by Julia Latham
“Anne, me thanks for seein’ to the wounded men,” Rachel said.
Elizabeth found herself nervously fingering the wimple covering her hair, glad to hide beneath it. Her people had been true to their word, and even the villagers knew of her masquerade. But how far would this information spread before it fell into the wrong hands?
Elizabeth stood back as Rachel brought forth jars of ointment and soft cloths. The two men watched her warily, and Elizabeth knew that Rachel’s youth and prettiness always surprised people who expected a healer to be a wizened elder. Rachel’s mother, the previous healer, had died at far too young an age, leaving Rachel her secrets. The woman had learned them well, and all in the castle and the surrounding countryside trusted her.
Rachel put her hands on her hips and looked down at the men. “I understand that ye both were attacked by thieves.”
Sir John nodded, an expression of pain crossing his face at even that small movement. “There were five of them. Philip and I caused an injury or two, but the odds were against us.”
“And where be you hurt?”
Elizabeth felt awkward as the men took turns describing their injuries, pointing to their stomachs and faces. Sir John, whose crutch lay beside him, mentioned his concern that his leg was broken. Rachel moved his limb about, and by the whiteness around his mouth, even Elizabeth could see his pain.
“I must see the extent of the injuries,” Rachel finally said.
She glanced around and saw Milburn watching them from across the hall. Rachel’s eyes met Elizabeth’s once more, and Elizabeth thought she saw a faint reluctance.
“Anne, I’ll need yer help removin’ some of their garments.”
Elizabeth swallowed heavily, but other than that, did not betray herself. Of course a lowly maid would be asked such a thing. Perhaps she could yet escape, if they were away from Milburn’s brooding watchfulness. “Might I find an empty chamber, so that you could work in privacy?”
Rachel nodded. “’Tis kind of ye, Anne.”
Sir John smiled tightly. “I agree. I did not plan to reveal all to the entire great hall.”
With his eyes closed, Philip said, “Speak for yourself.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened with amazement, but Sir John only chuckled.
“Forgive my clerk his impertinence,” Sir John said. “We grew up together and sometimes he forgets to show respect to the one with the greater education and standing.”
Philip opened one eye, muttered, “Hmph,” and then closed it again.
After consulting the chamberlain—and being quite subservient to this man who usually consulted her—Elizabeth saw to the removal of the patients to an empty bedchamber. A groom from the great hall accompanied them and remained by the door in case the strangers proved unfriendly. Elizabeth fetched lard for Rachel to mix with her herbs, kept herself busy at Rachel’s direction, and tried not to stare when the removal of clothing began. Elizabeth, sheltered and protected as a great heiress, had seen little of the manly form, and now found herself far too curious.
Rachel was quite thoughtful, only moving aside one piece of clothing at a time. Elizabeth saw much purple mottling of bruises, but of course she could not help but see the impressive muscle beneath. Though he was a bailiff by trade, Sir John was also a knight, a man at ease with both strength and violence. He must have fought back, as evidenced by the bruises and raw patches on his knuckles.
Rachel was gentle as she rubbed her ointment of lard and agrimony into each injury. There was little blood, except for a cut to Sir John’s lip and a scrape along Philip’s arm, and the wounds of defense on their hands.
Now that her curiosity was satisfied, Elizabeth felt a pressing need to go to Anne, to confide their situation. But she could not abandon Rachel, could not risk behaving improperly for a maidservant.
Yet Sir John continued to stare at her, and she found his interest far too distracting.
Chapter 4
John lay back on the bed as each of his bruises was probed, then soothed with ointment. He was glad to be away from the great hall, where so many soldiers had gathered. It had taken all of his will to keep his hand from his sword hilt, as if he might have to defend himself among the enemy. He had to keep remembering that he was a wounded bailiff.
