A Perfect Fit:

by Elizabeth Rose

  “There are at least a half-dozen blacksmiths between here and the castle,” Terris told him as they dismounted their horses outside the blacksmith’s shop. “Why didn’t we stop at those instead of coming to this hellhole?”

  Townspeople crowded around eagerly to see why noblemen were there. The place was, indeed, a hellhole. The stench from the urine and feces dumped right into the street from the second-story windows almost made him gag. There were fish guts as well as butchered scraps of meat thrown into the road. Stray goats, pigs, and dogs wallowed in the mud.

  “This is the last place I saw her, so it is the first place I’ll start looking for her,” William explained.

  “My lords, may I help you?” The blacksmith came to the door of the stable, wiping his hands with a dirty cloth.

  “Yes, I’d like to know if you’ve seen the horse that lost this shoe.” William held it out. The man looked at the horseshoe but didn’t touch it.

  “I – I can’t be sure. I shoe a lot of horses in a day. Why does it matter?”

  “I’m looking for the young lady who was riding this horse last night when it threw the shoe. Have you seen her?”

  “Why do you want to know?” The man’s eyes skimmed Terris and then Troy who stood next to him.

  “Just tell me if you’ve seen her.”

  “I might have, I’m not sure,” said the man, looking at the ground. “After all, there are a lot of blond women from here to the coast. So, even if I did see her, I wouldn’t remember.”

  “I never said she was a blond, yet you know. That tells me you are lying.” William smiled and ran his fingers over the horseshoe. “Now, why don’t you tell me where I can find her?”

  “Oh, all right,” said the blacksmith, throwing the cloth to the ground. “I shod her horse just this morning. But she never gave me her name, and I don’t know who she is.”

  “What about the horse?” asked Terris. “Was it adorned with a knight’s crest or did it have any ornate trappings?”

  “Is she in some sort of trouble?” asked the man, being cautious before he answered. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to her. She is a nice lady, even if she couldn’t pay me for the job. She said she was a noble, but she sure didn’t look like one by the way she was dressed. And if she were a noblewoman, she would have had money.”

  “Are you sure she didn’t mention from where she came?” asked William.

  “All she said was that she needed to get back before her stepmother found out or she’d be in big trouble.”

  “Did she tell you her stepmother’s name?” Troy jumped into the conversation.

  “Nay.” The man shook his head, thinking. “But she was here yesterday and stopped at the baker, chandler, and cordwainer’s shop. You might want to check with them.”

  “Thank you,” said William, pulling a few coins from his pouch and handing them to the blacksmith. “This is for the work you did shoeing the girl’s horse as well as a little extra for your trouble.”

  “My lord, this is very generous of you.” The man’s eyes lit up at seeing the money. “Thank you, and I hope you find the girl.”

  “Well, where to now?” asked Troy as they left the stable. The sun was just setting, and the shops would be closing soon.

  “Troy, stop by and visit the baker. Terris will go to the chandler’s shop. I’ll take the cordwainer. Find out all you can.”

  William headed to the cordwainer’s shop, hoping to find his answers there. He tied up his horse at the hitching post and ducked through the door as he entered the shop. The room was lit by one lone candle. The cordwainer stood behind a counter and looked up when William entered.

  “My lord,” said the man, rushing over. “If you are here because of the tax money, I assure you, I had nothing to do with it.”

  “What is your name?” asked William.

  “I am Castor, my lord. I have a wife and child above stairs, and I beg you not to hurt them.”

  “Calm down, I am not here to hurt anyone, and neither am I here about taxes.” William strolled into the store, picking up a shoe and inspecting it, still holding on to the horseshoe in his other hand.

  “I don’t shoe horses, my lord,” said the man with his eyes fastened to William’s hand. “You might want to go to the blacksmith for that.”

  He chuckled and put down the leather shoe. “I am here to ask about a young lady who was here late yesterday. She was riding a horse that threw this shoe.” He held the horseshoe up in the air.

