To The Castle

Praise for the novels of JOAN WOLF

“Especially appealing…”

—Booklist on White Horses

“Wolf spins a very entertaining love story.”

—Romantic Times on White Horses

“Romance writing at its very best.”

—Publishers Weekly (starred review) on The Guardian

“Wolf…leaps into the contemporary romantic suspense arena with this smart, compelling read.”

—Publishers Weekly on Silverbridge

“A quick-moving, enchanting tale…An excellent choice for readers who want an exciting epic.”

—Booklist on Daughter of the Red Deer

“Captivating…endearing…heartwarming…Wolf’s assured storytelling is simply the best.”

—BookPage on Royal Bride

“Fast paced, highly readable…”

—Library Journal on The Gamble

“An entertaining and thought-provoking read.”

—Washington Post Book World

on The Reindeer Hunters

Also by JOAN WOLF

WHITE HORSES

To the Castle

Joan Wolf

www.mirabooks.co.uk

For Joe, the bedrock of my existence.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Epilogue

Afterword

One

The funeral mass for Sybilla de Bonvile was held in the cathedral of Lincoln on a day of high clouds and gusty wind. Nell de Bonvile walked with her parents behind the coffin of her only sister as it was carried by six knights up the aisle to the altar rail. The archbishop himself waited with holy water to sprinkle on it before he turned with majestic slowness to ascend to the altar where he would begin the funeral mass.

Nell knelt next to her mother and listened to the familiar Latin words, her eyes on the coffin that contained the eighteen-year-old remains of Sybilla. She felt immense sorrow engulf her as she thought of her sister’s life, blown out like a candle by a fever and coughing illness.

If only they had called upon Sister Helen, perhaps she might have been saved, Nell thought. But Sister Helen, one of the nuns at the convent where Nell had lived since her eighth year, had not been called upon, and Sybilla had died.

Next to Nell, her mother raised a handkerchief to her face and began to sob softly. Nell wanted to comfort her mother, but hesitated to touch her. She wasn’t sure if her mother would want comfort from her sole remaining child. Nell knew she could never take the place of her beautiful sister or her brilliant brother. Perhaps her mother would be hurt by the reminder that they had gone and all that was left to her was Nell.

She looked beyond her mother to the face of her father. The Earl of Lincoln’s face was like stone. He made no motion to comfort his wife.

Tentatively, Nell reached out and touched her mother’s arm. The countess gave no sign that she felt Nell’s fingers; she continued to sob quietly into her handkerchief. After a minute, Nell removed her hand and folded it in prayer.

Dear God, she prayed, please receive Sybilla into the joy of your presence and help Mama and Papa to find comfort from their grief.

When the mass was over, they left Sybilla’s coffin in the church, where she would be buried alongside her brother, and went out into the windy day.

Nell, her parents and her aunt had stayed overnight in the bishop’s residence, but now that the funeral was over, Nell knew her father was anxious to return to his castle of Bardney, some twenty miles outside of Lincoln. He gave orders to the knights who had accompanied him to bring the horses around and, as Nell stood waiting in front of the cathedral, her eyes took in the unfamiliar part of Lincoln that lay within the outer walls of the castle.

Nell had spent most of her life within the confines of a convent, and this glimpse of the busy outside world was fascinating. People were going about their business, coming and going from the castle, which towered high above them on a rock, or buying and selling from the stalls that lined one of the walls of the Bail. Many cast curious glances at the funeral party—everyone in the town was aware of who was being buried that day.

What different lives people live, Nell thought wonderingly. How different my own life would have been if my parents hadn’t given me to the convent when I was a child.

An old woman passed in front of the cathedral, turning her head to look straight at Nell. Nell could feel the sympathy in her gaze cross the distance between them. She nodded slightly, in acknowledgment, and the old lady nodded back and continued on her way.

The sympathy was kind, but Nell knew it should be directed at her mother and father, not at her. She had hardly known her sister. They had been separated when they were very young and Sybilla had rarely come to visit her in the convent.

