Cursed

by Felicity Harper

  As the ogre approached, the girl stopped her singing and the men rose to their feet.

  “I want no trouble,” the ogre told them. “I seek Mala. I know she is here among you.”

  More gypsies emerged from the shadows around him, each one poised to attack. They all knew who the ogre was. The woman he sought emerged from one of the colourful caravans.

  “Besh!” she hissed and, reluctantly, the gypsy men moved away and returned to what they had been doing. The young singer looked over at Mala.

  “Za!” she commanded and the girl began to sing again. Slowly, Mala descended the wooden steps of her caravan and came towards the ogre.

  “So, you have come,” she said, tossing her long hair back over her shoulder.

  She had aged not a day since last he had last seen her all those years ago. There was still but one, single streak of grey in her hair to hint of the passing of her youth.

  “Why are you here, Mala?”

  “I am at liberty to travel wheresoever I wish, Prince Albern. This land does not belong to you.”

  After so many years, hearing his name spoken aloud felt, to the ogre, like a punch to the gut.

  “I long ago accepted my punishment,” he said, choking on the words. “I ask only that no others are harmed because of me.”

  “You speak of Lady Henrietta Pemberly?” asked Mala slyly.

  “Say not her name, witch!” he snarled, balling his fists at his sides.

  “So you do have feelings for the Lord’s daughter!” she said triumphantly, “… and a temper still, I see.”

  The ogre took a breath to temper his anger. No good would come of it if he riled the gypsy Queen now. “Lady Henrietta has been kind,” he said wanly. “I care only that she is not hurt because of me.”

  “What makes you think I intend her harm?”

  “You gave her a token at the tournament. I know you, Mala. You do not act on a whim.”

  The gypsy laughed. “What is a gypsy woman without her tokens and charms, Prince Albern?”

  “Or her curses?”

  “Indeed,” she said, acknowledging his remark with a crafty smile. “However, in this case, it was just a charm for the lovely Lady Henrietta.”

  “You promise, Mala, that you mean her no ill will?”

  “No.” She stared the ogre down. “Unlike some, Lady Henrietta has done us no harm. Her people are good to us.”

  The ogre backed down. He had no reason to believe she lied. As he turned to leave, he asked, “And Maura?”

  “She is well.”

  The ogre nodded, accepting what little information Mala offered. He knew she would say no more.

  The gypsy Queen watched him cross the meadow, narrowing her eyes in contemplation. She turned as she heard her daughter approach. Despite the scars she still bore, Mala’s daughter was still a beautiful young woman.

  “He has changed, Dya?”

  “We shall see, Maura,” the gypsy Queen said thoughtfully. “We shall see.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “The fresh air suits you, my Lady. You are practically aglow.”

  Henrietta could fee herself blushing at the compliment. “Thank you, Sir Hardwick - though I think we can credit the brisk autumn air for my colour.” Indeed, the cold wind was cutting through her riding habit and making Henrietta feel quite chilled. They had been riding for most of the morning and, now that the initial chase was over, were following the hunt at a leisurely pace.

  It had pleased her no end when Sir Hardwick had joined her from the head of the hunt with the news that the hounds had lost the scent. Although she loved to ride, Henrietta had never enjoyed hunting. She considered it a cruel and barbarous sport. Shooting game birds for the pot was one thing; but to hunt a fox to exhaustion just for the hounds to tear it to pieces wasn’t something she could ever consider good sport. It was, she knew, a minority opinion among her class.

  “Well, I must say, this was rather a superior idea of Lord Pemberly’s. I will take courtship over trials any day!” Hardwick looked handsome and proud as he sat high upon his hunting mare as though the world itself belonged to him.

  “Is that where your strengths lie, Sir? In your skills as a courtier?”

  “I think I can boast a certain panache when it comes to wooing the ladies,” he replied, oblivious to her teasing tone.

  “I’m sure you did not mean to imply you are merely employing your honed skills on me, Sir Hardwick?” Henrietta asked coolly.

