LI
"Told you we'd be seeing her again!"
Rosie Baker could always tell when a customer was keen. She'd been in the trade all her life and her gut feeling was never wrong when it came to a sale. Her daughter Sue chuckled for she'd thought the very same thing about the young lady who'd visited their market stall the previous week.
She held off on the sales patter this time and let the girl peruse but as she reached out to touch the scarf she'd paid particular attention to last time, Sue couldn't help but encourage her, "It's lovely that one isn't it? A beautiful shade of blue."
The smile that tugged at the corner of the girl's lips said it all - Sue knew she was going to buy it. She was surprised however, as the customer then enquired if she had another in a similar shade.
"For you and your beloved?"
The sad look on the lady's face made her instantly regret the question.
"Err… no, it's a wedding gift."
It took considerable effort for Sue not to raise an eyebrow. There was only one wedding that came in question here and it astounded her that anybody would want to buy Sir Guy of Gisborne a gift, wedding or no. She wisely held her tongue though, reminding herself that the lives of her customers were none of her business. Fortunately, her mother was smart enough to do the same.
Unfortunately, Tilly Radcliffe, who owned the neighbouring stall, had overheard their conversation and couldn't resist putting her oar in.
"You buying that for Gisborne!? Christ, you'd do better keepin' yer pennies to yerself! I doubt the man has cracked a smile in his life and I don't reckon he'll start now for all the nice scarves yer might buy 'im!"
Francesca frowned and bit her lip. Rosie and Sue Baker cringed; if that hadn't killed the sale then nothing would. Tilly chuckled and toddled off back to her stall.
With a determined huff, Francesca held up the scarf she'd had her eye on and another one in a lighter blue, "I'll take them" she declared, holding her head up high. She gave the surprised mother and daughter a smile as she paid and then passed by Tilly without so much as a glance.
"I can embroider 'em yer know… I'm good at embroiderin' – you ask anyone 'ere… an' if I keep the pattern small I could prob'ly get it done by t'morrow…"
Francesca turned to face the woman who'd obviously also heard the exchange and spared no time in making the offer. She was old, indeed, positively ancient; her tiny body bent double as if gravity would claim her any minute, her eyes squinting and hands shaking in a manner that suggested her embroidering days were long behind her - the young woman didn't have the heart to refuse her though, "That's a lovely idea, what do you think would work best?"
"Well, I reckon they'd want their family crests on 'em… I'd need patterns though, I knows the families but I don't know the crests off the top of me 'ead."
"Well then, I'd say that's settled! I'll get the patterns and then you can get started!"
"You 'aven't even asked me how much I want for the job yet…"
Francesca wanted to hug her. God bless her heart…
"Well err… go easy on me now…" she grinned indulgently at her new friend who grinned right back and didn't miss a beat when it came to her reply;
"Tell you what, come sup with me awhile, I'm sure we can come to some arrangement."
Dot Whittleworth was sharp as a blade.
Age and infirmity had done much to slow her down, but when it came to quickness of the mind, time had scarcely left a mark upon her. For example, she'd only gone to market that day to get some food in but as soon as she'd seen the young lady at Rosie Baker's stall, she'd been quick to seize the opportunity of work with both hands. After all, you can't let chances like that go to waste these days what with the sheriff always on the take.
It hadn't only been money on her mind though, Dot was also fond of company and had never been shy when it came to inviting folks to her humble abode – she found people fascinating and enjoyed listening to what they had to say, soaking up their words like a sponge. Of course, she didn't invite just anybody but she'd always had good instincts and in this case had only had to look at her current companion to know that she would be pleasant company.
Lady Francesca did not disappoint; she was genuinely pleased to be invited, attentive to her conversation partner, generous when it came to a price for the work and mindful of Dot's frailty at all times. There was a sadness about her though, that made the old woman wonder…
"You going to the weddin' with your husband, my dear?"
"No, I am not married... well, not yet anyway... and err… I don't know if my fiancé shall be in attendance. Knowing him, he'll have business to attend to in Nottingham."
