My Rival, My Love, page 2
“And I don’t know why my family doesn’t have the key—or if someone did, how he or she lost it.”
“Or gave it to someone in my family?” she asked. The possibilities sent her mind spinning. “Perhaps the whys and hows don’t matter as much as what we do going forward. Who owns any contents if my key works?”
“I do, certes. The container, which has been in my family for generations, includes whatever’s inside.” He rested his hand on the top. Did he think she was going to grab it and run?
“Well, those generations obviously haven’t been able to access whatever’s inside.” Cecily regained some confidence. She held some of the power. “You can’t open it without me. Apparently, the key has been in my family for some time. So, I say we share.”
“Assuming your key does what none other I’ve found has.” His pursed lips indicated irritation at her refusal to give in. “Even if I agree, what if the contents can’t be divided…say, a single gem? Nothing moves when it’s shaken, so there’s no hint of what it holds.”
“We sell any item and split the proceeds.” With half of the money from the sale of a gem, she’d likely have enough to live on her own for a while and perhaps hire someone to care for Gran, too. Don’t get ahead of yourself. The box could be empty or hold nothing of value. “It could be some family heirloom holding meaning for me and my relatives alone,” she retorted.
If only they’d met under different circumstances and their meeting had been less contentious. Master Clarke was so handsome as to be distracting. Those green eyes with glints of gold drew her. As did the way his reasoning revealed his thoughtful approach. So unlike Adam’s impetuous nature.
What was wrong with her? First remembering Adam, now having wayward thoughts about a stranger.
“We could argue about this for a sennight and still not concur on the outcome.” He paced for another moment. “We need to talk to an attorney.”
We. He kept saying that. Odd and uncomfortable to think of herself paired in any way with a man, which she hadn’t been since Adam’s death. On the rare occasions her deceased husband crossed her mind, instead of loving memories, she saw his back as he ran into the house trying to save their son. She saw flames so bright she could almost smell burning wood.
Cecily shook her head. She had to let the past go and concentrate on the present. Live for today instead of yesterdays that would never come again.
We didn’t have to mean anything romantic, though this man she’d met through her mother’s letter, a decade after her death, happened to be the first in years to spark her interest. Not that she’d met many men since widowed.
She didn’t want to be interested in anyone. A distant part of her still yearned for a family, but she didn’t dare risk the anguish of a husband or child dying again. Better to just worry about herself. And she hadn’t been doing a very good job of that.
Mother’s missive had already served one purpose, as an impetus to change the course of her life.
“Let’s open the box and make decisions when we see what we’re dealing with,” he offered.
“I don’t know you,” she said. “How can I trust you to be fair if it’s something valuable? Especially when you’ve waited so long to solve the problem, yet keep the box visible as a constant reminder of your lack of success. Emotions clearly run high.”
“Waiting doesn’t make me less honest. That’s what trust is—belief. Do you believe me to be an honest man? And any splitting should be two-thirds for me and one-third for you.”
Arguing chafed already frayed nerves. “Clearly we’re not going to see eye to eye on the issue.”
“Not yet,” Simon said. He’d convince her. Soon.
Speaking of eyes, Cecily was most pleasing to his. Even more, Simon liked that she was intelligent and willing to speak her mind. His sisters would like her, too. Not that his relatives’ opinions of her mattered. He just wanted her key.
“Only an impartial third party can ensure we pursue the most equitable and legal approach,” he said.
“You’re right,” she agreed. “What if we take this one step at a time? Can we agree that the best thing to do is to speak with an attorney?”
“Agreed. Would you trust mine, or do we need someone else to find a third party?”
“Yours is acceptable.” She smiled…the first he’d seen. The brief happiness she exuded moved him as much as sunlight shining through one of his cabochon gems, revealing its true beauty.
Maybe he’d just offer to marry her so the key and box would stay in his family.
Where had that thought come from? He had no interest in marriage. His shop fared quite well, and costly commissions were on the rise, but he already worked too many hours and didn’t need more mouths to feed, no matter how pretty or intriguing. Caring for his younger sisters and saving to dower them in the amount necessary to lead them to good marriages was enough responsibility.
She reached into her pocket and displayed a key. “Now you know I’m telling the truth.”
He resisted the urge to grab it. This woman held in her hand the very key he’d sought since he was old enough to know what one was. The iron scroll design was as elegant as he’d imagined. But the blade with a cut out cross wasn’t what he’d expected. From all he’d learned of locksmithing, the functional part of her key didn’t look that complex. So why hadn’t any locksmiths been able to fashion one?
He was so close. Fighting the urge to take the key out of her hand and be done with it, he reluctantly accepted the delay speaking with an attorney would entail. Obtaining an expert opinion was best for both of them. And they could confirm any choices in writing as a contract.
Regret flashed at his decision to apprentice to a goldsmith rather than a locksmith. But the lure of fashioning beautiful items from precious metals and gemstones had called to him louder than the siren song of the box. Making something beautiful as his masterpiece for the guild interested him more than fashioning a working lock and key.
