by Lori Wick
“I feel I must apologize to you, Megan.”
The young woman’s heart leapt. Could her mother actually be sorry for what she had done?
“As I’m sure you have noticed, Marigold is not with us,” Annora went on, and Megan knew keen disappointment. “I am sure she is not feeling well right now; she is not acting herself.” Annora’s voice now grew very agitated.
“We had words, the first ever, and then she said she wasn’t coming to your wedding. I’m sure she’ll be very sorry later, and I do hope she will have a change of heart and arrive before the ceremony.”
Megan stood mute for a full minute. In truth, she hadn’t even missed Marigold. She realized now that she would have been surprised if the older girl had walked in, but this was the last thing Megan could say to her mother. Megan felt pity of sorts for Annora’s belief that Marigold was acting out of character. Megan thought her sister’s actions were completely in keeping with her personality. The small redhead now wildly searched her mind for some suitable comment.
“’Tis all right, Mother,” she finally replied. “I am just pleased that you and Father have come.”
“Are you?” Annora’s brow arched.
She was pleased that they had arrived. She was going to say more to reassure her mother and try to remove the frown from her face, but there was a great pounding on the door.
“I wish to be alone!” Annora’s voice rang out to the intruder.
“Is Megan in there?” Bracken’s voice thundered from without.
“It’s Bracken,” Megan said, and moved immediately to the door. He came in uninvited, his gaze fierce as his look encompassed both mother and daughter.
“We are trying to have a private conversation.”
“I can believe that,” Bracken said ruthlessly. “In here…where no one can stop you.”
Annora’s gasp echoed in the room, and Megan reached for Bracken’s arm.
“Please, Bracken—” she began, but he cut her off.
“No, Megan, I will not leave. You still bear the scar from her last attack. I will not leave you alone with this woman any longer.”
There was nothing else Megan could say. She turned to see that all color had drained from her mother’s face.
“Is it true, Megan?” Her voice was a hoarse whisper. “Have I scarred you?”
Megan’s hands moved helplessly in front of her. “It’s very slight, Mother. I think it will fade.”
Annora plucked a torch from its wall sconce and approached. She moved to Megan’s side, and her free hand balled into a fist as she took in the tiny white line on Megan’s otherwise flawless cheek.
Her hand then reached for Megan’s arm. It was the first time Megan could ever remember her mother touching her in gentleness.
“Forgive me, Megan.”
“I do, Mother.” Moved by her mother’s first apology, Megan could not take her look of anguish. “We shall put it behind us. Why don’t you rest now.”
Annora nodded, and Bracken reached for Megan’s arm. They both bid Annora a good rest and left, closing the door behind them. It was a very silent couple that walked toward Megan’s chamber. Neither spoke until they stood just outside the portal.
“Are you all right?”
“Why shouldn’t I be all right?” Bracken wished to know.
Megan shrugged. “You seemed terribly upset.”
Bracken took Megan gently by the shoulders. “I was the one who saw your cut, swollen face, Megan. I was the one who witnessed your tears in the chapel. Your mother may have many fine qualities, but she has a violent temper, and for that reason alone I do not trust her.”
Megan could only nod. It was true.
“How is my father?”
“I think he wished you to stay and speak with him.”
“I’ll plan to see him tomorrow. In many ways,” Megan continued, “you have ruined him for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I always thought his care of me was the best, but in truth he never did what needed to be done. He removed me from Stone Lake because he had no control over my mother, but my father should have done everything to keep us together as a family.”
Bracken was very pleased by her words. He’d believed for many weeks now that her home had been nothing short of chaos, and it was good to see that she was now realizing how unhealthy it had been. Bracken believed their own home would be as it should, one of warmth and caring.
“What will you say to him?” Bracken finally asked.
“I don’t know, but just as I said to my mother, I wish to put it in the past and go on. Bitterness will do no good.”
“He deserves your bitterness.” Bracken’s voice was uncompromising.
“Oh, no, Bracken.” Megan caught hold of his sleeve. “Bitterness only destroys the vessel that contains it. Bitterness accomplishes nothing.”
“You sound like my mother.”
Megan removed her hand. “We have much in common.”
Bracken nodded, his black hair gleaming in the light of the torch on the wall. “You share the same beliefs.”
“Yes. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
Bracken only stared, thinking it made no difference.
“Do you think you can sleep?”
“Yes,” Megan answered, but wished he hadn’t changed the subject. She debated what to say next but waited too long.
Thinking she was tired, Bracken said, “Goodnight, Megan. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Bracken.”
They parted, Bracken with his thoughts and Megan with hers. Bracken truly did not see that Megan’s faith would be a hindrance to him, although he could not see the need for himself. He felt he was man enough to let Megan worship as she wished.
Megan’s thoughts were entirely different. She prayed that Bracken’s present belief in God would grow and that he would hunger for something much larger, something so huge that it would swallow him whole and at the same time make him more of a man than he ever dreamed.
“Did you sleep well?”
“Yes, Father, and you?”
“Fine.”
