The Fairest Beauty

by Melanie Dickerson

  “So you went to her rescue because your brother asked you to?”

  It was very hot in the tiny cell, and stuffy. “I went to her rescue because I — I wanted to help her, a lady in need. Her situation sounded dire … and I wanted to prove I could save her myself.”

  “So you didn’t go because God urged you to.”

  Gabe took a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m being completely honest with you.” Couldn’t the man appreciate that? “If I hadn’t come when I did, Sophie might be dead now.” He flung the words at the duke, but regretted them when Brother Baldewin pressed his lips together. A flicker of pain crossed his features just before he closed his eyes.

  “Forgive me,” Gabe said. “The truth is, I love your daughter with my very soul, and I beg you to allow me to marry her. I promise to provide for her, to give her everything she needs, everything she wants. I’ll treat her like a princess, for to me she is a princess.”

  “And if your brother were not betrothed to her, are you free from any obligations? Have your parents not betrothed you to a local nobleman’s daughter?”

  Gabe tried not to choke. “I agreed to marry a count’s daughter a year ago.”

  Baldewin was quiet. Gabe bowed his head and waited. He must seem like a man who didn’t keep his promises and wouldn’t be faithful. A bead of sweat ran down Gabe’s back as Baldewin remained silent. The duke would never help him now.

  “I know how it must appear to you, but I love Sophie,” Gabe said. “And she loves me and we want to be married. Please help us.”

  Baldewin slid to his knees on the stone floor and turned to face a small crucifix on the wall beside him. “Come. Come and pray with me. We shall ask God his will. You must pray sincerely, from your heart, to know God’s will for you … whether or not you and Sophie should marry.”

  Gabe got on his knees beside the duke and clasped his hands in front of him, staring at the small statue of Jesus dying on the cross. He closed his eyes against the picture of his Savior’s suffering, but the image was imprinted inside his eyelids, it seemed.

  He willed his mind to concentrate, to focus on asking God what he wanted for him, but he found himself begging God to let him marry Sophie, to influence the duke to agree.

  He shook himself mentally. God, if it is best for Sophie to marry Valten, please tell me so now.

  He waited, emptying his mind of all thought.

  Gabe bent lower, still listening. God, you sent me to Sophie. I know you did. He clasped his hands tighter. If it be your will that we marry, I promise I will protect and love her and be the best husband I can be. I’ll love her till I die. Please speak to Baldewin and myself and make your desires known, make it known that you want Sophie to marry me and not Valten.

  Gabe continued to kneel silently. God, I need your approval, as well as Baldewin’s, Valten’s, and … Brittola’s. How could he marry Sophie without hurting Brittola? No doubt it was inevitable, but it would be for the best for everyone … somehow.

  Gabe’s knees were aching and his thighs were starting to cramp. Finally, Baldewin sat back on his heels and sighed audibly. His eyes were still closed, and his lips continued to move silently, but then he crossed himself and fixed Gabe with a blue-eyed stare.

  “If Sophie loves you and wants to marry you, then you have my blessing. But you still have to convince your father and Valten to release Sophie from the betrothal, and your betrothed’s father to release you as well.”

  Gabe let out the breath he’d been holding and had an almost irresistible urge to clap the man on the back. But he thought better of it and managed to contain his joy. “Thank you, sir. You shall not regret it, I promise you. I’ll make Sophie the happiest woman on earth.”

  “Yes. You will. Or you’ll have to answer to me.” Baldewin glared, then allowed himself a slight smile. “Now help me up. It’s time I ate.”

  Chapter 25

  As Sophie and the seven men sat down to breakfast, she thought about the way Gabe used to finagle in order to be able to sit beside her. She missed his smile and the look in his eyes whenever she glanced his way. Hurry back to me, Gabe.

  What if he never comes back?

  The worrisome thought haunted her. Being able to marry him still seemed too good to be true.

  But she mustn’t think this way. Gabe had asked her for one thing, and that was her trust. I need you to trust me, he’d said. And she’d promised to do that. Didn’t that trust include believing that he would come back for her?

  Once she finished eating her breakfast of eggs and fruit pasty, the Seven helped her clear away their dishes, carrying it all to the sink before the men headed outside. Today they would bury the duchess.

