Rose found it hard to argue with that.
“Rose, please don’t fight me. I love you and I’m working on a way we can be together.” He held out his hands to her, a pleading look in his eyes.
“I don’t know.” Was it possible her family was already moved in? That they were living in a fine house, much finer than anything they could have imagined affording on her father’s meager living? In her wildest dreams, she had imagined such a thing for her family, but she never believed it possible. Shouldn’t she be thankful? Or should she be angry? Surely if Lord Rupert intended to take advantage of her, he would have already made those intentions known.
No, she would believe the best about him. After all, he said he loved her. Still, it was all terribly shocking, as well as confusing. She’d have to try to sort it out later. “It is very generous of you. Thank you. I should probably be going now.”
Something seemed to have arrested Lord Rupert’s attention. “What is this?” He stared at her bracelet, twisting her wrist to the left and the right. His smile broadened. Slowly, he leaned down and kissed her forehead. His hands slid up her arms and came to rest on her shoulders as he pulled her closer and whispered, “I don’t intend to let you spend your life tending to sick people, having to deal with blood and broken body parts all the time. You’re too good for that, Rose.”
She let herself slip her arms around his waist, resting her hands on his back. She sighed, and the exquisite feeling of being held flowed through her.
After a few moments, Rose pulled back to look up at him. “I’m sorry to go, but I need to return to the castle.”
“Why must you?”
“I don’t want Frau Geruscha to come back and find me gone.”
“Frau Geruscha. I’ll be happy when you are no longer under her thumb. She doesn’t have your best interests at heart, Rose. You’re beginning to realize that, aren’t you?”
Rose found herself staring at his chest. “I truly wish you two could be friends, for my sake.”
Lord Rupert sighed. “For you, Rose, I can be friends with anyone.”
“Thank you.” Rose smiled up at him, relishing the way he looked at her. Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around him again in a tight hug. “Farewell.” She pulled away and started off quickly toward the castle before he could protest.
“Let me walk with you,” he called.
“No. I don’t want anyone to see us returning together.”
He sent her a pouty glower, but Rose simply waved, running up the hill ahead of him.
“Oh, Rose, marriage is wonderful.” Hildy’s face was the picture of bliss as she raised her arms over her head, smiling up at the sky.
“It certainly looks good on you.” A week had passed since Gunther’s expected execution day—which had become their wedding day instead. Rose strolled along between Hildy and Wolfie as they walked to Rose’s parents’ grand new house. It would be Rose’s first visit there.
Hildy proceeded to tell her of the joys to expect when she was married.
“Hildy, I’m not sure you should be telling me this.”
“Of course I should! You’ll want me to tell you all this and more when Lord Rupert asks you to marry him—which shall be any day now.” Hildy smirked. “Then we’ll both be married. Oh, Rose, isn’t it wonderful?”
“I hope so.” The truth was, she did expect him to ask her and thought it would be soon. She was too embarrassed to admit it to Hildy, but she looked forward to being able to enjoy Lord Rupert’s caresses and kisses. What she did not look forward to was his mother’s disapproval. The duchess was certain to be disappointed in her younger son’s choice. She might even try to prevent their marriage.
They reached the clearing in front of her family’s front door and stopped. Hildy faced her. “I predict you shall shortly join the ranks of us old married people.” She gave her a quick hug and hurried away.
Rose pushed the door open and Wolfie poked his nose in. Rose could hear her mother’s hushed voice. Standing in the doorway, Rose blinked until her eyes became accustomed to the dimness of the room. Then she saw her mother in the far corner with her father. Rose heard her name and held her breath, listening.
“She doesn’t intend to marry,” her mother said in a harsh whisper. “She’s said that often enough. Now she’s dallying with Lord Rupert and you know what people are saying about her and about us. She has no respect for us, the people who took her in and raised her. It makes me want to shake her by the neck to think that she’s not even our own child, but after all we’ve done for her she refuses to do as we ask.”
