Super Summer Set of Historical Shorts

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “Then hurry, Claude. Ride fast to the castle. I can’t wait to get there,” Charlotte urged him.

  John turned and led the way, but Celestine stared at Claude with pity in her eyes.

  “I’m sorry, Claude,” she whispered as he rode past.

  “Me too,” said Claude, holding tightly to Charlotte as he dug his heels into the sides of the horse and directed the animal into a run. He felt like a man heading to the gallows. Going back to the castle where he would have to watch Rose with her husband was the last thing he wanted to do right now. But Rose was counting on him. She was frightened. How could he leave her when she had been there for him in his time of need?

  Chapter 2

  “Evelina, slow down,” exclaimed Rose as Evelina drove the cart much too fast for having a child and a pregnant lady aboard.

  “I’m sorry, my lady.” Evelina slowed the cart as they headed for the castle.

  “You are acting very uptight ever since we came to the docks,” said Rose. “What is the matter?”

  Evelina had kept hidden when she saw the ship from France. At first, she had thought her father was aboard it, or perhaps her betrothed. She didn’t want to marry the wretched Lord Onfroi Faucheux of Grenoble. That is why she left France in the first place. She realized alliances were necessary, but she was not willing to offer herself up as a sacrificial lamb. Nay, she would not marry the evil man because if she did, her life would be over. He was old and cruel and liked to beat women. She’d even heard from the kitchen maids that Lord Onfroi had tied up some of the servant girls from his castle and forced himself on them.

  Her father didn’t believe her, and there was nothing she could do to convince him it was true. So, she did the only thing she could to keep her from this doomed fate. She stowed away on a ship to England wearing the clothes of a peasant. Accompanied by no one but Augustin, one of her father’s mercenaries, she was lucky enough to meet the kind-hearted Lady Rose on the docks who had taken her in as a nursemaid.

  Of course, Evelina had forged a letter of recommendation, being skilled in faking signatures and handwriting of any kind. To get Augustin to be her escort, she had to pay him dearly. Their story was that he was her brother, even though he was a good fifteen years older than her. He was hired as a guard at Briarbeck Castle so they could stay together. Evelina’s real surname was Du Pont, but she was using the alias of Bisset.

  For a fortnight now, Evelina lived in disguise, giving up her life as a noble in hopes of finding an Englishman with whom she could fall in love and marry. If anyone discovered her true identity, she would be sent back to France immediately and be married off to Lord Onfroi in a heartbeat.

  “Naught is wrong, Lady Rose. I just don’t think it is safe for you to be on the docks, that’s all.”

  “We were in no danger with Lord John and Sir Claude there,” Rose assured her. “Now that Claude will be here in my father and husband’s absence, I am not even afraid to give birth.”

  “He’ll be here that long?” Evelina didn’t like the fact Sir Claude was from France and wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Plus, she’d made a mistake when she spoke, and he was now aware she was French as well. If he stayed at Briarbeck Castle, there was no doubt he would be asking questions that she didn’t want to answer. She didn’t know him, but what if he knew of her?

  “I am sorry, my lady. I spoke out of line.” Evelina played the subservient position of a servant even though she was the daughter of a French count. She enjoyed being around children, and Rose was a kind person. Still, it was hard having to remember that she now had to sit below the salt and eat with the commoners. She couldn’t wear velvet or jewels anymore and had to sleep on a pallet on the floor in Lady Rose’s wardrobe.

  As awful as this all was, the one good thing was that she could come and go without being noticed. She could also observe the eligible Englishmen and would, hopefully, find one who took her interest. She planned on finding a man to marry here in England. Then she would send a missive back to France and, hopefully, convince her father to change her betrothal.

  Being in England gave her the opportunity to do this, although it was probably a risky and foolish thing to do. However, if she had stayed in France, everyone knew her and she would never be able to hide in the shadows like she was doing here. It was her last chance to make her life the way she wanted it to be. Her two brothers were already married. Being the youngest and only daughter, her father had plans for her that she didn’t agree with and never would.

