A Melanie Dickerson Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  “I had nothing to do today anyway.” Except sleep.

  “I do thank you. I hope she didn’t leave while I was gone.”

  She wasn’t the only one who cared. Jorgen obviously cared, too, so much that his forehead was creased just thinking about her leaving.

  A sudden thought sent a strange pain through her. Did Jorgen feel something for this girl, some attachment or attraction?

  She should not even have such a thought. The girl was only fourteen. Of course, fourteen-year-olds often married, and they married much older men. Usually it was for the gain of their fathers, but it was not unheard of for a man of Jorgen’s age to marry a fourteen-year-old girl. But this girl was in a bad predicament and her situation was pitiable indeed. Odette should be thinking only of helping her.

  They reached the old gamekeeper’s cottage, and she thought it looked pleasant, with flowers growing all around it and a roof so neatly thatched it was like a hat made of one piece of cloth.

  Jorgen opened the front door, calling, “Mother? Kathryn? I have brought my friend Odette to see you.”

  Odette followed him inside. The front part of the house was one long room, complete with a hearth and a table and stools. A few comfortable-looking chairs stood at the other end of the room. Some colorful tapestries decorated the walls, and the windows were thrown open to let in the light. It was a homey kind of place that smelled of freshly baked bread.

  “Mother?”

  “Coming!” a voice called from down the open corridor at the back of the room. A moment later, an older woman with sagging cheeks and a pleasant smile appeared in the corridor connecting the front room to the rest of the house. She turned and motioned to someone behind her. “Come, come.”

  A young maiden stepped forward to stand beside the elderly woman. She met Odette’s eye for a moment, then looked down.

  “Odette, this is my mother and Kathryn. And this is Odette.”

  Kathryn did not look up at her, but Odette could see enough of her face to know that she had been crying.

  Jorgen’s mother grasped Odette’s hand in both of hers and squeezed it. She was only as tall as Odette’s shoulder and rather plump. “I thank you for coming, my dear. Was it a very long walk?”

  “Not so long.”

  “Shall I fetch you some milk? We have our own cow, so it is fresh, and we have a little underground storage house by the stream that keeps it cool.”

  “That sounds good. Perhaps Jorgen and Kathryn would like some too?”

  “I will help you, Mother.” Jorgen gave Odette a look, then went with his mother.

  Kathryn stood unmoving, her head still bowed.

  “Will you come and sit with me over here?”

  Kathryn gave an almost imperceptible nod and followed Odette to the other end of the room. They sat, each sinking into the feather cushions of the wooden chairs, decoratively built from crooked tree branches. It may have looked rustic, but it was the most comfortable chair she had ever sat in. Kathryn sat with her legs folded underneath her.

  “Jorgen tells me his mother is pleased to have you staying here with her. I am sure she gets lonesome, with Jorgen gone most of the time and no other family.”

  Kathryn seemed to consider Odette’s words. Perhaps the girl had not thought that she might be serving a purpose by being with Jorgen’s aging mother.

  When Kathryn said nothing, Odette went on. “I hope you will stay with her. I have never met her before, but she seems like a kind person.”

  After a moment of silence, Kathryn said softly, “She is a kind person. But I do not think I should stay. Jorgen had to give up his bed for me. Besides, I have a debt I need to pay.”

  “What sort of debt?”

  Kathryn finally looked at her. If she wasn’t mistaken, Odette read resentment in their deep-blue depths. “You would not understand. Sometimes orphans must do . . . bad things to stay alive and get food for their younger siblings.”

  “How surprised you would be to know that I do understand. I foraged through other people’s garbage to get food for myself. I had no siblings, but when my mother and father died, I went to live with a neighbor’s family. They did not want me and treated me like a servant. I was five years old. It was not until years later that my uncle came and took me to live with him. I do understand, and you do not owe anyone anything, especially if they want you to do something that makes you feel bad.”

  “Jorgen told you, didn’t he? Do you know what will happen to my little brothers?”

  “No.”

  “I cannot let them be mistreated or turned into the streets to starve. Besides, Agnes was kind to us. She fed us and gave us clothes. I have to do what she says, for my brothers’ sakes.” She was near tears again.

  “What if Jorgen and I can help your brothers? Perhaps we can find another place for them to stay.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I do. But, Kathryn, no matter what happens, you should not ever go back to The Red House or to that woman, Agnes. Anyone who asks you to do what she did is not a good person. Please. You must stay away from her and not feel any loyalty to her.”

  “But . . . I do feel loyalty to her.” Kathryn’s chin quivered and tears flooded her eyes again. “Maybe I should not, but I do. She took us in off the street and even took care of my littlest brother when he was sick, when no one else offered to help us.”

  “Those were all good things, but if she did them only to trap you into working for her, then she does not deserve your loyalty, Kathryn. Truly, you should believe me.”

  Two tears tracked down the girl’s pale cheeks. “It does not matter about me. My brothers are the ones who matter. They are innocent, but I have done bad things, things you cannot imagine. What if I am not worth all this trouble? What if I was born bad and will always be bad? I should just do what Agnes wants me to.”

