by M. J. Haag
My sister opened her eyes and looked at me. In that moment, I saw my mother in her expression.
“Do not let your temper blind you from seeing all of the truth, not just part of it.”
“What does that mean?”
She exhaled softly.
“Mother had secrets. I’m not sure what they were. But, they had something to do with our births. Haven’t you ever wondered why we live here on the king’s land?”
“Someone needs to watch for poachers and keep an eye on the retreat.”
“Father is a businessman. A merchant. He isn’t a groundskeeper. And he pays Hugh to keep these grounds, not the king’s.”
“What are you saying?”
“That there might be more happening than we understand, and acting rashly out of some misguided attempt at retribution could see us torn apart.”
Now, I understood. She’d known all along that Mother’s death had been unnatural and had kept quiet because quiet was safe. It kept us safe.
Her fingers threaded through mine.
“You promised,” she said softly. “Forever.”
With Judith’s absence looming in my mind, I nodded slowly, fearing my promise would be our undoing.
“I will search no more.”
“Thank you.”
I took my time reading the spines of the books, looking for a title that sounded interesting. When I found an intriguing one, I plucked it from the shelf and opened to the first page.
“There needs to be a better way to determine what a book is about,” Kellen said, snapping hers closed.
“Ask Mr. Bentwell,” I said with a smirk. “He knows every book in here so well. He will tell you about them for hours if you asked.”
“You’re a horrible sister,” Kellen said without any rancor.
My grin widened.
“Is there anything I can help you ladies find?” Mr. Bentwell called from his desk in the corner.
“No, thank you, Mr. Bentwell,” Kellen said with a gracious smile. “We do so enjoy browsing the selection on our own. One never knows what will inspire the mind.”
I had to turn my back to hide my mirth. She’d used his own quote against him. The scholar loved his books. He lent them out for a coin or two to those who had earned his trust. Mother first introduced us to Mr. Bentwell years ago when Kellen and I were still missing our front teeth and just learning our letters. Back when Mother still left the house occasionally.
My humor faded, and I closed the book.
“Actually, Mr. Bentwell,” I said turning, “I could use your guidance. Grief eats at me, and I wish to escape to another place. Somewhere happier. Lighter. Can you recommend such a book?”
He looked at me with an understanding light in his eyes.
“I have just such a book about a maid who frees a man from a curse. It’s not commonly borrowed, which is a shame. It’s a lovely book with pretty drawings.”
He stood from his desk and shuffled toward the shelves just to his right where he kept his favorite volumes. Neither Kellen nor I usually browse there for fear of a lengthy conversation. Today, a distraction was just what I needed, though.
Judith had never returned yesterday. Or this morning. Seeing Mother die had been a blow I never wished to repeat. Yet, the ignorance of Judith’s fate continued to wear at me, unraveling my thoughts and creating a deeper grief that restlessly prodded my imagination to conjure every possible demise she might have met.
Mr. Bentwell suddenly plucked a tome from the shelves, jarring me from the darkening spiral of my thoughts.
“Here you are,” he said. “I was terribly aggrieved to hear of your mother’s passing. Please accept my sympathies.” He plucked another volume from his shelf and handed it to me. “Give this one to your sister. I hope I’ll see both of you again soon.”
And with that, we were summarily dismissed from his shop.
Kellen hooked her arm through mine and tugged me away, likely before Mr. Bentwell could change his mind and start talking.
“He’s sweet,” I said when the door closed behind us.
“He is,” she agreed.
We walked for a time toward the market.
“I hate town,” Kellen said. “But I find I have no desire to return home, either. I’m a person without a proper place.”
I briefly set my head on her shoulder, not an easy task given her four-inch height deficiency.
“I feel the same. These books will help. I do think we should also look at the paints. We have too much idle time on our hands. Our minds need distraction,” I said, quoting our mother.
“Painting is a far more sensible suggestion than gatherings and cakes,” she said, patting my head before lightly pushing me away.
I grinned just as Alfie stepped from the shadows. He froze when he saw us. We did the same.
For a moment, his eyes narrowed, and I wondered how I would ever explain a damaged book’s spine to Mr. Bentwell when Alfie’s expression cleared.
“I have no intention of courting either of you,” he said with barely concealed anger. “My actions weren’t some concealed attraction. I don’t like you. It’s that simple.”
“Look, Kellen. Asses truly can speak. I can’t say it’s an improvement over the braying, though.”
“I quite agree,” Kellen said.
Instead of bristling, Alfie gave us a shallow bow.
“I shall do my best to avoid you shrews and would appreciate the same courtesy.”
“With pleasure,” I said.
He turned on his heel and stomped away.
“Why is it he doesn’t like us?” I asked.
“It was probably that time you—”
“Don’t say it,” I said, remembering.
“—spit the ale in his face in front of his friends.”
I shook my head. Kellen and I had snuck away from Mother during one of our jaunts into town and wandered too close to Alfie’s family alehouse. I’d just picked up a discarded tankard curious to taste what everyone was drinking when Kellen had whispered in my ear, “What if it’s cat piss?”
