Both Avelina and Irma moved to the fire and stretched their hands toward it.
“I can’t even feel my feet.” Irma took off her shoes, pulled down her hose, and held one naked foot out toward the flames.
Avelina ought to tell Irma that a lady’s maid should ask her mistress what she could do for her. She should not be tending to her own needs. But Avelina was not a lady, and she couldn’t bring herself to pretend to be one to poor Irma, who was as cold and tired as she was.
The servant soon returned, placing the tray of food on a small table. She gave Avelina a pointed look. “Is something wrong? Is the food not to your liking?”
Avelina should not be standing back. She should be sitting down to the food and dismissing the servant.
“Oh no.” She searched her memory for what Dorothea would have said. “It looks very . . . adequate. We shall ring the bell if we need anything else.”
The servant curtsied, then slipped out, closing the door soundlessly behind her.
The food was more than adequate. It looked like a feast. Avelina sat down, and Irma quickly joined her and took a bite of the fruit tart. The tart apples and plums tasted like summer sunshine, and the delicate pastry melted in her mouth. Her brother, whose favorite fruits were apples and plums, would have loved it. Even though it wasn’t cherry, it was still delicious.
Feeling indulgent as she sampled all the foods on the tray—there was even cheese!—a pang of uneasiness flowed through her.
What would the days ahead bring? She would be a guest in this castle for at least fourteen days. She would play a part, pretending to be something and someone she was not. Would she shame the Earl of Plimmwald and the name of his daughter, Dorothea? If she failed to fool everyone into thinking she was an earl’s daughter, she and her family would be punished, banished from Plimmwald.
The tart suddenly didn’t taste very good.
4
THE SUN PENETRATED Avelina’s consciousness.
She looked around, but nothing was familiar. The bed was big and soft and surrounded by dark-red curtains with gold fringe.
She turned onto her side—and groaned at the pain. Then she remembered. She was at Thornbeck Castle, pretending to be Dorothea.
The bed felt so good and smelled so clean, Avelina closed her eyes and stretched. And groaned again.
“Are you sore too?” Irma stood from the little table where the servant had apparently set her breakfast. “I’ve never been so beat up in my life. I don’t know if I could get back on a horse today if my life depended on it. I thank the saints above I don’t have to.” She rubbed her lower back, then poured herself a cup of whatever was in the pitcher and drank a long gulp.
Avelina looked down at the floor from the edge of the bed. She was so high, she got dizzy. She lay on her stomach and let her feet hang over the side until her toes touched the floor. Then she poured herself some water.
“Do you know what I’m supposed to do today?” Avelina eyed Irma over the top of her goblet.
“Frau Schwitzer said you and the other guests would be taking the midday meal with the margrave in the Great Hall. And the margrave will want to speak privately with you, as he is taking time to ask all the eligible maidens questions about themselves.” Irma’s eager smile grew even wider. “You’ll meet the Margrave of Thornbeck.”
Avelina stared at the short young woman. “Do you honestly think I am excited about the prospect of meeting the Margrave of Thornbeck?” She lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. If having to fool the margrave was not enough to terrify her, making sure she did not anger him by her unrefined manners surely was.
Irma waved her hand dismissively. “I do not know why you’re so worried. Lord Plimmwald told you he does not think anyone here has met his daughter, and the margrave has no reason to think you are not Dorothea. And as for making sure the margrave does not fall in love with you . . .” She made a hissing sound through her lips. “With all the other lovely noble maidens, I do not think you have anything to worry about.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” Avelina looked at the breakfast tray, hoping for a cherry tart. There were plum pastries and stewed spiced apples with sweet cream instead.
“Oh, you are pretty enough, Avelina—”
“Please don’t call me that, Irma. You know we cannot risk it.”
“I am sorry, Lady Dorothea.” She frowned and raised an eyebrow. “As I was saying . . . you don’t know how to be flirtatious, how to make a man fall in love with you. I’ve seen you. You are very blundering around men you think are handsome, and you were naively oblivious when that stable boy, Hans, showed interest in you.”