Rose concentrated on the words. Surely she had heard incorrectly. Not their child? She listened as her father’s voice answered.
“Don’t speak so. Rose has a right to choose her own husband. It’s the law of the Church. Without her consent, the marriage can be annulled.”
“Don’t you think I know that? She could and should consent, but if I know her stubbornness and pride, she won’t, just as she refused Peter Brunckhorst.”
“For which we should be grateful, as it turns out.”
“We don’t know how it turned out. He disappeared. Perhaps if she had accepted him—”
Rose couldn’t listen to any more. She turned around, not caring if her parents—if such they were—heard her, went out the door, and began to run. Her stomach burned as if she’d swallowed a lit torch. Her vision misted over as she struggled to take in the revelation.
Apparently her mother had found another marriage prospect for her and was angry at the thought that Rose would probably not accept him. Well, she was right about that. But now Rose understood her mother’s long-time resentment of her. Her mother had not given her birth, had not even wanted her.
Wolfie galloped by her side as she ran toward the castle. When she arrived, she found Frau Geruscha refilling some flasks with herbs. Rose crossed her arms, standing in the doorway of the storage room. Her breath came hard and fast and her heart pounded uncomfortably against her chest.
“Did you know that I am not Thomas Roemer’s daughter?”
The leather flask slipped from Frau Geruscha’s fingers and fell to the floor, spilling the dried leaves in a wide arc around her feet. Slowly she turned. Her face looked as if it were made of stone.
“What makes you say that?”
“I overheard my mother saying—” Rose’s voice cracked. Neither of them spoke as Rose’s mind raced through all the times in her life that she had felt like an outsider in her own home. She didn’t look like anyone else in the family. No one ever compared her to an aunt or cousin as they did her younger sisters. Why had Rose never thought of it before? She didn’t belong to them—and her mother didn’t want her and resented everything she had ever done for her.
“Did you know?” Rose demanded.
“How could I know? What did you hear?”
Was it Rose’s imagination, or had Frau Geruscha’s face grown ashen?
“My mother said I wasn’t their daughter.” Rose stared at the stone floor. “She doesn’t love me…never loved me.”
Frau Geruscha said nothing.
Rose rubbed angrily at the tears in her eyes. If she was not Thomas Roemer’s daughter, then who was she? The illegitimate child of a prostitute? The orphan of someone who had succumbed to the Great Pestilence? It must have been an indigent family, since she had been pushed off on a poor woodcutter. And they didn’t want me, either.
Rose ran up to her room.
For four days Rose thought constantly about her mother’s words. Her father wasn’t her father, her siblings weren’t her siblings, and her mother wasn’t her mother and had never wanted her. She felt unloved, a castoff, an orphan. Even as a baby, had she been so unworthy of love? She couldn’t bear the questions inside her, and she decided to confront her father with what she had learned.
Rose headed out with Wolfie into the forest. She inquired about her father’s whereabouts from another woodcutter and his son. She found him not far away, choppin
g steadily at a large beech tree.
“Father? May I speak with you?”
He looked up. “Of course, Rose.” He placed the ax head on the ground and leaned on the handle. “Your mother sent you a message four nights ago saying she wanted to talk to you. Have you been well? We haven’t heard from you.”
Rose took a deep breath. “Father, I know I’m not your daughter. I want to know who my parents are and how you came to raise me. And why did you never tell me?”
A flicker of pain had crossed his face as Rose spoke. When she finished, he sighed. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to know. I wanted you to always be my daughter. And you are my daughter, just as much as my other children.”
“But Mother doesn’t feel that way, does she?”
He gave her a disapproving look. As always, certain topics were forbidden. One shouldn’t even think about them, and to talk about them was worse.
Rose felt the tears gathering behind her eyes. But she didn’t care. She was determined to say what she had come to say, even if she had to choke the words out.
