Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [110]
The silence stretched on. Anger was the first overwhelming emotion. But for the ingrates of Bruges, Adorne would have been with her; would have shared her joy at the coming child; would have made her his wife. Even if death had come in the end, they would have had that. Now he would arrive and find he had lost her by a day.
Then she realised why she was being told. ‘Nicholas is there?’
‘The babe was baptised this morning, in private. They were all there: the Dunbars and the Sinclairs and Phemie’s good friends from the Priory. Jamie Liddell, for Albany. Not Robin, but Kathi and Saunders, of course. Adorne would find them, at least, when he arrived. And Dr Andreas would be with him.’
‘And Nicholas? You know what he—’
‘I ken what he did for Phemie Dunbar. Love and pity have aye been the key to the puzzle of Nicol de Fleury,’ said Bel. ‘And yes, he’d be stricken, but he’d be among friends, as Adorne would. I’d trust one of them to bring him back to you, for he’ll know by now that you’re here: Adorne or Andreas will have told him.’
Bel stopped. ‘That’s all. I’m going. If you can stand that old besom Kilmirren, that’s where I’m staying. I know that ye canna fathom how I can thole him, but I’ve kent Jordan de St Pol for a long time, and I’m used to him. Will ye be all right, now?’
‘No,’ said Gelis. ‘But I know what I owe you. Nicholas too. He wrote that you hadn’t come to see him, or sent.’
‘No. I had my reasons,’ said Bel. ‘But now I’m just over the road, if you want me.’
IN THE EVENT, it was Tobie’s stalwart wife Clémence who rode with Nicholas to his new house in the High Street, and saw, as he did, that there were extra horses in the stable, and a familiar saddle set to one side. ‘So she’s safely here,’ Clémence said. ‘Now there’s Lowrie, who can tell me where Master John and Jodi might be. You go to the parlour.’
He disliked being organised. He was trying, very hard, to keep his breathing even, and the turmoil within him under control. Gelis had come. Whatever it meant in terms of extra anxiety—and it would increase his burdens tenfold—was outweighed, as she had realised too, by the necessity that they should be together. Now he had let go; now he had given into her charge all the part of him that found expression in physical love, he could not manage without her. With her, he could do anything.
So he must leave her in no doubt that he wanted her. The desolation he felt must be set aside, even though it ensured that, for all time, he could never explain what the death of Phemie had truly meant. But one did not repeat one’s mistakes. This time, Gelis came first.
She was in the parlour, and alone. Her face was paler than it had been in winter, and her eyes marked a little with strain and want of sleep. She looked as if she had waited there a long time. She rose, and stood still, and said, ‘Nicholas. I have come at a bad time. I am so sorry.’
Of its own accord, his throat jammed, leaving an ache like a sprain. ‘You know?’
‘About Phemie, yes. Bel told me. But Adorne, arriving like that … What happened?’
‘Bel!’ He was still bewildered. He said, trying to recover, ‘Adorne came, with Andreas, and found her in the chapel. Scheves was kind. Kathi and Saunders were there. He’ll stay at Roslin until the burial. No one knows what will happen after that.’
‘He meant to stay in Scotland for a while,’ Gelis said. ‘Until the baby could travel. What have they called her?’
‘Euphemia,’ he said. ‘She’ll have a plethora of nurses. Cristen. Clémence. Ada. Nanse Preston, even.’ He broke off.
‘What?’ said Gelis. She walked forward and drew him down to the settle, as Bel had done with herself.
He said, ‘I wonder what Robin will make of it? Another rival. He needs so much …’
‘And now Jodi and I are competing as well for your care. Nicholas, you can’t be everyone’s crutch. You don’t need to