"He'll be wantin' to see the king then?"
Francesca was surprised that her friend was so well informed, but then again, not; news like that spread like wildfire so it was no wonder really. She nodded the affirmative in answer to the question and then her thoughts wandered as she considered that perhaps she might be able to spare herself the heartache of Guy's wedding if she stayed in Nottingham. She would've happily continued with this line of thought, but as she was not alone, she had neither time nor space to do so.
"He'll have to get in line - there'll be loads wantin' to talk to the king, aye, t'will be a wonder if anybody shows at the weddin' which is a shame, for Lady Marian will make a beautiful bride..."
Francesca smiled and nodded, the sad look in her eyes did not go unnoticed however, nor the sigh that accompanied it.
"Are you good friends with Lady Marian?"
"No, we only met recently."
"Forgive me, I just thought what wi' you buyin' a gift for 'em."
Francesca sighed again. It was natural for people to assume that it was Marian she was thinking of when buying the gift.
"No, it's Sir Guy that I…" Francesca trailed off, not knowing what to say – how could she describe what it was between them? "Well, err… I met Guy a long time ago and…" She found herself floundering once more and it only got worse as Dot turned her head sharply to look at her. She squirmed under her gaze and struggled to think of what to say before abandoning the attempt altogether.
Dot was intrigued. Well, this was interesting. It had been donkey's years since the old woman had been sweet on someone herself, but she had no trouble recognising it in the girl sat before her.
"He was kind to you was he?"
Francesca's head shot up, her eyes wide and alarmed.
"It's alright you know. I figures he's not a monster every wakin' minute..." Dot smiled wryly, holding eye contact even though the girl looked away, "He weren't one when he was a boy, I knows that much."
Francesca turned her head so fast, she nearly gave herself whiplash.
"You've known him that long?"
"Yes. Knew his mother. His father not so much, he was away fightin' for king and country. They had a house and lands you know, near Locksley…"
Francesca's mouth dropped open.
Guy never told her that.
Had?
"Big place it was…"
Was?
"Kept a lot o' folks busy runnin' it. Had friends who worked there... was a good job if you could get it."
Francesca was reeling. She had never considered the possibility that Guy could have ties to this place, but then he'd told her so little of his past, not that they'd had enough time together had he wanted to.
"What happened to it?"
Dot's face darkened. "Burnt to the ground. An accident… his parents were still inside… Locksley's father an' all."
Oh my God…
No.
The air rushed out of Francesca's lungs and tears sprang to her eyes. She sat shaking her head, trying to grasp the incomprehensible. Dot's sombre expression had been warning that something terrible was about to come, but for this crushing revelation she had not been prepared. As the shock subsided, countless thoughts rushed in and with them overwhelming sadness. A tear spilled down her cheek as one particular memory of Guy burned bright behind her closed eyelids: that of him pulling her close during his sickness, calling out for his mother.
She couldn't say for how long she sat like this, lost in a silent misery that waxed and waned with every new thought her mind offered - it felt like an eternity but for all she knew it might have been a matter of moments.
"How did it happen?" She eventually inquired, anticipating the answer with dread. She wanted to know, but at the same time was not sure she could bear hearing it.
"Well, there was an argument between Sir Malcolm of Locksley and Sir Roger: Guy's father…"
"Sir Malcolm was Robin's father?"
"Aye, Gisborne and Locksley were friends and neighbours…"
They were?!
"Though it was rumoured Sir Malcolm was more friendly with Lady Ghislaine in Sir Roger's absence than he should've been…"
"Guy's mother?"
"Aye. I don't know if there's any truth to that. If there was something goin' on then it weren't official an' they kept it to 'emselves but you know how folks like to gossip…"
Francesca nodded in response but in truth, her brain was still several steps behind, caught up in the shock of discovering that Guy and Robin had a history. That their families were connected was not something she had ever suspected, let alone that there may have been an affair between Guy's mother and Robin's father.
