The Lost Lady

by Amelia Brown

  In a voice barely above a whisper, Luveday recounted what she could. Emmalyn blinked back tears as she related the story to those in the room. Only a few people were allowed in the small chamber, but many made periodic trips to stand outside her door to wait, watch and listen.

  Emmalyn quietly told the girl what they had pieced together for themselves over the two days that Luveday had drifted in and out of wakefulness since they found her in the wool shed.

  “Henna and Paige found you on the floor of the shed. Henna ran to the kitchens, where Sir Fuller and Agnes helped to carry you back inside.” Emmalyn swallowed past the lump in her throat and gratefully accepted the cup of water that was given to her. Taking a sip, she helped Luveday drink before continuing her tale, he eyes moving away from the finger-shaped bruises that marred her neck. “Henna remembered seeing two men hurry away from the shed. She remembered them as Sumerland’s men, though the girls have not had much to do around the two.” She glanced at Sir Fuller who rested just inside the open door, frowning as he continued to growl under his breath. “It was only after we had brought you upstairs that anyone thought of finding…” Ellie burst into the room and squeezed her way up to rest behind Emmalyn who paused until the girl was settled. “Sir John and Fuller went after them, but they snuck away before nightfall.”

  Cassandra continued when her friend could not. “Mistress Adela has kept Lady Christabel in her rooms, but the castle knows who was at fault here. That woman will pay.” The ice in her tone was mirrored by everyone in the room.

  Emmalyn nodded in agreement, and Luveday momentarily wondered why she couldn’t drum up enough energy to protest. Deep down she knew that they would not hurt the girl, but Luveday knew all too well how miserable they could make the pampered courtesan.

  Several days passed in a haze of pain and foul-smelling ointments. Luveday was grateful for her mentor’s skill, and no one seemed to grow weary of the constant need to renew the medicines. No one spoke of how badly she was injured, only to say that it was bad and turn pale. Under the concern was a smidge of pity and Luveday knew, without asking, that she would bare lasting scars.

  By the time the messenger arrived Luveday was recovered enough that she could sit propped up in bed, though still careful to avoid any contact with her back. The bruise on her face had been treated as well and was now a slight purple discoloration under her left eye. In the potted mercury glass of Emmalyn’s mirror, it looked as if she had had a few restless nights and not been backhanded in the face.

  Apprehension and a dark expectation settled over the castle as they awaited the lord’s imminent return. No one stopped Lady Christabel and Adela as they took only what they could carry on their horses and fled for the Abbey. Even the women had no illusions that this was an escape. Iain would come for them, it was only a matter of time, but Adela knew it was only holding off the inevitable for a little while. Her lady had done something unforgivable in her spite.

  The castle prepared, knowing that De Lane and his men had fought long and hard in the King’s service. His people wanted to give their Lord all that he deserved on his triumphant return, though what had transpired within the keep did a good deal to dim their enthusiasm.

  Emmalyn had dreaded Iain’s return, yet wanted the foolish Christabel to feel what she had done to a sweet and innocent lady. Cold, burnt meals and unwashed clothes were not enough in anyone’s estimation as Christabel hid in the sanctuary of her rooms. She was glad that they had fled, Emmalyn could not think of a way to tell her nephew what had happened without the full force of his rage being directed at the girl. It was clear to many that Iain had no feeling for the girl, but was bound by his oaths and the King’s decree and unfortunately, it would take something more than this to void such an agreement.

  When the time came, Emmalyn waited in the solar rather than meet him in the bailey. There was no way that her nephew could look at her and not know that something was terribly wrong, and she wanted privacy for what she had to tell the boy.

  For the first time in several days, Luveday’s room was clear of people, all except Henna who was charged with looking after her. The commotion of the castle suddenly kicked up as echoes traveled up the stairs and in through the open door. It was no surprise that she was left here. Emmalyn had confided her fears, not knowing how Iain would react to this dreadful news, but knowing that it would go badly and very badly for the lady responsible.

