by Shea,Lisa
Barnard shook his head. “No, I think it is time to face the simple facts. If I was meant to father a healthy child, I would have done so by now.” He hesitated for a moment, then looked at her with eyes shadowed by pain. “You know that I have had other women in my life. I do not apologize for it. Creating an heir is all important for what my family has handed down to me.” He chuckled bitterly. “However, in addition to this land and wealth, apparently they also handed down a defect. I must accept the good with the bad.”
He closed his eyes again. “It was my one dream in life to be a father. I waited ten long years for you to come to my side, to turn that dream into a reality. When one child died, and then two, my rage and frustration nearly drove me mad.”
Constance almost felt pity in her heart for the man by her side. He had indeed waited a decade to join with her. She had seen firsthand the pain and fury he felt after each stillborn birth.
His voice was quiet. “Did I ever tell you how my mother died?”
Constance looked over at him, honestly curious. “You said she came down with an illness when you were three or four.”
Barnard shook his head. “I did not want to frighten you; I did not want to curse myself.” He took in a deep breath, looking down at his hands. “My mother was a healthy woman, like you, coming from strong stock. My father was sickly but also very wealthy. She had one miscarriage, and then I was born. The doctors worked night and day to ensure I survived my infant months. Thrilled with the success, my father pushed my mother to bear another child. She had five more miscarriages, one after another. It sapped her health and damaged her spirit. I remember her being so sad, so lost.”
He twisted his fingers together. “I think in the end she just gave up. She stopped eating, stopped sleeping, and let herself die.” He looked over at Constance, his eyes finally meeting hers. “I did not want that to happen to you.”
Despite her swirl of emotions, Constance found that a small part of her heart did sympathize with the man by her side. Rationally she knew that this did not make up for his actions, could never excuse his many injustices and illicit activities. Still, somewhere in the depths there was still a small boy, watching his mother waste away, knowing the same fate could await any woman he chose to marry. There was some cause for pity.
She patted his hand gently. “I am grateful that you thought of me,” she responded, and found that in a way she did mean it. His affairs over the past few years had been very painful, very hurtful to bear – but in his own way he was trying to protect her. He did not want to drive her to death with repeated miscarriages and stillborn children.
Constance did not agree with the liaisons, but she could understand a small part of the underlying motivation. He had desperately wanted a child of his own blood to continue his family line, to inherit the family lands.
Barnard let out a deep breath. “Time to get you back to bed,” he commented, shaking himself slightly and climbing to his feet. “I imagine you are tired and ready for sleep.”
Constance went with docile calm back to her room, and looked at the door for a long while after he left. She wondered how differently things might have been if Barnard’s parents had remained content with one child, if he had been raised by a loving, doting couple. She knew it did not excuse his misbehavior, but still, she wondered …
Chapter 24
Constance drifted to wakefulness with the fullness of Thursday’s sun shining warmly across her bed. She gathered herself into a seated position, drawing in a deep breath. She focused her thoughts, envisioning that Gabriel sat across from her, quietly waiting in his cell, trusting in her, depending on her strength and courage to see this through. She could almost feel his presence there with her, almost see as he pressed his hand to his chest, and of its own volition her own hand moved to echo the action.
Her mind moved to Barnard, and she nodded her head in determination. Yes, he had experienced a rough life. Yes, some hurdles had been placed before him. But other people had dealt with far worse circumstances and had risen above them. If Barnard was now a man of dishonor and deceit, he had allowed himself to sink to those depths, and she would ensure he could not hurt innocent people any longer.
She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, standing and moving to choose a dress. There were still two more days left for searching. Today had been set aside for the lower, basement rooms. This area held the storerooms and a few of the servants’ quarters. Constance thought how this would also undoubtedly serve to be fruitless, but they were also rooms she would not be questioned about visiting, and she was still building up her strength. She wanted to leave the most likely rooms – the ones prone to cause the most suspicion – for the last day. If she got Barnard or the others nervous about her activities right now, she would never be able to finish searching the entire house.
Barnard came in to see her shortly after breakfast had been brought to her and Vera. “I am glad to see you up,” he offered with a smile. “You seem to be feeling better?”
“A bit,” agreed Constance, nodding her head. “In fact, Vera and I were thinking about going through the fabric stores in the basement today, to find some sewing to work on. We thought it might keep me occupied while I recuperated.”
“Good, good,” encouraged Barnard absently, his eyes glancing at the large window, the sunny landscapes beyond. “I will be heading out on a ride for the day with some friends. I am glad to hear you will have something to fill your day.”
His eyes dropped slightly to gaze at the gardens barely visible through the window, and his brows narrowed slightly. “It is just as well that Ralph was caught in that trap,” he added, a pensive tone layering into his voice. “I never did approve of him pulling you into his martial pursuits. Far better that you focus on sewing and other wifely duties.”
Constance’s spine stiffened at the casual reminder of her friends’ approaching deaths, but she forced herself to smile, to maintain a neutral look. “Of course, you are right,” she agreed quietly. “I am sure this is for the best.”
