WolfeBite (De Wolfe Pack Generations #10)

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

Carlisle Castle

S he received the note last night.

Now, she was on a mission.

It wasn’t usual for Elizabetha de Lara, Countess of Carlisle, to be on a mission of any kind. As the wife to the man who should have been king, Toby, as she was known, was content to raise her children, run her house and hold, and also manage the entire city of Carlisle as the local magistrate. The truth was that Tate technically oversaw the city government, but Toby stood in for him and he considered her a better justice, anyway. She had a no-nonsense but fair way about her that was much appreciated by all.

And that’s why she was going to handle this situation.

No-nonsense and to the point.

In reality, the message that had come last night had been addressed to her husband. Tate and Toby had such a symbiotic relationship that whenever a missive arrived for Tate, Toby simply opened it, and if she could deal with the situation, she would. There weren’t any secrets between them and they both preferred it that way, so the missive that had come for him last night was something Toby was going to handle on behalf of her husband.

Truthfully, he didn’t even know about it.

How she managed to keep it from him with a castle full of soldiers who had big mouths and an extreme loyalty to the Earl of Carlisle, she didn’t know. The man was wrapped up in the politics of the country and Toby was happy to take whatever load she could off him, but in this case, she was more than determined to take care of this situation because she didn’t want her husband alone with the person who had sent the missive.

In fact, Toby wasn’t so sure that the missive to Tate hadn’t been a ruse of some kind.

Not a ruse that would put him in danger, but more a ruse aimed at seduction. Toby knew the sender of the missive all too well, as she had years of experience with the woman. The message sender had always possessed a soft spot for Tate, and Toby wasn’t going to give her a chance to get the man alone.

Not even in a game of political high stakes.

Therefore, she traveled alone into the town of Carlisle, having slipped from the postern gate, and lost herself in the many avenues and alleys that constituted the city of Carlisle. She’d left her trusted maid at the small, fortified gate, waiting for her. If she returned within the hour, all well and good. But if she didn’t, the maid was instructed to tell Tate, who had been shut up with Stephen and a couple of other men in his solar all day long. Things were changing quickly at Wigmore Castle, where Roger Mortimer was located, and Tate was trying to stay ahead of the man. But the very woman Mortimer was using to cling to power was here, in Carlisle.

In a tavern called, ironically enough, The King’s Head.

Toby had been there before with her husband, many times, so she knew how to slip in unnoticed. She went in through the kitchens and spoke briefly to the tavernkeep, who knew her. He directed her to a chamber accessed under the stairs, a small entrance that led to a larger chamber that faced the street. Thanking him, Toby made her way to the chamber.

Carefully, she opened the door, her gaze moving swiftly over the chamber. It was dark and cold inside but for a small bank of lit tapers against the wall. A weak fire burned in the hearth, hardly enough to give any heat. A lone woman sat at a table meant for several people and looked small sitting there, small and vulnerable, but there was nothing vulnerable about this woman. When the chamber door opened, she turned to it swiftly, but when she saw who it was, she pulled the hood from her head.

Isabella of France made herself known.

“I should have known it would be you,” she said in a heavy French accent. “Somehow, I knew you would not let your husband come alone.”

Toby removed her hood, revealing a carefully coiffed crown of dark blonde hair and piercing green eyes. She didn’t come away from the door.

“And you were correct,” she said evenly. “We know each other well, your grace.”

“We do,” Isabella said. “You are looking well, Toby.”

“As are you,” Toby said. “You are ageless. I am envious.”

That wasn’t exactly true, but Isabella was susceptible to flattery. Her smile grew. “You are kind,” she said. “I feel as if I’ve lived a hundred years and a hundred different lives at times. I feel… tired.”

Toby finally decided to come away from the door, removing her cloak, and sat down at the table. Not across from Isabella, but next to her. Though they’d never been friends—far from it—there was respect there. Toby respected her even if she didn’t trust her.

But this was a highly unusual circumstance.

Out of the blue, the former queen had appeared.

“I can understand that,” Toby said after a moment. “You have endured much.”

Isabella nodded. “Not as much as some, but more than others,” she said. Then her hazel eyes fixed on Toby. “How is my son?”

Toby knew she was prying. This was what she wanted to do to Tate, only she could use her feminine wiles on him. Or at least try to.

Toby would be more difficult.