For all Megan’s good intentions of putting the past behind, the morning had not started well. Annora had slept in and broke the fast in her own room, but Vincent, having met Bracken’s family, asked Megan if he could see her alone.
They decided on a walk outside the castle walls. Even though her father would be with her, Megan told several people where she would be. As had become the norm, Arik was close by.
They had walked along with few words. Vincent did not know what to say to this daughter who had changed so much, and Megan had told herself she was not going to apologize. She had done nothing wrong, nor was she bitter, but Megan also knew that if Vincent’s conscience was bothering him, it would be no help to pretend that nothing had happened.
“I spoke briefly with your mother last night.”
Megan nodded.
“She did not realize she’d struck you so hard.”
Megan did not nod this time, but still said nothing.
“Megan, what has happened to us?”
Megan stopped and faced him. It was an honest question and deserved an answer, but the words were not there. Megan’s hands moved helplessly before she said, “I do not know how to explain, Father, but I do know the changes are good. I do not wish to be as we were,” she admitted.
“It’s Bracken, isn’t it?” Vincent burst out with such vehemence that Megan’s eyes widened. “You can’t believe the things he said to me. If you were not to marry him, Megan, I would make life miserable for him.” He raked a frustrated hand through his graying hair. “If there were only some way that I could get you out of this.”
At one time Megan would have thrilled to his words, but no longer. She had never seen him like this.
“Father, what did he say to you last night?”
“Not last night!” Vincent was still very agitated. “Before you left Stone Lake he told m
e I didn’t care for you, and that I couldn’t control my wife!”
Megan only stared at him. Vincent froze.
“Megan,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Do you share his feelings?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I do not know how I could think otherwise. You never tried to stop Mother; you just always sent me out of her reach.”
Vincent’s heart literally pained him over Megan’s words. He could hardly breathe with the intensity of it. It was all so true. He had a wonderful relationship with his daughter as long as his wife wasn’t near. And he had a tolerable relationship with his wife as long as he did what she asked and kept Megan clear of her. He had never cared enough about Megan to fight Annora. He thought about his daughter often while she lived at the abbey, but only visited her when he had other business in town.
Weeks earlier, when he’d come to Hawkings Crest to check on her, it was the first time he had gone out of his way on her behalf.
What kind of man was he? There were names for his sort, Vincent realized, and years ago he’d nearly beaten a man for calling him such. He saw now that he should have listened. Much would have been different.
“I hate this strain between us, Father,” Megan now said. “But I do not want to be the recipient of Mother’s cruelty any longer. I have tasted otherwise, and I do not want to return to my old way of life. I don’t know if you can still care for me, but I am afraid that things will have to be on our terms—Bracken’s and mine.”
Megan didn’t know where she found the courage to speak so, but God blessed her honesty. Vincent’s arms came out, and he enfolded Megan gently against him.
“I am so sorry, Meg, so sorry to have let you down.”
Megan did not tell him it was all right, but she hugged him back tightly and prayed silently.
“Your mother has long been in control,” Vincent admitted when they stepped apart. “Now Marigold has hurt her, and I wonder if she’ll be ready to listen to reason.”
“She is so blind to Marigold’s true nature.”
Vincent nodded sadly. How many times as a child had Megan suffered at her older sister’s hands? Marigold would commit some crime and then see to it that Megan took the blame and was beaten by Annora. And all her father ever did was send her away. Vincent’s eyes closed.
“Are you all right, Father?”
“I am not sure. I think I will stay here for a time and then try to talk with your mother.”
Megan nodded. “I do not have high expectations for her, Father,” she admitted. “But things do not have to be strained between us. You can come here as often as you like, with or without Mother. I know Bracken does not trust her, but as long as we’re at Hawkings Crest, I think he will agree.”
Vincent saw then that a miracle had taken place in his daughter’s heart. She was talking submissively about Bracken. He was still choking on the words the young lord had shot at him, but if he put his pride aside, he could see that Bracken was quite possibly the best thing to ever happen to Megan.
Megan did leave him then, but she was not heavy of heart. He needed time alone, and Megan wanted the quiet of her room to pray. Arik escorted her back, and when Bracken spotted them returning he immediately approached.
“Are you well?”
“Yes,” Megan told him.
“And your father?”
“He wanted some time alone. I told him that he and my mother would be welcome at Hawkings Crest, but it would have to be on our terms.”
Bracken smiled. He liked the word “our” on her lips. While he stood quietly, simply watching her, Megan suddenly reached out and smoothed her fingers across his eyebrows.
“What was that for?”
Megan blushed, regretting the action. “They were a mess. Don’t you ever brush them smooth when you see to your hair and beard?”
Bracken’s smile grew, and Megan, wishing to hide her embarrassment, tilted her chin and flounced away. Bracken watched her go. This was going to be some marriage, and with the wedding the following afternoon, he could hardly wait to begin.
Twenty-Seven
THE WEDDING WAS SET FOR 3:oo on the afternoon of September 20, 1531. The entire castle was aflutter, but the bride, dressed in a gown of exquisite styling and fabric, was remarkably calm.