  “Yes, there was a young lady in here yesterday picking up two pairs of shoes for her stepsisters, but I don’t know her name.”

  “Do you know from where she came?”

  “Nay, I am sorry I don’t, my lord.” The man’s eyes roamed downward and settled at William’s feet. “You were here in town last night, too.”

  “Me? Why would you say that?” William had been in disguise and hoped the man didn’t know his identity.

  “I recognize your boots. You were covered in a cloak and walked by my shop, following the girl, didn’t you?”

  “I thank you for your time,” said William, tossing the man a coin without admitting he had been there yesterday. He turned and headed for the door.

  “She said the shoes were for Greta and Beatrice if that helps at all,” Castor called out. William stopped in his tracks. Where had he heard these names before? Then, he remembered the woman in the carriage earlier today. He squeezed his eyes shut and moaned softly. Of all the places to be, why did Ella have to be at Inglewood Manor? Because of what he did last night, that was the last place in the world he wanted to go.

  Chapter 5

  Ella cleaned the ashes from the hearth in the great hall the next morning, feeling as if this was all wrong. She wasn’t a servant, and shouldn’t be treated this way. But with no memory of her past, she had nothing to draw from. Perhaps she did something to deserve this punishment. She didn’t know. Her mind kept drifting back to the man she thought had been her stalker. The more she thought about it, the more she believed he was someone she once knew. If only she could remember.

  “This is preposterous!” shouted her father, marching into the great hall with his steward and his reeve following at his heels. “How can the tax money be replaced with stones and neither of you noticed until now?”

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” said the reeve who tended to the serfs and took care of feudal obligations. “When I accompanied Sir Albert to town, we collected all the taxes required and put the money in this bag before we brought it here.” He held up a bag in one hand.

  “That’s right,” said his steward, Sir Albert. “I saw him do it, so he’s not lying.”

  “Really?” snarled the baron. “Then explain to me how you put coins into the bag, and this is what comes out.” He dumped out the contents of the bag. A pile of smooth stones fell to the floor at his feet. “Now, get back to town and collect the taxes again. And this time, make certain you deliver coins instead of stones or I will have your heads.”

  “But my lord, the merchants and tradesmen don’t have the money,” said his steward. “They already gave us everything they had.”

  “Then figure out a way to get it back,” snapped the baron. “Someone obviously is making a fool out of us, and I want that person found and hung by the neck.”

  “Aye, my lord,” answered the steward with a bow of his head. Then he and the reeve left in a hurry.

  Ella watched her father, wondering what made him such an ornery and greedy man.

  “What are you looking at?” asked her father. “Cinderella, clean up these stones, immediately.”

  “Yes, Father,” she said, moving her bucket from the hearth across the floor. She knelt down and started scooping up the stones. The happy squeals of her sisters took her attention next. The girls ran into the great hall, followed by their mother.

  “What is all the noise for?” grumbled the baron.

  “The lord of Fremont Castle is here to deliver the invitations to the ball per
sonally,” said Greta, holding her hand to her chest. “He is very handsome.”

  “What?” The baron looked up in surprise. “A messenger usually brings them. What would he be doing here?”

  “Oh, Father, we met Lord William this morning on the road,” said Beatrice, blushing as she relayed the information. “He spoke to us.”

  “Mother asked him to deliver the invitations in person. That is why he’s here,” added Greta.

  “I want to marry him.” Beatrice held her hands over her heart and spun in a circle, looking up to the ceiling with her eyes partially closed and smile on her face.

  “He’s going to marry me,” said Greta, reaching out and tapping her sister on the shoulder. “I’m the older sister, and my dowry will be much bigger, won’t it, Father?”

  “Hush, girls, here he comes now with his squire,” said Lady Trevane. “Pinch your cheeks and push up your bosoms and do whatever you can to attract him.”

  “Egads, Agnes, the Lord of Fremont hasn’t chosen our daughters for the past three years. Why do you think he’d want them now?” asked the baron.

