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transferred her allegiance to Isabel.
    Joan, the other maid, was younger, a sturdy
woman with a pretty, humorous face and capable hands that could
fashion beautiful gowns out of the plainest fabrics. It was Joan
who, in answer to Isabel’s halting questions, had explained the
most intimate duties of a wife, and had made that prospect seem
filled with exciting possibilities. Joan had also been a servant to
Isabel’s mother and had been married and widowed, and therefore
knew all about such matters.
    Joan’s fingers tugged gently at the edge of
Isabel’s white silk veil, straightening the shoulder-length
material before she placed the gold circlet on top of it.
    “You look beautiful,” Joan said. “Your mantle
matches your eyes, and it makes your hair look like spun gold. Sir
Lionel will adore you the very first moment he sees you.”
    Agnes sniffed again, and Isabel, catching
Joan’s twinkling brown eyes, repressed a giggle. She was not the
least bit nervous. She knew she was beautiful, with or without the
deep blue mantle, and she had no doubt that Sir Lionel would love
her. Everyone she had ever known had loved her and had catered to
her little whims and soothed her temper when it occasionally
flared, and she fully expected her new husband to do the same. Once
the public aspect of the wedding ceremonies was completed, she was
certain all would go well.
    Agnes opened the door. With her servants
following her, Isabel sailed out to meet her new life.
     
    Isabel did not think she liked King William
Rufus. He had appeared unexpectedly in the chamber where she had
just been presented to Sir Lionel. This glittering, silk-robed
king, dazzling with gold embroidery, was too polite to her. He made
her feel uneasy, as though there were some hidden purpose to his
cordiality. He was tall and heavily built, with long, flowing blond
curls and a red face. William bent over her hand with affected
charm while she swept into a deep curtsey.
    “Ah, Lady Isabel. How long we have awaited
your arrival.” Thick red lips briefly touched her fingers before
King William straightened and looked into her face with cold blue
eyes. “But you are exquisite! What a lovely ornament you will be to
our court. A sweet, innocent treasure, entrusted to the tender care
of our dear friend, Lionel.”
    “Thank you, my lord,” Isabel could not
repress a shiver. The king’s eyes and his effusive words did not
match. She had the oddest feeling that he disliked her, though
there could be no reason why he should. He did not even know her.
She lifted her chin, reminding herself that her lineage was an old
and proud one, while this king was the son of a bastard and the
grandchild of a tanner’s daughter. “I am pleased to be in England
at last, my lord, and I am eager for the wedding to begin,” Isabel
said artlessly.
    “An eager bride? How delightful. It is
usually the bridegroom who is eager.” The king’s laugh was mocking.
Around him his courtiers tittered, while Isabel felt herself
blushing bright red. Bestowing a last amused glance on the
embarrassed and confused girl, William Rufus left her, walking out
of the room with a peculiar mincing gait quite at odds with his
large, hulking figure.
    Isabel, recovering from her embarrassment
after a few moments, transferred all her attention to Sir Lionel.
She thought he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. He was
nearly twenty-two years old to her fourteen, tall and blue-eyed,
with golden hair and harsh good looks. He had an enchanting smile
and excellent manners, and she was prepared to love him
immediately. He had been gracious and most courteous when she was
presented to him by her father, and now he extended his hand to her
with a little bow.
    “We will meet again, very soon,” he said,
smiling, and then he followed his king out of the room.
    A short time later in the chapel, Lionel
seemed a little uncertain during the contract reading and at the
mass that followed it. He drank overmuch at King