  A numbness seeped into Sophie’s bones as she stared at her stepmother, laid out on the dirt beside the root cellar, where they had kept her overnight.

  Perhaps Sophie should have been relieved that her stepmother would never hurt her again. But mostly she just felt … numb. Speechless. Cold and dull. She touched the bandage on her chest.

  The duchess had directed so much evil at Sophie, and now she was dead.

  Sophie shivered and wrapped her hands around her arms, wishing Gabe would come back. She longed for his warmth, for his confident brown eyes that always made her feel safe and loved and wanted.

  But Sophie now realized God was capable of keeping her safe. He’d protected her with her own wooden cross. And God loved her, she knew, from what the Bible and the priest and Gabe said. And because she knew God wanted to heal Gabe of his past hurts, she knew he wanted to heal her too. She just had to let him.

  She turned and went back into the kitchen to start the midday meal.

  She refused to look out the window while she threw herself into her task, baking extra bread and pies and starting a stew for the evening meal. When she finished, she went outside to call the men.

  Apparently the Seven had removed the body — Sophie didn’t care where as long as she didn’t have to see it — and none of them were in sight. But two figures on horseback emerged from the trees near the river. Sophie recognized them at once.

  “Petra! Roslind!” Sophie ran to meet them, almost tripping over her dress in her headlong rush.

  “Sophie!” Roslind cried as she dismounted. “You’re safe. We snuck away as soon as we realized the duchess was truly gone.”

  Petra, who’d begun dismounting as soon as Sophie had come outside, reached Sophie first and threw her arms around her, laughing and crying at the same time.

  Roslind continued. “We prayed for you, and Petra said you would be well, that God would take care of you. Is Gabe here? Did Walther find you? We are quite famished. Do you have any food?”

  Sophie laughed at Roslind’s childlike speech. She hugged both women together, then each of them separately.

  “It’s so wonderful to see you! However did you make it here by yourselves? No, don’t tell me yet. Let me get you inside and feed you!”

  Sophie was already anticipating having her “sister” and her “mother” to confide in. She could hardly wait to get them alone to tell them all that had happened between her and Gabe, and let them know they never had to worry about the duchess’s cruelty again.

  Petra and Roslind helped Sophie carry the food to the table. Before they were finished, Dominyk entered the room, his gaze immediately settling on Petra, and big tears welled up in his eyes.

  Petra stopped what she was doing, a pitcher of milk in her hand, as a smile spread across her face. With a quiet giggle, she set down the pitcher and she and Dominyk met in the middle of the room. Petra leaned over to accomodate Dominyk’s smaller stature and embraced him.

  When they pulled apart, they were both wiping their eyes.

  Numerous questions rushed through Sophie’s head, but it seemed irreverent to break into their private moment.

  Dolf, Bartel, Siggy, Vincz, Gotfrid, and Heinric burst into the room, crowding behind Dominyk as they stopped and stared, open-mouthed, at the spectacle of two additional st
range women in their house, one of whom was hugging their indomitable leader.

  Dominyk blew his nose, rather noisily, into a handkerchief and then turned to his men. “What?” he asked. “Haven’t you ever seen a man hug his sister?”

  The men all coughed and shuffled their feet, but instead of averting their eyes, they continued to stare at the two women.

  “All these years of peace and quiet. Now this.” Gotfrid’s lip curled in disgust, but Sophie saw a glimmer of interest in his eyes.

  Heinric let out a bellow and started toward Roslind, who was standing just behind the table. His eyes remained fixed on Roslind as his grin widened and his arms stretched wide.

  Sophie stepped forward, but she would never be able to intercept him before he reached Roslind. She knew from experience how determined Heinric could be. How would Roslind react to such a welcome? Sophie had known her to dissolve into tears with much less provocation.

  When Heinric had almost reached Roslind, Siggy managed to intercept him, stepping in front of him and locking him in a bear hug.

  Sophie breathed a sigh of relief as Siggy forcefully nudged Heinric away from Roslind, and Vincz and Dolf quickly stepped in to assist and help calm Heinric, speaking to him in placating tones.