“Nell, stop standing there staring and get on your horse.” Her father sounded impatient. She went over to the small mare one of the knights was holding and let him help her into the saddle. She was still a little sore from the ride in yesterday; life in the convent had not included horseback riding.

Her father mounted his big chestnut stallion and the knights who were leading their party started off. Her father’s stallion moved off behind them, followed by her mother, her mother’s sister, Aunt Alida, and Nell. Behind them came another group of knights, to protect their rear.

Nell’s veil blew in the wind and she reached up to anchor it more securely on her head. She would not profess her holy vows until she was eighteen, but the novices at the convent wore wimples and veils like the nuns. Her little mare was very quiet, paying no attention to the people who were staring at them—unlike her father’s stallion, who was dancing and throwing his head around. Her father sat quietly and spoke to him. Nell watched with awe as he controlled the large horse with his voice and gentle hands.

The earl’s cavalcade went down the old Roman road, Ermine Street, through the town with its shops, past the inns that accommodated visitors to Lincoln, past the church of St. Peter ad Placita, across the River Witham and out of the town. Bardney was southeast of Lincoln while Nell’s convent was to the northeast. She had been fetched two days ago by five of her father’s knights and she supposed she would be spending the night at Bardney, then returning to the convent in the morning.

The road to Bardney led through several small villages huddled around their churches, and some fine pastureland where cows grazed peacefully. The castle could be seen from quite a distance, its turreted stone walls rearing up out of the ground with arrogant authority.

Nell had spent the first years of her life at Bardney, but her memories of life in the castle were dim. When she was eight her brother, the much-longed-for male, had been born, and Nell had been sent to the Convent of St. Cecelia in fulfillment of a promise her parents had made to God when they had prayed for a son. The life she knew was life in the convent; she had felt like a stranger when she had dismounted in the inner bailey of the castle two days ago.

She felt like a stranger still as she rode across the bridge, over the moat and under the great iron portcullis that sealed the gate at night and in times of trouble. The cavalcade of horses crossed the huge expanse of the outer bailey, passed through a second gate into the inner bailey, and came to a halt in front of the great stone castle. The knights, who wore mail shirts called hauberks and helmets with the nose guards up, dismounted, and one of them came to lift Nell down from her saddle. Her knees buckled a little when she touched the ground and he reached out quickly to steady her.

“I’m all right,” Nell told the knight, who was young and brown-eyed. “I just have never had the opportunity to do much riding.”

“You did very well, my lady,” he said.

“Come along, Nell,” her mother called. “Don’t stand there dawdling.”

Nell went immediately to her mother and aunt and followed them into the Great Hall, which took up more than half the space of the castle’s ground floor. Nell had been awed by the size of the Great Hall when she had come home two days ago, and she looked around now, still surprised by its immensity and by the colorful painted wall hangings that adorned the high stone walls. At the convent, rooms were small and the stone walls were bare except for a crucifix.

Her father, Lord Raoul, and her mother, Lady Alice, moved toward the chairs that were pulled up in front of the fireplace and Nell and her aunt followed.

“I think we could all use some wine,” Alida said.

“Yes,” the earl said. “Send for some.”

Two young pages sat on a bench along the wall and Lady Alice said peremptorily, “Robin, go and fetch some wine for us.”

The boy jumped up and ran in the direction of the buttery, where the drinks were kept.

Nell looked at her father, who sat in the largest chair with his legs stretched out in front of him. He did not speak and the others respected his silence. Nell looked down at her lap and folded her hands.

The page came back bearing four goblets of wine on a silver tray. He served his lord first, then Lady Alice, Lady Alida and Nell. The earl and countess both took a long drink, but Nell sipped her wine tentatively. The novices in the convent drank ale with their meals; wine was something new to Nell.

“Well,” the earl said, when he had put his drink on the small table next to him. “So that’s that.”

“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Lady Alice said sadly. “I can’t believe that God could be so cruel.”

“God does what He damn well pleases,” the earl said.

Nell looked at her father with horrified eyes.

He caught her look and said harshly, “Despite what you may have heard in your convent, it’s true. There is no making sense of the tragedies in life. No religion can explain to me why I had to lose both my son and my daughter. God does what He damn well pleases and He doesn’t answer any questions.”