  “This is Lord Terris’ brother who just came back from war,” she explained.

  “Baron, I’d like to announce Lord William Fremont of Carlisle,” said his herald, bowing and holding out an arm toward two men as they walked into the room.

  Ella was on her knees and looked up to find the same handsome man she’d seen in town. He was the stalker who knew her name. She gasped and kept her face downward. Had he tracked her here? Was he here to hurt her? Her head said yes, but her heart told her otherwise.

  “Baron Trevane,” said the man named William, holding out his hand.

  “Lord Fremont,” said her father, shaking his hand. “What brings you to Inglewood Manor?”

  “I have come to deliver the invitations to the dance personally,” he said. “Squire, please give him the missives for his daughters.”

  “Aye, my lord.” His squire handed the parchments to her father.

  “You seem to be mistaken,” said the baron. “You have given me three invitations, yet I only have two daughters.”

  Ella’s head snapped up at that comment, appalled that her father would say such a thing.

  “Father,” she said, getting to her feet. William’s eyes met hers. For a split second, she felt as if she knew him. Her body warmed, and her lips tingled. Then a vision flashed through her mind of kissing the man. It made her blush. She lowered her head. Where had that come from?

  “It seems as if you have three daughters after all,” said William.

  “Oh, that’s just Cinderella. She’s no one, and won’t be going to the ball,” Agnes intervened.

  “Why not?” William’s eyes locked on Ella, making her feel as if she couldn’t move. He headed across the room stopping right in front of her. “I want every one of your daughters at the dance, Trevane.”

  Ella lowered her head and stared at his feet instead of meeting his gaze. Her heart sped up as she waited for her father’s answer. The thought of going to the ball excited her. She didn’t know if she had ever danced before but, if not, this could be her first time.

  “What my wife says is true,” her father stated. “Cinderella is the youngest. She won’t be married off until my older two daughters are betrothed first. Besides, she doesn’t have the qualities of a lady.”

  Ella’s throat became tight, and she bit her bottom lip. This wasn’t at all what she wanted to hear.

  “On the contrary,” said William. “I think Ella has exactly what I’m looking for.” He reached out and gently touched her chin, lifting it with two fingers. With her face turned upward, she couldn’t do anything other than look him straight in the eyes. She blinked twice, getting lost in the swirls of his mahogany orbs. His hair was down to his shoulders and much darker than his eyes. Stubble covered his lower face with a short beard and mustache.

  Something happened then that Ella did not understand. Lost in his eyes, she was transported to a place in her imagination.

  Ella ran through a field of wildflowers on a sunny day, and William chased her.

  “Slow down, Ella, or I might never catch you,” called out William.

  She giggled instead of being afraid of him, leading him on. He followed and chased her, but it was a playful gesture only.

  “Got you!” He caught her in his arms, hugging her tightly to his chest.

  “It took you long enough,” she teased him, looking up into his eyes. The sun lit up his handsome face and made his eyes twinkle. He dipped down, and his soft lips caressed hers. Her eyes slowly closed as they shared an intimate moment, bathed in the warmth of the sun. Ella felt safe with William, and also very loved.

  The vision overwhelmed her, making her head spin and she became very dizzy. Her eyes closed. Colors and lights flashed behind her lids. The sound of a thousand brass horns echoed in her brain. It was as if her black and white world suddenly filled with vibrant colors.

  “Ella, are you all right?” she heard William’s deep voice ask her.

  Feeling like a feather in the wind, she was suddenly a victim of everything around her. She reached out to him just as her knees buckled and she collapsed in his arms.

  William scooped up Ella in his arms, surveying her pale face.

  “Fast, someone call for the healer,” he commanded, worried that she was ill.

  “Get the healer,” the baron told one of his men.

  “Where’s her solar?” asked William. “I’ll put her on the bed.”