“I’ll send my attorney a message. If he’s available, we can meet at his office as early as tomorrow, if that suits you. I’ll contact you when I receive his reply.”
“Very well.” She nodded. “But I’m keeping the key with me.”
“Very well.” Simon put his hands on his hips. “Then I’m keeping you with me.”
“What? Why? Do you think I’m going to hide the key? Throw it in the River Ouse?” she demanded.
“I don’t know,” Simon admitted, annoyed he’d said what was on his mind before thinking it through. “What I do know is that now that I’m aware of its existence, I don’t want to let it out of my sight.”
Her tilted head and skeptical glare said she thought him mad. “I can’t sleep under your roof. And Gran needs me.”
“My sisters can serve as chaperones to preserve your reputation. They’ll be back from the market soon.” The more he thought on it, the more convinced he became. “You can send for your grandmother. My man will fetch her.”
Cecily bristled. No man had spoken to her thusly. “You’re not my lord and master. I’m under no duty to comply with your arrogant commands.”
He had the grace to bow his head. “I do apologize, Cecily. I’m accustomed to being in charge. And it’s true, I sometimes allow the stress of this thing to weigh on me too heavily.”
“Another thing we agree on. I think you’re bordering on obsession.” Perhaps she should’ve kept her opinion to herself, but his determined expression hadn’t changed.
“This is the first time in years my hope of success has been this high. I’m grasping at any options that come to mind to keep us moving forward as fast as possible. Can you understand that? Can you forgive me?” His face softened, and his eyes brightened, luring her into their depths. His smile melted her objections.
Hmm. When he gave her that look, she might forgive almost anything. “You accept that I want to get to the bottom of this, too? It’s the final task I can do to honor my mother.”
He nodded, his hair partially covering his face. Why did she long to touch that hair?
“I do. But that’s all I believe where you’re concerned.”
Defensiveness gripped her. Unsettling how her emotions fluctuated in his presence. Safer and easier to stay with Gran where nothing happened. Nothing changed.
“Mayhap I should sleep here,” she said. “How do I know now you’ve seen the size and shape of the key you won’t find some way to copy it? Then remove whatever’s in the box so there’s nothing for us to share?’
He seemed as taken aback as she’d been when he’d demanded she stay. “Well. You do have a vivid imagination.”
“Your lack of trust inspired mine. And my concerns.”
They glared at each other like two children fighting over a toy. Yet, despite the emotional upheaval, sparring with and trying to outwit him were the most fun she’d had in ages. Was it worth the risk? Yes. For her mother’s sake. And maybe her own.
There was a good chance they’d never agree on the outcome. So why was she so drawn to him. How did she stop?
“I trust you with the key,” he conceded. A sigh made his reluctance clear. “If you trust me with the box.”
“Very well.”
Three women near her age swept in. Their hands were full of wrapped parcels, which they placed on the table.
“I still think you could have gotten a better price for the Cheshire cheese, Melisant,” said the shortest, lovely in a simple, green gown and hennin much like her own.
“Then you buy it next time,” replied a girl wearing a blue gown, who Cecily assumed was Melisant.
“Now, now,” added the third, who was the tallest. Her gown was darker blue. “The price was fair.”
The three launched into a loud discussion of how many groats might have been saved.
“Halt!” Simon called.
They obeyed as one, coming to rest like three pretty butterflies landing on flowers.
“As you can see, we have a guest. Mistress Cecily Fayrefax, please meet my sisters Nissa, Melisant, and Annis.”
“Master Clarke, if you’ll pardon the interruption, you’re needed in the kitchen,” Everard said.
“I’ll be right there,” Simon replied. To Cecily, he added, “Please wait. This won’t take long.”
As he left, the sisters joined her at the table. All three had dark green eyes like Simon’s.
“We’re excited to meet you. Simon hasn’t brought any women home. I’m the oldest, Annis,” the one in the dark blue gown said.
“Well, I brought myself here,” she explained.
“But he allowed you to remain. That’s something. I’m Nissa, the youngest,” said the one in green. She pulled out some hairpins and removed her hennin, releasing a dark brown braid.
“And I’m Melisant, in the middle. I know we just met, but we’re in desperate need of another woman to talk to. May we ask you something?”
“Certes,” she agreed, curious as to what they had in mind.
Melisant glanced behind her as if to make sure Simon wasn’t returning, then leaned forward and said in a low voice, “Simon won’t listen to us. He’s so set on saving large dowries for us, he refuses to consider our wishes. We love him dearly and appreciate his hard work on our behalf, of course. But I’m already two and twenty. He’s refused two suitors…one of whom I was interested in but who recently wed another. What if no one else will have me?”
“I’m interested in joining the Church, but he won’t even let me speak to the abbess or prioress,” Annis said. Glaring at her sisters, she continued, “I will not sneak out and visit the abbey on my own. And please don’t tell me again that just because my name means ‘chaste’ doesn’t mean the Church is for me.”
“We pray enough as it is, Annis,” Nissa said. “I love worldly goods too much to forsake them. I aspire to help Simon in his shop. Gold is so fascinating. I’d love to design rings and brooches.”