  Realising his error, Sir Hardwick looked abashed. “Good Lord, Lady Henrietta! I assure you, I meant no such thing! I hold you in greatest esteem!”

  “Fear not, Sir Hardwick, I am merely funning with you.” She laughed, enjoying the fact she had managed to wipe a little of the knight’s superior bearing from his countenance.

  “You are a wit, my Lady,” he said with relief. Playfully, he doffed his hat to her. “I think we shall have a very amusing life together, don’t you?”

  “I’m sure I couldn’t say, Sir Hardwick. After all, there will be more to it than courtship and jests. Marriage must also be able to endure the hardships and woes that life will throw at it, surely?”

  Hardwick laughed as though she had made a great jest. “Well of course, my Lady. If one is the type to consider life’s slings and arrows as hardships and woes.” He gave her a wolfish smile. “I like to consider them as challenges, myself.”

  Suddenly, a magnificent stag emerged from the trees and Henrietta gasped in delight. Hardwick had spotted it too and raised his musket.

  “No!” Henrietta cried - but it was too late. The powder exploded from the muzzle of his gun and the huge creature was downed with a single shot. The shrill call of the hunting horn sounded as the rest of their party turned and galloped back towards them. There were cheers at the sight of the enormous stag lying on the ground dead. The huntsmen jumped down from their horses and stood over the creature. They clapped Hardwick on the back.

  “Killed it with one shot!” Sir Avery bellowed. “Bloody well done!”

  Hardwick took the praise with aplomb. “I cannot take all the credit,” he said proudly, reaching up and plucking Henrietta from her horse. “It was my Lady Henrietta who first spotted the beast.”

  There were more shouts of “Bravo!” and “Good show!” which Henrietta tried unavailingly to deflect.

  “Blood her then, boy!” Lady Cotley bellowed.

  Sir Hardwick slapped a hand to his forehead. “Of course!” He dipped his hand into the stag’s gaping wound and, before Henrietta could guess what he was about to do, smeared the blood on both her cheeks. “Consider yourself an official member of the hunt!” he boomed, bowing to her. To his surprise, rather than the coquettish response he was expecting, he received a well-aimed boot to the shin.

  “Ow!” he howled. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

  “Take me home right now!” Henrietta demanded through gritted teeth.

  Hardwick made his sheepish farewells, much to the amusement of the rest of the hunt, and helped Henrietta up onto her horse. Twice he tried to break the yawning silence between them as they rode back to Riverly but, each time, he was met with a stony look from Henrietta.

  “Perhaps a moment of quiet reflection would be for the best, my Lady?” he asked. In response, Henrietta goaded her horse into a gallop, intent only to put as much space as possible between her and Hardwick.

  “Yes!” he called cheerily after her retreating back, “A bracing gallop across open country works wonders too!”

  Once back at Riverly, Henrietta dismounted without waiting for assistance and stormed into the house. Lord Pemberly was just leaving his study as she stalked angrily past, her face still covered in blood.

  “Good God! What happened?”

  “Sir Hardwick took me hunting,” she hissed. “Then he murdered an innocent stag and now I am wearing its blood!”

  Without another word, she fled up the stairs.


  Lord Pemberly found Hardwick standing on the gravel pathway. He was looking a little bewildered as he toed the stones at his feet.

  “Do stop kicking the gravel, Hardwick. It’s the very devil to keep tidy as it is.”

  “My apologies, my Lord,” Hardwick said, quickly trying to flatten the stones.

  “Would you care to explain why my daughter has huffed her way up to her room with her face covered in blood?”

  “My Lord … I-I thought that Lady Henrietta would enjoy the hunt.” He shrugged in confusion. “It was my Lady who spotted the stag. I took aim; she called now and I followed through with a perfect shot. I mean perfect, my Lord. I took the beast down with a single shot.”

  Lord Pemberly’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and admiration. “One shot?” he asked. Hardwick nodded proudly. Then, belatedly remembering he was here to castigate Hardwick not congratulate him, Lord Pemberly plastered a frown onto his face. “Could she have called no rather than now?” he asked his daughter’s suitor patiently.