Avelina tried to think of a retort. Irma had already stated that she need not worry that Lord Thornbeck would want to marry her, since he could not possibly want her.
These noble ladies might be better at flirting, but could any of them take care of a little brother and sister and a father who was lame in both legs, cook for her family, then go and work all day at the castle, fetching for and cleaning up after a spoiled earl’s daughter?
“Perhaps you will find a husband here, from one of the noblemen, a brother accompanying his sister. You are beautiful, after all.”
“I don’t think any of them would consider me a possible bride.” Avelina shook her head.
“They would if they thought you were the Earl of Plimmwald’s daughter.”
“Irma, I cannot deceive someone into marrying me. If I married someone under a false name, he would have the marriage annulled, especially when he found out I am only a maidservant.”
She kept eating the delicious fruit pastry. Perhaps if she gained some weight she would look more attractive to a tradesman, and when she returned to Plimmwald with her dowry, she might marry a butcher or miller or someone else who could improve her brother and sister’s situation in life.
But . . . the fruit pastry could hardly give her courage for meeting the margrave in a few hours.
Avelina went down the long staircase toward the ground floor of Thornbeck Castle wearing the deceased Lady Plimmwald’s silk dress. The looking glass in her bedchamber told her that the jewel-like plum color was actually very becoming, as it brightened her brown hair and pale complexion.
But when she entered the Great Hall and saw the clothing of the noble ladies already gathered there, she realized her style of dress was somewhat old compared to theirs. Still, she held her head high. I am the daughter of an earl. I am of noble birth. I am Lady Dorothea of Plimmwald. She only had to pretend to believe it for two weeks.
A servant announced her as “the Lady Dorothea Seippach of Plimmwald” while she strode forward. Those standing around talking among themselves turned to stare.
Please don’t let me trip.
She stopped when she came within a few feet of the nearest group of ladies. A few men stood around as well, fathers and brothers who had accompanied them.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a group of three young ladies giving her furtive glances and whispering. Her cheeks burned. Were they talking about her old-fashioned clothing? How long must she stand here, conspicuously alone, while no one spoke to her?
Finally, the servant announced, “The most honorable, the Margrave of Thornbeck.”
Everyone faced in the direction of the margrave and curtsied or bowed.
Avelina was almost too afraid to look. When she dared raise her eyes, Lord Thornbeck was staring right at her with a most severe expression. Her heart stopped.
He glanced away and her heart started beating again. Saints above, but he was handsome. His dark eyes pierced her, then moved on to delve into everything else they alighted on. His skin was dark, his chin square and strong, his chest broad and thick, and his cheekbones high. The contrast to his look of power and intensity was his slight limp as he walked with a cane.
She hoped no one could see her hands shaking as the margrave walked to the head of the enormous trestle table and sat down. The other guests gravitate
d to the long benches, obviously trying to get seats closest to the margrave.
Trying to sit in the least likely place to draw attention, she ended up at the farthest end from the margrave, sitting beside a young maiden wearing a pale-pink gown.
As a squire filled their goblets, the maiden said, “I am Magdalen of Mallin.”
To the friendly tone of Magdalen’s voice, Avelina replied, “I am Dorothea, from Plimmwald.” Even though she had said the correct name, she probably should not have stated it that way. She was not from Plimmwald. She and her father were Plimmwald. Or so everyone was supposed to think.
“That is, I am Lady Dorothea.” Now she sounded proud and presumptuous, since Magdalen had not called herself Lady Magdalen.
“I myself have never been outside Mallin. You shall have to tell me what to do as I am completely inexperienced with parties and balls.”
“I am sure you must know more than I.” Truly, it would be the blind leading the blind if she looked for guidance from Avelina. “I do not even know how to dance. You shall look quite refined and noble beside me, I assure you.”