“We are trapped,” Melisant said. “Every time we try to talk to him, he gets annoyed and says he has to go to work.”
The others nodded their agreement.
“What do you think we should we do?” Melisant’s eyes glistened with tears.
“What would you do?” Annis and Nissa asked in unison.
Three earnest faces regarded her. Cecily valued her instant bond with them. Not only were they near her age, but they had something in common.
“I sympathize with you. I understand whereof you speak, for I’m trapped, too. I live with my grandmother and think she treats me more like a servant than a relative. I’d like to live on my own, but lack coin to afford rent and food. And, honestly, I’ve been afraid of change.”
Just saying the words made her feel churlish. Despite being overly strict, Gran had cared for her and helped her return to the world by helping manage their household. Cecily had been so grateful to have a place to belong and someone who wanted her. Or had she been too trusting and dependent, relying on Gran to shelter her in exchange for service?
Maybe Nissa had the way of it. Perhaps she could learn some of Joanna’s craft and help in her glass-painting studio. Maybe her cousin would provide lodging and food in exchange, if not compensation as well. Creating things of beauty could be her new purpose.
“Let us put our minds together and devise solutions for us all,” she offered.
The sisters squealed. Melisant wiped her eyes, and Annis clapped her hands.
“Ooh, yes!” Nissa said as Simon entered.
“Yes, what?” he asked.
“Cecily has just agreed to be our friend,” Melisant said.
True, but not the whole truth. Cecily ignored the guilty feeling she had from going behind his back, even if the reason was to help his sisters and Simon.
“Well, then you must call me Simon,” he said.
Maybe she’d help Simon open not only his box, but his mind, too. She smiled. Having not one but two missions gave her a new purpose.
Chapter Three
The next afternoon, she and Simon sat before the attorney’s desk. She’d never been in such a setting, from shelves heaped with stacks of parchment and piles of rolled documents to a few open volumes on a table.
Upon seeing Simon again, she couldn’t hold back a smile. Her physical reaction to him troubled her, as did the need to make a plan with him on how to proceed with the box. She yearned to have the skills to contribute to the solution.
When Simon had asked about her availability, Cecily hadn’t been about to tell him she rarely went anywhere aside from the market when Gran needed something. That realization made her sad.
Simon wore a tabard of wool and a different collar necklace. A ring on his right hand boasted a large cabochon ruby that glowed every time he moved. The richness of his attire made him appear powerful. And unfortunately, to her, more enticing. Who did he endeavor to impress…his attorney or her?
And what did she hope to gain from their uneasy partnership? The key and letter had set off a string of discoveries. She’d been merely existing, not truly living. Like his sisters, Cecily yearned for more than helping Gran tend to their small household. Not to wed like Melisant, and certainly not to give herself to the Church like Annis. Nissa’s dream resonated the most.
She’d do it. She’d visit her cousin Joanna and ask for employment. Her admiration of the stained-glass windows at York Minster and other churches had been a clue she’d missed. Finally, Cecily was ready to challenge herself.
Gilbert Mannering, a thin man with reddish hair, steepled his fingers after they explained their situation. “There’s no dispute if the contents are of no value. Unless, Mistress Cecily, you desire ownership of the box itself?”
“No. My mother gave no indication it had any special meaning to her.”
Simon seemed to relax.
Not that her mother had given any indication of anything beyond directing her to bring the key to his home.
“Gilbert, what of ownership rights?” Simon asked. “Does the law say they’re equal because she has the key? Or do I have claim to two-thirds because I own the box and the contents?”
“You have possession of both the box and the contents, Simon,” Master Mannering corrected him. “Meaning you are presumed to be the owner unless proven otherwise.”
Cecily sank in her chair. How could she prove anything? She deserved half, but one-third was better than nothing.
“On the other hand, if she chooses not to use her key, you only have access to the outside. Since your efforts to open it have failed, she may control access to the inside because she owns the key. Hence, an equal division of what’s inside might be best. If you open the box in my office, my clerk will serve as a second witness. Then I can advise further on how to allocate any contents and, if you wish, be custodian of them until you agree how to proceed.”
She shared a glance with Simon. Each nodded to confirm Master Mannering’s suggestions. Even so, a reluctance nagged Cecily that she sensed matched Simon’s. Were they making too much over nothing or too little? No way to be certain until the box was opened.
“Unfortunately, I’m leaving to meet a client in Easingwald in a few days,” Master Mannering said. “I’ll be back after.”
Days later, during which Simon barely slept and his sisters had been unusually quiet, he, Cecily, and the box were on their way back to Gilbert’s office.
He’d spent years wondering about this moment, and he’d be forced to share it with a woman who’d come to claim a part in it, yet who also intrigued him. His emotions were confusing, and he didn’t like being forced to make quick decisions.
She looked so lovely in a high-waisted, dark green gown. He sensed her anxiousness and wanted to comfort her.
“Are you ready?” Gilbert asked.
Cecily took the key from her pocket and held it up. “Yes.”
At last. Simon wouldn’t admit his hands trembled. “The key is yours. You open it,” he offered.
They could agree on that, at least.
