LII

"Pattern for embroiderin'?"

The girl sweeping the yard at Locksley was looking at Francesca as if she had two heads.

"Err… yes; it's for a wedding gift you see… I was hoping to have it done in time, but my friend can't even get started without patterns."

Francesca gave her a moment to get with the program but she looked more lost than ever. Then again, Francesca could understand that in the bustle of getting the house ready for its new mistress, the request might seem a bit of a strange one.

The longer the girl stared frowning, the sillier Francesca felt. She was beginning to wish she hadn't bothered. She certainly hadn't reckoned with the adventures she'd been having in the name of a wedding gift.

Thankfully, she didn't have to squirm under the girl's gaze for long, for another servant came to her rescue.

"Good day milady, can I help you?"

It was an older man, probably the same age as her father, Francesca guessed, but despite having an air of authority about him, he looked kind and this helped her with her unease. That was until he got a better look at her and then for some reason his demeanour changed.

She introduced herself regardless and explained the purpose of her visit, as he studied her with an intensity she could hardly stand. She was about to ask him what his problem was but never got the chance…

"Good Day Lady Francesca, is there something we can do for you?"

Normally she adored that voice.

Normally.

But not now and not in that tone.

She shrank in upon herself and slowly turned to face the master of the house, trying for the life of her not to look guilty.

To no avail. Guy could read her like a book. That she had not planned with his arrival was clear and that made him very suspicious indeed.

"Well?" He stalked towards her, an expectant look upon his stern face and Francesca floundered – she'd never been a good liar and had no explanation for her visit that would not give away her gift so she remained silent, tugging nervously at the scarves hidden behind her back.

Guy shot a questioning look at the servant, who shrugged and thankfully did not give the game away before dismissing himself whilst muttering about how there was "much to be done so he better be getting on with it."

Guy sized her up, noticing she had something behind her back and with a voice somewhere in the region of subarctic asked her what she was hiding.

She backed away from him, squirming and shaking her head, "T'is nothing."

"Show it to me."

"Please Guy."

He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to control his emotions. On the one hand, he was angrier than he thought he ever could be with her: this strange behaviour of hers brought out the worst of his suspicious, insecure tendencies and made him all too ready to assume that this was part of some sort of betrayal. On the other, her voice was like a bucket of cold water over the fire of his anger – he didn't want to cause her distress, to make her plead with him like this and yet he needed to know what this was about.

"Show me."

Francesca hung her head. It was time to give up. She made a mental note to never go to so much trouble again before reluctantly complying with Guy's request.

"I just… thought you might like them." She whispered.

Guy frowned. It took him a few seconds to realise what it was she was showing him.

"These are… these are for me?" He stammered, surprised that he could even speak what with his jaw having hit the floor.

"And Lady Marian… for your wedding." Francesca nodded, but didn't make eye contact – she couldn't. "I was going to have your family crests embroidered on them… came for the pattern…" She replied shuffling awkwardly from one foot to the other.

She lamely held them out to him, smiling apologetically, still unable to look at him. He held a hand out to touch them but did not take them from her.

She waited a while for some sort of response, her eyes fixed upon his fingers tentatively running over the fabric and as the silence stretched on, her curiosity got the better of her and she looked up at him.

He was dumbstruck. Visibly moved. He swallowed hard and averted his gaze. There was a look on his face, an agony of overwhelmed emotions that Francesca recognised from the first time he'd seen her again after all these years and she felt herself welling up at the sight.

She coughed to clear the lump in her throat and then found herself rambling, no longer able to stand the silence. "I err… made a friend at market and it was her idea… about the family crests I mean… she says she can get them done in time, but I'm not too sure about that… she's getting on a bit…" She smiled nervously and ventured a look at Guy who was staring at her intently now. That alone was enough for her to clam up and look to the ground again.

A loaded silence followed and Francesca thought she might explode with the tension. She tried to think of something to say that wasn't more of the inane rambling that seemed to pour out of her during these strained encounters between herself and the knight but nothing came. As it turned out, it didn't matter because Guy found his voice first.

"You would…" He jolted at how boyish he sounded and coughed to bring his tone back down to a normal register, "You would do that?"

Francesca's head shot up. She had to look at him - his voice compelled her – but then when she did, she couldn't handle it.

Oh Guy... please don't look at me like that…

She played it down. Could do no other. The awe upon his face at such a small gesture of kindness made her heart ache, bringing back all that she had heard about him from Dot.

"T'is nothing really… I err… I just wanted to… I mean… I just thought that…" She brought a hand up to her forehead as she struggled with her words and was astonished to feel his hand upon her wrist. The world seemed to stop as the touch of his fingers burned into her skin. A small whimper of surprise escaped her, it was barely audible, but Guy registered it and he stroked his thumb over the tender skin just beneath her palm – a gesture of affection to calm her but also an entreaty to look at him.

She did.

And the warmth of his gaze very nearly bowled her over.

Good God in heaven Guy… Please don't look at me like that…

She blushed on cue; just as she always did and he had to drop his hand from her, otherwise he would pull her close and kiss every inch of that blushing skin.

He would've silently congratulated himself for that display of self-control were it not for the amorous images his mind supplied him with, alongside torturous memories of how sweet she tasted…

Has anybody a bucket of cold water handy?

"Sir Guy, please forgive the intrusion…"

Ah Thornton, one can always rely on you…

"Emily has the pattern for Lady Francesca, if she would like to come with me to the house."

