The Beautiful Pretender

by Melanie Dickerson

  Lord Thornbeck stared down at the floor while leaning on his cane. Avelina stood, planning to slip quietly out of the room. She was limping heavily now.

  “Wait.”

  She turned. Lord Thornbeck stared at her with brows drawn together in that severe look of his.

  “Sit down. I’ll find a servant or guard to carry you back to your bed.”

  “But first—is there anything else I can do?”

  He sighed. “I need to get word to Chancellor Jorgen. He will have to send letters to round up enough of my allies and soldiers from town and the outlying areas to fight.”

  “Perhaps I can go fetch him.” Avelina started to stand.

  “Sit.”

  She sat.

  He went into the hallway and called out to a servant. He came back in and said, “Let me see your ankle.”

  She gazed up at him. He did not look as if he’d accept any sort of argument, so she carefully inched her skirt up to reveal the bandage. She flinched at the amount of bright-red blood soaking her bandage.

  For a long moment Lord Thornbeck did not say anything. She glanced up at him.

  “I should not have allowed you to go down the stairs and back up again. I shall send for the healer.”

  “My lord, do not trouble yourself. All I need is a bandage change.”

  “I shall send Frau Schwitzer to see to it.”

  “Thank you, my lord.”

  A guard came into the room.

  “Carry her to her room, then ask Frau Schwitzer to see to her wounds.”

  The guard lifted her in his arms and carried her out.

  Lord Thornbeck did care for her a little or he would not have saved her from the wolves and looked so regretful when he saw her bloody bandage. But it only made her heart ache for what might have been, how much more he would have cared if she had been an earl’s daughter.

  “Avelina!” Someone called from behind. Magdalen hurried toward her to keep up with the fast-moving guard. “Why are you out of bed?”

  “I have to tell you something,” she said quietly, “when we get to my room.”

  They walked the rest of the way in silence until they were in Avelina’s room and the guard had left.

  While Magdalen pulled a chair up to her bedside, Avelina told her what she’d heard Geitbart say.

  “We have to keep Geitbart from capturing Lord Thornbeck and throwing him in the dungeon, or worse.” Avelina’s stomach twisted and her mouth went dry at the “worse” things that could happen. “And from taking over Thornbeck.”

  “But how? What can we do?”

  “I don’t know.” Avelina tapped her chin. “Lord Thornbeck and Jorgen will be asking men to come and help fight Geitbart’s guards. But I was thinking you and I could spy on Geitbart, find out what he is doing and planning.”

  Magdalen leaned over and lifted Avelina’s hem, then inhaled a noisy breath. “Your ankle is bleeding terribly. Blood is getting on the blanket. You won’t be going anywhere.”

  Avelina felt a little sick at the sight of the red-soaked cloth.

  A knock came, then Frau Schwitzer opened the door and bustled in with a basket of clean cloths and a pitcher of water.

  They stayed quiet until Frau Schwitzer had washed off the blood, changed the bandage, and left. Then they discussed what they might do to help save Thornbeck from Geitbart. Their ideas ranged from the practical to the fanciful, about how to spy on Geitbart, and how to kidnap him and Fronicka.

  Finally, Magdalen declared, “I’m sleeping in your room tonight. I don’t think I should let you out of my sight, with Fronicka hating you like she does.”

  “Thank you, but I don’t think she would—”

  “No arguments. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  All Avelina could do was smile meekly. “Thank you, Lady Magdalen.”

  23

  HEGATHA COULD NOT have been pleased with the arrangements, but she would never have allowed Magdalen to sleep in Avelina’s room without her, so she slept in Irma’s little closet, with the door open.

  When Avelina awoke, the sun was shining and she and Magdalen were still alive. Someone knocked, then a maidservant entered the room with a tray of food. The smell of fried meat and stewed fruit awoke her appetite, and she threw back the covers to get up.

  “Oh no.” Hegatha set down the tray and shook her finger at Avelina. “Frau Schwitzer said you must keep your foot up. You shall eat in bed.”

