“When did you and Phillip marry?” Christin mercifully stepped in because Alexander was struggling. “I never met him, but I have heard he was a kind and generous man. I am very sorry to hear of his passing, for I was rather hoping to meet him.”
Lady de Sherrington smiled. “We married twelve years ago,” she said. “My father owns lands adjacent to Ashdown, so we have been able to work both lands and make them quite prosperous.”
“Then you have lived here your entire life?” Christin asked.
The woman shook her head. “Nay,” she said. “My family was originally from Salisbury, but my father purchased the lands right after Phillip’s sons left for The Levant. In fact, Phillip often told me that he wanted me to marry his eldest son, but when Alexander did not return, he married me instead. He was a wonderful husband. I am not sure his eldest son could have been any better.”
Christin didn’t dare look at Alexander. She was waiting for him to tell the woman who he was but, for some reason, he seemed hesitant.
“Then I am glad to hear Phillip was good to you,” she said. “Did… did he ever speak of Alexander? He had two other sons, also.”
Lady de Sherrington nodded. “Adam and Andrew,” she said. Then, she sobered somewhat. “Phillip never got over losing all three sons in The Levant, but that is an old story to families in England. So many lost sons during the quest. But for Phillip, he lost his entire family there.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Aye,” she said. “He would often speak of his sons as if they were still living, speaking so fondly of them. In fact, when he lay dying, he spoke of the joy of seeing them again in heaven. That thought has given me great comfort, knowing they are all together again.”
Alexander abruptly dismounted his horse and walked away, but not before Christin saw tears rolling down his cheeks. Given that she was pregnant, and emotional, tears stung her eyes as well, knowing how heartbroken her husband was.
It was an action not missed by Lady de Sherrington. She looked after Alexander with concern.
“Is your husband well, my lady?” she asked.
Christin nodded, trying very hard not to display her emotions. “He is,” she said. “It is simply that Phillip was an old and dear friend and he did not know of his death. He was hoping… to see him.”
“I see.” Lady de Sherrington appeared very sympathetic. “Would you like to come into the manse and refresh yourselves? Please let me show you the hospitality that Phillip would have shown an old and dear friend.”
Christin forced a smile as she dismounted her palfrey. “I will ask him.”
Leaving Lady de Sherrington looking after her with concern, Christin made her way over to Alexander, who was standing on the edge of the road, his back to her. Coming up behind him, she put her arms around him.
“I am so sorry, my love,” she whispered. “You could not have known any of this. You must not blame yourself for anything.”
Alexander had his eyes closed as tears coursed down his cheeks. “I knew this might be the outcome,” he whispered. “I have not seen or spoken to him in twenty years, so I knew. But it is clear he thought I was dead.”
Christin hugged him gently. “He could not have known otherwise.”
“He named his son after me.”
“I think that proves he did not hate you, nor was he angry with you. He did it to honor you.”
Alexander nodded and the tears fell faster. He put his hand to his face, wiping away the tears, laboring to compose himself. Christin held on to him, hugging him tightly.
“What do you wish to do?” she asked. “Lady de Sherrington has offered us refreshments. Do you want to go into Ashdown and speak to her? It might make you feel better.”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “Because she would want to know my identity and I am afraid I would not be able to keep it from her. Something might slip out and she would know.”
“Then you are not going to tell her?”
“Nay,” he said. “Look around, Cissy; Ashdown is peaceful and everyone seems happy. Why would I disrupt that? Leave them to their little world. Leave it to the next Alexander, the lad with the dog and the bow and arrow. I lost my right to anything twenty years ago when I refused to return home, so it belongs to them now. Not me. Leave them to their paradise, because I have found my own elsewhere.”
Christin looked at him intently, trying to see if there was some regret or sorrow there, but there was truly none. He was grieving his father, of course, but not the loss of Ashdown. He seemed genuine about that. Reaching up, she helped him wipe his tears, patting his cheek gently.
“Are you certain?” she asked.
He nodded, taking a deep breath to compose himself. He happened to be facing the manse of Ashdown and his gaze moved over the walls, the home of his ancestors.
“I am,” he said. “I was born here, but my home is with you, at Lioncross or wherever we may end up. This… this is my past and I will give it over to the next generation. You are my future.”
Christin smiled at him, taking his hand as they turned around and headed back towards the horses. Lady de Sherrington was still standing there, still looking at him with concern. She seemed like a pleasant woman and Alexander was glad his father had found comfort with her in the last years of his life. He was also glad that he’d had the comfort of a son, one who hadn’t abandoned him.
Truly, it was all he could ask for.
“My lord, would you like to come inside?” Lady de Sherrington asked as they drew near. “Any friend of Phillip’s is welcome.”
He forced a smile. “You are very kind, but we must be on our way,” he said. “We were traveling home to the Marches, so this was simply a stop along the way. I was very fond of… Phillip and I extend my friendship to you, also. If you are ever in need, or need help, send word to Lioncross Abbey Castle in Herefordshire. I will come.”
Lady de Sherrington smiled. “Thank you, my lord,” she said. “But I still do not know your name.”
Alexander glanced at the lad with his same name, now running in the field with his dog, shooting his bow and arrow. As he watched, the child reminded him very much of Andrew and Adam and he had to grin when the boy tripped and fell, right into the mud. Oh, the memories that vision brought back.
Good ones.
“Your son and I share the same name,” he said. “I wish you well, Lady de Sherrington. Peace upon your home and your family.”
She simply nodded as Alexander helped Christin mount her palfrey. He swung himself onto his own horse, gathering the reins and giving Lady de Sherrington a nod as they headed out.
The woman stood there for a moment, watching him go and thinking that he looked an awful lot like Phillip. Around the eyes, she thought. But perhaps it was her imagination.
Returning to her garden, she could not have known that her son’s destiny remained intact due to the unselfish act of a man and his wife who had been inquiring on her dead husband. She could not have known, in any case.
But Alexander knew. And wherever his father was, he knew, too.
Finally, Alexander de Sherrington had found the peace he so desperately needed.
And a future to be proud of.
Children of Alexander and Christin