He was appreciative of the ministrations of the young healer—except when she came between him and his view of the maidservant, Anne. A heavy wimple covered Anne’s hair and was wrapped about her chin and neck, as if she were an old woman hiding the folds of her neck. But she was not old. Her skin was creamy and looked soft to the touch, without blemishes or pox scars that so many of the women he’d come in contact with had. Her mouth was generous, made for laughter and kisses. She was as fine as any noble lady he had seen from afar, with slim height and regal bearing. As she moved, her curves were occasionally evident beneath the folds of the plain gown. She had the brown eyes of a doe, soft and limpid and so feminine, with their thick lashes that constantly swept downward as if she needed to hide her thoughts.
When he’d first arrived in the great hall of Castle Alderley, the steward Milburn had made no secret of the fact that Anne was Lady Elizabeth’s personal maid, and Milburn had wanted her alone to assist the wounded travelers.
Why? The only obvious answer was to keep her from her other duties—seeing to Lady Elizabeth’s comfort. Or was Lady Elizabeth being punished? Anne was being kept from bringing her the morning meal, after all. Was she being starved?
But no, he could not jump to conclusions. He had to find the facts. Lady Elizabeth had only been imprisoned a few days, and if she were being starved, Anne would be showing more fear. If Bannaster wanted Lady Elizabeth in marriage, he would be foolish to harm her.
From the moment Anne had been called from the kitchens to tend to him, John had watched her. She was the woman closest to his betrothed. Anne had said that Lady Elizabeth was “secluded,” which didn’t necessarily mean a prisoner. If Bannaster had meant to keep her status a secret, he wasn’t going about it very well. Unless, being the King’s cousin, he didn’t care who knew his intent. And that could make him a dangerous man.
While John had been in the great hall waiting for the healer, he had noticed the unease that marked every servant’s face, the hushed way people went about their work. There were no smiles, no laughter. But there was no open fear, which was a good sign for Lady Elizabeth’s well-being.
Anne might be the key, John had realized almost immediately. Was Anne the only one with access to the tower? He would have to discover that as soon as possible.
He winced as Rachel set his leg in a wooden splint and began to wrap strips of cloth about it.
All right, he’d have to hobble around to discover his answers. Ogden and Parker had done a thorough job making him and Philip wounded travelers.
Rachel began to put away her cloths and jars. She glanced at Anne. “I will return on the morrow to see how Sir John and his clerk are doin’. Will ye need me before then?”
A strange thing to ask a maid, but then the whole household had to be feeling uneasy with their mistress “secluded.”
Anne shook her head. “I will be fine. Are the men healthy enough to remain alone?”
“You could ask us,” John said pleasantly.
Anne gave him a worried look.
Rachel smiled. “You are not badly wounded, though it’ll take time to mend. Stay in here and rest for much of the day, lettin’ the servants bring ye what ye need.”
“Might they come to supper in the great hall if they’re feeling well enough?” Anne asked, blushing.
Did she not want to be alone with two strange men? John couldn’t blame her.
Rachel sighed. “If ye feel up to it, Sir John. I will not keep ye prisoner.”
When the healer began to talk about the appropriate foods for recovery, John found himself watching the maid again.
As the third son, he had realized early on that he would never attract a noble, refined bride. He’d had to make his ow
n way in the world, learn skills no one thought he’d ever master. And associate with the kind of women who were happy to earn a few coins making a man’s night comfortable.
Anne was not like that. Though she was a lady’s maid, she had told Milburn she was raised as Lady Elizabeth’s companion. But such a woman lived at the discretion of her mistress, and from what John remembered of Lady Elizabeth, she must surely keep Anne busy. Even as a young girl, the lady knew her role in the world, and she’d been confident—though kind—with the servants.
But did she inspire loyalty? Would Alderley’s servants want to help him free their mistress? Would Anne want to help?
All these things would take time to learn, time he didn’t want to waste. He was not a man used to lying about. But he had no choice. He would need allies if he were to rescue Lady Elizabeth. He would have to start with Anne.
