The Lily and the Lion by Catherine A. Wilson, Catherine T Wilson Read Free Book Online

as a single tear slid down my cheek to land on my hands, now clasped in prayer. I was simply too embarrassed to look up at him but knew that he was staring intently at me. His voice was softer now and tinged with despair.
    â€˜I will not allow you to cross me as your sister has.’ He turned away, his back rigid beneath his dirt-encrusted cloak. I was filled with remorse, for surely it was I who had caused him such worry and grief.
    So I sat, my dear sister, within my room, dressed in a serviceable gown of brown wool, my hair trailing loose, like that of a maiden. I cannot conceive that Gillet will ever forgive my carelessness, so angry was he.
    He left for London the following morning and I had no opportunity to speak with him again. His instructions had been plain. I was to remain hidden. It would seem that I have traded one form of imprisonment for another.
    My melancholy was not reflected upon the face of Anaïs, so changed is she. I do not expect her to yearn for Denny the way I do, yet the joy she attaches to her freedom is more than a little disconcerting. I often detect her scowling and believe that she may now disdain our friendship. Were she privy to the heated conversation the previous day, she made no mention of it.
    â€˜Do you still want to learn more about your family?’ she asked.
    â€˜Of course, you know that I do.’
    â€˜Then perhaps you should thank me, for I may have inadvertently found a way to assist you. Whilst partaking of one or two ales yesterday a gentleman of fine attire boasted of his connections at court. He claimed that he resides in Romsey, which I know is not far from Broughton.’ Refilling my cup, she leaned uncomfortably close to my face. ‘He was easily persuaded to meet with you here and share what knowledge he has.’ Her eyes flashed with triumph, for she had indeed done me a great favour.
    â€˜Thank you, Anaïs, I am very grateful. May the Lord bless and keep you.’
    â€˜No need for that,’ she interrupted. She snatched up the bag of coins, presumably left for us by Gillet and, uncovering a corner of the mattress, picked at a small hole until it was large enough to conceal the item within.
    â€˜Why do people hide things?’ I asked.
    â€˜Silly! So others cannot find them.’
    â€˜But why?’
    â€˜You can be so stupid at times.’ She sauntered to the door. ‘I hide it because it is valuable.’
    I can only conclude then that we must be worth something, to be hidden from not only each other but also from the world. Your betrothal to the Duc was broken on a claim of poor hereditary right. If that be the case, what of your future? I imagine that you will be expected to marry. But what if it is discovered that we are of rank? Surely your chances would increase. Why hide us away if we are of no importance? ’Tis a confusing riddle.
    Unwilling to break my promise to Gillet, I agreed to see this man but only if we were to meet within the walls of this establishment. Perhaps any discovery I make might atone for the terrible pain and loss I have caused you, for which I feel enormous guilt.
    The gentleman had agreed to visit the King’s Arms sometime after noon that same day. By nones I was beginning to suspect that he had changed his mind when suddenly he entered through the main door. Anaïs had slipped the innkeeper several coins for the procurement and privacy of the storeroom, which contained enough food stocks to feed twelve nuns until Christmastide. Smoked fish hung in rows across the back wall, their beady eyes seeming to follow me as I entered the room. Bunches of onions and garlic, dried cloves and cinnamon sticks overflowed from every corner, their distinctive aroma mixed with the unmistakable scent of pickled eel.
    â€˜John Moleyns at your service, my dear. I assume it is with you I am to meet?’ he asked.
    He was an older man with a large and ugly scar running down his cheek, but it did not make