The sheriff and his company were riding in through the gate, their progress slowed by a group of soldiers who had just come off duty and were exiting the castle en masse. The returning men and horses were covered in dust from the road and dripping with sweat.
When Sir Richard reached the centre of the courtyard, he dismounted and started shouting orders at his men. Judging from the mood he was in, they had not had a very successful day.
Wishing she had been ready to go sooner and thus avoided Sir Richard and his foul mood, Rowena tossed the last of her things into her leather satchel. Thinking quickly, she realized she might still be able to avoid him by getting down the stairs and waiting in a side room until he had gone up to his chambers.
But as she hurried down the stairs, just managing to take them two at a time, she heard his heavy tread and jingling spurs approaching. She paused in alarm, only halfway down the second flight. Realizing there was nothing she could do, Rowena took a deep breath and continued slowly down.
A few heartbeats later, Sir Richard stood in the middle of the narrow staircase, blocking Rowena’s path and forcing her to stop. ‘I heard Walter Gray nearly started a riot in the street after you talked to him.’
Rowena crossed her arms and met his frosty, dagger-like glare, for once able to look him in the eye without having to tilt her head back, as the step evened out their considerable height difference. ‘Yes, I did meet him in the street.’
‘What did you say to him? You didn’t say anything critical about me did you?’ His voice had an edge that spelt danger.
With a flick of her fingers, she swept away some unruly red curls that had fallen over her face. It had been a long and difficult day, much of it spent trying to make the accounts balance, and she was in no mood for being interrogated. ‘No, I did not.’
‘That old goat is always pestering me, trying to drag my name through the mud and shame me!’ the dark knight muttered savagely.
Rowena felt her face becoming hot as her anger rose. ‘Is that all you can think about? The poor man is completely grief-stricken and all you can think about is your stupid reputation, which is already virtually none existent!’
‘The man almost started a riot after talking to you! What the hell did you say to him?’
‘Just the truth. Nothing more, nothing less.’
He staggered slightly. ‘You did what! Do you actually want me to be killed by an angry mob? Is that it?’
She gave a heatedly dismissive wave of the hand that had him ducking for fear she would take his eye out. ‘No, I didn’t tell him the truth about the money, just the investigation. But I almost wish I had now. You’re causing the poor of this shire a lot of suffering with your harsh taxes!’
Sir Richard’s dark eyes seemed to become blacker still and his lips tensed to a thin, hard line. The dangerous look of barely controlled violence in his eyes made her afraid, but she forced herself to stand and face him.
‘I’ve had enough of you meddling in things that are not your concern,’ he snarled. ‘You are just my clerk; you have no right to pass judgment on me, you insolent little quill-pusher!’
She let out a snort of derision. ‘Meddling? You have managed to get yourself a blackmailer—which is hardly surprising considering your foul temper and brutish manner—and made yourself as poor as a church mouse, yet still you expect me to find a way of paying all the expenses with your non-existent funds!’
He eyed her with cold fury. ‘I managed perfectly fine before you came along.’
She really was wasting her time here. As for continually allowing herself to be treated with such rudeness, it was simply wrong. How would Mother have felt if she had lived to see her daughter used like a serf? She could hear her oft-repeated words as if they had been spoken only yesterday: self-respect is the very last thing you should let them take from you, daughter.
Rowena glared back at Sir Richard in silence for a few moments as she considered her next words. Then she took a deep breath. ‘Very well, as you do not welcome my presence here, I shall leave your employment.’
The sheriff’s rigid fury had seemed likely to explode into violence at any moment, but these words sent a strange ripple across his face. ‘I didn’t say your work wasn’t useful,’ he replied hastily, in a hard tone that seemed to mask a deeper emotion. ‘I just want you to keep out of things you know nothing about and which are none of your—’
‘You just expect me to wordlessly put up with your behaviour,’ she interrupted, ‘behaviour which no woman should have to tolerate, especially from someone such as yourself—a knight who has taken an oath to adhere to the code of chivalry! This code states that a knight should be charitable to the poor, protect the weak, behave in a courteous way, uphold the faith, and—’ She drew herself to her full height. ‘Honour and respect women. Yet you, Sir Richard, flagrantly and repeatedly break all of these promises!’
