The Dark Lady

by Dawn Chandler

  “This is not possible,” Matthew said without much conviction. “I have been keeping an eye on the Dark Knight for years. He has many mistresses. Many and there are several children that the man has.”

  Peter knew all about his mistresses and his alleged children, but he was more concerned with something else. “Why were you keeping an eye on the Dark Knight?”

  Matthew stood abruptly and started pacing. “I never told anyone, but I found Patricia.”

  Peter rose to his feet, but remained by his chair. “You found her?”

  “Aye, many years ago, but Vanessa was not with her. She was with Paul Burgess, Van Burgess’ father. At least that was what I was told.”

  “Aye, he was said to be the Dark Knight’s father, but I had never known who his—” Peter grunted and corrected himself irritably. “—her mother was.”

  “When I found Patricia in Junket—” Matthew stopped when Peter looked up sharply at him. “Do you know the place?”

  “Aye.” But Peter decided to say no more. He knew now why Van had such a connection with the Dark Knight and Eolian. He did not want to tell Matthew his concerns for her safety. For now it was enough to convince him she was who he said she was.

  After a moment, Matthew nodded and continued both his tale and his pacing. “I asked throughout the village. No one had ever seen her. I thought that if I kept an eye on all of them, eventually I would be able to find my little girl.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I saw her.”

  “When?” Peter walked slowly to the table that held the brandy. He refilled his cup and turned to watch Matthew’s steady strides back and forth across the library.

  Matthew laughed unsteadily. “When I first found Patricia, Vanessa was ten. I saw her with a group of boys in the forest.” He smiled, his pacing stopped and his eyes took on a faraway look. “They were practicing with daggers and swords. I learned that it is not allowed that young boys do it without supervision, so they were hiding in the woods.”

  Peter laughed. “Imagine that, she was disobeying the rules even then.”

  Matthew laughed as well. This time his laugh sounded slightly less troubled. “Aye, that is my girl.” His face glowed with pride. “I saw a tall boy, the image of me when I was a child. I remember thinking that would be what my son would look like if I had had one. When I asked after him, I was told he was Burgess’s son and that he was only eight. I could have taken her then.” He looked up at the young man with a sudden grin. “I guess it is good that I did not. She never would have been there to save your life.”

  “What do you know about the Dark Knight, about Van?” Peter didn’t want to know anything and he wanted to know it all. “I know of rumors only. If you have watched him, perhaps you can lay rest to some of them.”

  “Perhaps aye, perhaps nay,” Matthew said with a sly grin.

  Peter cringed.

  “I will tell you what I do know, as facts,” Matthew continued. “There are several children who have his name. He has six mistresses at the moment, although at times he has had more.”

  Peter groaned and shook his head. He had heard stories of lots of mistresses, but did not believe it. He did not want to believe it especially now that his wife was the one who had them.

  Matthew smiled at him gently. “Money is sent by a messenger that no one has ever seen. Van did go to see the mistresses and is brutal when it comes to women.” He shook his head his face clouding, his high smooth brow marred with tight wrinkles. “I know for fact that he uses force as well as threats of rape to intimidate them.”

  Peter remembered well the confrontation with Rebeka and Vanessa sliding her hand down the front of her shirt. He had been too appalled at the time to think of the implications of it then, but now it seemed obvious.

  Matthew was quiet for a moment and then cleared his throat. “There is more, but I am not sure you want to hear it.”

  “I do not.” Peter sat heavily in the chair beside the table and refilled his cup once again. He realized he had lost count of how many times it had been filled already. “But tell me anyway.”

  “He beat a woman to death.”

  Peter jerked his head up to stare at him in disbelief, spilling his drink across his lap.

  “I do not know the circumstances involved, but I know the story to be true.” Matthew walked heavily to the chair that faced Peter and sat despondently. “I know with my mind that things are falling into place...but my heart? I cannot see a woman acting that way.”

  “I can. At least her.” Peter reluctantly told of the encounter with his mistress in the stairwell and then again at the dining hall. “You cannot imagine the surprise to see your wife slide her fingers into the gown of your mistress, and when she said ‘if I was in the market for a mistress,’ I had the strangest thought that it sounded as if she already had a mistress at the time.”

  Matthew nodded his head. “Not one...six.”

  Peter rolled his eyes and then laid his head against the tall back of the chair. “Funny.”

  “It does explain much.”

  Matthew’s voice echoed through Peter’s head like a hammer against an anvil. Pain swirled through his overworked senses and settled into the beginnings of a throbbing headache.

  “When I went to pick her up, I asked her about daily life in Junket and she would not tell me. I thought at first it was because she was angry with me, but I think it was because she had not been there in so long.”

  Peter heard the legs of his chair drag against the stone floor and flinched.

  “I just cannot see my little girl that left as the one that did all those terrible things that man has been accused of.” There was a pause and then Matthew’s face appeared above him.

  Peter straightened his head and blinked groggily. The brandy weighed heavy on him, dragging him into a deep darkness that he did not want to fight against. He welcomed the coming of the black void that sleep would take him to.