  “Gentlemen,” Sophie said, “these are my friends from Hohendorf Castle. This is Roslind.”

  Sophie didn’t miss the look of shy but ardent admiration in Siggy’s eyes as he nodded politely to Roslind, who smiled at the men. Her gaze seemed to lock on Siggy as well. An expression of shy confusion came over her face and she looked down.

  “And this —”

  Sophie was cut off by Dominyk. “This is my sister, Lady Petra Kukelbrecht.”

  Sophie tried to take in his words. Petra was a “lady”? How could that be? She was a cook at the castle.

  From the look on Petra’s face, she was quite uncomfortable with the sudden attention, so Sophie invited everyone to come to the table and partake of the midday meal.

  The table was quieter than usual. Sophie longed to talk to Petra, but she was all the way at the other end of the table sitting by her brother. Together they spoke in hushed tones between bites. Roslind sat to Sophie’s right, but she was unusually silent. Siggy sat across from her, and their eyes met many times — Roslind’s eyes wide, Siggy’s serious and intense.

  Then Dominyk cleared his throat. “Sophie, have you told Petra and Roslind what happened to the duchess?”

  When Sophie shook her head, the table became quite lively as the men explained what had happened — the duchess showing up in disguise, trying to kill Sophie, and then drowning in the river.

  Sophie allowed the men to tell it all. She was glad she no longer had to fear the duchess — that Petra and Roslind no longer had to fear her — but the subject brought up painful memories. Gabe’s words kept going through her mind: Let God heal you.

  Petra, Roslind, and the Seven all speculated what would happen to the village of Hohendorf and the servants who were left at the castle.

  Dominyk said, “King Sigismund will have to be notified. I suppose I should write the letter myself, informing him that Duchess Ermengard has died. And there is the matter of who will inherit the duchy of Hohendorf.”

  Everyone turned to look at Sophie.

  “Me?”

  “You are Duke Baldewin’s only heir,” Petra said gently.

  “But there is no proof that I am she.”

  “He has only my word, then.” Petra sat very straight, holding her head at a regal angle, and she did not look anything like a cook.

  Monks — or men who dwelled in monasteries — were not to be rushed, apparently.

  Gabe prayed for the strength not to strangle his future father-in-law for the fiftieth time. It seemed Baldewin was determined to take his time in quitting his home of fifteen years. After he’d supped the night before, he’d insisted they sleep before departing, and had spent the morning saying formal farewells to every man at the monastery. The process was interrupted many times so the duke could spend several minutes to an hour praying in various alcoves, or at certain graves and tombs. Only after every inch of the grounds had been visited would he even consider the gathering of his belongings. Gabe was exhausted from the waiting.

  How much longer is the man going to take? Doesn’t he want to see his daughter?

  The duke seemed to be stalling. Perhaps he was afraid of what he’d encounter at the cottage.

  Gabe confronted the former duke as they sat down at the long trestle table to break their fast. “Are you afraid your daughter won’t forgive you? Or is there another reason for all these delays?”

  Baldewin gave him a long, unblinking stare. Standing, he was a few inches shorter than Gabe, a rather small man, but he had a stare that would wilt flowers. Gabe began to wish he had prayed for more patience about the man’s slowness rather than goading him.

  “The work of God cannot be rushed. The young are impulsive, eager to take action, but the wise man waits for God’s direction.” The duke turned and stared out the open window behind them.

  He was right, of course. But if they didn’t get back soon, Gabe’s father and brother might reach Sophie before they did and carry her off to Hagenheim. Would his faither insist Sophie marry Valten soon after they arrived? Would she be too intimidated by them to protest?

  Gabe could hardly bear the thought of such a thing. To see Sophie married to his brother, to know he could never have her …

  “I understand how you must feel, sir, but a man sometimes feels a call to action, to act on behalf of those unable to act on their own. Surely you can understand —”

  “I understand. We shall leave directly after breakfast.”

  “Oh, thank you, sir.” Gabe felt such a surge of relief, he almost hugged the man.

  Baldewin frowned. “But not all your urges are from God.” His eyebrows lowered sternly.

  “Yes, sir. Of course not.”

  The man would be as uncomfortable a companion as one might expect his future father-in-law to be.