“I know what my mother wants. She wants me to marry a man who will improve her children’s status and prospects.” Angry tears spilled down her cheeks. “But you can tell her I’m not interested in anyone she tries to foist me off on.”
“Now, Rose, that’s disrespectful and you know it. She raised you from a baby—”
“Who were my real mother and father? I think I have a right to know that, at least.”
Thomas shook his head. “I know not.” Rose waited, but he said nothing more.
“Why don’t you know? Did you find me on the road? In the woods? Under a chicken coop?”
He gave Rose another severe look. “No, but it doesn’t matter, Rose. You needed a home and I was happy to take you in. Your mother and I both were. We thought she was barren.”
“So when she discovered she was with child, she began to wish she hadn’t taken me.” The tears came faster.
“Rose!”
The emotion in her chest rose higher and higher. If she had to listen to one more of his unsatisfying answers, to his scolding tone and see his disapproving look, she would explode. She had to be alone, to sob out the huge weight in her chest. She turned to go.
“Rose, wait.”
Rose shook her head and ran.
A few mornings later, in Frau Geruscha’s chambers, Lord Rupert stopped talking and looked annoyed. “What’s the matter, Rose? Are you ill?”
“No.” Rose gave him a smile. “I’m sorry. Only having a little trouble with my mother. It’s nothing. Go ahead and tell me about your hunting trip.”
“There is something else I need to discuss with you.” He lowered his voice. A glimmer of excitement shone in his eyes, and something she’d never seen before. Was it nervousness? She hadn’t known he was capable of the emotion.
“Rose, you know by now that I love you,” he whispered. He leaned close to her ear, keeping an eye on the storage room where Frau Geruscha was working. “I need to talk to you. Can you meet me later?”
“Later?”
“Please, Rose. Something has been decided. I don’t want to talk about it here. I need to ask you something very important. Your answer,” he said slowly and deliberately, “will determine my future joy.”
The solemn expression of his eyes fascinated her. “Where do you want to meet?”
“In the rose garden.”
“I’ll try to meet you this evening, a few minutes before vespers.”
Lord Rupert smiled. He leaned down slowly, covered one side of her face with his hand, and Rose knew he meant to kiss her. She didn’t move. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips against hers.
The thrill of her first real kiss sent a tingle all the way down to her toes. Her heart tripped at the thought of Geruscha suddenly coming in and seeing them.
Lord Rupert pulled away, a tender gleam in his eye. He leaned in and kissed her again, then ran his fingertips along her cheekbone.
“Until this evening.” He stood and left.
Rose lifted her hand to her face, cherishing the lingering sensation of his touch. She closed her eyes. What could Lord Rupert possibly have to ask her? What, except those much-longed-for words—Will you marry me?
Unbidden, Lord Hamlin’s face appeared before her eyes.
What was wrong with her? She had to forget about him, stop wondering what he was doing every day, stop wishing to tell him every time something good or bad happened to her. Anyway, he would be married, to his precious Lady Salomea, in a few months.
She closed her eyes and imagined marrying Lord Rupert. She had a few misgivings about his attitude toward certain things—responsibility, for instance—but if what Hildy had said about marriage was true, she would be able to overlook all of his faults.
Chapter
19
Rose anxiously waited for six o’clock to draw near. In order to get away without raising Frau Geruscha’s suspicions, she planned to make an excuse about having to visit her parents. Their new home was very near the castle gatehouse, and she would visit her parents, but only to leave Wolfie with her sisters. She thought Lord Rupert would appreciate being completely alone with her when he asked her to marry him. After he asked her, she would go back to her parents’ to fetch Wolfie and tell them the happy news, that she would soon marry the most coveted man in the region of Hagenheim.
Maybe her mother—the only mother she had ever known—would finally be proud of her.
Frau Geruscha approached her. “Rose, I’ve wanted to talk to you about what you said about your parents.”