Nell tried to think what she could say to answer the earl’s shocking words. “It’s true that we can’t know the mind of God, but we must trust that there is a plan that we can’t understand,” she said, echoing words she had heard more than once in the convent.

“I don’t think I would want to understand a plan that would take my son and my daughter from me,” her father said, turning his grim look on her.

Nell bit her lip. He’s grieving, she thought excusingly. He doesn’t mean it.

Once more silence descended on the small group by the fire. Tears ran from her mother’s eyes and her father looked angry.

I wish I could comfort them, Nell thought with distress. I feel so useless here.

Her mother wiped her eyes and looked at her. “I don’t know what we’re going to do about clothes for you. You’re quite a bit smaller than Sybilla.”

“We can alter some of Sybilla’s gowns,” Alida said. “They will do until we can have her own clothes made.”

Clothes? Nell thought. She looked from her aunt to her mother in puzzlement. “Why should I need clothes, Mama? I have my habit.”

Her mother and father glanced at each other. Then the earl spoke. “You will not be going back to the convent, Nell. You are my only remaining child and you have a duty to your family. You will be remaining here at Bardney for the foreseeable future.”

Nell’s dark blue eyes grew huge. “I’m not going back to the convent? But I was to be professed as a nun in six months’ time!”

“You are not going to become a nun. You are now the heiress to the Earl of Lincoln—a far more important position than a mere nun could ever hope to attain.”

Nell felt as if she had been hit over the head. Her brain was utterly scattered. Not going back to the convent? But the convent had been her life!

The earl continued, “I will write to Mother Superior to tell her of my decision. We were wrong to send you there all those years ago. It’s true that God gave us a son, but then He took him away. I don’t owe God a daughter, as well. From now on you will be staying here, with us.”

Nell sat in her sister’s bedroom, surrounded by her sister’s things. The wooden trunks along the wall held Sybilla’s clothes; the coverings on the bed bore Sybilla’s monogram; the hangings on the stone wall were the product of her sister’s paintbrush. When her mother had put her in Sybilla’s room, Nell had assumed it was because all the other bedrooms were full. Now she realized it was because she had been designated to take Sybilla’s place.

But I’m not Sybilla, she thought rebelliously. My life has taken a different path.

She jumped up and went to the window. The busy outer bailey of Bardney lay spread before her, with men coming and going on castle business. Panic fluttered in her stomach.

I don’t belong here. This is not my home anymore.

Mother Superior won’t let me leave.

The thought took root in Nell’s shocked mind. For the past nine years she had dedicated herself to God. To be ripped so abruptly from her sacred purpose and returned to the secular world had stunned her and destroyed her sense of who she was.

Mother Superior would intercede with her father, convince him to leave Nell in the convent, where she had been so happy and so secure.

I must find a way to see Mother Superior.

But Nell was canny enough to realize that her father would not let her return to the convent if he thought she wanted Mother Superior to intercede for her. She had to think of another reason for wanting to return to St. Cecelia’s.

I’ll tell Father that I want to say goodbye to the nuns. Surely he won’t deny me that opportunity. After all, they have been my family for the last nine years.

Her idea had barely formed when the bedroom door opened and her mother came in.

“I don’t want you to wear that wimple at dinner,” Lady Alice said to Nell. “Take it off and let me see what your hair looks like.”

Reluctantly, Nell slowly removed her veil and wimple. Her brown hair was pulled back tight against her skull and fastened in a braid at the nape of her neck. It fell halfway down her back.

“Thank God they didn’t cut it,” her mother said, relieved.

“It was going to be cut when I took my vows,” Nell said.

“Well, you aren’t going to make your vows, so you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Nell had never once worried about having her hair cut.

She thought she should try to get her mother on her side about visiting Mother Superior.

“Mama,” Nell said, as Lady Alice began to unravel Nell’s hair, “I want to go back to the convent to say goodbye to the nuns. They were very good to me and it would be churlish of me to go away without even a goodbye.”

