Endearing (Knight Everlasting Book 1)
Page 10
“Find me when you want to visit the chapel,” she said, moving toward the door.
She was interested to see it as something other than a crumbling pile of rocks. Every time she found her way into an area she hadn’t been to yet, she tried to recall if she’d seen it in her own time, when everything was mostly a ruin. She was beginning to get attached to the castle, with all its halls and hiding places.
“I will,” Anne said. “And I am sorry you didn’t get to have your rendezvous with Sir Tristan before he left. I do believe he had eyes for you.”
Fay blushed and shook her head. “Hopefully, he’ll return,” she said.
“He’ll have to eventually,” Anne told her. “He’s Father’s tenant, remember. And it would be an advantageous match for him. Keep that in mind, dear.”
That put her low mood one step lower, something she didn’t think possible. The attraction between them had seemed real enough, but both men and women throughout the ages had been known to fake it for money or power or both. It was all too confusing. She only wanted to sit in the weak winter sunshine and not think about any of it for a while.
On her way back down to the courtyard, where she could finally watch the youngsters train out in the open, she ran into Batty. Or rather, Batty ran into her. The girl really never moved slowly.
“Lady Fay,” she said, taking her arm and pulling her along conspiratorially.
It was the opposite direction of where Fay wanted to end up, but she let the whirlwind Batty drag her along. “What are you up to?” she asked, a hint of complaint in her voice. “I want to go outside while there’s still a moment of daylight.”
“You’ll get your daylight,” Batty said, still tugging her down the hall. “But first I thought you might want to look through Sir Tristan’s room before I set the boys to cleaning it.”
Fay’s stomach dropped as she realized they were outside the door of the chamber he’d been staying in. Did she want to go in there and possibly be assailed with all those both good and bad memories? Be confronted with the most embarrassing event of her life?
“Why would I want to do that?” she asked.
Batty dug in the little cloth purse she kept tied to her waist and pulled out a smooth pink stone. “Look at this,” she said proudly.
It was only a river stone, albeit a pretty color, and about the size of a modern day pound coin. Fay smirked to herself, trying to remember that this was her modern day, and that maybe the rock was valuable now.
“It’s pretty,” she said. “But what does it have to do with Sir Tristan’s room?”
Batty bobbed up on her toes, clasping the stone in her hand. “I found it where Brom was sleeping,” she said. “I told little Arnie I would take up the pallets this morning and it was there, right under his pillow.”
Fay was horrified and let it show. “How do you know where he slept?” she asked.
Batty turned purple and shook her head vigorously. “Oh, dear. Oh no, it’s nothing like that. I only knew from when I stitched up his arm that first night.” She looked as horrified as Fay had done a moment before and Fay dipped her head in apology. “I’m sure he left it for me,” Batty said, her skin returning to normal. “And that’s when I wondered if Sir Tristan might have left something for you.” She beamed with eagerness and pushed open the door. “Do you care to find out or should I send the lads in to clean it?”
Fay pressed her lips together, determining if her dignity was more important than her curiosity. It took her two seconds to decide it was not, and hurried into the room, Batty giggling and following her.
“You think I should look under the pillow?” she asked, heading straight to the bed.
“Yes, and I’ll check the chest and garderobe.”
“Yuck. I don’t want it if he left it in the garderobe,” Fay said, tearing the bedclothes apart while she looked for a keepsake of some sort.
She had resigned herself to using the bizarre hole in her chamber that acted as a toilet. And she’d gotten over caring that everything just flew through the air to the ditch far below. She hated thinking about the poor sucker who had to deal with that. While the garderobe wasn’t as disgusting as she’d first thought, she didn’t think it was a romantic place to leave a keepsake.
She didn’t want to admit how envious she was of Batty’s stone. She hoped beyond hope Sir Tristan had thought of her, even in the midst of rushing away to defend his land.
“I found something!” Batty exclaimed. “Oh, it’s so lovely.”
Fay was sure she broke a land speed record crossing the large chamber and looked into Batty’s open palm. A small bronze disc, or perhaps an ancient coin rested there. It was pretty badly dinged up, but when Batty flipped it over with her finger, there was a lion engraved into it.
“What do you think it is?” Fay asked, holding out her hand. Batty tipped the coin into her palm and Fay brought it nearly to her nose to inspect it more closely.
“Something meaningful to Sir Tristan, I’m sure,” she said. “There’s nothing else here, so he must have left it for you to think of him by.” She sighed dreamily and looked at her rock again.
As silly as she felt, Fay sighed as well, squeezing the coin tightly in her fist. “Do you believe they really left these things for us?” she asked.
Batty looked at her as if she’d said something heretical, then shrugged. “Yes, because I want to. I’m keeping this stone with me all the time now, until we’re together again.”
“That’s sweet, Batty.” Fay looked at the battered bronze coin some more. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with this. But, at any rate, you can let the boys have at it now. Thanks for helping me find it.”
Batty shook her head and Fay felt sorry for not being as enthusiastic as she should have been. She wished she knew if Tristan cared for her enough to want her to have a keepsake. She wished she knew anything. But all she could do was keep grasping around, completely in the dark.