Louisa had made the garment using her purchases from the village. Slashing the skirt front and sleeves, she had taken the cream satin and lined it with a deep green satin before lacing it with gold braid. The neckline was fashionably square and trimmed with the same gold braid. Stiffened with flour, Megan’s small headpiece was made from the cream satin as well, and set perfectly atop her head of rich red curls.
Megan was ready by 2:00 and had enjoyed visits from Richard; Derek and Stephen; Louisa, Joyce, and Kristine; her father; and finally Brice. Megan knew her mother would be coming as well, and if anyone could make her nervous, it was Annora.
There was a sudden knock at the door, and Megan held her breath as Helga answered. Annora swept inside, and just as Megan had believed, a dress of light blue velvet hung from her lovely, slim form. Annora stopped cold upon spotting Megan’s dress, and she tried to dismiss Helga with a jerk of her head. That faithful servant looked to Megan, who nodded but asked her to return shortly.
“How dare she,” Annora began, but Megan cut in respectfully.
“This is my home, Mother, and these are my servants. How dare you.” It was all said so softly and without a trace of anger that it totally disarmed Annora.
She stared at Megan for several seconds and then quietly asked, “Where did you find the material?”
“From a woman in the village. She said she bought it from Elias the peddler.”
Annora had nothing to say, and Megan voiced a question that in her mind had to be answered.
“Did you hate me so much, Mother, that you would sell my dress fabric?”
“Oh, Megan.” Annora’s voice sounded desperate. “I did it in a burst of anger. I don’t hate you; I just don’t know how to be a mother to you.”
Megan’s heart was sad, believing Annora hadn’t even tried. Annora would have done anything for Marigold and certainly must have thought she’d been a good mother to her eldest daughter.
“And now it seems,” Annora admitted softly, “that I have not known how to be a mother to Marigold either.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your father and I talked at length yesterday. He told me that from now on things would be different. When I fought him, he told me that some of Marigold’s activities have been reported to him. Do you know of what I speak?”
“No,” Megan told her honestly.
“Well, the details do not matter.” The older woman was obviously embarrassed to repeat them. “It seems she is going through a phase of,” Annora searched for the word, “rebellion.”
Megan stayed quiet for only a moment. “’Tis no stage.”
“Why do you say this?” Annora asked, her eyes begging her younger daughter not to destroy Marigold further.
“I know not of what father speaks, but many was the time I was punished for Marigold’s deeds. She has never cared about anyone but herself. You are the only person she has not fought with for the whole of her life.”
“How can you say this? Marigold is as sweet a girl as God ever created. You are but jealous.” Annora’s eyes begged Megan to admit it this time.
Megan smiled sadly. “I was at one time, but no longer. Now I pity her.”
Annora looked positively crushed, and Megan marveled that she had not grown angry. Megan hated to have these words on her wedding day, but she somehow believed that when her parents left in the morning, she would never see her mother again. She was nearly certain of it when Annora turned away, defeat enveloping her. However, she surprised Megan when she stopped at the door.
“It was wrong of me to sell the fabric, but I am glad you found it.” Annora finally looked at her. “It’s beautiful on you, Megan.”
She left before Megan could frame a repl
y. When Bracken and Helga entered the room a minute later, Megan was still standing like a statue.
“Are you all right?” Bracken demanded as he stopped just inches before her.
Megan looked into his eyes. “My mother said I looked beautiful.” Her voice was that of a child’s, breathless with wonder. Bracken smiled tenderly. How long his little Megan had waited for such approval. He had known it all along.
“She is but learning what I have known for many months.”
Now it was time for Megan to smile. Bracken offered his arm.
“Come, my dove. Come below and marry me.”
Megan didn’t need to be asked twice. Placing her hand on his arm and holding her head high, she walked beside him down the great stone staircase to the crowded hall below. All whom she loved were gathered there, and just minutes later she and Bracken were joined as husband and wife before God and England.
The festivities that followed were of the richest kind. A banquet was laid out and music played. There was laughter and dancing, and Megan noticed at one point that Joyce and Louisa had even managed to wring a smile from her mother.
The hours flew. Megan and Bracken were together at times, but often as not they were separated by the crowd. Megan had just finished a dance with Kendrick when Louisa captured her.
“You must be growing tired. Come upstairs and freshen up.” It was just the rescue Megan needed. Her feet were beginning to ache, and the noise was giving her the start of a headache. Louisa chattered as they climbed the stairs, and Megan took almost no notice of where they were going. Not until Louisa stopped outside a strange door did Megan balk, but by then Louisa had hold of her hand and nearly dragged her over the threshold.
Megan stood in shock. It was her room, but it wasn’t her room. She had never been in this chamber, but all of her things were beautifully displayed and laid out—the tapestries, bed hangings, everything. Megan stared at the bed. It was a suspended canopy bed, draped in a soft yellow cloth. Her own rich counterpane lay smooth on the mattress. Megan didn’t know when she’d seen anything so wonderful.