Just Ella

by Annette K. Larsen

  The stables were dark, but held the familiar sounds and smells of horses. I walked down the aisle, jumping when a horse stuck its head over a wall, its curious eyes reflecting the small bit of moonlight seeping through the doors. Moving past, I reached the other end and tried to sit down, but the pain in my left side forced me to stretch out on my right. I pulled my sopping cloak around me, trying to bring some warmth back into my body and failing. Shaking with cold and fear, I thought through my options. Approaching the house would leave me vulnerable to whoever resided here, and I couldn’t trust anyone at this moment. I had never been so alone and found myself incapable of making a decision, so instead I just lay there, shaking.

  Just as I started to relax, the sound of voices made my eyes pop open, and I sat up, forcing my breathing to quiet. The doors at the other end of the stables slid open and someone entered, carrying a lamp and shaking water from their clothes.

  “I’m not seein’ things, Lord Fallon. Someone is in here,” a voice whispered. I sat still, unable to move. The lamp shifted, casting two men in ominous shadow.

  “I believe you, Giles. That’s why we’re here.” His Lordship sounded not at all concerned, as though he were merely humoring his hired man. He sounded more tired than anything.

  “The lamp, Giles.” The light transferred to His Lordship’s hands, illuminating his face and leaving me astonished by his youth. He looked to be in his twenties, and I wondered how such a young gentleman held the title of Lord. “You’re sure it wasn’t an animal of some sort?” he asked as he took his first steps down the long line of stalls. He would find me soon enough, and yet this prospect didn’t terrify me as it had moments ago. Lord Fallon looked not at all frightening. He wore trousers, a loose fitting shirt that hung untucked, and a full-length coat that fell in languid folds from his shoulders. Water dripped from his rumpled hair, sliding down his face and into his well-trimmed facial hair.

  “T’weren’t no animal, sir.”

  “The horses aren’t agitated. They would be if someone threatening were about.”

  When the light fell on me, Lord Fallon’s eyes widened. I tried to push myself to my feet, but he drew a sword that I had not realized was hanging at his side and pointed it at my throat. I fell back against the wall, crouching, my chest aching from the heavy beating of my heart.

  “I don’t take kindly to vagrants on my property.” His fatigue had vanished. Now he looked menacing—terrifying.

  My voice was barely audible as I forced a reply. “I’m not a vagrant, sir.”

  His eyes narrowed in question. “Remove your hood.”

  I raised my hand slowly and pushed the fabric back. His eyebrows raised, even more surprised by my appearance than by my voice. The sword lowered. “Giles, take her inside and put her in front of a fire. She’s freezing.” And with that, he walked away and I slumped back to the ground, numb with relief.

  “Come along then, miss,” Giles said as he helped me to my feet. “What in the world is a pretty thing like you doing wandering about in the middle of the night?” He seemed to be mumbling to himself, so I didn’t answer.

  Giles’ face was lined and his shoulders were stooped, but his smile was kind. He pulled my hood up for me and put a gentle arm about my waist as we left the stables. My body shook and I was glad for the help as we braved the storm once more. We entered the house and he helped me into a room with a rough wooden table and chairs. We must have been below-stairs, since I was certain the Lord’s living quarters would be much finer than this room. From my perch on a stool, I watched as Giles crouched before the banked fire and coaxed it back to life. I pushed my hands toward the flames, grateful to feel the warmth on my fingers.

  Once the fire was well stoked, Giles turned to me, rubbing his hands together. “If you’ll hand me your cloak, we need to wrap you in something dry.”

  It took a moment for my hands to reach for the clasp at my throat. I was drowsy with relief and fumbled to unfasten my cloak and give it to Giles. He pulled a blanket from somewhere behind me and draped it around my shoulders.

  “Very good, miss,” he said with a little bow and then left the room.

  I stared into the fire for quite a while before it struck me as odd that they had left me alone. I was a complete stranger to these people. They had no reason to trust me. Likewise, I had no reason to trust them.

  I moved each of my limbs in turn, taking note of the pain. My left shoulder, arm and hip seemed to have taken the brunt of my fall. During my flight through the storm, I had tried to ignore my injuries, but now I felt each and every one.

  Hearing footsteps approach, I turned toward the door, expecting someone to walk through it. But the footsteps ceased, replaced by voices.

  “And how is our little vagabond?”

  The corner of my mouth twitched upward. Lord Fallon was making no attempt to keep his voice down.

  “That’s no vagabond, sir. Feel this.” I furrowed my brow as Lord Fallon made a noise of interest. “Look for yourself, sir,” Giles prodded.

  Lord Fallon came through the door, his eyes falling to me. We each studied the other. He no longer appeared as though he’d been roused from his bed. Though water still glistened in his dark hair, he was impeccably dressed and I wondered at his reasons when he had assumed I was a beggar. Giles had entered behind him, holding my cloak.

  “I see what you mean.” His Lordship sighed, relaxing his posture somewhat before grabbing a chair and placing it next to me.

  I turned toward the fire and pulled the blanket tighter around me, unable to meet his gaze as I felt him staring at my profile for several moments.

  “You are injured, miss.”

  My eyes darted to him in surprise. I had expected him to demand my name. “Sir?”

  “Giles,” he said while still looking at me. “Go wake your wife. Our guest needs someone to tend to her injuries, and some dry clothing as well.”

