The Forest by Edward Rutherfurd Page B

Christchurch, riding out with Edgar. She thought, many times, of Hugh de Martell. But she never mentioned this, even to her kindly hostess. December arrived. Soon, they said, there would be snow.
    She could hardly have been more surprised, coming out of the cathedral one cold December day, to see her cousin Walter, wearing a jaunty hunting cap with a feather in it, standing beside a handsome covered wagon from which, taking his outstretched hand, a lady wrapped in a cloak with a fur trim was carefully alighting.
    It was the Lady Maud.
    She hurried forward and called out to them. They both turned.
    Walter looked slightly annoyed. She supposed he thoughtshe was interrupting the Lady Maud. He had sent no word that he would be in Winchester, but that was not so surprising. He surely could not have been meaning to pass through the place without coming to see her? The nod he gave her seemed to indicate that she might join them and so she went in with them as they entered the royal residence where the porter and servants evidently knew her cousin.
    Lady Maud, she thought, might have been more friendly or showed more recognition, but Adela supposed she must be tired from her journey. While the Lady Maud left them for a short while, Walter explained that they were only breaking the journey. Lady Maud was to visit a cousin of hers who lived beyond Winchester and Hugh de Martell, with whom Walter had just been staying, had asked him to accompany her there. “Then I return to Normandy,” Walter said. He was pacing moodily, which did not make conversation easy.
    It was only a short while before the Lady Maud rejoined them, apparently in better humour. As usual, she looked slightly wan, but her manner was civil even if it contained the hint of caution that Adela had experienced before. When Adela asked if she was well, she acknowledged that she was.
    “Your husband is also well, I trust,” she forced herself to say. She hoped it sounded polite but unconcerned.
    “Yes.”
    “You are travelling to one of your relations, Walter said.”
    “Yes.” She seemed to consider for a moment. “Richard Fitzwilliam. Perhaps you have seen him.”
    “No. I have heard of him, of course.” She had heard often. Thirty years old with one of the finest estates in the county, he lived not five miles away. He was unmarried. “I understand he is very handsome,” she added politely.
    “Yes.”
    “I did not know he was your kinsman.”
    “My cousin. We’re very close.”
    No word of this connection, Adela was well aware, had been made during her stay with the lady in the summer. She wondered if Lady Maud would suggest that they might meet now.
    She didn’t. Walter said nothing.
    There was a pause.
    “Perhaps you’d like to rest a little before we go on,” Walter suggested.
    “Yes.”
    He turned to Adela and gave her a little nod. A courtier’s sign that it was time for her to retire.
    She could take the hint, but it would have been nice if Walter had come with her to the door. “Shall I see you again before long, Walter?” she asked as she turned.
    He nodded, but in a way to indicate that her retiring was more important; and before she could even collect her thoughts she found herself outside in the cold streets of Winchester.
    She did not want to go back to her lodgings. She walked about. After a little, she went out of the gateway and stared across the open countryside. The sky was grey. The bare brown woods on the ridge opposite seemed to mock her. I am scorned, she thought; she might be poor, but why should her own cousin treat her like that, dismissing her like a lackey? She felt a hot surge of anger. Damn him. Damn them both.
    She paced up and down in front of the gate. Would they come out that way? Could she say something to them? No. What a fool she’d look standing impotently by the roadside. She felt crushed.
    And yet something in her still rebelled. I’m better than that, she decided. I won’t let them put me down. She needed