To his unease, he almost looked forward to getting to know the maidservant. She was far too attractive. He still wasn’t used to thinking of himself as an engaged man.
But Sir John wasn’t engaged. He was a bailiff who could flirt with a maid. Though John regretted such tactics, they would have to do for now.
After Rachel had gone, Anne said, “I must see to my mistress, but I will have a meal sent in to you.”
Philip came up on his elbow where he lay in his pallet. “You are kind to think of us, Anne. But it will be lonely in here all day for two men unused to lying about uselessly. You will come to visit us?”
With obvious reluctance, Anne nodded. “I will do what I can. But all the servants here are cheerful, good people who will be happy to look after you. Someone will come regularly.”
“No one seemed very cheerful,” John said, turning his head to view her better as she neared the door. “Is all well?”
With her hand on the latch, Anne hesitated. “For now, it is. Rest easy.”
The two grooms departed with her, and John and Philip were left alone.
“Well I hope we don’t sicken and die,” Philip said, smiling, “for all the concern Anne shows.”
“She has more to worry about than us,” John said. “Listen at the door and see if we are being guarded.”
“No wonder you wanted your leg broken.” Philip groaned as he stood up and crossed to the door. He listened for several minutes with his head against it. “I don’t think anyone is out there. Should I open it and see?”
“Nay, I wouldn’t want to make anyone suspicious. Come speak with me.”
Philip pulled up a stool and sat next to John’s bed.
With his voice lowered, John said, “What think you of the castle itself? The defenses are such that only a large army can overcome it. Let us hope that when Ogden and Parker locate Alderley’s men, they will be willing to work with us.”
“They will want to aid their mistress. This is an impressive holding, far larger than your own home. Think you can rule it?”
“Aye.” Castle Alderley was the wealthy estate of an earl. If things went as planned, John might be that earl. Once he had been considered inconsequential; everyone had thought he would have to count on the mercy of his brothers for survival. And his oldest brother, William, had shown little mercy, thinking that it was his duty to train John as sternly as possible, to make him a better man.
And now he was Baron Russell, with a bride who needed him and a castle to win.
“Anne called Lady Elizabeth’s imprisonment a seclusion,” Philip continued. “Is it supposed to be a secret?”
“I know not. But the men in the tavern made it sound like an obvious move on Bannaster’s part.”
“And the soldiers who carried us to this room seemed disrespectful of the lady’s family, as if they served only Bannaster.”
John slowly moved his foot, and he was satisfied when the pain was minor. “Of course he would put his own men in positions of power. I’ll assign you to discover if Bannaster sent Alderley’s soldiers to a specific place.”
“That would certainly make them easier to find,” Philip said.
There was a knock on the door, and Philip quickly returned to his pallet.
A young manservant entered, carrying a tray. “I bring this on orders from the kitchen,” he said, bowing his head in servitude even as he pulled a small table between them on which to place the tray. “Do ye need help eatin’?” he asked dubiously.
With slow movements, Philip sat up. “Should my master need assistance, I can provide it. Our thanks.”
When the groom had gone, Philip removed the cloth from the tray, revealing stew ladled onto bread trenchers and two tankards of ale. He sniffed appreciatively, then helped put cushions behind John’s back so that he could sit up. Philip put his own plate on the table, and the tray across John’s lap.
They ate in silence for several minutes until John said, “While you find out where Alderley’s soldiers are, I’ll position myself in the great hall, looking suitably ill, so they won’t insist we leave. I’ll find out if the steward is the true power while Bannaster is gone. And I’ll also see who has access to Lady Elizabeth. We’ll need to win their assistance.”
“You’ve already begun with Anne.” Philip grinned. “I suspect it will not be difficult for you to sway the young woman to our side.”
“She is the lady’s companion.” John wasn’t used to feeling embarrassed.
“And she is lovely in her own right.”
“That matters not.” John dipped a piece of bread in gravy and after popping it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. “She is allowed to see Lady Elizabeth; that makes her important to us. If she’s eventually sympathetic to our cause, she could take messages up for us.”