“Good grief,” her mother said. “How often did you wash your hair? It’s greasy!”

Hair washing had never been of great moment in the convent.

“I don’t know,” Nell said vaguely.

Her mother made sounds of disapproval. “Well, this needs to be washed before you can display it. I had better put the braid back in for now and we can wash it tomorrow.”

“Did you hear me, Mama?” Nell said a little desperately. “I would like to return to the convent to say goodbye.”

Her mother continued to braid Nell’s hair. “Well, I suppose that can be arranged. We’ll have to talk to your father.”

“Can we ask him tonight?”

“We’ll see.”

Lady Alice finished braiding Nell’s hair, then looked into her face. “Your life is going to be very different from what you are used to, Nell, and I realize it may be hard for you at first. I will do my best to help you.”

Nell dropped her eyes. “Thank you, Mama,” she murmured.

“It’s important to you, saying goodbye at the convent?”

“Yes.”

“Very well. I will speak to your father.”

“Thank you, Mama,” Nell said again. “Do you think I can go tomorrow?”

“That will depend upon your father.”

“But you’ll ask him?”

“I said I would,” her mother replied impatiently. She looked at Nell, her head tilted to one side. “I suppose you will have to wear that habit downstairs to supper. I’ll have my ladies alter a few of Sybilla’s tunics tomorrow. At least if we get the hems up you can wear them.”

I don’t want to wear Sybilla’s clothes, Nell thought stubbornly.

“Come along,” her mother said. “It’s time to go downstairs to supper.”

Two

Supper was served for the entire household in the Great Hall. Trestle tables had been set up in the main body of the hall with the high table set close to the fireplace, where in winter it was warmest. At the high table sat the lord and lady of the house, Nell, Lady Alida, Father Clement, the chaplain, and Martin Demas, who was the steward of Bardney Castle. Two squires stood behind the table to serve the great folk dining there.

Nell looked at the roast venison that was reposing upon her trencher of fine white bread and felt her stomach heave. She was far too upset to eat. Her mouth felt dry so she took a small sip of wine. She looked enviously at the lesser folk sitting at the trestle tables who were being served ale.

“Eat something,” her aunt Alida said. “The food is good at Bardney. You should enjoy it.”

Aunt Alida looked as if she enjoyed the food. She was a small plump woman who reminded Nell of a pigeon. Alida had been one of too many girls and her family hadn’t known what to do with her until Alice had said she could come and live with her.

It was not always easy these days for a noble family to find a suitable match for a daughter. Because of the Norman custom that decreed that all of a family’s holdings be passed down to the eldest son, it was only the eldest son in a family who was eligible to marry. Penniless younger sons usually remained bachelors. This left a limited number of potential husbands for the daughters of the nobility, and competition was fierce. There had been several girls in Nell’s convent whose families had not been able to give them a good enough dowry to purchase a husband.

Alida had been fortunate to have a sister who had married well enough to be able to offer her a home. Nell had only a dim memory of Alida from the time that she had lived at home, but her aunt’s smile was friendly and she smiled back.

“I’m just not very hungry, I’m afraid,” she said. “Too much has happened in the last few days. My stomach’s all in a whirl.”

Her mother turned to her. “Aren’t you eating, Nell?”

Nell took a bite of venison and forced it down. “I’m eating, Mama.”

Alice spoke to her sister across Nell. “Do you really think we can alter Sybilla’s clothes to fit Nell? It isn’t just the length that will have to come up; they will have to be taken in all over.”

“We can do it,” Alida replied. “We’ll get started on it right away.”

“We’ll have to,” Alice said. “She has to have something to wear besides this black robe.”

Alida patted Nell on the arm. “Don’t you worry. You’re a pretty girl and we’ll soon have you fitted out properly.”

I hope not, Nell thought. She turned to her mother. “Mama,” she said, “don’t forget to talk to my father about my going back to St. Cecelia’s.”

Alice looked exasperated. “I told you I would talk to him and I will—in good time.”

“Talk about what?” Alida asked her sister with all the confidence of a close companion.