  “I have known Claude for a long time,” said Rose as Evelina brought the cart to a stop. “We are good friends. Did you know he wanted to marry me at one time, but I turned him down?”

  “He did?” Evelina handed the reins to a stable boy as she slipped off the driver’s seat. “He is very handsome, my lady. Why would you turn him down?” She held out her arms for Harry, lifting him from the cart and holding his hand.

  Rose walked around the cart, coming to Evelina’s side. “I had just turned three and ten years of age at the time. I was in love with my father’s squire, Toft. That is why I married him instead of Claude. My father agreed because he wanted me to be happy, even though Toft was not from a rich family and didn’t own an estate. Oh, here is my husband now.”

  Evelina stepped to the side as Toft rushed over to greet his wife. He hugged her and kissed her in front of everyone, scooping her up into his arms. That made Rose giggle.

  “Pick me up, too,” said Harry, holding out his arms.

  “Toft, put me down,” scolded Rose. “If you don’t, I might deliver this baby right in your arms.”

  “I wish you would,” said Toft. His bright eyes sparkled in the sun, and his honey-colored hair gently lifted in the warm breeze. “If you did that, I wouldn’t have to worry about you every minute I am away.” He placed Rose on her feet.

  Evelina’s heart melted, watching the couple that looked to be so much in love. That’s what she wanted, too. She wanted a man to fall in love with her. Someday, she hoped to have a kind and handsome young husband who would kiss and hug her and care about having a child so much that he didn’t want to leave her. Yes, she wanted someone just like Toft.

  “You don’t have to worry about me being alone when I birth the baby, Toft,” Rose told her husband.

  Toft looked over to Evelina. “Aye, I know you have the nursemaid.”

  “And me,” said Harry. “I will help my sister.”

  “I’m sure you will,” said Toft, ruffling the little boy’s hair. “Your mother will be here, too, but I don’t feel as if that is enough.”

  “Sir Toft, I heard what ye said.” Isobel, Rose’s Scottish stepmother, approached holding on to the arm of Rose’s father, Lord Conlin de Braose. Isobel was once sent as a proxy from Scotland but ended up falling in love with Conlin, and they were married instead. “I assure ye I will take guid care of my daughter and her bairn. Ye have nothin’ to worry about.”

  Conlin spoke up next. “The only thing you have to fear is if my wife will have the baby’s feet in shoes by the time we return,” Conlin said with a chuckle.

  “I don’t understand,” said Evelina.

  “My father is jesting.” Rose threw a sideways glance at her father.

  “Like hell I am,” mumbled Conlin. “We have all seen Isobel’s crazy infatuation with shoes, and there is no telling what is going to happen next where that is concerned.”

  “Conlin, ye are exaggeratin’,” said Isobel. “I havena even bought a new pair of shoes for some time now.”

  “Really?” he asked, glancing across the courtyard. “Torrence, Dunmor, come here,” he called out to their eight and six-year-old sons who came running.

  “What is it, Father?” asked Dunmor.

  “You aren’t leaving yet, are you?” Torrence inquired.

  “Nay, boys. I won’t be leaving until the morrow. Harry, come here, too, please.”

  Harry ran over, and Conlin scooped him up in his arms.

  “Conlin, what is this al
l about?” asked Isobel.

  “Show me your shoes, boys,” said Conlin.

  “Our shoes?” asked Torrence, confused.

  “That’s right,” said Conlin, holding up one of Harry’s feet. The little boy giggled. “Let me see your shoes.”

  Torrence and Dunmor held one foot in the air, showing off brand new boots.

  “Uh huh,” said Conlin with a nod.

  “Conlin, what are ye doin’?” asked Isobel.

  “Boys, you were wearing shoes, not boots this morning, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, Father,” said Torrence.

  “So, why did you change them?”

  “Mother bought us new boots, and she wanted to see how they fit,” Dunmor blurted out.

  Evelina had to hold back her laughter when she saw Isobel’s face redden at the tattling of her son.

  “Isobel?” asked Conlin in a low voice. “What do you have to say about that?”