  “You must know that is not true.” How could anyone think that way? “You are still practically a child. You should not be made to work—”

  “I am not a child.” Kathryn turned blazing eyes on Odette.

  “No, no, you are very mature. But what I am trying to tell you is that you could have a good life. You do not have to throw yourself away at The Red House. Your life could be better than that. Don’t you feel a hope inside you for something better?”

  It had been that hope for something better that had kept Odette from sinking into the same despair Kathryn obviously was feeling. Odette had believed that someday she would feel power over her circumstances. She would be able to get away from the people who had taken her in but did not care about her. There would come a time when she could take care of herself and would no longer have to forage for food in people’s trash heaps—or depend on people who mistreated her—to survive.

  If Odette had felt more grateful to the people who had taken her in, perhaps she would understand how Kathryn was feeling about Agnes. But she had only wanted to get away from them and their mistreatment.

  “You want to show your gratitude for what Agnes did for your brothers, but this is not the way to do that. Someday, when you are able to, you can give Agnes money, if you feel you need to repay her.”

  Kathryn was not looking at her. She was fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. “Why did Jorgen ask you to come and talk to me?”

  “He was afraid you would leave, and . . . I suppose because I know a lot of orphans. I teach lessons two days every week outside the city gate to any child who wants to come.”

  She glanced up at Odette. “Do you teach them to read?”

  “I do.”

  “I have always wanted to learn to read.”

  “If you stay here with Jorgen’s mother, you can learn. It would be my pleasure to teach you.”

  “I will still need to make sure my brothers are well.” She sank back into the chair and sighed. “But I think I might stay.”

  Jorgen and his mother came in carrying a pitcher and some pottery cups. The way Kathryn looked at him, with adoration and attentiveness,
made Odette feel uneasy again. Was she afraid Jorgen might take advantage of the girl? No, that wasn’t it. Was she afraid he might fall in love with her and marry her? Perhaps, a little. Or did she suspect the girl would try to put to use what she had learned in her two days at The Red House in order to seduce Jorgen?

  The heat in her cheeks and the roiling of her stomach told her—that was it.

  Jorgen glanced at Odette, at the expression on her face as she sat with Kathryn, and he knew what he had to do.

  As his mother poured the milk for them, Jorgen motioned to Odette. “Can I speak with you?”

  Odette stood and allowed him to open the door for her as they walked outside.

  Jorgen rubbed the back of his neck before facing Odette. “Do you know somewhere Kathryn could stay?” How could he explain his reasoning? “I could not allow her to stay in that terrible place, but our house is small, and I think it is uncomfortable for her . . . and for me.”

  “Uncomfortable?”

  Jorgen looked her in the eye. “I have no wish to be betrothed to a fourteen-year-old girl, and therefore I do not think it’s a good idea to have her in my house. One of us needs to go.” Desperation resonated in his voice. “It is not that I am afraid of what might happen. It’s more that I am afraid of what people will think, and what Kathryn might begin to think.”

  Odette smiled slowly. “Jorgen, you are almost too good to be true.” She covered her mouth, as if stifling a laugh.

  “I do not know what you mean. This is not a humorous situation.”

  She shook her head. “I mean that you are very sweet.” She cocked her head to the side in a most fetching way. “I think.”

  “Now what does that mean?”

  “I wonder whose reputation you are trying to protect.” Now there was a shrewd glint in her eye.

  “Hers and mine!” He lowered his voice. “Both.”

  She stared into his eyes, shaking her head. He wanted to ask her what she was thinking, but he decided to just enjoy the soft, sweet look on her face. She probably wouldn’t tell him anyway—or if she did tell him, he would not understand.

  “So,” he prompted, “do you know of somewhere? Perhaps she could stay with you.”

  Her brows went up, but they came back down and she bit her lip. “No, I do not think that would work.”

  He didn’t see why not. Rutger’s house was three times bigger than the cottage he shared with his mother.

  “I don’t think Rutger . . . That is, I would have to ask him first. He is unmarried, too, you know.”

  He sighed. “I had not thought of that.”

  “But he might know of some place. He knows nearly everyone in Thornbeck.”

  “Could you ask him today?”

  “Yes, and she can come home with me now. I can take her to meet Anna—perhaps she could stay with Anna and help with the children! I will ask her, and we can talk until it is time for me to teach my lesson to the children this afternoon.”

  “Thank you, Odette.” He clasped her hand in his but then realized he probably shouldn’t have, as his heart did the strange stuttering it did every time he touched her or got too close.

  She squeezed back. “Thank you for saving her. I hate to think what would have happened to her if you had not.”

  Yes, and he hated to think what would happen if he ever asked to marry Odette. He was growing fonder of her by the day.

  Later that day, Odette left Kathryn at Anna’s house, where she was playing with Anna’s two-year-old, Cristen. It was around the time Rutger usually came home, and Odette caught up with him on the steps between the first and second floor.

  “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course, my dear.” Rutger stood halfway up, looking down at her.

  “It is a bit of a long tale.” She laughed nervously. “Jorgen rescued a girl from The Red House and took her to his home where she would be safe.”