  “She’ll be right pleased to have someone to fuss over,” Giles murmured as he left.

  In Giles’s absence, I realized I was alone in a dimly lit room with a handsome man. I turned my attention back to the fire, ignoring my discomfort.

  He scooted closer and I stiffened as he reached for my straight, dark hair, pushing it away from my cheek. “How were you injured?” I glanced over and realized he was inspecting a wound on my forehead.

  “I fell from a horse.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Why would you be riding so late at night?” He moved closer, getting a better look. “And in the middle of a storm?”

  It took me a moment to find my voice with him leaning so close. “I wasn’t. I was riding this evening, trying to make it home before the storm. I’ve been walking since I fell.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You were riding alone?”

  My heavy eyes blinked as I stared at the fire. “I was returning home with an escort. We found our way blocked by bandits—miscreants—I don’t know who they were.” I shook my head in frustration. “My escort told me to ride away and I did. But I was pursued and they were gaining on me. The only thing I could think to do was to jump off the horse and hope they followed her long enough for me to get away.”

  “And then you walked?” His voice was hushed.

  I glanced at him but couldn’t hold his gaze. “Then I walked…or ran when I could.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him nodding to himself as he looked at the floor. “Forgive me, miss.” His eyes returned to me. “I do not recall ever having made your acquaintance, but you look very familiar.”

  I studied his face, surprised that I did not know him since I knew most of the nobility. “I have never seen you at court, sir.”

  He let out a bitter laugh. “This estate is falling to ruin. I do not have the time to play at being a socialite.”

  “And your name, sir?” I knew that he was Lord Fallon, but thought it polite to ask.

  “Rhys Fallon.” The dropping of his title surprised me.

  “A pl
easure, sir.”

  He smiled at my hollow formality. “And who might you be?”

  I looked away, not wanting to lie, but unwilling to confess my true identity. I was royalty, this man’s superior, but I couldn’t make myself admit it, determined to protect myself. “Lily,” was the lie I came up with. “Lily Josten.”

  “And how—” he began but was interrupted by the abrupt entrance of an older woman. Unlike her master, she had not taken time to fully dress. She was in the midst of fastening her dressing gown as she walked toward me.

  “My gracious, what have we here?” she crouched before me, taking my face in hand. She was a lovely woman, all gray hair and compassion. She set about fussing over me—removing the blanket so that she could search for injuries and quietly inquire about others. I was shocked when she gave orders, not only to her husband, but to Lord Fallon as well. “Giles, put some water on to boil. Rhys, go pull some bandages from that cupboard over there.”

  I looked up to see how he would respond to being ordered about by someone who worked for him, but he simply rose and went to the cupboard. She focused mostly on my arm. My sleeve had been torn, revealing a long, ugly looking scrape from shoulder to elbow.

  Once she had acquired everything she needed, she waved the men away, “Now get out, the both of you. I must tend to her injuries.”

  “It is only her arm, Rosamond,” Rhys protested.

  Rosamond shot him a steely glance. “There are others,” she stated, and I ducked my head in embarrassment. Rhys just cleared his throat and walked out the door. Giles followed.

  As Rosamond helped me to peel off layer upon layer of sopping fabric, she found bruises running from the back of my left shoulder down to my thigh. There was a fist-sized wound at my hip. It had turned my underskirt pink with blood and still bled feebly. She cleaned up the scrapes on my head, arm and hip as quickly as possible and put some sort of salve on my bruises before helping me into a dry chemise and bundling me once more in a blanket.

  By the time she had finished patching me up, my exhaustion made it difficult to stand. After trying to help me walk a few steps, Rosamond called out, “Your Lordship!” He appeared immediately at the door. “She’s in no state to be walking up those stairs, sir.”

  With only that prompting, Rhys picked me up gently, blankets and all, and carried me from the room. Though he was as careful as possible, I still had to bite back a groan of pain as his arms pressed on my injuries. Rosamond bustled ahead of us and entered a room at the top of the stairs. “Just set her down. I’ll take it from here.”

  Rhys set me on my feet, made sure I had my balance, then gave me a nod and a small smile. I gazed after him, barely recalling my manners before he stepped out of sight. “Thank you, sir,” I managed to blurt. He just nodded once and closed the door.

  “You’ve certainly got the master in a bunch,” Rosamond commented.

  “I’m sorry?” I asked.

  “His Lordship isn’t usually so quiet, is all.” I didn’t know what she meant, so I gave no response. She worked in silence, removing the few pins that remained among my hair, then pulling back the covers on the bed. “I know you won’t be comfortable with all the pains ailing you, but I hope you can rest.”

  “Thank you.” I was already half asleep when I heard the door close behind her, but I didn’t slip off right away. My mind was too full of my ordeal, the memory of fleeing across the countryside racing through my head. The hours spent wandering in the dark and the rain had left a shadow of fear in my heart.

  My eyes remained wide open for a good portion of the night, the questions finally forcing their way into my mind now that I found myself in relative safety. A sick feeling settled in my stomach as I thought about my parents and what they must be thinking at this moment. What conclusion had they drawn when I did not return? What had happened to Nathaniel? Had he been able to return to the castle and tell the tale of our attackers? I had no way of knowing.

  Missing Lily is available on Amazon.