  “Oh, all right, so I bought the bairns some new shoes. But I didna buy any for myself.”

  “Good thing,” said Conlin, placing Harry on the ground. “Any more shoes and I will have to add a room to the castle just to store them all. Now, come on, boys, we need to get to the great hall for someone’s birthday celebration.”

  “Me? Do you mean me?” asked Harry, sounding so excited that Evelina thought he would wet himself.

  “Yes, you,” said Conlin. “We have a celebration! Now, everyone get to the great hall so we can start.”

  “Did you want me to watch over the children?” Evelina asked Conlin.

  “Nay, not tonight. I’ll watch the boys. You stay close to my daughter, instead,” Conlin called back over his shoulder. “If she shows any signs of starting to birth the baby, report to me or my wife immediately, do you understand?”

  “Aye, my lord,” said Evelina with a nod.

  “Rose, I don’t think I should leave tomorrow,” Toft told his wife. “You might need me.”

  “Thank you, Husband, but you don’t have a choice. It is your duty as a knight to serve the king when needed. And as I was saying, I will be in good hands. Claude is here. Here he comes now.”

  “Claude de Bar is here from France?” Toft looked up to see Claude dismounting his horse. “Claude. Over here,” shouted Toft, waving his hand in the air.

  “Remember, he is Claude Montague now since his father has claimed him,” Rose told her husband. “Sir Claude. He is a knight as well.”

  “Aye, that’s right.” Toft chuckled lowly. “I can’t help but wonder how that scrawny little boy with the long hair in his eyes managed to become a knight.”

  “He doesn’t look like that anymore, Toft, so please be nice.”

  Evelina saw the handsome Frenchman looking in their direction. He helped his young sister from the horse and sent her over to his parents before he headed over. Evelina kept her eyes downward, not wanting the man to see her face.

  “Hello, Toft,” said Claude, reaching out and clasping hands with Rose’s husband.

  “My, you have grown up since the last time I saw you, Claude. I’m surprised to see you here,” Toft replied. “After all, you left so suddenly after Rose and I married that I didn’t even get to say farewell.”

  “It’s been six years since Claude went back to France,” said Rose. “But he is here now and is going to watch over me until your return, so you needn’t worry. I will be in good hands.”

  “You are going to do that?” Toft seemed pleased.

  Evelina glanced up to see Claude and Rose’s eyes interlock. Rose was smiling, but Claude wasn’t. The man held discomfort in his gaze. She could tell he was uptight by the rigidness of his stance.

  “Well, I am not sure how long I’ll be able to stay,” Claude muttered, fidgeting as he answered.

  “Rose is due to have our baby any day now.” Toft pulled Rose closer, giving his wife a squeeze. “You won’t have long to wait. I assure you of that.”

  Evelina witnessed the uneasiness in Claude’s eyes before he looked down to his arm, pretending to brush away lint. The happy couple didn’t even seem to notice that Claude felt uncomfortable. Evelina wondered if it had something to do with the fact Claude once wanted to marry Rose. Perhaps, he still had feelings for her after all this time.

  “Claude, you will be here for me until Toft returns, won’t you?” Rose asked with hope in her voice.

  “My service to the king is for a fortnight. I will return as soon as I can,” Toft informed him. “I would feel at ease knowing Rose has a man she can trust at her side. I don’t want her to feel afraid . . . after losing the last two babies and all.”

  Claude was at a loss for words. How could he not stay when Rose wanted him there? Even though Rose had already explained things, now that Toft had also pointed out she’d lost two babies, he realized she was frightened and rightly so. Guilt ate away at him for not even expressing his sorrow for their loss.

  “Of course, I’d be happy to stay at Rose’s side until your return,” agreed Claude. “I also want to offer my condolences on the hardships you two have experienced in the past years. I am sorry, but I didn’t know about the loss of your babies until today.”

  “You didn’t know?” asked Toft. His brows dipped in confusion.

  “Didn’t your mother tell you?” asked Rose. “After all, she visits you in France several times a year.”