"Anyway, no one knows exactly how the fire got started, but I do know that Sir Roger weren't s'posed to be there: he'd been banished, had come home from war a leper…"
Francesca felt irrationally angry for a moment, wondering how people could be so cruel to a sick man, but then recalled once hearing about the high risk of contagion and lack of success in curing leprosy. Add to that a large dose of ignorance and superstition…
"Well, you can imagine how shocked people were to find him back again, an' it were Robin who called the alarm…"
Dot noticed Francesca's anger straight away and gently placed a shaky hand upon her forearm, "He was only a lad, my dear; a frightened boy, he didn't know how worked up folks would get."
Francesca nodded and let reason calm her. Still, she could understand why Guy might hate him for it.
"So the story goes that Sir Malcolm went to Gisborne to talk some sense into Sir Roger, they got into an argument, a fire broke out, Guy and his sister managed to get out in time…"
Sister!?
"but their parents and Locksley didn't make it."
Dot pressed her lips together tightly. Francesca bowed her head. They sat in a heavy silence until it occurred to Francesca that there was something she'd overseen;
"The loss of home and family does not mean loss of land and title - Guy could've rebuilt… eventually…"
"Ah, yes, well he probably could have, but the villagers turned against him. He and his sister were banished."
WHAT!? NO!
Good God in heaven… no…
Francesca was appalled.
This was worse than she could have ever imagined.
"How could they do that?" Her voice was thick with tears, on the verge of breaking.
"I don't know, my dear. Honestly, I don't. I only heard 'bout what happened from neighbours and no two tales were ever the same…"
Dot moved to sit beside her young friend, sorry to upset her. She had not expected such depth of feeling from the girl and it was clear to her now that this was more than a simple admiration for Guy on Francesca's part - there was a story behind this - a history. So as Francesca looked at her with those sad eyes, imploring her to continue, Dot didn't have the heart to refuse her.
"Some say the boy started the fire; angry at his parents and Locksley because of the affair…"
Francesca was furious. How could they think it? Of course, such a notion would not seem far-fetched to the villagers nowadays for they only know Guy as the sheriff's man, but how could people have believed him capable of such a thing as a boy?
"Others say that villagers started the fire – yelling 'bout how Sir Roger had brought disease to their village, puttin' their wives and children in danger…"
Dot smiled sadly, it was a terrible thought, but a likely scenario - fear for one's loved ones can make the meekest of souls do unthinkable deeds.
"There were also talk of a bailiff who'd been lookin' to get his hands on the property an' it were 'im who saw to it that the children were cheated out of their birthright…"
Francesca shivered. It was inconceivable to her how somebody could be so disgustingly opportunistic, but then again, she was engaged to Winchester and acquainted with Vaisey, both of whom would have no trouble doing something like that.
"Then there are those who believe that the family is cursed and wanted 'em gone, lest the curse carry over to their own family…"
Francesca shook her head, unable to hear much more. She felt thoroughly wrung out. She'd come with this kind lady to discuss embroidery, who'd have thought she would end up finding out all of this?
"By the time I heard 'bout it, the children were gone, to where I know not. The lands passed on to young Locksley…"
"Wait… Stop."
Francesca was utterly incredulous. She'd heard Dot perfectly, but this detail was so shocking that she had to make sure that she'd understood correctly.
"Are you telling me that Guy's lands were given to Robin?"
Dot nodded. Francesca groaned.
Now it all made sense.
When she finally managed to recover her composure, a feat that required enormous effort, she pulled Dot into a hug and thanked her from the bottom of her heart. As painful as it had been to hear what had happened to Guy, all was so much clearer now because of it. What she had learned did not absolve him, indeed there were no excuses for his abhorrent behaviour, but this knowledge of his past was key to so much of what he did and what he was.
Dot smiled and hugged her back. She had not wanted to burden the girl with the sad tale, but could see now that it had been the right decision to tell her - Francesca had wanted to know, had needed to understand.
She would let her go now, let the words sink in. She wouldn't let her leave however, without a promise to visit later in the day - she needed patterns; after all, those scarves weren't going to embroider themselves now were they?