As soon as Batty left, Fay dug out the book and flipped through it listlessly. As she’d recalled, there wasn’t a single word about Lord Drayton. Unless it was under all the redacted parts. She didn’t understand why they had scribbled out their words so thoroughly that they’d torn through the pages in many spots. But they had all done it, as if they’d made such grave errors they didn’t want any record of it.
“Wasn’t very forward thinking of them,” she said, looking up at the cool stone wall to rest her eyes.
She instantly felt bad thinking so sourly of the dead girls. She turned to the last note, the apology letter from the one who’d come before her and said a half-hearted prayer for her. It was difficult to dredge up too much compassion for her, though. For the hundredth time, Fay reminded herself it wasn’t that person’s fault. Before she could get in an argument with herself over her predecessors’ so-called responsibilities to breaking the curse, she flipped back a few pages, desperate to find something helpful. Something she hadn’t already read.
The day of the first snow is coming. No matter how I brace myself, I don’t think I can go through this again.
Well, that was new. And whiny as ever. She’d never seen a mention of snow before and, of course, it had to be foreboding. And, of course, there was nothing else to explain why she couldn’t go through whatever it was again. Just some tear-stained splotches.
“God, I hate you,” Fay said, slamming the book shut.
She tried to console herself that she didn’t need to know anything about Lord Drayton. It might be better to keep an open mind and heart. The one thing that was clear was that she had to prove true love existed and she meant to do it. No one else would be dragged from their life. No one else would ever have to read those sad, cursed words.
Chapter 12
The next two weeks passed in a blur of activity. Anne suffered another bout of her mysterious coughing fits, but the castle was so busy in its preparations to receive Lord Drayton that Fay wasn’t allowed to hide out with her. Everyone did their part to get ready.
They both looked at her like she was insane, but she’d grown more used to this as well over the past two weeks. Now that she knew no one would understand her if she told the truth about her situation, she found she could go much further in asking questions. Surprisingly, she mostly got answers. If she got ignored, or if the person thought she was singing, praying, or quoting poetry, she’d try again with something else.
“He certainly is,” Catherine answered. “He does not pay fealty to your father. His lands are his own, through his service to the crown.”
“But he’s not a knight,” Fay prodded.
“No, but he has men of his own who fight in his name, as does your father. He does his duty to our King.”
Fay stabbed her finger, still not adept at sewing yet, though she did plenty of it now. Hissing back a noise of pain so the other two wouldn’t realize her mistake, she tried to understand the difference between Tristan and Lord Drayton. She knew her father was extremely excited for the visit. She was finally able to think of him as her father and not Sir Walter, and she wanted to make him proud. She’d made a mince of her chances with Sir Tristan as evidenced by his not returning, though news had come back to them that the siege was cleanly ended and peace was restored at Dernier Keep.
She’d waited for news that they might return, but when she worked up the nerve to ask, her father had looked mildly confused. “Why should he, dear child? He’s already made his oath. We might not see him for another year.”
She still thought he might show up and it got her out of bed early every day, to run down to the courtyard and peer through the gates at the road leading to the castle. It was only a day’s ride from Sir Tristan’s keep. That was like a ten minute trip to the grocery store in her time. And the weather couldn’t even be blamed. Winter was on its way out. The weather had stayed as mild as when she’d first arrived. A bit of frost every morning, but that didn’t stop the peddlers from the village from coming around. It certainly shouldn’t stop a man in love.
Well, clearly he wasn’t in love with her. And why should he be? she denigrated herself. Had she been in love with him? She’d wanted to kiss him some more. She’d really wanted to hear what he had to say if they’d been able to make their second date. That now seemed like years ago instead of only weeks. She would have liked to have been given the chance to fall in love with him. Every night, she foolishly touched the lion coin he’d left behind. But more and more, she wondered if his leaving it had only been an oversight in his haste to be gone.
Batty didn’t act concerned about their lack of return at all, but perhaps she had more patience than Fay did. Perhaps waiting another year for them to return was fine with her. Maybe Fay should take a lesson and not be so impatient herself. That old song about not being able to hurry love popped into her mind and she hurriedly tried to forget it before the tune got stuck there and she inadvertently taught it to everyone in the castle by singing it out loud. Maybe if she was back in her own time she’d have more patience. But her life depended on falling in love and, thanks to the ridiculous rules of the time she was now in, she was becoming more and more unmarriageable by the hour. Twenty-three might as well be seventy in this time.
But she was important. A daughter of a very rich, powerful man who controlled a lot of land. That would make most men overlook many things. At the same time this thought comforted her, it filled her with anxiety. It had to be real love. True love. The curse made it clear it wouldn’t accept anything less. A marriage for land and power was most definitely less.
She’d have to work that much harder to make a connection, make this Lord Drayton see her for who she really was, not for what she could bring to the table. She prayed he’d be at least a little attractive. Even if he was hunchbacked, bald, and missing an eye, she was determined to give it her all.
“As I’ve said already, I’m sure Sir Walter desires a match between you two,” Catherine said, putting down one tablecloth and picking another out of the mending pile. She was faster than a machine, resting her forearms on her big belly as she stitched.