Francesca nodded and took her leave of Guy to follow the older man. Just before she crossed the threshold, she looked back at the knight and found soft blue eyes staring at her. She blushed and looked away, cursing herself for behaving like a love-struck sap.


"Forgive the mess Lady Francesca; we had a robbery here last night."

As they waited for Emily, who had swanned off somewhere, Thornton noticed their guest looking at the broken bedchamber door, which was being hauled through the hallway by a couple of guards.

"A robbery! Sir Guy didn't say anything… I hope nobody was hurt?" Francesca stared at the splintered wood, hoping that it had only been the door that had been exposed to violence. It was a noble hope, but of course a vain one.

"The master caught the assailant in the act and confronted him: Sir Guy came out of the skirmish with bruises, the Nightwatchman however, was not so fortunate…"

"The Nightwatchman?"

"The second most wanted man in Nottingham after Master Robin. Not much I can say about him I'm afraid other than he wears a mask and a cape… and as of last night a nasty wound to the abdomen."

Francesca winced, detesting any sort of violence and then remembered seeing a masked man in the forest camp. She was about to mention it, but then a kindly looking woman showed up with the pattern she'd been after.

"Good news milady, I've got patterns for both families here – t'will save you the trip to Knighton that, which is just as well for I hear that Lady Marian is not feeling up to visitors."

"Really, Emily? Who told you that?" Thornton inquired.

"Sir Guy did a minute ago just before he headed off to church to speak with the priest."

"Unwell?" Thornton was more than a little concerned, knowing as he did about Marian's reluctance to marry his current master due to her continued attachment to his former master (amongst other things).

"Aye, he was visiting her earlier and she's bedbound with nerves apparently. He's not much better though, bless him, riding round like a mad thing trying to get everything perfect for the big day."

Talk of weddings was not something Francesca relished of late (if she ever had) and as the purpose of her visit was now concluded, she gave Emily her thanks and said her goodbyes.

To her surprise, Thornton stopped her. "Lady Francesca, I've been meaning to speak to you for some time on a particular matter, would you be so kind as to come with me to the study?"

The request made her wary, but that intense stare from earlier had made a reappearance so she followed him without question.


"Now that you're here, I'm not sure how to begin…" He paced nervously and Francesca frowned; the look over the shoulder as they entered the room had already put her on edge and now this strange introduction…

"Please do not worry, you have done nothing wrong, nothing at all, it's just that this is a matter that has had me wondering if I should speak with you or not…"

"Please, have no fear; I shall listen to whatever you wish to tell me."

"No, it is not that that troubles me, it is…" He paused to decide how best to explain himself and she could only look on in confusion, silently willing him to continue.

"Have you ever made a promise to a dying man?"

The question came out of nowhere and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Yes." She whispered, finding traces of that man everywhere in the room she was currently standing in.

"When Sir Guy came here he was ill – so ill he nearly died. Mary Lambert did everything she could to tend to him, we all did, but it was touch and go for a while there and one night when he asked for me, I feared he would not see the dawn…"

Francesca closed her eyes, shivers running through her, memories of seeing Guy on the point of death resurfacing thick and fast.

"It seemed that he believed the same, for he begged me to do something…" Thornton pulled a note from his pocket and Francesca felt the breath stop in her lungs.

Oh my God…

"You must forgive me, I wanted to give it to you, I wanted to keep my promise, but then he recovered and there was never any mention of it again - indeed, he was so delirious as he gave it to me, I doubt he even remembers it…" He paused to look at her, apologetic eyes entreating her to understand his position, "I didn't know what to do."

Francesca was overwhelmed. She could see from his distress that he was telling her the truth, but she was still so shocked that all she could manage was a small nod to signal she was still following him.

"I kept the note hoping that in time he would remember, that there would be some signal from him, an order, a direction, some mention of you…" He sighed and shook his head, "but he guards his past so faithfully... and the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years…"

He took a step forward, holding the note out to her, hands shaking, shoulders slumped, eyes regretful and downcast. "I'm so sorry."

She stared at it a long time before taking it, and then began tentatively running her fingers over it as if to make sure it was real. The seal was unbroken, the paper faded, and the only words visible were those of her name.

Thornton observed her as she turned the note over in her fingers but made no move to open it - waiting to be alone for that no doubt.

"He gave no address. Your name is all I had to go on. I considered seeking you out, but knew nothing of you and would never have risked giving something that meant so much to him to another with your name…" Thornton confessed smiling wanly. Francesca, sufficiently over her shock, returned the smile and put her hand upon his to reassure him.

"I only knew who you were as Winchester brought you into this house. The master's face upon seeing you told me all I needed to know."

Francesca nodded, remembering that terrible evening at Locksley and the event that should have brought Guy joy – the announcement of his engagement…

Oh.

She had for a moment wondered why Thornton had not come sooner to her with the letter, after all, she had been in Nottingham for quite some time now but this remembrance swiftly answered her question. Guy was to marry. Everything had changed. What good would it do to give her the letter now? Best to let sleeping dogs lie surely…

And yet he did it anyway…

Thornton was gobsmacked to see a smile spread over Francesca's face. He had expected her to be angry, to reproach him for his inaction, to berate him for his indecision, to blame him for the loss of what might have been…

but she did not.

On the contrary, she thanked him. Many times. Insistently.

And smiled.

He did not understand it, but by God was he was he grateful for it…

He did not know if he had done the right thing, but that she bore him no ill will made his heart lighter than it had been in years.