  Rutger’s mouth went slack and his eyes opened wider. “What do you mean he rescued a girl from The Red House?”

  She nearly laughed at his reaction, as it was so similar to her own. “She was working there—a fourteen-year-old orphan girl. But Jorgen asked her if she wanted to leave. He helped her escape.”

  Rutger’s face tensed. “What was Jorgen doing at The Red House?” His voice was raspy.

  “It is not what you would think. He was trying to find out about a black market of poached meat.”

  Rutger rubbed his chin with his hand.

  “But that is not what I wanted to tell you. Do you know of any place where this girl—her name is Kathryn—might be able to stay? It is rather uncomfortable for Jorgen to have her staying at his home, and I thought perhaps she might stay with us.”

  Again Rutger’s mouth went slack. “You know why she cannot. Surely you do not want her finding out your secret. She could turn you in to that forester, who would give you over to the margrave. They would think you were supplying meat to this black market.”

  Odette wondered again who, besides her, could be poaching the deer in Thornbeck Forest. And Rutger was right. If Jorgen ever caught her poaching, he would think she was the one supplying the black market. “You have a lot of influence. Perhaps you could find out who is behind this black market.”

  He didn’t look at her. “Perhaps I could. Perhaps I could.”

  “As for Kathryn, I will ask Anna if she could stay with her. Of course, she will have to ask Peter, but Kathryn could help them with the children in exchange for food and a place to sleep.”

  “If that doesn’t work out, I shall help you find a place for this girl.”

  “She is also worried about her two little brothers. Agnes, the woman at The Red House, knows where they are.”

  Rutger brushed past her on the narrow steps. “You may leave it to me, Odette. I shall find them and make sure they are being cared for.”

  “You will? Oh, thank you! You are the best uncle in all the world.”

  Just before she threw her arms around him, she thought she saw him cringe, a tiny flash of pain crossing his face.

  When she stepped back, she studied him. “Is something wrong, Uncle Rutger? Are you getting sick?”

  “Of course not. I am very well. And I shall find Kathryn’s little brothers. Do not worry.”

  Rutger would take care of it. He always took care of everything. He was such a good man.

  15

  JORGEN BOWED TO the margrave. “Lord Thornbeck.”

  “What have you discovered about our poachers and black-market brigands?” The margrave limped his way to his desk as he leaned on his cane. He was a large man, and limping and being forced to use a cane did not rest on him lightly, even after a year. He scowled most of the time, his forehead creased in a way that had made Jorgen sense the margrave was either in constant pain or thinking unpleasant thoughts.

  “My lord, I did go to The Red House yesterday to try to find out what I could about the black market, but I am afraid I discovered very little.”

  “Do you know who owns it?”

  “Possibly a woman named Agnes. She had put a girl to work there, an orphan girl who was only fourteen, and I . . . I helped her escape.”

  The margrave stared at him. “Was she able to tell you anything about the black market?”

  “No, my lord.”

  “And the poacher has not been captured either?”

  “I plan to start watching the forest at night.”

  “That could be dangerous.”

  “Nevertheless, I am determined to capture him. And the black-market sellers as well.”

  “I will have my steward look further into The Red House and its owner. He has also been unable to find out much about it. I will have him inquire more about Agnes.” He frowned. “My problem there is that I think my steward is a bit too fond of The Red House. He is well known there and perhaps is not the best person to send. But that is not your worry.” The margrave grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck. “There is one more thing I wanted to ask
. You will come to the big masquerade ball we are having here at the castle?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “You must dress elaborately or wear a costume. It is the new fashion, I am told.” His scowl deepened. “I doubt you are any more excited about it than I am. But perhaps you have a girl you wish to come. Tell me her name and I shall be sure she is invited.”

  “I think she is already on the invitation list.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he wished he could take them back in. “That is . . .” His face burned.

  “Very well.” The margrave nodded, almost smiling. “Thank you for this report, Jorgen. I hope you will catch that poacher soon. If the king comes and finds all his deer gone from Thornbeck Forest and he cannot hunt them on his visit, he will be sorely displeased. I cannot allow that.”

  “I understand, my lord. I will not fail you.”

  Jorgen made his way toward the clearing where Odette gave lessons to the children. As he walked, he planned how he would capture the poacher. He would scour the forest every night, searching the

  clearings where a deer would most easily be seen. He had let the poaching go on too long. He wouldn’t be surprised if the margrave grew tired of his incompetence and replaced him.

  And even though a lot of deer were missing, he still believed it was possibly only one poacher, although with helpers. One person shooting one or two deer every night could produce a lot of meat, enough for a small black-market business.

  He emerged into the clearing where the children were already gathered. Odette was walking toward them on the path from the town gate, along with her friend Anna, with Kathryn trailing just behind them.

  Jorgen was pleased to see Kathryn with Anna and Odette.

  Odette gave her attention to the children, as she always did, and Anna and Kathryn came and sat with him. Anna chatted about many things, but Kathryn hardly said a word. However, she seemed to stare at him nearly every moment.

  Someone was riding toward them. A man appeared on a white mule, coming not from town but from the other direction.