“Nell wants to go back to the convent to say goodbye to the sisters,” Alice said.

Alida nodded approvingly. “And so she should. It is the mannerly thing to do.”

Nell gave her aunt a tremulous smile of gratitude.

Nell waited all through dinner for her mother to have a chance to talk to her father, but he was deep in conversation with Martin Demas and didn’t look at his wife. Finally, when the main dishes had been removed and the sweet was being served, he turned to the three women who sat to his right.

“Did you enjoy your food, Nell?” he asked.

“Yes, Father, I did,” Nell lied.

“Good. I imagine you did not dine like this in the convent.”

“No, Father.”

“My lord,” Alice began, “Nell wishes to return to the convent so she may say goodbye to the nuns. I think it would be the mannerly thing for her to do—after all, she resided there for nine years.”

He frowned and Nell held her breath.

“I don’t think it’s necessary,” he said.

“Not necessary, but mannerly,” Lady Alice said.

His frown smoothed out. “Oh, all right. I suppose I can spare a few knights to take her.” He spoke briefly with Martin Demas, then turned back to Nell. “All right,” he said, returning his gaze to the women. “You might as well go tomorrow and get it over with. I can send five men with you.”

“Surely I don’t need five men, Father,” Nell said.

“Yes, you do,” he returned. “The country is teetering on the brink of civil war and lawless men are taking advantage of the unsettled state of affairs.” He looked at her grimly. “You are all I have left to me, Nell. I don’t want to lose you, too.”

For the briefest of moments pain flashed in her father’s dark blue eyes, then it was gone. Nell felt a stab of guilt that she was working to circumvent him.

After dinner was over, the servants began the work of taking up the trestle tables and storing them against one wall of the Great Hall. They left a few benches in front of the fire and a number of knights gravitated to them and sat down. Someone took out a pair of dice. The earl went to join his men by the fire and Alice said to her sister, “Let us go upstairs to the solar. I have no heart for company tonight.”

Nell followed her mother and her aunt up the stairs to the living room used solely by the family, her mind forming thoughts of what she would say to Mother Superior when she saw her on the morrow. Surely Mother Superior would be on her side. She had always liked Nell. She prayed she would tell her father that it was God’s will that Nell remain in the convent.

It was late in the afternoon when Nell and her retinue arrived at the gatehouse of the Convent of St. Cecelia. The portress greeted Nell, then summoned grooms to take the horses.

The stones of the convent buildings looked so familiar to Nell, so comforting. There was the church, where the nuns heard mass from behind a beautifully carved screen; there was Mother Superior’s house; there was the main residence where Nell had lived along with the nuns and the rest of the novices; and there was the guesthouse, where the Bardney knights would spend the night. Unseen from the courtyard was the herb garden, where Nell had spent so many happy hours learning from the convent’s healer, Sister Helen.

Sister Helen had been like a mother to her. How could she bear to leave her?

Nell pointed out the guesthouse to the knights and told them to make themselves comfortable. Then she crossed the courtyard in the direction of Mother Superior’s tall, narrow, stone house. Her heart was thudding.

A lay sister answered Nell’s knock. Nell asked a little breathlessly, “Will you be so kind as to tell Mother that I wish to see her?”

“Of course,” the lay sister replied and disappeared up the stairs. She returned a few minutes later and told Nell that Mother Superior would receive her in her sitting room. By now Nell’s heart was hammering and she drew a deep breath to steady herself before she went up the stairs.

St. Cecelia’s was a well-endowed convent and the Mother Superior could have afforded a decent degree of luxury, but Mother Margaret de Ligne made do with only the bare essentials: several carved wooden chairs, two chests and a wall hanging depicting St. George on a white horse. The stone floor was bare of rushes.

Mother Margaret herself was almost as austere-looking as the room she sat in, but her face softened as Nell came in. “So,” she said. “You have returned from burying your sister.”

“Yes, Mother. And something has happened that I must discuss with you.”

“Come and sit down,” Mother Margaret said. “How are your mother and your father? Such a terrible thing for them, to lose your sister at so young an age. I am praying for them.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Nell replied.