“Well, so I am told,” Toby said. “And how are you? I hear there is a child coming.”

She went right to the point, essentially firing a warning shot across Isabella’s bow. Whatever information Isabella was going to try to get out of her, Toby would not be willing to divulge, but Toby wanted it made clear that she knew a few things about Isabella, also. If they were going to dance, then it was time to get started. Isabella seemed initially surprised at the statement, but a cool smile flickered on her lips.

“I do not know where you heard such a thing,” she said steadily. “Other than those I already have, there are no more children to speak of.”

Toby nodded faintly, but her gaze was appraising, as if she didn’t quite believe the woman. “I hope your other children are well, then,” she said.

“They are, thank you.”

“Good,” Toby said. “Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, you will tell me why you sent my husband a summons.”

Isabella waggled her eyebrows, softly clearing her throat as she averted her gaze. “Am I to understand he is too occupied to see me?”

“He is.”

“Then, mayhap, I should wait until he is less occupied.”

Toby wasn’t going to tolerate foolery. “That time will never come where it pertains to you,” she said. “He spends all of his time trying to keep this country from falling into your lover’s hands, so you are the reason he is so occupied. Now, tell me what you want or I will leave and your journey to Carlisle will be at an end.”

Isabella’s smile faded as the conversation took a decidedly unfriendly turn. As Toby had once fired a warning shot, she was about to do the same.

“I know my son is at Carlisle,” she said, watching Toby’s face for any hint that such a thing was true. “I wish to speak with him.”

Toby was very good at keeping a neutral expression. “What makes you think he is at Carlisle?” she said. “Woodstock is his home.”

“Aye, it is,” Isabella said. “Do you truly think I do not have spies at Woodstock? Of course I do. They tell me that Tate took Edward north, and if Tate is in residence at Carlisle Castle, then I am certain Edward is with him. He would not have left my son off somewhere.”

A glimmer came to Toby’s eyes. “That is a logical assumption.”

“I am also told his wife is with child.”

There was no possibility that Toby was going to give anything away with her expression, which she maintained quite well. “That is not what you’ve come to discuss,” she said, avoiding the statement. “I want to know why you are here. What do you want of my husband?”

Isabella sat back in her chair, pondering the question, knowing she would get nothing out of Toby where it pertained to a future grandchild or her son. Tate wouldn’t have told her either, but she would have enjoyed the chase with him. She’d always had a soft spot for him and Toby knew it, which was why she was here.

Smart woman.

“You and I have been through a few difficult situations, have we not?” she said after a moment.

Toby nodded. “A few.”

“I hope that I was always courteous to you.”

“You were.”

“I also hope you understand that it is not in my nature to lie.”

“What have you lied about?”

Isabella shook her head. “Nothing,” she said. “I refer to what I am about to say. I would not lie to you, Lady Carlisle. I have no reason to.”

Toby eyed her for a moment. “Very well,” she said. “I am listening.”

Isabella paused, which made Toby both curious and suspicious. When Isabella did continue, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I believe that Roger and I are at an end,” she said.

Toby’s brow rippled in confusion. “End?” she repeated. “Why does that mean?”

“Precisely what I have said,” Isabella said. “ Fin de notre chemin . The end of our path.”

“ What path?”

Isabella sighed sharply. “All he speaks of is of his rule,” she said. “All he craves is power. It is not easy for me to say this, Toby. It was different when Roger’s enemy was the husband I hated. But now… now, he speaks of my offspring. He knows of Edward and Phillipa’s child and he speaks of controlling the child, being a regent to his rule.”

Toby was careful in her reply. “The throne is Edward’s, not any future child’s,” she said. “Not yet, anyway.”

Isabella’s gaze flicked up to her. “If Edward was not here, the throne would belong to the child.”

Now, Toby was getting a sense of what she meant. “You mean that Mortimer means to do away with Edward as he did with his father?”

“Aye,” Isabella said, clearly distressed. “I was hoping it would not come to this, but I fear that it has. He cannot control my son because he has good men to advise him, your husband included. That is a lost cause. But the child Phillipa carries… He intends to get his hands on Phillipa so that when the child is born, it will be forever under Roger’s control.”

Toby digested what she was being told for a moment. “Did you come here to warn Tate about a plot against Edward?” she said. “Is that why you are here?”

“I have come to tell you where Roger will be in the autumn so that your husband, and my son, can rid themselves of him once and for all.”