As soon as the words were out of Rowena’s mouth, all of Sir Richard’s frosty calmness disappeared in a flash. He leapt up onto the step directly below hers, so he now stood higher than her in spite of her extra step, and drew himself right up until their faces were almost touching. His breath came hot and fast onto her face. ‘You are an insolent, hellishly irritating imp who knows nothing, absolutely nothing, about me, so don’t tell me I’m a damn scoundrel!’
She flinched, desperately wanting to turn around and run back up the stairs, but instead settled for hurriedly hitching the skirt of her red velvet gown out of the way and climbing backwards onto the step above.
After taking a moment to calm herself, she mustered the courage to face the dark knight’s enraged glare. ‘You claim that my words are untrue, yet in the same breath you choose to speak in the most discourteous and dishonourable way!’
Still breathing hard, Sir Richard lifted a black-gauntleted hand and placed it slowly around Rowena’s throat. His unblinking, coldly burning dark eyes never left hers. ‘Are you saying that I am not worthy of knighthood?’
The long, leather-encased fingers resting on either side of her windpipe did not exert any pressure, yet their very stillness spoke of iron-hard strength. Fear did half the work Sir Richard threatened to inflict; she hardly dared breathe in case any movement on her part brought the menacing hand together.
Noticing that her arms were shaking violently, she clasped them tightly together behind her back. ‘Sir Richard, please.’
He callously eyed his clerk for what seemed an eternity, then silently moved his thumb back to rest beside his fingers and began to lift his hand away.
The moment the petrifying fingers left her neck, Rowena’s fear melted into a flood of anger. ‘Any knight who behaves towards a lady in the way that you are doing right now brings shame upon himself and upon the man who made the error of dubbing him knight!’
She had been quick to speak—too quick. He had had not yet unhanded her, and while her indignant words were still echoing through the cold, dark stairwell, his powerful fingers were back around her throat in a flash. How she wished she had not spoken! But it was too late now.
‘How—dare—you!’ he choked, tightening his fingers around her neck. ‘I curse the day that I met you!’
Rowena should not have been surprised at Sir Richard’s sudden violence. She had been half-expecting something like this to happen ever since Lady Sabina had volunteered her for the unwanted position. Yet, for an unfathomable reason, she was surprised.
As his hands began to squeeze the life out of her, she went limp and stared back at him in shock. ‘Why did I trust you?’ she gasped. ‘Why did I love…’ But as the last of her breath left her body, her sentence trailed off unfinished.
Suddenly the choking hands were gone. Bereft of their support, Rowena fell to the ground at Sir Richard’s feet. But the steep stairs allowed such violently arrived things no rest. She did not stop tumbling until she lay in a heap at the bottom.
Barely had she stopped falling when the maiden was already attempting to drag herself up. Half-b
linded by her dishevelled hair, she groped frantically for a supportive wall. Something instantly was in her reaching hand, as though it had reached out to her—because it had reached out!
With a gasp, she pulled her hand free from Sir Richard’s grasp. ‘If you think that I’m just some weak, naive girl you can bully into submission, you, sir, are wrong!’
His tall figure darkened the passageway before her. ‘I did not mean to hurt you. Let me help you—’
‘No!’ she cried, shrinking away from him.
Hastily, she pushed back the curtain of hair and wiped away the tears of pain filling her eyes.
The man now standing before Rowena looked truly concerned about her condition. All traces of rage were gone. He carefully held out his hand to her, as one might to a skittish animal. ‘Please, allow me.’
Eyeing him fearfully, she dragged herself to her feet. ‘Consider the position of clerk vacant.’ Then she held out the satchel with a trembling hand. ‘Here, this contains some of your papers.’