My sister’s pranks, while entertaining, often saw me in trouble. However, that time, the prank had doomed both of us. Those words and Alfie’s unfortunate timing had apparently sealed a lifelong hatred.
“I couldn’t have timed that better if I had tried,” she said.
“I’m still of a mind that you had tried.”
She grinned, showing a rare glimpse of humor, and we made our way back to the wagon where Hugh waited.
“Finished?” he asked, his gaze missing its usual humor.
“Yes,” Kellen said, settling onto the seat beside him.
The ride home was swift and quiet under grey skies. I’d hoped to read outside to avoid whichever guest Maeve entertained in the sitting room; however, rain started to fall just as the wagon rolled into the yard. Kellen and I held the books to our chests and ran for the kitchen door.
Anne looked up from her place by the fire. She’d been sitting quietly, staring into the flames.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “What if Judith went to her family?”
Kellen and I shared a glance. Judith would have said something, not just up and left. However, Anne, like the rest of us, was struggling to understand what had happened to Judith. We all needed answers.
“Perhaps,” Kellen said. “It’s a few hours ride, correct?”
Anne nodded.
“We can send Hugh to check,” I said, setting my book on the table.
I left the kitchen, pulling up my hood to run through the light rain to the shed where Hugh stayed. Barely inside the doors, I heard something. It was like a thump of flesh against something. I frowned and slowed my steps, wondering if I should retreat or announce my presence. I did neither.
Creeping forward, I peered through the cracks between the boards separating Hugh’s quarters from the carriage house. I saw Hugh hitting a post repeatedly. He stopped suddenly and hung his head.
“I need
you. End my torment and return to me.”
I covered my mouth in surprise. Judith had been close to my mother’s age. Close to Maeve’s age. Hugh was several years younger, nearer Kellen and me than Judith. I’d never considered that they might have had feelings for one another.
Retreating to the door, I called out for Hugh.
“Just a moment,” he called back.
When he appeared, his anguish was well-hidden.
“Anne suggested that we check with Judith’s family. Would you be willing to ride there today, despite the rain?”
“Have you spoken to Maeve about this?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“We still have a visitor. Please Hugh. Judith means so much to us all.”
He ran a hand through his hair, and I saw his raw knuckles but didn’t comment.
“The rain is likely to get heavier. As much as I want to go, it would be foolish to risk the horse if she truly is there. I will leave as soon as the weather clears. Please let Maeve know of our plans.”
He turned and closed himself back inside his room. With a heavy heart, I ran to the house to share the news with the others. Hugh’s love for Judith, I kept to myself.
Chapter Nine
“Don’t be greedy,” I said, scolding the fattest hen in the yard.
I threw more grain to the others and she ran to the new pile.
A sound from the shed drew my attention, and I watched as Hugh led out one of our horses. After two days of rain, I’d woken to peer out the window at a clear sky. Although dawn had barely been on the horizon, I’d rushed to dress and do my chores so I would be in the yard for Hugh’s departure.
“Are you leaving, then?” I asked.
He nodded.
Shaking out my apron, I went to him as he mounted. The horse nuzzled into my palm, likely hoping for a treat, when I reached out to pet her nose.
“A safe journey to both of you,” I said.
Hugh looked at the house for a moment before meeting my gaze.
“I will return before dinner.” With that, he clucked to the horse, and the pair left the yard at a steady trot.
Chores finished, I returned to the house and crept back upstairs where Kellen still slept. We’d both stayed up far too late, reading by candlelight. She’d finished her book by the time the candle went out. I had a few more pages to mine and settled in to read. However, the story ended far too quickly, and I said farewell to the distraction. It had been a welcome one during the rain.
Closing the book, I watched my sister sleep and wondered what we would do today to keep ourselves occupied.
With Hugh gone, a ride into town for a new book wouldn’t be feasible. Although there was another horse and Kellen and I both knew how to ride, I didn’t think riding double while in our mourning garb would portray an image of which Maeve would approve.
“What are you thinking?” Kellen asked without opening her eyes.
“That I don’t like when you do that.”
She grinned lightly and looked at me.
“Did you finish your book?”
“Yes. I saw Hugh off this morning.”
“Ah.”
She rose for the day, and I accompanied her to the kitchen where we ate a quiet breakfast.
“I was thinking I would take the pig for a walk to hunt for more truffles,” Anne said. “After all that rain, we should find a good amount. The mushrooms would go well in a stew with some of the venison in the cold storage.”
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can do it.”
Anne shook her head.
“It would do me some good to leave the quiet of the kitchen.”
We watched her take her cloak and walk out. The door had barely closed when the one leading to the dining room opened.
“Good morning, girls,” Maeve said. She went straight to the board and took the egg Anne had waiting for her. “Did you sleep well? I thought I saw light from your room just before I fell asleep.”
“We stayed up late reading,” Kellen said. “The story was too intriguing to put aside.”