  Luveday had finally found some of her compassion, but only after Adela had snuck in to whisper her deepest apologies. Christabel had stood at the door for only an instant, long enough to see the mess that was Luveday’s back and gasp in horror before returning to her room. Luveday didn’t understand what the girl had been thinking, but she knew that it was Sir Peter who held the real blame and not a spiteful girl.

  Iain’s deep laugh echoed down the hall as he carried his belongings to his room, not knowing what was ahead.

  Luveday struggled to her feet as pain radiated through her. Her back felt as if it were made of leather, there was no give to muscle and sinew that had once been supple and able to bend. Henna gasped in horror, protesting, but eventually helped the lady dressed in a simple gown. “Luveday what are you thinking? Emmalyn said you should stay in bed a few more days. Lady, you are going to tear open wounds that have only just healed.”

  The room rocked a moment until Luveday could steady herself. She knew Henna was right, but she also knew, knew without a shadow of a doubt that she needed to be in the solar at that moment.

  Henna steadied her but holding her elbow as she made the short journey to the solar door. She didn’t know that traversing a dozen, or so feet could be so hard, but she locked her jaw and refused to show just how much pain she was in. Reminding herself how bad it had been that first few days helped. Knowing she could survive that made the pain she was in now a little easier to bare.

  Somehow, she made it into the solar and stood before Iain. A sense of calm came over her as a weight was lifted that she hadn’t realized she bore. With him here she felt safe and hadn’t known until that moment how badly her own peace of mind had been broken. Pale and shaken, yet now better able to stand there, Luveday smiled for the first time in days, a true smile that was more than a half-hearted attempt to reassure her friends. It was a smile with more emotion than she could imagine and one that shocked Emmalyn and Agnes into silence and their injured friend moved closer to their lord who had yet to fully grasp the situation.

  Iain was bone weary and happy to be home. He had taken the ribbing from his men that he was getting soft, but it had been nearly two months since he had slept in a proper bed and had a good meal at a proper table. He was eager to get home, and if he admitted it to himself, eager to see his people and his family. Especially one stubborn woman who had never been far from his thoughts since they last parted.

  People met them in the bailey, but Iain spared only a thought that it was odd that Emmalyn and Luveday were not there to greet him. He assumed they were busy, no doubt preparing something for him and his men and the thought warmed his heart against the winter chill.

  Inside the men rumbled and laughed as they walked like old men, stiff from too many hours in the saddle, but none had complained when they pushed through rather than stopping to rest. Home and comfort awaited.

  Coll ran amuck, happy to be reunited with his friend, Gus. The boy didn’t know if he was coming or going, so Iain carried his own bags up to the solar. The subdued greetings and expectant looks didn’t really register to his tired mind, though something nagged at him as he was told that his aunt awaited him in the solar. He hoped that Luveday and a hot bath awaited him, and he quickened his steps.

  No bath and no Luveday. He banked the sudden disappointment and only half noticed the look on his aunt’s face. He busied himself with unpacking a few things, trying to contain the growing sense of dread that was building. He had seen that look before. It was the day that news had finally arrived, and his elder brother was dead.

 
He turned around sharply at her stuttering words. She couldn’t seem to say whatever it was she needed to say, and that was so unlike the elegant and dignified woman that panic raced through him.

  The door opened, and Iain thought he might pass out from the lightheaded relief that he felt. Luveday stood just inside the door and smiled at him. It was a peculiar smile, but he felt it from the top of his head to the soles of his feet. He turned away, pulling the small gifts from his satchel as he took a moment to find his bearings.

  Emmalyn gasp as she stared at her friend, but Iain had eyes only for Luveday, noticing that she looked a little pale in the dim winter light pouring through the open window.