  “You look exhausted; let me send you to a room. After some sleep we can talk.”

  Peter nodded his cumbersome head and allowed the servant to lead him to a bed.

  ***

  Van awoke in the morning, weary and sore in every muscle she had. Her arm was throbbing incessantly. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling above her, vaguely recalling leaving Anna’s bed and making her way to Peter’s.

  She remembered clearly the disappointment that had left her clutching her pillow tightly when Peter had not come to bed by the time the sun was well set. She had finally fallen into an uneasy sleep.

  She turned her head and flinched when she saw the smooth covers on his side of the bed. The coverlet seemed to glare accusingly at her as if to say it was all her fault that he had slept elsewhere.

  Amy opened the door quietly. Van debated on sending her away, but pushed herself to her feet instead. She allowed Amy to cleanse her wound and change the bandages.

  Van sighed in relief when there was no sign of infection and no hints of fever. At least as of yet, but what tomorrow would bring she was even afraid to guess at.

  Amy tried to talk to her and she listened halfheartedly. Finally she shooed her away, telling her to check on Anna.

  Van dressed in her gown and sat before the mirror to douse her face with powder. It was unnecessary now, but she did not want to remind them of who she really was. She made her way through the large estate. Peter was nowhere to be found and there was no one to ask.

  When a servant saw her they would go the other way.

  She watched them walk away with a mixture of calm acceptance and guilt. She could not find any anger for these people. They had taken to her, shown her loyalty, and she had betrayed them.

  They were scared of her now and she could not blame them.

  They were treating her as the Dark Knight was treated when he visited other castles. His reputation, nay her reputation, was one that bestowed fear in their hearts.

  The reputation was all deserved and again she wondered what it was all for. Her mother had li
ed to her and the person she loved being was only a lie.

  She should be the sweet demure woman she was supposed to be. Taking a deep breath, she decided that it was what she needed to be now.

  Honesty with herself was not something she could allow right now, not if she was going to make herself into a true woman. She could not allow thoughts of the Dark Knight. She could not think of the things she would miss as him, or the past life she had once loved.

  It had all changed the moment she had married Peter. It was not fair to him that his wife was not the woman he wanted her to be. Her heart clenched tightly and swelled into her throat, threatening to push tears ahead of it. She swallowed hard and shoved them away.

  She wandered for some time before finding her way back to her bed.

  Amy awoke her sometime later, changed her bandages, and assisted her to dress. She instructed Amy to turn her into a lady. Amy just looked at her dumbfounded. When she nodded at her, Amy set to work without another word until she had finished.

  Van stepped in front of the mirror and Amy stood beside her. “You look elegant, my lady.”

  Van’s hair was coiled high upon her head, instead of hanging down her back with only a brushing to prepare it for the day as she usually wore it. She was gowned in a soft blue silky dress that slid across her skin with a cool slithery feel that made her think of a snake wrapping around her body.

  She had suffered through the lacy chemise that itched at her body and the uncomfortable kid slippers, now without the leather sole as was proper. She stared at the woman staring back at her and wondered who she was.

  Her mind was empty and her soul had curled into a tight ball in her stomach, causing it to cramp and ache.

  Amy questioned her mood and her health. Van shook her head to both without speaking. Amy walked with her to the dining hall, but Van ignored her presence the best she could.

  She only wanted to sleep and hope that all this would all be gone when she awoke.

  Several whispers made it to her ears as she stopped outside the dining hall doors. They spoke of Peter going to see his mistress and that Rebeka had not stayed where Van had sent her.

  The room fell silent as she walked in. She walked to her seat and hoped she did not look too disappointed that Peter’s seat was empty.

  She had been terrified of what she would have to endure when she arrived in the hall, but the silence was more than she could handle.

  She forced her head up and walked to the head table. She heard a soft gasp and turned toward the door.

  Peter stood staring at her. He was dressed in rumpled clothing and appeared to have just gotten off a fast moving horse, his hair standing on end in places and wind whipped in others.

  He continued into the room, stopping beside her. He kept his gaze fixed on the table and waited silently for her to take her seat.

  She wanted to scream. Scream for him to acknowledge that she was there, for him to speak to her. She gracefully took her seat without a word. Her numb mind knew it was what she deserved for betraying him the way she had, but it still hurt.

  Head hanging and shoulders slouched to hide her height, she sat beside her husband and ignored his constant looks at her face, hair, and dress. She probably should not be wearing the makeup, as he had asked her not to, but that was before. Now she thought it was best to hide the last of the knight.

  She tried to shove him from her heart, but without the knight, she felt empty and lost.

  Supper was awkward and silent. Van knew it would stay that way as long as she was there.

  She hated the way everyone was looking at her, the way they talked behind their hands as if she did not know they were speaking of her.

  Tears clogged in her throat and she fought with the guilt of knowing it was her fault that the men were uncomfortable.

  Looking up at Richard, she thought to begin a conversation that might break some of the tension.