“If I cannot marry the margrave, my mother is determined to marry me off to the wealthiest person she can find who would want a poverty-stricken baron’s daughter. I was betrothed to an earl’s son, but when they found out I had no inheritance and no dowry, his father had our betrothal annulled.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“No, it is perfectly well. I had heard he was given to violent tirades and had impregnated two of his house servants. I do not wish to marry someone like that.”
Avelina shook her head and shuddered inwardly.
Another squire came to serve a large pheasant to their section of the table. Truly, Avelina would be eating better than she ever had before, if she was not too nervous to swallow.
“Did you bring anyone with you?” Avelina asked quietly. “I have only my maidservant.”
“I have only my servant as well. I have a younger brother and younger sisters, but they are too young to accompany me.”
“I do not have any brothers or sisters.”
“Oh yes. You shall have a large inheritance. I should think a lot of noblemen would want to marry you.”
“I do not think so. Am I the last guest to arrive?”
Magdalen nodded. “Most of us have been here for a day or more. I can tell you everyone’s names, if you wish.”
“Oh yes, thank you.”
“The girl next to me is Applonia of Hindenberg, and she’s talking to Otilia of Steenbeke. Across from them is Beatrix of Darghun, and next to her, Gertrudt of Wolfberg, a tiny but very wealthy duchy on the north coast, at the Baltic Sea.”
Avelina tapped her chin with her finger. How would she ever remember all these names?
Magdalen named three more young women, all of them clad in silk and embroidered fine linen, their hair immaculate and swept up in sophisticated styles, which Avelina had been able to achieve with Dorothea but was unable to implement on her own hair. Irma, she had discovered, had no skill with dressing hair. So Avelina’s was simply braided down her back and fastened with ribbon.
“Last but not least,” Magdalen said with a slight twist of her lips. “See that girl sitting at the margrave’s right side? That’s Fronicka. Her father is the Duke of Geitbart.” Magdalen leaned over to whisper in Avelina’s ear, “She is determined to marry the margrave and she’s given every other girl here notice that if they try to flirt with him, they will find something horrible in their bed the next night.”
Avelina leaned forward to get a better look at Fronicka. She was smiling at the margrave, looking quite demure and sweet. “Perhaps she was in jest.”
Magdalen raised her brows. “Perhaps.”
The other ladies sitting around the table were also smiling at Lord Thornbeck. All Avelina had to do was stay out of the way and let the other ladies flirt with him.
However, if Fronicka managed to marry Lord Thornbeck, it would mean certain destruction for the Earl of Plimmwald. The margrave would likely help his wife’s father, Geitbart, take over Plimmwald rather than stopping him and defending Plimmwald. The earl would be killed or imprisoned. All the people of Plimmwald, including her father and siblings, would be at Geitbart’s mercy.
She whispered under her breath, “God, be merciful and do not let the margrave choose her.”
As Avelina and Magdalen ate, Magdalen spoke of her younger sisters and brother with warmth and affection. “I wish they could have come with me, but the invitation was only for myself.” She talked about her mother and siblings a bit more, then spoke of how poor the villagers of Mallin were. “The copper mines have been Mallin’s main source of wealth. But about ten years ago the copper suddenly ran out. My father died soon after.” She sighed. “Our land does not grow much food, as the soil is very rocky. It would be good for raising sheep and other livestock, but the people don’t have money for buying livestock. It is why my mother wants to marry me to a wealthy nobleman, hoping he will help our people.”
Avelina nodded. “Plimmwald is not very wealthy either. Most of our people are farmers or woodcutters . . . peasants.” That was what Lady Dorothea called all the people of Plimmwald.
“My father always emphasized to me that as the noble family of Mallin, we were ultimately responsible for our people. I feel guilty sometimes living in a house made of stone, with silk dresses and plenty of food, when so many in our villages are going hungry.”
