by Lori Wick
On one occasion, when Father Brent was making his regular visit, Megan sought him out. The kind priest, who had come under the influence of Luther and other reformers, spoke to her about her eternal soul, and she humbly gave herself to Christ. The change from that point was remarkable.
Megan was still a hard worker and compassionate to a fault, but the peace that surrounded her was extraordinary. Her temper was still a struggle, and when it came to defending someone less fortunate than herself, no one would put it past her to take on a giant. Her conversion, however, had been very real.
She had learned to label her sins for what they were and also learned the sweet fellowship of obedience to God that comes from a whole-hearted desire to walk with Him.
“Does my father say why I am needed?” Megan finally spoke from her place by the window. “I mean, he’s not ill, is he?”
“No, Megan, your father is fine, but as for the reason, I will leave that explanation to him.”
Megan nodded. She had a feeling this was something serious, but she could hardly expect the Reverend Mother to be the bearer of the bad news.
“Does he say how I’m to arrive home?”
The Reverend Mother smiled, her first genuine smile since Megan entered the room.
“Transportation has never been a problem for you before, Meg.”
The young woman smiled in return. It was true. In her days of escape, she had hidden in hay wagons and cattle carts, dressed as a gypsy and walked with a traveling band, and even gone so far as to dress as a lad and go on horseback. Her generous curves had prevented that disguise in the last few years, but it was true, Megan always knew how to get where she was going.
The Reverend Mother told her that guardsmen from the castle would be arriving on horseback that Friday, just six days away. Megan accepted this news graciously, and when she was ready to leave the Reverend Mother walked her to the door. No words were spoken, but Megan hugged the older woman fiercely before leaving, thinking it felt as though she were already gone.
Two
LONDON WAS HOT AND NOISY as Bracken turned his horse over to a waiting groom, gave orders to a few of his knights, and made his way to the massive front door of his aunt’s home. His long legs, clad in dark hose, ate up the distance with ease. He had not enjoyed the trip from his country estate, but a missive from the king, as well as one from his neighbor, forced him onward.
Bracken found his widowed aunt in an upstairs salon. With barely a word of greeting, he told her what he was about.
“I need you to return to Hawkings Crest.”
“Why, Bracken,” the older woman spoke in surprise. “I’ve only just arrived back in London.”
“I realize that, Aunt Louisa, but I’ve just received word that I am to marry and I need you back at the estate.”
Louisa’s eyes became huge on this announcement, but she remained silent, waiting for Bracken to explain. He did not disappoint her.
“The king has ordered me to take a bride from Stone Lake, from the household of Vincent Stone to be exact. I have also received word from Vincent himself telling me he has chosen his youngest daughter, Megan, and wishes her to live at Hawkings Crest for a period before we are wed. He wrote to me obviously believing that you were still living with me.
“I think his request a trifle odd, but since I can’t refuse the king or my future father-in-law,” Bracken’s voice hardened slightly, “I feel I have little choice but to ask you to return and act as guardian.”
Louisa studied her sister’s oldest child in silence. Bracken was usually an amiable man. He was dark in both skin and hair coloring, and the full beard that covered the lower part of his handsome face gave him an almost sinister look. Louisa now studied his mouth and eyes. He was easily given to smiling and typically ready to laugh, but the man before her now was quite serious and clearly disturbed. For Louisa, who knew Bracken well, it wasn’t hard to understand why.
Louisa had never known anyone happier in a marriage than her sister, Joyce, widowed now for six years. Louisa knew that Bracken wanted that same happiness. He was only 24 years old, and his aunt knew well that he was in no hurry to wed. In fact, she believed as much as he desired male heirs, he would stay single all the days of his life rather than live with a woman he didn’t love.
“Will you come?” Bracken’s voice cut into her musings.
“Certainly, Bracken, but may I ask a few questions?”
The young knight answered her with a slight inclination of his head.
“Is the girl willing?”
Bracken shook his head. “Vincent’s letter did not say. He did write that she is just 17 and has been raised at the Stone Lake abbey.”
A shudder ran over Louisa’s frame. She could think of nothing worse. The girl would either be so austere that she would never warm up to Bracken, or, once released from the confines of the convent, so wild that she would never be faithful to her vows. However, Louisa kept all of these thoughts to herself. She decided then that she would brace up for Bracken, certain it was what her sister would want.
“Well, now,” Louisa began. “She could have been much younger, so her age is an asset. And don’t forget, Bracken, no matter where she was raised, she is Vincent’s daughter. Without a doubt she will be graceful and a true asset to your keep.”
Louisa secretly wondered if a girl raised in a convent would have a clue as to how to run a castle, but such thoughts remained unspoken as she watched Bracken visibly relax. Louisa relaxed herself knowing she’d said the right thing.
“Have you ever met Megan?”
Bracken’s eyes narrowed on a spot across the room. “I think I have. It was some years ago, and I must admit that it didn’t go well. I made a fool of myself.”
“What happened?”