  Before she could speak Richard looked pained and broke eye contact.

  Richard could not bring himself to look at her. It tore at his heart. All he could see when he did were the things he had done to her.

  He had been cruel and treated her like no woman should have been treated. He did not understand what had brought her to be who she was, but more, he could not understand how she could not be disgusted with him. He was disgusted with himself.

  She should hate him, yet she didn’t. The speech she had given him before going to her mother had spoken in volumes of love and caring. Even after what he had done to her.

  Her love was too much for his self-hatred to endure.

  He looked up to tell her how sorry he was for all he had put her through, but all he saw was her retreating form as she walked from the hall. He looked down and the food from her side of the trencher she shared with Peter had been left untouched.

  ***

  Amy watched Van’s slouched form retreat from her table and got up to follow. She entered Peter’s chambers to see Van standing in the center of the room, staring at the large bed. “Why are you doing this?” When Van did not answer her Amy tried again. “Van—”

  “Vanessa. Lady Vanessa.” It was a tired and empty voice.

  “Vanessa?” Amy knew she hated that name. She had been adamant about it. “I am worried about you, milady. You do not seem the same today.”

  “I am not. I am who I am supposed to be now. I should never have been the other.” Her back trembled as she took in a deep breath. She walked to the bed and stopped at the foot of it. Her hand reached out to smooth a wrinkle on Peter’s side. “I cannot be him anymore. Now I am just me.”

  “Just you? If this is who you are supposed to be, than why is it so easy for you to be the knight and so hard for you to be the lady?” Amy drew away from the empty look that Van turned on her.

  She looked lost. Depression and hopelessness pained her dark eyes. It was a look Amy had never seen on her. She seemed to have given up. Instead of the arrogance and pride that usually filled her, she seemed dispirited.

  Van looked back at the bed.

  “You cannot be something you are not,” Amy declared. “If you were not supposed to be him, you would not have taken to it so well. You would not have enjoyed all the things you did.” She jumped as Van slammed her fist into the foot board. Her blow shook the bed and ran through the room.

  “Take Joseph and put him in with you or in the nursery, and tell Peter that I have moved back into my chambers. He can come to his.”

  Before Amy could say anything Van disappeared into her chambers and the door between the two rooms closed. She rushed out to find Peter.

  When she found him lying asleep in a chair in the library she began to cry.

  Opening his eyes he looked confused at first as to where he was. “Aye?”

  “I did not mean to wake you, milord, but Lady Vanessa sent me to tell you she has retired to her own chambers so that you do not have to hide in the library. Or to wherever it is that you went all of last night.” Without waiting, for a response she fled from the room. Van had not said those things and she should not have either, but they had slipped out. Angry and powerless to help her friend, she didn’t know what else to do.

  Peter stared, jaw slacked as she turned and fled the room. The door slammed, ringing through his head.

  He shook his head, trying to bring his sleep and brandy laced mind around what it was she had told him.

  Hiding?

  He was not hiding. Not now and not last night.

  Was he?

  CHAPTER 26

  Morning came as it always did, but Van found it difficult to rise with it. Her face felt flushed and her arm throbbed more than it had the day it was injured. She closed her eyes and considered going back to sleep.

  She did not want to rise, did not want to face the people of Grayweist, but mostly she did not want to face herself.

  She opened her eyes and groaned as Amy crossed her mind. She didn’t want to worry her, and more she did not want to listen to a lectur
e or to answer any questions.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and a wave of nausea washed over her. She had a momentary fear that her stomach would relieve itself onto the floor between her feet.

  When her stomach stopped rolling, she pushed herself to a standing position, her injured arm nearly giving out on her. She grunted in pain and cradled it across her stomach.

  She dreaded changing the dressing, knowing it would be infected. She wobbled slowly to the night table and peeled her bandage off. The wound beneath was red and angry, the flesh around the cut was puffy and clear liquid seeped from between the stitches.

  She hadn’t anticipated this complication on top of everything else. It had been two days since the injury and it had been kept clean. Of course she had eaten nothing since then and her sleep had been anything but restful.

  She hurriedly dressed, fixed her hair, and her face. She walked to the door, opening it just as Amy reached for it.

  Amy looked up startled. “My lady, I was coming to help you prepare for your day.” She looked at the injured arm and reached her hand toward it.

  Van stepped back. “I am fine.” She ignored the worried look Amy gave her and walked away.

  She made her way to the garden where she sat on a long marble bench and stared absently at all the work she had accomplished. The gardens were once more as beautiful as they had been when she was a page here.

  Her stomach rolled in protest when her mind tried to dredge up memories of her time here. She pushed them away quickly knowing they would only lead to memories of her time as a knight.

  “Dark Lady, can I talk to you?” Joseph’s small, cautious voice pulled her from the past and from dangerous thoughts that would only lead to more heartache.

  “Of course. Sit by me.” She patted the bench beside her. She had come to love the young boy in the short time she had known him, and she did not like the concern she saw in his face, or the fear.