  He found himself talking, suddenly unable to deal with whatever his aunt was about to say, he focused on delivering the items he was charged with and wished, not for the first time, that he had something more to give her. “Lady Luveday. Good morrow.” She smiled a bit wider at his happy tone. “I come bearing gifts from your great admirers.” He was only half joking, and only willing to deliver the tokens since the men that gave them to him were happily married or very soon to be. A true admirer would have no doubt found his fist to be the definitive answer to such a request. “John, Duke of Orland, Thomas Morris, the Earl of Pembroke, Lord James Frasier, Lord Henry Blackthorn, Lord Grayson Stern, Sir Marcus Drake and Sir Lionel Wick send their most esteemed thanks and these tokens of gratitude to the fair Lady Luveday, healer and fairest champion of King Edward the third, of Anora.” Iain bowed with a flourish and offered the lady a satchel solely dedicated to the bits and bobbles he’d carried for her.

  Emmalyn gasp again as a hand flew over her mouth. Luveday approached slowly, and Iain saw how tired she looked, but the happiness that lit up her face was beyond beautiful. The lady sighed but didn’t take the bag from him. “They made it then. All the men recovered, even Frasier.” In true Luveday fashion, she was pleased by the news of their recovery and the bag was forgotten.

  Luveday swayed a bit on her feet, but Iain thought it was only a physical reaction to her own relief. He only had a moment to glance over her golden head and see that Agnes, Sir Fuller, and Sir Gregori stood crowded in the doorway before he moved. Their concerned expressions didn’t penetrate his happy bubble until it was too late. He couldn’t remember the happy word that tumbled from his lips as he grabbed her too him in a fierce hug, but he would never forget the scream that rent the air and tore through him as she collapsed in his arms.

  While his aunt gave out orders, Iain moved the lady to his bed. “No don’t lay her on her back, boy. Roll her over.” She looked to Agnes. “We’ll have to cut the gown off her.”

  Henna came in with Ellie and Benedict as the room suddenly filled with people. “I didn’t tie it up proper, we should be able to remove it without cutting this one. I wouldn’t want her to lose another gown.”

  They were able to get the garments off quickly and without causing her too much harm.

  Iain and the men hovered nearby asking periodic questions that were ignored for the most part. All the focus was on Luveday. When Cassandra arrived, panic filled the men’s eyes. Everyone moved out of Cass’s way, even Emmalyn who was an ashen color. Iain followed in her wake and his men with him. What they saw he couldn’t fathom.

  Cassandra removed the linen from around Luveday’s hips and the wrap from her shoulders that held the main bandage in place. The material conformed to her skin thanks to the ointments and pastes that were healing her. Removing the last piece of material, the damage was clear. Even after a few days the lacerations and welts were still closing. Her small back was severely bruised, and blood leaked from the high ridges where the whip had laid open her skin.

  Iain turned white as a ghost as his stomach lurched. Benedict turned away to lose the contents of his stomach in the empty piss pot. Gregori swore a stream that should have been unfamiliar to a monk, before praying for her quick recovery.

  In a voice no one had ever heard from their lord, Iain turned to Emmalyn and Sir Fuller. “Tell me who did this.”

  Warmth cocooned her in a happy bubble as she floated along. Someone gently brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and behind her ear. She would have done it herself, but it took too much effort, and she had no wish to endanger this fragile place she was in. Voices carried from far away as the warmth suddenly left, her back exposed. The calming voice above her turned deep and harsh as it swore a blue streak not fit for a lady’s ears. It was the mix of banked fury and unspeakable pain that made Luveday force her mind away from the tranquilizing fog of the painkiller Cassandra had given her to seek out the cause of Iain’s distress.

  Opening her eyes had become easier, Luveday noted the fact and wondered if she was becoming immune to the opiate-like concoction or if Cassandra was diluting the doses. It crossed her mind that the later was a good idea. Luveday had no wish to become addicted to the stuff, and coming off a drug that powerful was not going to be a pleasant experience. Thinking a moment, she didn’t feel addicted, she felt like she was able to think a little clearer than she had been for a while.