Toby frowned. “You would orchestrate an ambush?” she said. “An assassination?”

Isabella sighed again. She sat back in her chair, her gave moving to the hearth that was barely glowing with warmth. Toby watched the woman closely, noting that she seemed to have aged a decade in just the past few moments. The stress of living with Mortimer and the stress of English politics had taken their toll on the once-beautiful woman.

It was happening right before Toby’s eyes.

“It was different when Roger’s focus was on my husband,” Isabella said quietly. “Edward and I… There should have never been a marriage. He did not want to marry. His father forced it on him and on me. Edward could have made the best of it, but instead, he chose to humiliate me and degrade me with his actions. That is why I was glad for Roger. In a sense, he helped me regain some dignity. He saved me from a man who only wanted to shame and torture me. When he captured Edward and ordered his death, I was glad. I was relieved. But now, he is focusing on my son and I cannot stand by and do nothing. You are a mother, Toby. You understand what it means to protect your children. You will do it to the death. Even from a man you trusted and loved, once.”

Toby was genuinely astounded by what she was hearing. Isabella of France was many things, but as she’d stated, she was not a liar. That was never her reputation, nor had it ever been Toby’s experience with her, so she took her words at face value.

Very serious words, indeed.

Pondering what she’d been told, she sat back in her chair and thought about what she should do at this point. This was beyond what she had expected and, if absolutely genuine on the part of Isabella, beyond what she had a right to mediate.

She needed her husband.

But first, she needed assurance.

“If what you are saying is true, then it changes everything,” she said. “But I want you to look me in the eye and swear before God, upon the lives of your children, that this is true. That it is not some sort of tactic to gain my trust or Tate’s trust.”

Isabella fixed her in the eye. “It is not a tactic, I swear.”

“Prove it,” Toby pushed. “Tell me who your spy is at Woodstock.”

“The privy chamber servant who tends Phillipa,” she said without hesitation. “An older women named Alba. She used to be my servant, but when Phillipa became queen, I sent her to serve the new queen. She tells me everything.”

Frankly, Toby was shocked the woman had told her who it was. She didn’t know the servant, but Edward probably would. And he would remove her. Isabella knew that, so for her to confess who her spy was told Toby that Isabella was serious, indeed. Of course, the woman could be lying, and there could be more than one spy, but that went back to the beginning of the conversation when Toby knew that Isabella wasn’t known by reputation as a liar.

The seriousness of the situation, for Toby, became more critical.

But so did her confusion.

“And you expect me to simply believe you?” she said incredulously. “Isabella, we have been at war with one another for years. Men have died because of your loyalty to Mortimer, and now you simply expect us to believe that you want him dead? That you’re tired of him, like an old coat? Did you truly think it would be so easy?”

Isabella lifted her shoulders, weakly. “I have come all the way to Carlisle with only two men as my escort,” she said. Then she lifted her hand. “Look around, Toby. Do you see Mortimer’s army? Do you see anything to suggest I am traveling like the queen that I am? Nay, I am not. In order to come here, I had to convince Roger to allow me to travel to Leeds, where a former lady-in-waiting is in the midst of a health crisis. The lady is a longtime friend and although she is dying from a cancer, she is willing to be my alibi for my journey to Carlisle. In fact, the men I traveled with are her men so that my own escort cannot tell Roger that I traveled to Carlisle. It has taken me four long days to get here. Is that not proof enough that I am serious?”

In truth, it was. Toby didn’t disbelieve her for a moment. No wonder the woman looked so exhausted. Clearly, she had gone to great lengths to get to Carlisle, and in that moment, Toby decided that Tate needed to hear everything.

This was a burden she couldn’t bear alone.

She stood up.

“I will order a meal for you,” she said. “You will eat it and rest and I will return.”

Isabella looked at her, concerned. “Where are you going?”

Toby was already turning for the door, but she paused to answer the question. “To bring back the man you originally sent the missive to,” she said. “But know this—he will be accompanied by knights, who will enter this room before him. If, by any chance, all of this is a ruse to assassinate my husband, know that he will not be alone. If you have assassins hiding in these walls, they will be killed by my husband’s men. And then I will kill you personally. Do you understand?”

Isabella’s gaze lingered on her for a moment. “Still the lioness, Toby.”

“Always,” Toby whispered.

Isabella had no doubt whatsoever.