  There was good and bad to everything, even having a grouchy older woman in her room taking charge.

  It seemed strange to be sitting in bed eating like a queen when Lord Thornbeck was in so much danger. But for now, Geitbart could not know that the margrave knew of his treachery. He was surely still trying to muster support from others and amassing troops for his attack.

  Magdalen and Avelina talked while they ate, and Avelina told her about her own brother and sister. Then the talk turned to Lord Thornbeck.

  Magdalen asked, “Do you think he is handsome? Or do you still think he is too severe looking, as you did at first?”

  “I think very differently about him now than I did then. I tried not to think about him at all . . . but I thought of him constantly.” Her heart seemed to expand like a watered plant as she was finally able to tell the truth about her feelings. “I believed there was so much goodness in him. And I was terrified he would see how much I admired him. It was difficult, forcing myself to turn away from him every time he looked at me.”

  “And trying to make him talk to me and not you?” Magdalen raised her brows. “Turning the conversation to me when he so obviously wanted to talk to you.”

  “So obviously?”

  “Of course. The poor margrave had to turn his attention away from you so you would not look frightened to death that he was talking more to you than to me.”

  “I was only trying to do as I had been told.”

  “I know that now.” Magdalen’s smile faded. “I am sorry.”

  No one spoke. Magdalen was beginning to look sad.

  “He is handsome, except he does have a rather too-large nose.”

  Magdalen’s mouth fell open. “What?”

  Avelina laughed. “Very well. He is the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, even though his nose is rather large.” Laughing was better than crying, and she did not want Magdalen to be sad or feel sorry for her because they both knew she could never marry him.

  The more she had tried not to think him handsome, the handsomer he became, as she realized his care and concern for the orphans, his easy manner with Jorgen and Odette and friendship with them, his gentle way with the poor addled woman who haunted the west wing—the way he looked at Avelina, so considerate, so intense. She supposed she should have known all along that his interest lay with her, not Magdalen, but something inside her just could not allow her to believe that the margrave could fall in love with a servant—even when that servant was masquerading as an earl’s daughter.

  She’d never been in love before. She’d tried to save herself this pain, but all her pretending and hiding the truth from herself had not saved her at all. And even though this love was painful, it was worth it to remember how the sight of him and the sound of his voice had made her heart beat faster, that feeling of wanting what was best for someone else, even if it broke her own heart.

  By midmorning Avelina could hardly bear to lie in bed another moment. “I think my ankle is much better now, and there must be something we can do to help Lord Thornbeck.”

  Magdalen frowned at her. “Hegatha will not be pleased if you get up. She and Frau Schwitzer agree, you must stay off your ankle for at least two days.”

  Avelina sighed, then tried another tact. “What is the worst thing that could happen? It will bleed again.” She shrugged. “A little blood loss never hurt anyone.”

  Magdalen laughed. “Well, you shall have to contend with Hegatha if you get up, that is all I can say.”

  And as if their speaking of her conjured her, she opened t
he door.

  “What was the gossip in the kitchen?” Magdalen asked.

  “Do the servants know what Geitbart is planning?” Avelina added. “Did you find out anything that might help Lord Thornbeck?”

  Hegatha gave them both her perpetual frown, then settled it on Magdalen. “Truly, my lady, you should leave Thornbeck as soon as possible, just as soon as the guards arrive. This place is not safe.”

  “Why? Did something happen?”

  “The servants were whispering about someone taking over the castle. They said they heard a rumor that it was the Duke of Geitbart. They asked me if I knew something, but of course I told them nothing. Then, when I was on my way back here, I saw Lady Fronicka speaking with one of the servants. When they saw me coming, they stopped talking and waited for me to walk away.”

  “Which servant?” Avelina sat up straighter. “Which servant was Lady Fronicka talking to?”

  “A rather homely looking woman they call Gerhaws was talking in Lady Fronicka’s ear. I would not think such a lady would ever feel a need to speak privately to a servant, especially one with pockmarks all over her face and wild red hair and a red nose. It is well known that this Gerhaws drinks herself into a stupor in the evenings.” Hegatha lifted the covers to check Avelina’s bandage.