“Well, I will see you later tonight,” he called out with an offhanded air as he left the room. Once he was gone, Constance sent up a fervent prayer for both Gabriel and Ralph, and then finished her meal as quickly as she could. They waited by the window until they saw Barnard ride out, flanked by a trio of women. Then she and Vera made their way quietly down to the basement.
There was nobody to disturb them as they went from room to room, setting up torches and lamps to light their way. With the beautiful weather, and the lord away, the keep was almost deserted. Servants found excuses to escape for a few hours on whatever errand they could invent. Constance and Vera set up their plan and searched in earnest. In room after room they found nothing but dust, cobwebs, and a small nest of soft-fuzzed baby mice.
Constance kept at the search, holding the image of Gabriel tenderly in her mind. He was in a dark room, much as this one, trapped by lies. Only the truth would set him free – and it was up to her to find that answer for him. He had come for her when she was captive. He had rescued her from the dark when nobody else lifted a finger. She would do everything in her power to save him now.
She moved on to another trunk in the dingy storeroom she was searching. It was an old construction, oddly familiar. She pulled up the lid with a creak.
“Oh, Vera, come here,” she called in a hushed whisper.
Her friend was by her side in a moment, kneeling in the dust. “What is it?”
Constance reached into the dim recesses and pulled out a large bolt of fabric. It was soft to the touch, and as it came out into the torchlight it shimmered with a sea green / blue color that captivated her eyes.
“This was part of my dowry,” remembered Constance, her eyes gazing with fondness at the fabric. “My father knew how much I adored this color and sent it with me.” She ran a hand slowly down its length. “Barnard wanted me only in his family colors – burgundy and gold. He redirected the chest into the storeroom and I have not see
n it since.”
“It is beautiful,” agreed Vera quietly. She waited a long moment, then added softly, “Those are the colors Gabriel wears.”
Constance caught her breath. Vera was right. The tapestries in Gabriel’s home, the tunics they wore, they were all this same hue. While he had served at her family home he had worn her family colors, but after he returned …
Constance gathered up the fabric in her arms, closing the lid with a bump of her hip. “I am going to make myself a dress of this fabric,” she stated tersely. “Not only that, but I am going to wear it to the ceremony.” She could not bring herself to name the actual event – the execution – which was going to take place there.
Vera’s face turned pale.
“Are you sure that is a good idea?” she asked with worry.
“I will tell Barnard that this fabric was part of my wedding dowry – that I want us to start afresh, anew. I think he will appreciate the symbolism and encourage me.” Constance took one last look around the dingy rooms. She was certain that nothing else remained to be found down here. Together they made their way back up the stairs.
Evening was descending in velvet hues. The staff had returned to the keep to finish up their chores, and the rooms bustled with activity. Constance and Vera brought the fabric into a side room, and to their surprise several of the maids came in to bring thread or a selection of sliced apples. Apparently the staff was also making an effort to start over again.
Constance smiled. The staff’s acceptance would help make tomorrow’s investigations easier. Also, the new dressmaking task would give her and Vera a handy excuse. They could now go poking into various rooms in search of whatever dressmaking implements they might invent a need for.
Chapter 25
Sunday morning dawned with fierce thunderstorms pelting rain down in sheets. Gloom settled over Constance’s heart – there were only thirty-six hours left to search. A mere two days from now Gabriel would be slain, his Angelus troop with him, and all would be lost.
Her resolve steeled. She would not let that happen.
She dressed quickly, making her way downstairs. The household was gathered to head to the church and Barnard solicitously put an arm out to escort her. Constance took it with exaggerated weakness, allowing him to help her down the submerged path to the stone chapel.
She focused every fiber of her being on the mass, on her desire for help, on asking God for forgiveness and understanding. She had fallen short of the Lord’s requirements. She had allowed desire and longing to enter her world. Whatever she had done wrong, she would not allow Gabriel to suffer for it. She needed every helping hand, every grace the Lord could send her now.
The priest, a middle-aged, portly man with thinning hair, finished the mass and turned to the congregation for a more personal comment.
“I know some of you have gone through hard times recently,” he began in a strong voice which echoed off the back walls. “This may have caused you to question God; to wonder what kind of deity would allow such tragedies in our lives. I am here to tell you that life is not always smooth – and this is a good thing. You must take the long view on your life.
“Think of a child, learning to walk. The child falls often. She skins her knee, she bruises her hand. This is what helps the child learn. Over time, she improves, she masters walking – and then running. The bruises heal, and the skills she learns become critical to her daily life.”
He swept the room with his eyes. “Think of the soldier practicing his art. If he is lazy or slow, he takes a blow on the shoulder. This encourages him to improve. Over time he becomes skilled at his craft, and can use his talents to protect the weak and the helpless. His strength grows.”
His eyes seemed to Constance to target hers; he seemed to be speaking right to her heart. “Sometimes what seems to be a hardship is really a sign from God. It causes you to focus on what you had not seen before; it causes you to take action where you had been passive. The great benefit that results will make the hardship seem a triviality. The great joy that results will wash away any memories of the pain which came before.”