“Risking her own life.”
John frowned. “Lady Elizabeth’s own life is at risk.”
“Are you saying you will tell Anne who we are?”
“Not anytime soon. I will have to be certain of her loyalty first.”
“Which means you’ll be spending time with her.”
John wasn’t doing anything to feel guilty for, but thinking of Anne already made him feel that way.
It was past midmorning before Elizabeth approached the base of the round tower, which was guarded by two soldiers, each wearing his own master’s colors. Elizabeth wanted to smile with pride at her soldier, Lionel, a young man not yet knighted, obviously chosen by Milburn’s soldiers for his inexperience. A man lacking experience would be unlikely to stage an attack, or attempt a rescue alone.
But she knew that Lionel was the youngest of four brothers, all of whom were knights. Lionel had plenty of experience. She wanted to smile at him, but instead she curtsied deferentially, still holding the tray. Lionel gave her a single uneasy look, and then stared impassively at the wall across the corridor.
Bannaster’s soldier took the linen off her tray and took a piece of bread for himself. After Elizabeth glared at him, he lifted his hand as if to cuff her. She ducked, hating the subservience, but knowing it was effective with a bully.
“Might I pass?” she asked softly. “My lady has yet to break her fast.”
“Go,” Lionel said, narrowing his eyes at his fellow soldier as he opened the wooden door.
“Serve her ladyship,” Bannaster’s soldier said, “and then bring the tray back down. If you delay too much, I’ll come to find you myself.”
Straightening her shoulders, Elizabeth gave a nod, then walked between them and into the center of the tower. A winding staircase hugged the outer wall, and disappeared up into the wooden floor of the room above. There were no windows this low in the tower, so there were torches to light the darkness. She went up quickly, used to the narrowness of the stone stairs. They had been worn smooth with generations of use, but once it had been only soldiers who tread on these steps. Now, in more modern times, castles were gradually being converted into more luxurious homes. This tower had been her dear father’s indulgence to her. She had always liked the solitary feeling, the ability to clear her mind of distractions and concentrate on her art. Sh
e would draw elaborate patterns, embroider them, and give them as gifts, sometimes framed, sometimes worked into tapestries or cushions or coverlets.
It was ironic that although she loved solitude, she had now left Anne to endure it. Anne who loved people and conversations and an evening’s entertainment, and was bored when she was alone.
Elizabeth quickened her step and passed into the lady’s solar. Windows with their shutters thrown back let in the light. There were chairs and stools, cushions piled on the floor, and a worktable covered in fabric and threads.
“Lady Elizabeth?” Elizabeth called loudly, as she shut the door she’d just come through.
Anne descended several stairs from the bedchamber above, and the relief on her face made Elizabeth feel terribly guilty.
“Forgive me for being late, my lady,” Elizabeth said, motioning Anne to go back upstairs. Elizabeth hurried to follow her, and then shut this door as well.
The moment Elizabeth set her tray on a table, Anne flung her arms around her.
“What is going on?” Anne demanded in a whisper, pulling back, yet still clutching Elizabeth by the upper arms. “You didn’t come to sleep last night. I have been frantic with worry. For a while I thought you were discovered, but then no one came for me. But if those soldiers think you only a maid, they could have—”
When Anne ended her babbling with a sob, Elizabeth knew how deeply frightened Anne had been.
“I am so sorry,” Elizabeth said softly. “I am not going to be allowed to see you except for meals. Milburn is obviously under orders to keep you—me as solitary as possible.”
“Then where did you sleep?”
“In front of the kitchen hearth.”
“Oh Elizabeth!” Anne took her hand and led her to a chair at the table. “Are you exhausted?”
“I was so tired I actually slept well, and I felt safe in Adalia’s kitchen. But while we talk, you must eat, because I’m to bring the tray back down, and I’m not to take much time.”