Avelina knew that guilty feeling too, but it was because she often slept and ate at Plimmwald Castle, while her little sister and brother had to fend for themselves in their little dirt-floor, wattle-and-daub hovel they shared with their father, who was dependent on the neighbors to help him get from his chair to his bed.
“But what can we do to help them?” Avelina wondered aloud.
“There is only one thing a woman might do, and that is to marry someone wealthy—and generous.”
Avelina started tapping her chin, then stopped herself as she realized it did not look very regal or ladylike.
“My maidservant said the margrave would want to ask me some questions. Did he already talk with you?”
Magdalen nodded, her mouth full of pheasant.
“What did he ask you? Will I be too frightened to even be able to speak?” She asked the latter question more to herself than to Magdalen.
“It was not frightening, although I do think the margrave himself is a little gruff and frightening. His questions were not what I might have expected, but they were respectful and nothing was difficult to answer. Do not worry. You will answer him well.”
“It hardly matters. I do not wish to marry the margrave in any case,” she confided.
“Do you not?”
Avelina shook her head.
“Is there someone else you wish to marry?”
“No, not at all.” She should not have said that. How would she explain? “As you said, he is a little frightening, that severe look on his face, as if he is always angry. I should like to marry someone with more of a gentle, romantic expression, a man of poetry and learning.” That was true, at least, however unlikely it was.
“How do you know Lord Thornbeck is not a man of poetry and learning?”
“He used to be a knight.” Avelina shrugged, trying to think what Dorothea might say. “Most knights I know are rough and like to fight.”
Magdalen smiled. “I might feel the same, except I know my mother is hoping the margrave will choose me. It would solve so many problems for my people and ensure them the protection they need.”
Avelina decided immediately: If the margrave seemed to be a good person, she would try to turn his attention toward Magdalen and convince him to choose her. Magdalen was a deserving person, and it would make her happy to be able to help her people. And anyone he married who was not Fronicka would benefit Avelina. Yes, the margrave should marry Magdalen.
As soon as the midday meal was over, the beautiful blonde wife of the margrave’s ch
ancellor approached Avelina.
“Lord Thornbeck is ready to speak with you now, Lady Dorothea.”
Avelina nodded. Somehow, after deciding to champion Magdalen, she felt much less afraid of the margrave. She had a plan.
She followed the servant through the Great Hall—accompanied by the stares of the other guests. Fronicka was smirking at her.
Avelina smiled back at her and winked. Perhaps it was not a wise thing to do, but she was looking forward to the margrave choosing Lady Magdalen and erasing the annoying smirk off Fronicka’s face.
5
REINHART WAITED IN his library for the last of the ten ladies to come so he might ask her questions.
Odette’s quiet steps alerted him to their arrival only a moment before his chancellor’s wife appeared in the doorway, followed closely by the last of the noble maidens who had come to his party.
“Lord Thornbeck.” Odette Hartman curtsied. “Lady Dorothea, daughter of the Earl of Plimmwald.”
Reinhart nodded to her.
Odette sat near Jorgen and smiled at the young lady.
He forced himself to say politely, “Lady Dorothea, it is my pleasure to welcome you to Thornbeck Castle. Frau Hartman, who brought you here, will stay in the room so you might feel more comfortable, while my chancellor, Jorgen Hartman, will record our conversation. You may sit.”
He hated formality and pretense. People should say what they wanted instead of hiding behind hypocrisy. He had allowed Jorgen and his wife to teach him a few of the niceties that others of the aristocracy would expect of him. But the woman he married must realize that he could not abide insincerity, and he would always be forthright himself.
He might as well get these questions over with. At least she was the last one. “Lady Dorothea, in your opinion, what is a lady’s most important task?”
The lady, quite pretty, with brown hair and blue eyes, looked as though she might faint as the blood drained from her face.
“Lady Dorothea? Are you well?”
She nodded, visibly swallowing.
The Beautiful Pretender Page 4