  “My Lord Pemberly! You could be right!” Hardwick said enthusiastically. A look of dawning comprehension spread over his handsome face. “That would certainly explain her odd reaction to my shooting the beast.”

  Lord Pemberly grimaced. “I’m not sure her reaction was all that strange, Hardwick. Ladies do tend to be rather more tender-hearted than we men - and Henrietta most certainly is.”

  “Mayhap I could speak to her, my Lord. Perhaps explain what an honour I meant the blooding to be?”

  “I think it best you leave for now. And, before the next courting, it might be a good idea to have a little think about what Henrietta might want. You know - as you did when you made the bridge for her.” Lord Pemberly gave the knight a level look. “It seems you got it right that time.”

  Hardwick stared after Lord Pemberly’s back. “Crap! Now what am I to do?” he muttered to himself. He heard his Lordship call out a greeting to the estate manager and knew what he had to do.

  “What do you want, Hardwick?”

  The ogre wasn’t happy that Hardwick had involved Briggs or that he was waiting for him here in the forest.

  “You came!” Hardwick crowed. The ogre narrowed his eyes and the knight quickly added, “I was hoping for your assistance.”

  “With what?”

  Henrietta had mentioned that Lord Pemberly had changed the terms of the challenges and that Hardwick was now supposed to be courting her. The ogre had refused to dwell on the image of Hardwick wooing Henrietta. Nor had he allowed himself to think why such images tortured him so.

  “Lady Henrietta .…”

  The ogre cut him off. “You wish me to court her for you now?” he asked, raising his eyebrows sardonically.

  “No - ha ha - no! I - well, it’s just I seem to have fouled up with Lady Henrietta.” As the ogre looked at him darkly, he continued, “It seems she wasn’t happy with me taking her hunting.”

  “You took Henrietta hunting?” The ogre shook his head in disbelief at the man’s stupidity. “You’re a bigger fool than I took you for, Hardwick!”

  “Yes - well. I understand that now and I - well. I thought perhaps you might know what I should do.”

  “You’re asking me - an ogre - for courting advice?” The ogre roared with laughter. “Isn’t that supposed to be your forte?”

  Hardwick’s face flamed red. “Listen, Ogre: I came to you because winning Lady Henrietta means a lot to me .…”

  The ogre’s amusement died immediately. “Why?”

  “Why?” Hardwick paused. “Well - she is … beautiful .…”

  “So are many other women. Why her?”

  “I-I could not say any one thing. There are many.”

  The ogre narrowed his eyes. In his head, he rattled off a long list of Henrietta’s fine qualities - any one of which Hardwick could have picked. Her kind heart; her whimsical nature; her fierce spirit; her downright bossiness when it was needed; the way her eyes reflected her thoughts .… He shook his head to clear the image of her. Henrietta wanted this knight so he would help him, no matter what he thought of the man.

  “Invite her for a walk,” he told Hardwick now, spitting out each word.

  “A walk? Like a stroll?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And what will that achieve?”

  The ogre sucked in a breath of pure irritation. “To win Lady Henrietta, you must first understand her. Let her be your guide. Walk with her. Talk with her. If, then, you still do not know her .… ” He glared at Hardwick. “Then perhaps you do not deserve her after all.”

  Hardwick slapped his glove against his thigh. “Right. So! Walking and talking. Got it!”

  The ogre shook his head as Hardwick rode off. Who was he to judge the knight unworthy of Henrietta? After all, the man had only proved himself a fool - whereas he had been judged a monster.

  Henrietta smiled up at the handsome knight. “This was a wonderful idea, Sir Hardwick.” Her cheeks were rosy from the cold but it was a gloriously sunny day and she was enjoying his company.

  “May I apologise once again, my Lady, for the unfortunate incident at the hunt? I had no idea you were so opposed to the sport and its traditions.”