  That night Sophie, Petra, and Roslind took turns brushing each other’s hair. The two women would bed down in Sophie’s room in the two empty beds, which would be more comfortable than the cots they had slept on at Hohendorf Castle, and much more comfortable than the nights they had slept on the ground as they had made their way to the Cottage of the Seven.

  Sophie had already told the two women about falling in love with Gabe and their plans to marry. “I just don’t know how things will work out.”

  Petra was in the middle of brushing Roslind’s hair when she looked over her shoulder at Sophie. “You must not worry. Gabe is the sort of man who will do anything for the woman he loves.”

  “I know you’re right, Mama Petra. I just wish we could be wedded tomorrow.”

  Roslind sighed. “Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a wedding at this cottage? Everything is much nicer here compared to the castle.”

  Both Sophie and Petra nodded, and Sophie prodded them to tell her about their journey from Hohendorf.

  Roslind, with her usual forthrightness, told of all their hardships and the amazing ways God had provided for them. They hadn’t even seen a wolf the entire time they journeyed, which was quite fortunate. But they had had a close call with a bear, one cold night when they hadn’t been able to find even rudimentary shelter, and the second night, they’d had to go to sleep hungry, but in the end, they arrived at the Cottage of the Seven unscathed.

  The three sat together, their knees touching, on Sophie’s bed.

  Sophie finally asked Petra, “If you are a lady, then who were your parents? And how did you come to at Hohendorf Castle?”

  “I am Baron Kukelbrecht’s daughter. And I came to Hohendorf Castle because I loved your father.”

  Sophie tried not to show too much shock and amazement. When Petra simply stared down at her hands in her lap, Sophie gently said, “Go on.”

  “I knew your father, Duke Baldewin, when we were children. I
was always a bit in love with him. He had blue eyes, just like yours.” She smiled at Sophie, finally looking at her. “He was gentle and kind but also very intense and serious. After his first wife, your mother, died, I met him again at a ball given at Hagenheim Castle. But he was so grief-stricken, he couldn’t talk about anything but her — and you.”

  “My father spoke of me?” Sophie’s voice trembled, and she cleared her throat.

  Petra reached out and stroked Sophie’s cheek. “Yes, of course. He loved you very much.”

  As the pause became longer, Sophie urged, “Go on. You saw him at Hagenheim.”

  “I saw him that one night, and then he left. I couldn’t get him out of my thoughts. Foolishly, I traveled to Hohendorf, just to see him. I hoped … well, I hoped I could get him to fall in love with me.” She stared down at her lap, her head bowed low. “It was an ill-conceived, impulsive plan. No plan at all, when I think about it. I … I had always loved him, and I didn’t want to lose him if there was a chance he might marry me now that his wife had died.” She shook her head. “He was not there when I arrived, and I did not reveal my identity to anyone. I managed to get hired as a cook, even though I knew nothing about preparing a meal. Pinnosa taught me everything I knew after I told her who I was and confided in her I was in love with Duke Baldewin.

  “She and I often took turns helping your nurse take care of you, allowing her to visit her family in the village from time to time. And I loved you, hoping that one day” — her voice became a whisper as her breath caught in her throat — “I might call you my own daughter.” A tear dripped from her eye and fell onto her hand. “But when your father returned a few months later, he had already remarried. Married that fiend, Ermengard.”

  Petra began to sob softly into her hands. “Forgive me,” she said, between sobs, “I am sorry.”

  When Petra’s sobs had subsided and she’d wiped her face with the handkerchief Sophie gave her, Sophie asked, “Why did you stay?”

  “Because I loved him. And I loved you. I was afraid for you both when I realized how insane and cruel your stepmother was. Your father rarely saw me, as I stayed in the kitchen, and I was often so shy around him I averted my face. But when I saw him, I noticed he began to look even more haggard than he had when he’d been grieving your mother. That witch, Ermengard, was killing him, probably poisoning him, or at the very least torturing him with her evil nature. I wanted so much to help him, to help you, but what could I do, short of killing her? Perhaps that would have been the kindest thing I could have done, but I didn’t have the courage.” Petra buried her face in the handkerchief.