Bracken smiled now, his first since arriving. “It was at court, before Father died. She was just a girl of course, talking with a group of other girls. I remember thinking I had never seen anyone with eyes so blue and hair so light. I gawked at her until she said something quite rude and the others laughed. I was humiliated, of course, but I haven’t thought of it in years.”
“So she’s beautiful?”
“Yes.” Bracken’s smile became huge. “She is at that.”
Louisa’s smile matched his own. Her voice was gentle as she commented, “Beauty is not enough to build a marriage on, Bracken, but it certainly helps when a husband and wife find each other attractive.”
Bracken’s hand came to his bearded chin, and Louisa chuckled.
“You’re asking yourself if she’ll find you attractive, Bracken?”
Bracken now laughed at himself. “I am at that.”
Louisa’s voice became dry. “No such thought should plague you. I feel quite confident that she will think you handsome.”
Bracken shook his head in true modesty before the two fell to discussing the dates. Megan was not due to arrive at Hawkings Crest for another two weeks, and the lord of the castle saw no reason for his aunt to have to make the trip sooner.
Bracken stayed on in London until the next morning, and by the time he left he felt somewhat resigned if not thrilled with the idea of marriage to Vincent’s beautiful blonde daughter. He would do all that was asked of him.
Bracken did not go directly back to Hawkings Crest, but he and his men rode north on business. With Megan not arriving for two weeks, there was no need for him to hurry home.
The ride on horseback to the castle on Stone Lake was not a lengthy one, but Megan, having to fight anxiety with every mile, would have sworn that she had crossed the country. Her father had been to visit her just six weeks before, but Megan hadn’t seen her home or her mother for more than two years. When she had visited that Christmas, she knew she would be returning to the abbey. This time she had no such security. This time it seemed she would be going home for good. But why?
This was the question that had plagued Megan from the moment she had left the Reverend Mother’s office. Was her sister going to b
e wed? Was her mother ill? Had her father given her own hand away? Meg didn’t think he would do this without talking to her, but she wasn’t sure. Maybe her mother had decided it was time her youngest daughter marry.
“Oh, Father God,” Megan prayed. “Help me to trust You and accept this reason Father has sent for me. I am troubled. Please help me to trust.”
Megan’s mind went to her last nights at the abbey. She had walked in her sleep each night, something she hadn’t done for years. Typically Megan walked in her sleep only when some event of the day upset her.
The first night she had woken alone, shivering in the chapel with no idea how she’d come to be there. The other nights Sister Agatha had found her in the hallway and reported to her in the morning that she’d been on the move.
Megan never did anything dangerous or outrageous when she walked in her sleep, but there was always a very real fear that she would hurt herself. On one occasion she had fallen headfirst down a full length of stone steps. Another time she had wandered outside the abbey and slipped down an embankment into a deep ditch filled with water. Had the water been just inches deeper, Megan might have drowned.
After the first night, Megan had prayed for calm as sleep crowded in, but she had been up anyway. She also knew that she was prone to talk in her sleep if someone spoke. Megan had forgotten to ask Sister Agatha if she’d said anything profound or heinous; she knew she was capable of both.
Vincent paced the confines of his room for more than an hour before Megan arrived. His entire frame shook with emotion when he thought of his youngest daughter marrying against her will, but he saw no other way around the king’s edict.
Vincent knew Bracken to be a fine warrior, a man of honor as well as might, and since Marigold would never agree to this match, he only hoped this trial period at Hawkings Crest would help Megan to find herself in a marriage that she at least found tolerable. Vincent had no illusions concerning love, but Megan was tenacious to a fault. Her father believed she would make the best of the situation. She always did.
“My lord?” one of Vincent’s vassals said from just inside the door.
“Yes, Giles?”
“Lady Megan has arrived, sir. She awaits you in the great hall.”
“Thank you, Giles,” Vincent said, but did not move to the door. Once again he visualized himself telling Megan of Henry’s letter, and remembered his wife’s cruel pleasure in the whole event. Well, at least Annora was away for the day. Still, Vincent couldn’t stop the shudder that ran over his frame as he at last moved toward the door.
Megan’s eyes ran lovingly over the long tables and benches, the clean rushes on the floor, and the huge stone fireplace that graced the north wall. Megan thought about the rocky relationship she’d always shared with her mother, but she could never fault Annora Stone’s ability to run her father’s castle.
“Megan.”
The young woman turned at the sound of her father’s voice and nearly ran into his arms. It had been only weeks, but Megan was always so pleased to see him and now let herself be hugged like a child.
“How was your journey?”
“A bit long. I’d have done better on my own.” Megan smiled teasingly at her father, causing him to chuckle, but then her eyes grew serious as did his.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Yes, but I have serious news. You are to marry.”
Glad that he had told her outright, Megan took a deep breath and followed Vincent as he led the way to the fireplace. The great hall was strangely empty and both were glad for the privacy.
“Can you tell me all?” Megan asked as soon as they were seated.
“Yes. Henry wants a union between Stone Lake and Hawkings Crest. I told Marigold that she was to marry, but you can well imagine how she responded to the idea of marrying an earl. She left just an hour after I told her, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“So the duty falls to me?”