Not now. She needed to leave soon. “Yes, Frau Geruscha?”
“Rose, sit down.” They both sat on the bench. “I know it must have been devastating to learn that you were not born to your father and mother. But that fact doesn’t mean they don’t love you.”
Rose stared out the window at some clouds and patches of blue sky. “I understand that.”
“You are a wonderful maiden, with excellent qualities, virtues, and talents.”
So you’ve told me before.
“It doesn’t matter who your parents are. That doesn’t determine your worth, Rose.”
“According to the wisdom of the world, it does.”
“But not according to God’s wisdom.”
Rose spoke softly. “I know that.” Do we have to talk about this now?
“Your father loves you very much, and you have always been a blessing to him. You owe your parents love and respect, but you don’t owe it to your mother to marry a rich husband. You don’t have to marry anyone, Rose. You can stay here with me, helping me with my work.”
Rose looked into her eyes. Would Frau Geruscha be hurt if Rose said she wanted to marry instead of becoming the next healer? “I know you don’t want me to marry…”
“It isn’t that, my dear. I do want you to marry—to marry the person you love, who loves you in return.”
Could she mean Lord Rupert? She sighed in happy relief. “Thank you for saying that.”
Frau Geruscha patted her hand and smiled. “All right, child.”
“May I go for a visit now, to my parents’ home?”
Frau Geruscha looked surprised. “Of course.”
“Thank you, Frau Geruscha. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” Rose ran toward the door, and Wolfie jumped up and followed her.
“Be careful, Rose.”
Rose’s sisters, Agathe and Dorothye, met her when she opened the door. “Rose! Wolfie!” they squealed, throwing their arms first around Rose’s neck, then around the dog’s.
“Listen. Can you keep Wolfie here for a little while? I’ll be back to fetch him before bedtime.”
They nodded, their words tumbling over one another. “Come back, I have something to show you.” “Me too.” “Hurry back, Rose!”
Rose gave them each a kiss on the cheek and scurried away. She paused in the street just long enough to pull her bracelet from her pocket and fas
ten it onto her wrist.
The iron gate to the rose garden hung ajar. Shadows stretched long as the sun hung low in the west. Her heart fluttered. She opened the gate and walked in, shutting it behind her.
Lord Rupert stood in front of a huge red rose bush, the vines of which covered the wall behind him, studding the gray wall with dark red roses. His eyes glinted. A jaunty smile on his face, he stepped forward, took her hands, and led her to the iron bench.
He spoke with fervor, gazing into her eyes. “Rose, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”
Her heart jumped inside her. His ice-blue eyes held her prisoner in the glimmer of twilight.
“You see,” he said, turning her hand over and playing with her fingers, “the Bishop of Hagenheim died two days ago.”
“Oh?” What does that have to do with us?
Lord Rupert stared down at her fingers. “My father has granted me what I’ve always wanted, Rose.” He looked up. His pale blue eyes pleaded with her, giving Rose a strange feeling of foreboding.
“Is something wrong?”
“I’m asking you to become my wife, Rose, in spirit, because we won’t be allowed a legal wedding. My father has appointed me to be the new bishop.”
In spirit? Rose instantly understood his meaning. The breath rushed out of her. She jerked her hands out of his grasp.
He spoke quickly, his voice taking on an authoritative tone. “But we will be no less married, Rose. You know as well as I do that the Church’s doctrine against priests marrying is unfair and unbiblical. Rose—”
She recoiled from him, leaning back against the armrest of the bench. Her stomach twisted in horror. It was as though a curtain had been pulled and she now saw him as a vile, traitorous snake instead of the tender lover of mere moments before.
“Rose, truly, no one will think of you as anything other than my wife. You will be respected—”
“Stop it.” Rose’s voice came out raspy and foreign, even to her own ears. “I will not be your mistress. Never.” She stood, clenching her fists in defiance. “I will not be anyone’s mistress, do you hear me?”
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