  “Leave her, Fremont. I’ll have my servants take her up to her tower room.” The baron didn’t seem as if he wanted William there.

  “Nay, I’ll do it.”

  “My lord, may I show him to the tower?” asked a handmaid. She was an older, stocky woman.

  “Maria, you’re Greta and Beatrice’s handmaid, not Cinderella’s,” Lady Trevane told the woman.

  “Well, where is her handmaid?” asked William, looking down at Ella, a thousand memories of her passing through his mind.

  “She doesn’t have one,” answered Greta with her nose in the air.

  “I cannot believe the way you are treating Ella. Why is she even here?” asked William. “I am taking her home to her father.”

  Hushed whispers went through the crowd. Lady Trevane rushed over to her husband. “Do something, Hubert.”

  “Fremont, she is my daughter, I will take her up to her room.”

  “She is not your daughter, and you said so yourself.”

  “The healer is here,” announced a page, interrupting them. An old woman with a hand mirror stuck into her waist belt walked forward. A younger, comely woman was at her side.

  “We need to get her up to the tower at once,” said the healer, barely even looking at Ella.

  “I’ll show them the way.” Maria picked up her skirts and hurried across the room. William followed.

  “Troy, stay here and keep an eye on things,” William told his squire in a low voice. “I want to get to the bottom of this. Something odd is going on. See what you can find out.”

  “Aye, my lord,” said Troy, fading back into the crowd.

  “Right up here,” said Maria, leading the way, opening the door to the tower and rushing inside. The healer and her helper were right behind him.

  “You can put her on the pallet,” said Maria, wringing her hands. She was the only one that seemed upset that Ella had swooned.

  “This is her chamber?” William stopped at the door, shocked at the inadequate surroundings. It was a barren room with no hearth and only one window with a shutter. A dirty, lumpy pallet was placed directly on the floor. Besides a trunk and small table with a candle, there were no other furnishings.

  “That’ll be all. I’ll take over from here,” said the healer, all but pushing the handmaid from the room and slamming the door. The healer’s helper was a young woman about Ella’s age with pale white skin, long black hair and very dark eyes. She was dressed all in black making William wonder if
she were in mourning.

  “I can’t put her down here,” said William, not wanting to lay his precious Ella on the dirty, old pallet. She was a noblewoman and deserved a pedestal bed with fine silk sheets and velvet bed curtains. He didn’t understand this at all. “I’m taking her out of here anon.”

  He turned with Ella in his arms, but the healer and the young woman instantly blocked his path. The healer glared at him, and the young woman next to her smiled. “You are not taking her anywhere,” said the old woman.

  “What is going on here?” he asked. “This woman doesn’t belong here and certainly not in these conditions. She is Ella de Bar, and I am taking her back to her father, Lucio.”

  “I said, put her down.” The old woman became angry.

  “Nay, I won’t. Now get out of my way, old woman.”

  “Medea, will you handle this, please?” the healer asked her companion.

  “Of course, Mother.” The girl named Medea giggled and swished her hand through the air. Ella’s body lifted up out of William’s arms and floated over to the pallet. William jumped back in shock, pulling his sword from the sheath and holding it up to the two women.

  “Put your sword away, William, it won’t do any good. Medea, put her down on the pallet.”

  “Yes, Mother.” Ella’s body landed on the pallet with a soft thud.

  “Who are you and what is going on here that no one but me seems to know Ella?” William still held his sword out in front of him, not sure he wouldn’t have to use it.

  “Sit down, and I’ll tell you,” said the old woman.

  “Nay. You’ll tell me now, or I’ll sever your head from your body.”

  “Enough, already.” With a swish of the old crone’s hand, William’s sword went sailing across the room. It hit the wall and landed on the floor with a clank. He went for his dagger next, but before he could grab it, he landed on the floor and slid halfway across the room.

  Medea giggled.

  “That’s enough from you, too, Medea,” snapped the woman. “Now watch Ella, so she doesn’t wake up before I’m done with this fool.”