Sir Richard did not seem to notice what she held out. A sudden change had come over him, a strange, tortured look that was the closest thing to fear she had ever seen in him. He shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Take it.’
‘No,’ he repeated, a note of cold desperation streaking through his voice. ‘No, you can’t leave; I did not say I wanted you to leave!’
Silently, she let her hand fall back down. Surely he did not actually like her? His manner towards her had ranged from open hostility to plain indifference, and never once had he thanked her or praised her. In all likelihood, he was just concerned about how his finances would fear without her expert touch. But no more could an answer be read in his eyes than the bottom of the deepest and blackest pool be seen by peering down from above. Only her own reflection met her sight.
She placed the satchel down on the floor, then slowly straightened up again. ‘Good bye, Sir Richard. It was interesting being insulted, abused and overworked by you. I shall never forget you as long as I live.’
He took a step towards her. ‘No, Rowena, stop talking nonsense! You misunderstood me—I didn’t say I wanted rid of you!’
She retreated back several steps, never taking her eyes off the sheriff for even a moment. He had wanted rid of her from the day she first set foot in Eaglestone. He just could not be so insolent if he did not. And insolent he certainly was, even if he may possibly have had a little grudging respect for her deep down.
‘Rowena, I will not lose my clerk over a misunderstanding.’
‘I understand your brutality and insults perfectly, Sir Richard!’
He grudgingly held up his hands in surrender. ‘Alright, I accept that I have been discourteous to you—’
‘You are a beast, Sir Richard, a perfect beast! If you had the slightest bit of honour or decency, you would have informed me you did not require my services rather than trying to bully me into submission! I pray that I’m never foolish enough to set foot in this dark hall again. Now kindly let me pass, sir!’
Sir Richard did not move. His eyes seemed to be begging her not to go. ‘Rowena, I—I—’ he began, but faltered mid-sentence. An apology had clearly been on the tip of his tongue, but it was gone.
She stamped her foot. ‘Your pride does you no credit—leave it for those worthy of harbouring the emotion!’
Rage flashed across his face once more. ‘How dare you insult my honour like this! I will not stand for it!’
Rowena shrunk back against the wall. ‘Sir Richard, if my words displease you, let me leave this place and never come back. I will do it willingly; you do not have to strangle me to death in order to get rid of me.’
He stepped directly in front of her. ‘Will you not hear?’ he said quietly, looking down at her with hollow eyes. ‘I want you here. I want you to belong to me. If only those scornful words would be silent ever more…’
She caught her breath sharply as his hand touched upon her throat. Her earlier fear paled beside this new horror. His eyes had a terrible, vacant stare that made her blood run cold.
‘Sir Richard, let me pass, I beg you.’
After the most terrifying few moments of her life, his eyelids flickered and he let his hand fall.
Seizing her chance, she quickly pushed past him and fled.
‘Rowena, damn you!’ she heard him bellow after her as she jumped down the next flight of stairs three at a time in her dash for the exit.
She did not look back.
Once Rowena was out of the castle, she broke into a run. She did not stop running until she reached Stoatley Manor, where she continued up to her room, bolted the door and flung herself onto her tiny bed.
* * * *
‘Is it not simply delicious?’ demanded Lady Sabina, giving a twirl to show off the new gown she was wearing.
‘Yes darling, it is totally gorgeous,’ agreed her friend Anne.
They had been excitedly gossiping and admiring each other’s finery for over an hour. Seated in the solar with them, Rowena was desperately trying to finish the pile of handkerchiefs her aunt had told her to hem, so she could go outside.
Lady Sabina turned to her cousin. ‘And what do you think, Rowena?’
‘Ahem, yes, it’s very nice,’ she replied unconvincingly.
Lady Sabina tossed her head haughtily. ‘Such a pity it would not suit you.’
‘Yes darling, indeed it would not,’ said Anne. ‘Rowena’s ruddy complexion would not be flattered by its colour. She is so tawny from the sun; the white would not suit her at all.’