  “Nay, she didn’t mention it.” Claude felt like a heel and cursed himself inwardly for burying his head in the sand. He had to explain things, or his mother would look like the fool. “I asked her not to tell me any bad news, so it isn’t her fault. I was going through . . . some rough times. I am sorry.”

  Rose reached out and touched Claude lightly on the shoulder. His body stiffened and he held his breath, not wanting to feel the warmth of her hand on him. It was just too much to bear.

  “I understand, Claude,” said Rose. “It’s all right.”

  There was an awkward silence between them. Claude felt the heat rising to his face. He had to say something and didn’t want to talk about Rose, her baby or Toft anymore. It was just too hard to take. He turned and looked at the nursemaid instead. She stood there so quietly that he had almost forgotten she was there. Her face was turned to the ground.

  “I’m sorry, Nursemaid, but what was your name again?” he asked, knowing it was Evelina, but wanting the girl to speak so he would have someone else to talk to.

  The girl’s eyes snapped up in surprise, and he got his first look at her face. A round face with big, hazel eyes stared up at him almost as if in fear. She was a petite girl, with a small frame. Her oaken hair was braided and coiled around each ear and covered partially by a wimple. It reminded him of the way the nobles wore their hair. Her skin was fair and smooth. She seemed to be a few years younger than his age of twenty-three.

  “Moi?” she asked in surprise, then corrected herself quickly. “Me?” Her eyes shot back to the ground.

  “Her name is Evelina,” Rose told him.

  “Evelina,” he repeated, thinking it was the prettiest name he’d ever heard. The prettiest name, that is, besides Rose. “Does she have a surname?” he asked.

  “She does,” said Rose. “But perhaps you should ask her directly.”

  Claude reached out and lifted the girl’s chin with two fingers. Her face turned upward, but her eyes would not meet his.

  “Look at me,” he said, wanting to get another glimpse of her magnificent, large eyes.

  Evelina had no choice but to look into Sir Claude’s eyes. If she didn’t, she would be disobeying orders to a noble. She wondered if this is how all servants felt. It wasn’t a good feeling at all.

  “That’s better,” he said, studying her face, cocking his dark head to each side as he inspected her as if she were a side of beef. His eyes were bright blue like the sky while his hair was dark like a dense forest. “Comely for a servant.” His eyes traveled down her entire body and then back up to her face.

  She wanted to bite off his head and ha
d to keep from crying out. She wasn’t used to being treated this way.

  “Tell me your surname, and from where you come.”

  “I am Evelina Du – Bisset,” she said, almost telling him her real name.

  “Dubisset?” He wrenched his face. I’ve never heard that name before. What part of France do you come from?”

  She came from Tarbes in the Languedoc region near Toulouse but didn’t want him to know. She also wanted to find out where he was from before she answered.

  “Where is your abode, Sir Claude?”

  He dropped his hand to the side. “My, you are brash for a servant.”

  “I – I’m sorry, my lord,” she stammered, thinking she pushed it too far. “I just meant, I’ve never heard of you and wondered where you resided.”

  “I am Sir Claude Montague of Stonebury Castle in the north of France.”

  “Oh. I come from the southern part of France,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t ask her more.

  “My lord,” said the man’s squire, running on foot, entering the courtyard out of breath. “I have your present for your sister in the travel bag and forgot to give it to you. I hope it’s not too late.”

  “Nay, Felix,” he said, thankfully taking his attention away from Evelina. “However, if I don’t get into the great hall soon, I’m sure my sister will be hunting me down to retrieve her present.”

  “Come,” said Rose, taking Toft’s hand and heading toward the keep. “Claude, you’ll want to greet Lord Nicholas and his wife, Muriel, I’m sure. You should see how tall the twins, Nelda and little Nicholas, got in the past few years. They are eight now, and little Nicholas is already a page.”

  “My, that time went fast,” said Claude.

  “They have more children as well,” Toft told him. “Another boy and two more girls that are named Holly and Heather.”

  “Holly and Heather? What kind of names are those?” Claude asked, making a face and shaking his head.

  “I think those names are pretty,” Evelina blurted out, not able to stop herself from saying what she thought.