“Yes, that’s what Anne thinks as well,” Fay said, trying not to sound dispirited.
“Your father would never force a match you didn’t want,” Batty said.
Sweet Batty didn’t want her to give up hope for Sir Tristan. She still brought him up every few days, and Fay knew she still carried her pink river stone with her. It was romantic and Fay didn’t want to give up on him either, but it was starting to hurt. Her heart as well as her pride. If he honestly couldn’t return, he could have sent a message.
“I’m going to withhold all judgment until I see him for my—”
One of the boys scrambled into the room, knocking over the mending basket. Before Catherine could whack him, he jumped out of the way.
“Lord Drayton’s arriving,” he said.
“But he’s a day early,” Catherine cried, looking at all the unmended linens. “How far out is he, lad?”
“End of the lane,” he said, zipping back out.
His message had been delivered and he probably had a dozen other things he needed to do. Sometimes, Fay felt sorry for them. The pages she understood. They were training to be knights, the highest honor in the land, at least according to all knights. But some of the serving boys at the castle were as young as six. She still couldn’t figure out who they belonged to or why they were away from their mothers, but no one else thought it odd, so she kept her mouth shut about it.
“I’ll keep mending,” Catherine said. “You go ahead and leave if you have other things to see to. I appreciate your help and company during this never ending task.”
Batty had already left with the boy, panic all over her face, but Fay was loath to leave the safety of the laundry. She didn’t wish she was a servant, she’d seen how hard they all worked. But, for a moment, she wished she wasn’t the important daughter who it seemed everyone thought was going to marry the stranger at the gates.
That’s what you’re here for, dummy, she thought. A longing to see Tristan’s familiar face hit her hard enough to make her suck in her breath. “I better see if Anne’s well enough to help me greet him,” she said aloud, sounding more confident than she felt.
Catherine smiled encouragingly. “You’ll be fine, Lady Fay. You don’t need it, but good luck to you anyway. I look forward to what your judgment is after you’ve seen him.”
*
Fay threw open her sister’s door to find Anne already up. She stood shaking and holding onto one of the bedposts while Marjorie tried to get her to reconsider getting out of bed.
“Nonsense, we have guests. I must greet them,” Anne said, the very exertion of speaking making her clutch her side.
“How do you know everything before I do?” Fay asked, hurrying to her side and exchanging a concerned glance with Marjorie. “I only found out about it moments ago.”
“I know everything I must know,” Anne said cryptically.
“I think you should return to bed, Lady Anne,” Marjorie repeated.
“I agree with Marjorie. You look a fright. When was the last time you ate?”
Anne scowled and tried to get away from their hovering. “I only now finished a veritable feast,” she said. “Fairly stuffed myself.”
Fay looked to Marjorie for confirmation. “One bite of lamb, one bite of bread, and one sip of wine, in all of today,” Marjorie said. “Perhaps that is a feast for the likes of a newborn kitten, but not for any person.”
“Oh, Anne. I’ve never known you to lie so shamelessly,” Fay said briskly, trying to shove her back in bed. “I promise I won’t embarrass us. I can greet Lord Drayton without you.”
Anne wriggled out of her grasp with a surprising amount of strength, glaring at both Fay and her maid. “Who is the lady of this household?” she demanded imperiously. She took a deep breath and held it, and Fay could tel
l she was struggling not to cough.
Marjorie shook her head, not about to argue any further after hearing that tone of voice. “You are, of course, Lady Anne. I beg pardon.”
Fay refused to give up so easily, especially not with Anne’s frail arms on full display. She may be able to fool people into thinking she was fine when she was fully dressed, but in her nightdress she was little more than a skeleton. For the first time, Fay felt a sickening stab of fear.
“You’re the lady of the house, which is why you should rest and get well,” Fay said, still desperately trying to get her sister to lie down. “We need you, Anne. I swear I can handle this right now, but not everything. Not every day. Please lie down and stop being ridiculous.”
Anne shook herself out of Fay’s grasp and hurried away a few steps, stopping to hang on to the other bedpost. Fay had to look away. She looked so much like a little old lady, bent over and trembling.
“I’m getting dressed,” she snapped. She raised a brow at Marjorie, who scurried to the cabinet to choose a gown.
“At least sit and finish your meal,” Fay begged. “Get a little strength in you.”
Anne slumped. “I’ll try if it will appease you. But I have no taste for any of it.”
“Cram it down anyway,” Fay said. “You need to gain some weight so you don’t blow away.”
Fay sat down across from her sister and began spooning up bites and waving them enticingly near Anne’s mouth. Anne closed her eyes. “I’m not a child, Fay,” she said tiredly. Not the tired of someone who’d missed a bit of sleep, either. The tired of someone who was at the end of her rope.
“Okay,” Fay squeaked. Her throat ached as she tried to hold back tears.
Anne squared her thin shoulders and took the spoon, finally shoveling in bite after bite of some sort of creamed vegetable. She paused, trying not to gag, and then took a huge bite of bread. “Happy, now?” she asked, her mouth full.