thought it sounded terrible. This man, whom she scarcely knew, was going to do this to her? She looked at her mother. “Mama,” she said hoarsely, “I’m not ready to do that yet.”
Lady Alice shook her head. “I wish we could have waited for a while to have this wedding. You are too new from the convent to appreciate how lucky you are to be marrying a fine young man like Roger. But the men wouldn’t wait and you are just going to have to resign yourself, my dear. You are going to have to let Roger do what he wants—that is the nature of marriage, I’m afraid.”
Nell’s stomach heaved. “The basin,” she said. “Mama…”
Lady Alice grabbed the washbasin that reposed on Nell’s side table and Nell vomited into it.
“You can’t do this tomorrow, Nell,” she said sharply. “I sympathize with you, but you are going to have to do your duty. At least you are not going to an old man with sour breath and no hair. Your bridegroom is the kind of young man that most girls would give anything to marry. Show some backbone.”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Nell said miserably.
“Perhaps I shouldn’t have spoken to you tonight. Perhaps I should have let you find out for yourself.”
Nell shook her head. “No. I’m glad you told me. At least I can prepare myself now.”
“That’s my good girl.” Lady Alice stood up. “Now let’s get Gertrude to clean up this mess.”
After Lady Alice had left and the washbasin had been removed, Nell crawled into bed and curled up into a tight little ball. Roger’s words from this afternoon kept going through her mind. The Pope has decreed that no one can force a woman to marry against her will.
What if she cited this proclamation by the Pope? What if she refused to make this marriage?
She thought of how angry her father would be.
She thought of what Mother Superior and Sister Helen had said to her.
She thought of her mother.
Show some backbone, her mother had said.
She shut her eyes tightly. She would have to go through with it. There was really no choice.
Roger awoke with the sun the following morning. Today he, his grandfather and their retainers would process into Lincoln to spend the night at the sheriff’s quarters in the castle. They would be followed an hour later by Nell and her wedding party, who would spend the night in the bishop’s lodging. On the morrow the bishop would perform the ceremony that would wed him to Nell de Bonvile.
She’s so pretty, Roger thought as he stretched his arms comfortably above his head. Her eyes were beautiful—so dark and yet so blue. And she was shy.
I can handle shyness, he thought. I’ll get Lady Mabel to take her under her wing and show her what her duties will be as my wife. Lady Mabel was married to Simon Everard, the earl’s steward, and she was in charge of the few ladies who currently resided at Wilton castle.
Roger was placed next to Nell at the high table for breakfast. He smiled down into her pale face. “Just think, tomorrow at this time we will be getting married.”
Nell went even paler. “Yes,” she said faintly.
His smile faded. “Are you ill? You don’t look well.”
“I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well, that is all.”
Roger had slept soundly; he usually did, no matter where his bed might be. “We’re leaving right after breakfast,” he said now. “I won’t see you again until we meet at the church.”
Nell nodded. She had taken scarcely a bite of the fresh white bread that was in front of her. “Are you nervous?” Roger asked.
She produced a faint smile. “Yes. I’m not used to being the center of attention.”
He gave her a reassuring smile in return. “Everything will be all right. You’ll see.”
“I’m sure it will be,” she said in a low voice.
She was as pretty this morning as he’d remembered, he thought. Her skin was flawless in the sunlight coming in through the high windows of the hall. She’s frightened, he thought. I’ll have to be very careful with her.
The bridegroom’s party left Bardney directly after breakfast. Nell looked out the window as the wedding party lined up in the outer bailey. The knights leading the party wore armor, but Roger and his grandfather were dressed in fine tunics, flowing mantles and low, soft boots. Their heads were bare and Roger carried a bag of coins to fling to any bystanders they might pass along the way.
The sun reflected off Roger’s hair, making it shine like one of the golden coins he carried.
“He’s so handsome.” Marie, one of the ladies, came up behind her. “You’re so lucky, Nell.”
She sounded wistful. Nell realized that Marie wished she was the one marrying Roger tomorrow. Well, Nell wished that, too. “Yes,” she replied quietly. “He is very handsome.”
Lady Alice came into the room. “Come along, Nell, and get dressed. We have to make a show for the common folk. They will be lining the road to see you.”
“Yes, Mama,” Nell said dully, and turned to follow her mother out of the room.
Nell’s wedding day dawned overcast and damp.
“At least it isn’t raining,” Lady Alice said brightly as she and Lord Raoul walked beside Nell to the cathedral. They were all dressed in their best finery, with Nell wearing a deep blue overtunic over a red undertunic. It was Sybilla’s dress, redone to fit Nell. Lord Raoul and Lady Alice also looked richly colored and sumptuous. They all wore mantles suspended around their shoulders by gold chains, and Nell’s braids were entwined with gold thread and fastened with golden balls. She was bareheaded while Lady Alice wore a small veil anchored by a thin gold circle.
Lord Raoul looked down upon his daughter with approval. “You look very nice, Nell,” he said. “Roger will think himself a lucky man to be getting such a pretty bride along with an earldom.”
“Thank you, Father,” Nell said in a voice that was scarcely audible.
“You need some color in your cheeks, though,” he said. “Here.” Lady Alice stepped in front of Nell so she had to stop, then she pinched her daughter’s cheeks. “There,” she said. “That’s better.”
The Bail of the castle was filled with people waiting to catch a glimpse of the bride. Thank goodness the bishop’s residence is right next to the cathedral, Nell thought. She didn’t feel prepared to run the gamut of a large, noisy crowd.
“Ah, isn’t she lovely,” a woman’s voice called out. “Good luck to you, dearie.”
The crowd murmured agreement.
Then they were walking up the steps of the cathedral and into the large stone building. Martin Demas, Bardney’s steward, was standing in the vestibule waiting for them. Lord Raoul cracked the door into the church and peered