  Gerhaws was the servant who introduced Irma to Friedrich. “Gerhaws used to drink with Irma, often getting her drunk. Lady Fronicka and her father must be using Gerhaws as a spy, just as Fronicka used Irma.” She tapped her chin with her fingertip. “What if I were to follow Gerhaws? Perhaps I could discover something, could sneak and listen to her conversations with Lady Fronicka.”

  “No, Avelina.” Magdalen was frowning like Hegatha now. “You cannot. Your injuries are not healed and you must not walk on your ankle.”

  “What does my ankle matter if the castle is attacked and Lord Thornbeck is killed?”

  Magdalen stared at her with wide eyes. She had not meant to speak so vehemently. Even Hegatha’s mouth went slack, replacing her usual frown.

  “Truly,” Avelina said quietly, “I cannot lie here doing nothing while Geitbart is plotting how he might kill Lord Thornbeck.”

  Avelina threw back the covers and stood. “If my ankle begins to bleed too much, I shall come and lie down again. But I must go and see what I can do. It doesn’t hurt much anymore.” She walked gingerly across the floor. “Do you see? It is not so bad.”

  When they saw she was determined, Magdalen and Hegatha helped her get dressed.

  “I shall go with you,” Magdalen said.

  “I have an idea to get the servants to trust me. I shall make them think I am being forced to work in the kitchen with all the other servants. Frau Schwitzer will help me.”

  Magdalen argued with her some more, but Avelina simply smiled and embraced her.

  Magdalen frowned. “Please ask for a guard to carry you back up the stairs if your ankle starts to bleed again.”

  “Very well.”

  Reinhart sat once again in his library, gazing out the window. How strange to be so idle when his castle might soon be attacked.

  After he sent the first guard with a letter to the king, he wrote two more and sent those two couriers in different directions, in case it turned out that the king was away from his home in Prague.

  The weather had grown warm enough to melt most of the snow, so he was able to bid farewell to most of his guests the previous day. No doubt they all wanted to be well away before Geitbart did something that would displease the king, like murdering the king’s margrave or attacking Thornbeck’s guards. The only guests left were Geitbart and Fronicka, Lady Magdalen, whose own guards had only just arrived from Mallin to escort her home, and Avelina.

  Reinhart had spent hours strategizing with two of his most trusted knights, who speculated that Sir Klas had been captured by the Duke of Geitbart. They talked of ways they might defeat Geitbart, but Reinhart and his men were outnumbered, and Reinhart was still waiting for Jorgen to get back from his wolf-hunting expedition. He and Odette had taken provisions, prepared to sleep at least two nights away from home to chase the wolves as far away from Thornbeck as possible, if they were not able to kill them.

  Reinhart’s only two options seemed to be having Geitbart assassinated or running away, and neither of those were honorable. Openly confronting the man would serve no purpose except to alert Geitbart that he knew of his treachery.

  Few castles of the Holy Roman Empire had escaped being besieged at one time or another, and it was not so extraordinary that Geitbart would attempt to take Thornbeck. His only hope was that the king would send help, enough soldiers to stop Geitbart and his attackers, or that Reinhart would be able to give himself up in exchange for no harm coming to his people.

  He needed to send Avelina away before Geitbart attacked. Fronicka would surely have her killed, and time was running out.

  Avelina found Frau Schwitzer in a storage room. Avelina explained to her what she wished to do, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. “Won’t you please help me?”

  Frau Schwitzer’s kindly face suddenly appeared creased and troubled. “I do not know if it will do any good, but I suppose it can do no harm—except to you. Are you certain you wish to take the risk?”

  “Oh yes, of course.”

  A thought dawned on Frau Schwitzer’s face. For a moment it seemed as if she might say something, but she only nodded and nudged Avelina toward the door.

  They entered the kitchen and Frau Schwitzer gave two sharp claps. “Everyone, this is Avelina. She will be working in the kitchen today, doing whatever Cook expects of her.”