“I see you are not wearing your wimple.”

Nell clutched her hands tightly together in her lap. “My mother made me take it off. Mother, something terrible has happened. My father has said that I can’t remain at the convent, that I must stay at home and take Sybilla’s place!”

There was a little silence, then Mother Margaret said softly, “I thought this might happen.”

Nell stared at her in shocked surprise.

Mother Margaret went on. “Your father is a very important man, Nell. He owns extensive lands, castles and manors. He has lost a son and a daughter and he needs an heir to carry on the family’s holdings and its bloodline. So I am not surprised that he wants you to come home.”

Nell found her voice. “But I was dedicated to God, Mother! Surely I ought not turn my back upon Him!”

Mother Margaret said gently, “When you were dedicated, your father had a son and another daughter. Now he has only you.”

Nell was stunned. Mother was sounding as if she approved of this change in Nell’s status! She said tensely, “I was hoping that you would speak to my father. I was hoping you would tell him that the ways of God come before the ways of men.”

Mother Margaret leaned a little forward. “My dear child,” she said. “we will miss you very much. You have given much joy to this convent. But you must obey your father, Nell. The Commandments tell us, honor thy father and thy mother.”

Nell felt betrayed. She had been so sure that Mother Superior would fight for her. “If you could just talk to him, perhaps he will change his mind,” she pleaded.

Mother Margaret shook her head decisively. Her light blue eyes held sympathy for Nell, but her words were adamant. “I will not interfere. You can continue to serve God, no matter what your station in life, Nell. You will be in a high position, a position where you can affect many lives—many more lives than you would affect in this convent. Perhaps God has had this plan for you all along. You learned here how to be a religious woman. Now it is time for you to take what you have learned and apply it to the life you will lead as mistress of many people.”

“But I don’t want to leave here,” Nell cried in deep distress. “I have been happy here!”

Mother folded her hands in her lap. “I am glad about that, but now your duty lies elsewhere, Nell. Your family needs you more than we do.”

There was a little silence. Nell hunched her shoulders and stared into her lap. “I thought you would take my side.”

“Look at me,” Mother Superior said.

Reluctantly, Nell lifted her eyes.

“Your job will be to work good in the world,” Mother said.

“That is a much harder task than praying from within the shelter of a convent, but I’m sure you’re equal to it.”

No, I’m not, Nell thought. I don’t want to go into the world.

Mother Superior continued. “One thing you can do is bring healing to those who need it. Sister Helen tells me that you are almost as accomplished an herb woman as she is. We have Sister Helen—we don’t need another healer. But many people in the world need the skill you have, Nell. That will be something you can do for God.”

Nell stared into Mother’s light eyes. She truly thought that Nell should go. She’s wrong, Nell thought rebelliously. I’m sure God wants me to stay here.

“Be a good daughter to your parents,” Mother Superior said. “They have need of you now.”

Nell’s chin set stubbornly and she did not answer. Mother Margaret stood up and Nell followed. Mother Margaret was half a head taller than the girl. “I am sure you will want to say goodbye to all your friends. Come, have dinner with us in the refectory and I will relax the order for silence so you may converse.”

There was nothing more that Nell could say. Mother Margaret’s mind was clearly made up. Tears stung behind Nell’s eyes. She was going to have to leave the convent.

Mother Superior said, “I am sure you will want to give your news to Sister Helen. I believe at this hour she is in the herb garden. Go and find her.”

“Thank you, Mother.” Nell pushed the words through the choking feeling in her throat.

She went back down the stairs and let herself out through the thick wooden door. This is terrible, she thought in panic as she crossed the courtyard and took the path that led between the convent and the squat storage building. How can I bear to leave here? How can I bear to leave Sister Helen?

The path descended gently to the convent’s large kitchen garden. At the far end of the garden was a fenced-off area and a small hut with smoke coming out of the smoke hole. Nell crossed the kitchen garden, went through the fence and into the hut.

A nun was standing with her back to the door, watching a glass pot as it cooked on a small stove. At the sight of the familiar figure, tears flooded Nell’s eyes.