  “Please, Sir Hardwick, mention it no more. You were not to know.” She laid a hand on his arm to reassure him. “I am enjoying your company now and that is all that matters.” And she was.

  Henrietta had been pleasantly surprised when he had arrived to ask her for nothing more demanding than a walk. She had chosen the lane for their perambulation. It was, of course, more seemly - but her main reason had been that she did not want to share the forest with him. The forest belonged to her and the ogre. She chose not to explore the thinking behind that thought.

  “Tell me of your childhood, Sir Hardwick. You did not grow up in these parts?”

  “No. Nor was I fortunate enough to grow up in a place as glorious as Riverly.” He sighed deeply. “I suppose I should tell you I spent my formative years in a monastery.” Hardwick laughed at Henrietta’s look of surprise. “No, my dear Lady Henrietta, I had not been called to God. I was left there by my mother who was dying. She left details of my father’s name and last known whereabouts with instructions to the monks to find him. Unfortunately, he was already dead by the time they tracked him down.”

  Henrietta put her hand to her mouth. “How dreadful for you, Sir! I had no idea!”

  “It is not something I speak of freely. I was fortunate that relatives - distant though they were - were found and my fees paid for.”

  “The Aylesburys?”

  “Yes. His Lordship has been kind. He paid for my schooling and sundries.”

  “But nothing more?” Henrietta looked at him sadly. “A boy needs more than just a sponsor.” Poor Sir Hardwick. Henrietta felt truly awful for judging him. What had seemed like clumsy attempts to woo her were, she now saw, simply his way of showing his resourcefulness and practicality. What an ignorant fool she had been.

  “Do not worry so on my behalf, Lady Henrietta. I am fully grown now and quite able to take care of myself - and my future wife.”

  Henrietta blushed at what his words implied. More than once he had hinted that he wished to marry her and, of course, that was what this whole thing was about but … Henrietta still had so many doubts.

  “Where do you call home now, Sir Hardwick?”

  “I have an estate left to me by my dear mother, which I will be taking up once I am wed.” He smiled at her, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I hope you might see it one day, Lady Henrietta.”

  “Oh. Well, we shall see.” Henrietta had no words of encouragement for him and did not know how she would answer the question when it came.

  “I am to meet your father after our final courtship,” Sir Hardwick said. seemingly oblivious to Henrietta’s discomfort. “I am to find out then what my final challenge will be. Has he discussed it with you at all?”

  “No. Father has bee
n very secretive about the whole thing. I should prepare yourself for any eventuality, Sir.”

  “I’m surprised to hear that. It was certainly not the impression I received at the tournament,” Prudence replied in response to Henrietta’s tale of Sir Hardwick’s upbringing. The two sisters were ensconced in the drawing room where a fire was crackling in the hearth.

  “You spoke to the Aylesburys?” Henrietta felt a little guilty that she hadn’t spoken to them herself. The tournament had been such a whirlwind of activity that she had barely had time to pause and speak to anyone outside her family.

  “Yes, of course.” Prudence had seen to it that she spoke to everyone who had travelled to the tournament. It was something she knew Henrietta would have done herself had they not kept her so busy. “I sat with them on the third day and they were terrifically proud of their Roddy’s achievements. It would be somewhat unusual for an aunt and uncle to give a pet name to a young man in whom they had no interest.” She looked questioningly at Henrietta. “Wouldn’t you say?”

  “I have no idea, Prue,” Henrietta snapped defensively, “but, at the same time, I have no reason to disbelieve Sir Hardwick either.”

  “No, of course not,” Prue said carefully, not wishing to upset her sister. “A change of subject then?”

  “That suits me,” Henrietta said and gave her sister an atoning smile. “Now, tell me: how long will you and Miles be in the City?”

  “No longer than a fortnight. We shall be back in time for the Winter festival. I wouldn’t miss that for the world!”

  Prudence sounded far more more enthusiastic at the prospect of the festival than Henrietta was herself. But then, she reasoned, her sister didn’t have her whole future banking on the outcome.