  “Easy lass.” Cassandra’s soft voice issued from somewhere above her. Luveday was getting tired of always laying on her stomach. The position made it hard to do anything, especially see and participate in what was going on around her. A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and she settled back into the bed. Cass was changing the dressings again, ready to see what damage her foolishness had caused.

  Luveday belatedly realized that she was not back in her little cell of a room, but resting comfortably in the warmth of the lord’s bed and momentarily panicked. She didn’t want to be nearly naked in Iain’s bed, but then again, it wasn’t as if she had gotten here willingly. She realized Iain must have put her there and was calmed by the fact that he could move her at any time.

  The door closed, and the women were left in silence as they cared for her back. Emmalyn commented that Sir Templeton had returned from the abbey. It was confirmed that her two male assailants had fled to town.

  Sometime later as she drifted on the remains of the pain killer, Iain appeared at her side. She had enough strength to turn towards him. It was enough to look at each other for a while. Iain’s thumb brushed her cheek as the hard line of his mouth turned down at the corners. It was clear that he knew the discoloration was a bruise and not there from lack of sleep. There was a stillness about him that was not usually present, and it took Luveday a moment to realize that he was keeping himself in check with a tremendous amount of control. Luveday hesitated to think of what he would do to Christabel’s men when he found them. She remembered the rage that had consumed him when she was attacked in the healing tent. Something told her that what she was sensing now was a more powerful emotion.

  “Go easy on her,” Luveday whispered.

  The gentle stroking of her hand stopped. “I beg your pardon?” He seemed to choke over the words.

  “Lady Christabel.” He growled at the name. “You must go easy on her.”

  He swore under his breath, but there was little room between them to hide his slip. “Luveday.” Her name was spoken like a plea, full of exasperation and retribution.

  Luveday realized what she asked of him, but the lady didn’t deserve the full force of his anger, and since the guards had vanished, the girl was the only available outlet for Iain’s wrath. “She didn’t hurt me, Iain. She wasn’t even there…”

  “No, Luveday. She does not deserve your mercy.” He whispered harshly, and she quieted, looking him steadily in the eye. He sighed, wary. “I will not harm the lady.” He admitted begrudgingly. The corners of her mouth turned up, it was all the smile she could muster.

  Her hand unerringly found his, to lay atop it in gratitude. “Thank you.” More worried for him, than by what he would do to his betrothed. Luveday knew he was a good man, but anger could cloud good judgment, and Iain’s anger was a storm that raged below his skin. She feared that the one to be hurt would be him.

  His hand moved to hold her o
wn, squeezing it gently. “Do not thank me, Luveday.” He looked at her. “I am not a man who would beat a woman, but have no doubt, Christabel will have to answer for her actions.”

  Someone knocked on the door and stuck their head inside. Iain rose clearly tired and left to have a conversation beyond her hearing. Luveday moved back into a comfortable position, she could hear someone on the other side of the room. The hummed tune was a favorite of Henna’s, and with that small mystery solved, her thoughts turned inward. How quickly so many things had changed, she thought as she pondered how these events would influence the ones to come.

  Chapter 12

  The devil’s most devilish when respectable.

  ~ Elizabeth Barrett Browning

  Luveday recovered remarkably well, she bore a few small scars on her back and carried a few more that couldn’t be seen, and would take much longer to heal.

  Luveday spent two nights in the solar, in Iain’s bed accompanied by one of the ladies. The lord slept on a pallet before the raised hearth. He came and went throughout the day, never gone for more than a few hours. The stories of what had transpired since they last met were humorous tales of camp life, and routing Sterling’s men. Luveday was happy that he came to entertain her but worried about their growing closeness. By the time she was able to sit up and walk assisted down the stairs, Christabel had been brought back from the abbey.

  Christabel returned a subdued and quiet young lady. Luveday made no fuss and tried her best to treat the girl politely. The castle was cold toward the court lady, though they followed Luveday’s example and treated her with a polite detachment. Mistress Adela was accepted back into the fold, but even she knew to tread warily, for many knew that Lord Iain’s mercy had its limits.