  Someone mumbled, “Isn’t that Lady Dorothea?”

  “She was formerly known as Lady Dorothea,” Frau Schwitzer said loudly. “Now she must make up for her deception by working in the kitchen until our lord sends her back to Plimmwald. That is all. You may go back to work.”

  Everyone quickly resumed their work. Frau Schwitzer went over and whispered in Cook’s ear, then she left the room.

  A few maidservants glanced furtively in her direction. Would her plan have the opposite effect than the one she’d hoped? Would they resent and dislike her for having played the part of Lady Dorothea, humiliating their lord? Or would they take her under their wing?

  Cook was pointing at her with a wooden ladle. “Sit down over there and shell those peas.”

  Avelina limped to the table and sat on a stool. Already her ankle was throbbing, so she was grateful to be able to do a sitting-down task. And since she was no stranger to shelling peas, she set a fast pace. As soon as she finished all the peas in the basket, another maidservant replaced the empty basket with a full one.

  “You’re fast,” the maidservant said. “I’m Engel.” She sat beside her and started shelling the peas into the same bowl with Avelina. “Why were you pretending to be Lady Dorothea?”

  “I had no choice. My lord, the Earl of Plimmwald, made me do it.”

  “Are you sorry you didn’t run away? Or was it worth it?”

  Avelina shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted, but I’ll be punished when I get home. No doubt he has already sent my father and little brother and sister far away and I will never see them again.”

  Engel was a young woman about Avelina’s age, with a stout frame and her brown hair in one braid down her back. She eyed Avelina out of the corner of her eye, when she wasn’t looking at the pea pod in her hand.

  “But was it worth it to have the margrave fall in love with you?”

  Some of the other maidservants turned to look at her, waiting to hear her answer.

  Her heart pounded. She must play her part. “He doesn’t care for me now that he knows I’m only a maidservant. He would get rid of me if he could.”

  “Why doesn’t he send you away, then?”

  More eyes turned to stare.

  “He would, but Plimmwald’s guards haven’t come to fetch me yet, and I injured my ankle. Wolf attack.”

  “But did Lord Thornbeck
not save you from the wolves?”

  “He did not know it was me. He heard screams and came to help.” She shrugged.

  At least they were not looking at her with hatred or resentment.

  “Did you like talking to him? To Lord Thornbeck?” a young maidservant who was kneading bread dough asked.

  “Anyone would.”

  “Is he just as handsome close up?”

  They were all staring at her now, even Cook.

  “He is even more handsome close up.”

  “Did he kiss you?” This eager question came from another young maidservant.

  Avelina shook her head, the heat rising into her cheeks.

  “That’s enough,” Cook said. “Get back to your chores before I send you all home.”

  They complied, but she noticed a couple of them giving her shy smiles. The plan was working.

  When it was time for their midday meal, Avelina was given a place at the table with the other servants, including Gerhaws, who appeared in the kitchen just as the food was being served.

  One of the youngest servants brought Avelina a stool so she could prop up her injured foot. “Tell us about the margrave. Was he very chivalrous and romantic?”

  So while they ate, Avelina told them stories about her time with the margrave. The things she held closest to her heart—certain things he had said and certain looks—she did not reveal, but she told them endearing stories that illustrated his kindness and bravery—how he gave money to the orphans in the street, and how he had pulled her up as she clung to the broken railing on the balcony. The maidservants hung on her every word.

  But it was Gerhaws she needed to get close to. Gerhaws who might know what Geitbart’s next move would be.

  Finally, after the meal, Cook said, “Gerhaws, you and Avelina go to the dairy and churn the butter. When you’ve finished, bring it to the kitchen.”

  So Avelina found herself alone with Gerhaws in the cool of the stone-walled dairy.

  As soon as they sat down to the two butter churns, Gerhaws took a small flask out of a pocket in her apron and brought it to her lips. “It’s very good strong spirits. I can show you where it’s kept if you want some.”