Vincent nodded with regret. “Bracken has been the lord at Hawkings Crest for five years now, maybe six, and I know him to be a man of honor. He is young, but I believe he will make you a fine husband.”
“So I am to marry soon.”
“No. You’ll be going to live at Hawkings Crest for a time—a trial period of sorts. It won’t stop the marriage, but at least Bracken will not be a stranger to you on your wedding day.”
Megan’s eyes shifted to the fireplace. When she spoke again her voice was soft, her eyes still studying the cold hearth.
“I have never met Bracken of Hawkings Crest. I am surprised he chose me.”
“Henry gave me leave to decide,” Vincent admitted, not seeing a need to remind Megan that her sister would have nothing to do with the arrangement.
“And what will Bracken say when he learns he is to have me and not Marigold?” Megan asked, believing that all of England knew of Marigold’s beauty.
Vincent caught his daughter’s jaw and gently turned her face to him. “So many years away from your mother and yet you still believe her lies. Your beauty is deep within you, Meg, as well as on the surface. Bracken might find Marigold a beauty but only until she showed her true self.
“Bracken may well be as dubious of the marriage as you are, but when he gets to know you he will thank me for the wife I have sent.”
Megan smiled gently at her father. She loved her father and knowing that he regretted this for her somehow made the act easier. Megan believed that men spent the whole of their lives facing tasks they didn’t care for; her father had done so without complaint. Megan told herself she would do no less.
“How long before I go?”
Vincent smiled in the face of her acceptance. “Two weeks. I know things might be a bit strained for you when your mother returns, but I want some time with you. I’ll see you to Hawkings Crest myself.”
“I assume Bracken’s mother lives within the castle walls.”
Vincent shook his head. “His aunt. I have not met her, but I trust the two of you will fare well.”
Megan nodded, but neither one had much more to say. They went for a ride a few hours later but did not discuss the trip or wedding.
The day turned out to be so full that Megan took herself off to bed at an early hour, still not having seen her mother.
Having talked with her father and gained awareness of the situation, she slept deeply that night. She would not have slept so soundly had she known he was to be called away early the next morning.
Three
“I HAVE SERVANTS FOR THAT, MEGAN.” Annora’s voice was cold, but Megan stood her ground. They were in the kitchen, and Vincent had been gone all of three days. To Megan it felt like a lifetime.
“Be that as it may, Mother, not one of them knew of this poultice for tooth pain.” Megan’s voice was respectful but unyielding.
“The servants take care of themselves. Do not disgrace your father’s name by acting as a commoner.”
Megan’s eyes narrowed in anger. “The disgrace is on you, Mother, that you would allow one of your servants to writhe in agony with a sore tooth. Where is your compassion?”
“You will not speak to me in such away!” Lady Stone nearly spat. “Your return has disrupted my entire life.” Annora stopped to let this barb sink in but saw that Megan’s face was calm. The older woman was so furious that for a moment she couldn’t speak. When she did, it was with the full intention of wounding her daughter the only way she knew how.
“I have decided that you will leave for Hawkings Crest this day.”
Megan’s eyes widened, giving her mother great pleasure.
“But Father isn’t here. He was to take me.”
Annora’s laugh was heartless. “Your father is more than capable of mounting a horse if he wishes to see you.”
“But my clothing, Mother—” Megan tried to reason with her, seeing that she’d pushed too far. “My wardrobe is not complete.”
Annora’s lip curled with cruel enjoyment. “You seem to be more at home dressed in
homespun cloth—look at you! Besides, you have one dress that will suffice, and you won’t want to travel in that anyway. I’ll send your clothing when it’s ready.”
Megan stood in mute horror, her whole body trembling with fear over the way she was being sent away. Her heart cried out to God to send her father home early, but it was not to be.
“Now ready yourself,” her mother drove home her final thrust. “I will order a guard to escort you. You leave within the hour.”
Annora swept away then, but it took a moment for Megan to realize the occupants of the entire room were watching her. Not one of the servants at Stone Lake loved their mistress, so Megan was met with genuine stares of compassion. The young servant girl whose tooth Megan had treated had tears in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, my lady.”
Megan gently touched the dark hair on her head. “Don’t fret, Merry, all will be well. You take care of that tooth, and I’ll see you when I come again.”
Megan left with all the dignity she could muster, hoping that no one could see how her legs trembled in shock and terror.
True to her word, her mother sent for her an hour later. Four horses stood in the courtyard of Stone Lake, and Megan fought down every emotion within her to keep her face calm. Hawkings Crest was miles away, and her mother was sending her on horseback with no caravan, which meant no maid, no ladies in waiting, and no entourage of any kind. Just four horses, and three male guards—none of whom she even knew.
One of them helped her mount. Megan kept her face impassive, not wishing to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing how fearful she was of going away to a strange man’s castle. She thought of trying to reason with Annora once more, but just a glance allowed her to see the hatred in her eyes, and Megan knew she would be wasting her time.