His eyes moved back to encompass the entire group. “Focus on your goals, every day, and make steadfast progress toward them. Focus also on the steps you take to achieve your goals, ensuring that each one is in and of itself honorable, true, and right. There is no moral goal which is achieved by immoral means. There is no right aim which is achieved by lying, destroying others’ lives, or taking what was not earned by your own two hands. It is far better to be contented and poor than to build wealth on the backs of others.”
He swept his arms wide in emphasis. “Make every day your legacy – and use every day to increase that legacy.”
Constance was enlivened and renewed as they returned to the main house. Now she only had to wait out the traditional hour of visitors – not that their home ever saw any – and then she could continue her work on searching the main floor with Vera.
To her surprise, there was in fact a man waiting for them in the hall as they returned from chapel, his yellow and white outfit proclaiming who he was long before he turned to look at her in concern. Constance ran into her brother’s arms, comforted by his warm and welcome embrace. He held her for a long moment before holding her at arm’s length to look down into her eyes.
“Oh, my dear Connie,” he rasped in concern. “How are you doing? I cannot believe -”
“Everything will be all right,” Constance interrupted quickly, turning as Barnard came up behind them. “Look, my brother has come to visit for a while,” she added brightly in a louder tone.
Barnard frowned slightly, but he nodded. “Of course, welcome, Charles.” He shook hands brusquely with Constance’s brother. “I imagine you are concerned about your sister’s injuries at the hands of Gabriel,” he commented, his face smug.
Constance gave Charles’ hand a warning squeeze, and his lips thinned as he bit back a comment. “I still cannot believe it,” he finally replied tersely.
“Oh, believe it,” responded Barnard with a chuckle, relaxing. “A few more days and the nightmare will be over.” He moved over to a sideboard which held decanters and glassware. “Some wine?”
Charles shook his head no, and Barnard shrugged, poured himself a large glass and strode off to his office. Constance waited until he had left before drawing her brother over to a corner bench. Vera brought them mugs of ale before leaving them to their own counsel.
“Constance, what is going on?” asked Charles in a hush. “You cannot have me believe -”
“No,” agreed Constance, cutting him off, “but I cannot go into it any further. We are running out of time, and I need help.” Her mind flew over the plans she and Vera had discussed over the past several nights. “You have contacts in all the local villages. Can you get for me a list of what the bandits have stolen – a description of the more valuable items, and who they belonged to?”
Charles nodded. “Yes, of course. That has all been gathered as part of the documentation against Gabriel and his group. It would be a simple matter for me to get a transcription.”
“Please bring it with you to the ceremony on Tuesday,” asked Constance, her throat growing tight as she realized just how little time was left to her. “I think it will prove useful.”
“As you wish,” agreed Charles. His hands held hers gently. His eyes went to the bruises still visible on her face. “Are you sure you are all right? Is there nothing else you need?”
“I need more time,” sighed Constance, a half smile flitting across her face. “But that you cannot give me.”
Charles stood at once, finishing his ale and putting the mug on the bench besides him. “Then I will not delay you further,” he stated with a nod. “I will see you in two days’ time. God speed.”
Constance stood as well, giving him a tender hug. As soon as she released him, he turned and strode from the room. Almost instantly, Barnard was in the doorway, looking at her curiously. He came over to stand beside
her, picking up her mug of ale and glancing at its untouched brew.
“That was a quick visit,” he commented wryly.
“I asked him to compile a list of what the bandits had stolen,” admitted Constance frankly, sure that servants had been set to overhear her conversation. “I thought I might read some of it at the ceremony, so that all present would be aware of just what harm the bandits had done.”
Barnard’s grin grew wide. “What a delightful idea!” he crowed. “That will stir up the crowd’s emotions even more strongly. Well done, my dear.”
Constance steeled herself not to show any emotion, not to flinch as he patted her on the back. “Now that he is gone, I can get back to working on my dress. I want to look my best, to show I have survived recent events, and that I am ready to make a fresh start.”
Barnard beamed with pride. “Of course you do. I will leave you to it,” he agreed. “You just let any of the servants know if they can assist you in any way.” He took in a deep breath, smiling. “If you will be so occupied, I will go for a ride out to visit a friend. It looks like the sun is beginning to peer through the clouds. You and Vera enjoy your afternoon.” He gave her a brief bow, then turned and left.
Constance waited several moments to ensure he had really gone, then waved Vera over and headed for the side study. This sitting room had been unused for several years. They took a few minutes to set up a table with benches and lay the cloth upon it. Once the room was prepared for dressmaking, they huddled to one side to discuss their plans for the afternoon.
Constance had left the main floor for last for several reasons. To begin with, it was by far the most frequently used of the three. She assumed that Barnard would want to keep his activities secret. Few would have seen him moving around in the basement at night, or in the back storage rooms. If he had tried to sneak around the pantry area, it was likely someone would have come across him no matter what time of day or night he was using the room.