Lady Sabina gave the dress another twirl. ‘The gold embroidery on this gown would make her awful freckles stand out most terribly too.’
‘That is before you even consider the fact that her rather ample bosom would burst right out of it,’ added Anne.
‘I cannot even begin to imagine how simply awful it must be to be so fat,’ Lady Sabina said with a shudder.
Whilst Rowena was buxom, to say she was fat was both unkind and inaccurate. Not being the width of a twig did not make one fat. Rowena bit her lip, barely managing to stop herself from responding angrily to Sabina and Anne’s taunting. She knew that if she did, her cousin would use it against her.
Forcing herself to remain calm, she continued sewing. ‘Thank you for your concern, but I’m happy with the clothes I have and don’t want your new dress.’
Rowena was now almost beginning to regret her outburst to Sir Richard four days ago. She wondered if she had been a little hasty. Being strangled by an evil sheriff was only marginally worse than spending endless days cooped up with Lady Cunningham, Lady Sabina, Anne, and a pile of sewing that the hours seemed to make bigger rather than smaller. At least he simply ignored her most of the time, and the job did have its moments.
She sighed. To think that this morning was an actual improvement on the previous one, when Lord Shrewsbury had not been out hawking… At least death at Sir Richard’s hands had one bright side: it was quick. Unlike the slowly-dragging years it might take to die of boredom in Stoatley. As for the evil master himself…
She paused her needle and frowned. For some annoying reason, she missed him a little. Maybe, like a foolish, goose-brained girl, she had been a tad in love with him after all. The beast. But not anymore—although, in fairness, some allowance needed to be made for the circumstances. He had been in an especially bad mood, and the subject of the kidnapped maidens’ father had clearly touched a raw nerve. This was understandable. Someone already under strain would be likely to react badly if they found out that they had just been denounced by an angry mob which had nearly started a riot.
She tugged at her thread, which had got stuck yet again, and sighed. He might be bad tempered and brutish, she thought grimly, but at least he doesn’t mock my appearance. And the work at the castle had been more interesting than sewing these stupid things!
But after the harsh words that had been spoken, she could not see how their relationship could possibly continue. He would never fo
rgive her for the things she had said. Of that she felt sure. And neither could she forget. Such a cowardly and cruel attack was abominable. That look in his eyes…
‘Ow!’ she yelped, pricking her finger on the needle.
A large drop of red blood fell onto the white handkerchief in her hand. Wonderful. Now it was ruined. Lady Cunningham would not be happy.
‘Do my eyes deceive or is that not a horse and rider galloping down the road to Stoatley?’ Anne called to Lady Sabina, from her seat at the window.
Lady Sabina hurried over to the window. ‘Yes, indeed it is, darling. I wonder who it might be.’
But Rowena just kept working on her sewing, hoping to finish the hemming so she could get out as quickly as possible and avoid having to suffer yet another of Lady Sabina’s awful visitors.
Shortly, hoof beats sounded on the cobbles outside.
‘I still cannot see who he is,’ reported Anne. ‘Although I am sure I have seen that black horse he is riding before somewhere; I cannot think where.’
‘I do wish he would take down the hood of that wretched indigo cloak he has got pulled around his face, so we can see who he is,’ added Sabina.
A man clad all in black except for an indigo cloak, and riding a black horse? Surely it wasn’t him—Rowena rushed over to the window. Yes, it was.
‘It’s Sir Richard Hastings,’ she said quietly.
Had he come to see Lord Cunningham? But Lord Cunningham was not at home—was Sir Richard still going to come in? Oh no, please don’t come in!
Rowena listened intently. Muffled by distance and timber but still audible, the manor’s great door clanked shut and the sound of voices came from the hall.
Yes, he had come in.
She knew it was her he had come to see. He was so angry when she had left him standing on the stairs. He would never forgive her for speaking to him like that, never. What could he possibly want? Her heart began to race. She did not want to see him, to speak to him. What would she say?
The Heart of Darkness Page 11