.
"You take flowers to your mother when she is unwell?" Gisborne asked.
"Yes my lord. Cowslips. She is most fond of cowslips," the girl replied. Slowly Gisborne nodded and then waved his hand to dismiss her.
Early the following morning and with a great deal of concern for the delicate cargo concealed within his leather coat, Sir Guy rode into the village of Knighton as quickly as the muddy ground would allow. He dismounted carefully, extracted his gift, and approached the open door of Knighton Hall. Inside Sir Edward was instructing one of the servants and in the far corner, beside the window, Marian sat watching the proceedings. She was the first to notice their visitor, who suddenly looked away.
"Sir Guy," she said, rising from her seat and walking towards him. Her chestnut hair was loose and flowed in gentle waves down her back. He was relieved to find that she was not confined to her room.
"Lady Marian," he replied in a half apologetic mumble. "I heard...your father mentioned..."
Sir Edward quickly took up the conversation. "I informed Sir Guy that the winter weather did not suit you and had prevented you from joining me at council," he said with a look that conveyed to his daughter all she needed to know.
"I hope that you are feeling better. The days are warmer I think," Sir Guy continued.
"I am very well, thank you," Marian replied and glanced down at his hand. "Flowers?"
"Oh." Guy raised his hand and offered them to her. "I understand that...I thought that they may cheer you. Cowslips," he replied.
"So they are. Thank you," Marian replied, trying to not to be quite so amused at this turn of events. Before her stood more a boy than a man - awkward and nervous. He was not at all the confident lieutenant he appeared to be at Nottingham Castle. "Will you sit, Sir Guy?"
Guy nodded and thanked her before following her to a seat where a young serving girl poured them both a drink. Guy picked up his goblet and placed it down again without ever bringing it to his lips.
"How is Locksley?" Marian ventured at length. Sir Edward cast her a reproachful glance but Marian felt a little put out. Her enquiry had been genuine after all.
"The winter caused some degree of damage but I have authorised repairs and I believe the properties can be made good again," he replied.
"And what of the people?" she asked.
Guy suddenly had the distinct impression that he was being tested.
"They have fared better than their homes I think," he replied, his lips curling into a smile. With the slightest nod of her head the conversation was ended and Guy felt that he had won the first round with this complex young woman.
"I should find some water for the flowers," Marian said, rising from her seat. Guy raised his cup to his lips and quickly drank down the contents, his tense muscles relaxing slightly as he watched her vanish into the rear of the house.