Maeve smiled as she joined us.
“I do love a good story. Do you plan to return to town today for another?”
“Hugh left this morning,” I said.
“I see. Tomorrow, then,” she said with a kind smile. “Where is Anne this morning?”
“She took the pig for a walk. She’s looking for truffles.”
Maeve frowned.
“Alone?”
I felt my stomach dip and glanced at Kellen. Why hadn’t we thought of that?
“The pig is quite large and much slower than Anne. If something is out there looking for a feast, I’m sure it will be the pig and not Anne who suffers,” Kellen said, taking my hand and giving it an encouraging squeeze.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Maeve said. “Forget I said anything.”
Outside, we heard the sound of a carriage. Maeve sighed and pushed aside her half-eaten egg.
“I will see you two at dinner. If you need me, you know where I’ll be.”
I nodded and watched her go.
“Do you think we should help her today?” I asked.
“Help her to do what? She’s more skilled at social niceties than we are. If we went in there, we’d likely say something that would give the gossips exactly what they want.”
I knew Kellen was right but still felt bad that Maeve had to speak with every unwelcomed busybody who lived in the kingdom of Drisdall.
“I think I’m going to retreat to the attic today,” Kellen said, throwing her egg shell into the fire. “What are you going to do?”
I shrugged.
“I’ll find something.”
As soon as the door closed behind her, I grabbed my cloak and rushed outside. The tracks from the pig were easy to follow from the yard. Because of the rain, my portly friend left deep pits in the earth with each step.
I caught up with Anne on the other side of Mother’s grave. The pig was rooting around on his tether, and Anne was looking up at the sky. The peace on her face begged for solitude. So, I kept my distance and did not intrude.
The distant baying of hounds interrupted the silence of the woods several times before she had a healthy pile of mushrooms in her little basket.
“Come, pig,” she said. “Let’s return you to your pen.”
I followed her through the trees but stopped at Mother’s grave, letting Anne continue home on her own.
With the plentiful rain, the pear tree had grown again. Far too much to be natural, though. It reached the height of my head and had branches the length of my arms. When I sat on the bench to study it, a small, darkly colored bird landed on one of the thin branches.
“What do you think of the tree?” I asked it. The bird chirped back at me, singing a pretty song. I listened for a while and thought of Mother.
When the song finished, I thanked the bird.
“Will you sing for her again tomorrow even if I’m not here?”
It took flight, roosting in a larger tree not far away.
“I hope that’s a yes.” I sighed and looked at the dirt covering Mother’s grave. The rain and time had reduced the height of the mound. It looked barely more than a small bump now. Little shoots of green were sprouting from the ground, nothing growing as vigorously as the pear tree.
I stood and touched one of the branches.
“Watch over her. Keep what’s left of her safe.”
When I returned to the kitchen, the truffles were on the board, and the kitchen was empty. Voices echoed from the sitting room. With nothing else to do, I went in search of Kellen and found her in the attic, reading a letter.
“Haven’t you read them all yet?”
“Twice actually.”
“Then let’s walk to town. Maeve is with a visitor, and there’s nothing else to do.”
“We’ll take something to carry more than one book home this time,” she said, standing.
The pair of us slipped past the sit
ting room and paused in the kitchen.
“We should leave a note so no one worries,” Kellen said. It wasn’t easy finding a slip of parchment for an idle note. It required more sneaking past the sitting room door to get to Father’s study.
“How much can one woman need to say?” I said softly to Kellen. “First, it was her daughter’s marriage, and now it’s her husband’s business ventures.”
“Talking about one’s success makes one feel more important,” Kellen said when the kitchen door closed behind us.
“Bragging isn’t becoming.”
“Based on her lack of comment, I’m certain Maeve hears it for what it is.”
We scrawled a quick note and left it on the block by the truffles.
The day was warming and the walk to town pleasant.
“Have you given our lives as liberated women of travel any further thought?” I asked Kellen when we reached the outskirts.
“Not really.”
“Why not? I’m entirely serious.”
“Which is why I don’t need to give it thought. You have a way of making things happen, Eloise. If you want us to travel the world, we will. Thought on my part isn’t necessary.”
I huffed a breath.
“Of course it is. I need to know where you want to travel.”
A small smile tugged at her lips at the sign of my exasperation. She enjoyed my flare for emotion even as she kept hers in check.
“I would love to see the snow in the north. I heard it can become so deep a woman can’t walk in it with skirts. Pants are necessary.”
I paused to look at her.
“Women wearing pants?”
She nodded, her smile growing.
“I can’t tell if you’re being serious now or not.”
She laughed which made me think the latter.
“Fine. We shall travel to the north, and I will see for myself if there are indeed women wearing pants in order to walk through the snow.”
We reached Mr. Bentwell’s shop and let ourselves in. This time, instead of quietly browsing in hopes of avoiding a conversation, I tugged Kellen right up to his desk.
“Eloise and Kellen Cartwright,” he said with a welcoming smile. “I didn’t think I would see you again so soon.”