He felt her relax against him, taking deep breaths, one hand hanging onto his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as she rested against him.
She suddenly dropped her hand from his shoulder and pulled away.
He loosened his hold but was reluctant to let her go. Her eyes flicked nervously from his face to the floor. She muttered, “Forgive me. My behavior is … unseemly.”
“No, not at all.” He cupped her elbows in his hands to keep her from turning away from him.
Annabel stared up into his face. Her cheeks blushed red. “I must go.”
She turned and practically ran from him.
Grateful to find the undercroft empty, Annabel flung herself onto her bed.
It was the worst morning of her life. By accusing Lord le Wyse, the coroner had wrung much more information from her than she’d been willing to give. Sitting alone now, she wondered if the vile man had mentioned her lord only to trick her. Annabel wrapped her arms around herself, still feeling Lord le Wyse’s warmth. I touched him. I pressed my forehead against his shoulder. What must he think of me? She wouldn’t have done it if he hadn’t looked at her the way he did. But she had wanted to be in his arms. In fact, she had wanted it … and enjoyed it … far too much.
While she had stood, soothed by the rhythm of his beating heart against her ear, she had remembered the way Lord le Wyse had tried to defend her from Sir Clement’s harassing questions. The thought had stirred her heart and caused her breath to hitch in her throat.
When she looked up at Lord le Wyse, something about his expression — seeking, tender, intense — caused something to ignite deep inside her. The feeling intensified when she realized she enjoyed his comfort, enjoyed being close to him.
And that terrified her.
She knew with all certainty that it wasn’t the way a servant should feel toward her lord. Her heart was still pounding from the effect of it. Was she as bad as Beatrice?
“O God, send me away. Send me away to a nunnery, please. I want to get away from here, from this turmoil. Save me from the coroner, and don’t let me betray poor Stephen. O God, send me away. I’m so confused.”
Maud’s surly attitude toward Sir Clement infuriated Ranulf. She mumbled her answers, glared openly, and all but accused Ranulf of attempting to murder her father, though she gave no proof for her assertions. He’d apparently made an enemy of the maiden when he spurned her late-night offers.
Maud sat stiffly. Sir Clement asked, “Did your father have any enemies?”
“Nay, everyone admired my father. He was friendly with everyone.”
What would Maud do if she found out what her father had done to Annabel? Or even that Annabel knew who struck her father? He prayed that Sir Clement would keep that small piece of information to himself. But why should he? The jury would need to know all the facts they could get in order to decide whom, if anyone, to accuse in the attack on the bailiff, and then everyone would know the facts. And that Annabel had hid them.
His breath shallowed at this new thought.
Annabel was not safe. He had to get her out of Glynval altogether. And soon.
Maud glared at him from across the room. The coroner was asking her something, but her eyes were locked on Ranulf, her expression overflowing with hatred. One thing was now clear: if Maud found out Annabel had actually seen what happened to her father but was refusing to tell, she’d rip her apart with her fingernails.
He would write to his aunt, the abbess at Rosings Abbey, and send the letter by messenger today. He resolved to speak to Sir Clement as well and beg him to keep what he knew about Annabel a secret. As Maud’s examination continued, a plan formed in Ranulf’s mind. He had been trying to get Annabel to confide in him before, and he still intended to find out whom she was with that night; he would merely tell Sir Clement he needed more time to draw the attacker’s name from Annabel’s lips. Knowing Clement, the man’s curiosity would win out and Annabel would be safe for the moment.
If she revealed to Ranulf who struck the bailiff, would he tell Sir Clement? She would feel betrayed, but it might be the only way to clear her — and him — of suspicion.
He was sure of one thing: he couldn’t let Sir Clement know he was sending Annabel to the abbey.
Annabel, locked away at an abbey. He wouldn’t be able to see her or speak to her ever again. But she would be safe from the inquest, and safe from Maud.
The hundred bailiff wasted no time in gathering a jury from Glynval and a few neighboring villages. That afternoon, while they were alone in the upper hall, Sir Clement read the names of the jury to Ranulf. He didn’t know any of them, of course.
“You’re frowning,” Sir Clement remarked. “Do you disapprove the selection?”
Ranulf cleared his throat, trying to think before he spoke. “It isn’t for me to approve or disapprove.” He rubbed his temple. “Sir Clement …”
“Yes?”
“The young maiden, Annabel, has revealed some important information to you, I believe.”
The coroner blinked, his face suddenly alert and trained on Ranulf. “Indeed.”
“Under distress, she has divulged that she saw what happened to the bailiff and the person responsible.”
“True.”
“But she did not betray the person who struck the bailiff, whether accidentally or intentionally, though she claims it was accidental.”
“That is correct.”
“Now, it would be important to you, would it not, to find out the identity of this person?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Since I would prefer that no one harass or harm my servant, I ask that you not breathe a word of what she has told you, or insinuate that she knows aught. Meanwhile, I shall try to extract the information from her myself.”
Sir Clement’s eyes narrowed. “I see.” He looked away, staring out the window at the gray mist.
It had been a chilly day. Autumn was getting nearer, and the rain, which had been so scant for a year, had been threatening to fall all day.
“You are right to try to protect her this way.” Sir Clement turned on his heel. “But the truth must come out, and if you’re unable to extract it from her, I’m afraid I shall be forced to ask the jury to question her.”
So he was agreeable to the plan. “Of course, Sir Clement. I understand.”
Sir Clement crossed his arms in front of his chest and a strange smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “Why don’t you just marry the girl, Ranulf? She’s of age.”
Ranulf swallowed hard. When he was able to speak, he asked, “What do you mean?”
“She’s a lovely one and would make a sweet wife.”
His face went hot. “I don’t wish to discuss this with you.”
“Oh, come, Ranulf. I mean no harm. We’re old friends and should be able to speak freely with one another. Unburden yourself. My lips are secure, you know. Why don’t you marry her?”
“She doesn’t love me, and it’s none of your business.” He didn’t care if his voice sounded gruff.
“How do you know that? She’s a kindhearted girl. She’d come to love a good man like you.”
“Like me?” Ranulf felt the ire rising in his throat and spun away from Sir Clement, staring now at the shadowed wall and trying to calm himself before he said things he would later regret. “I do not wish to marry again.”
In a suggestive voice, the coroner responded, “I suppose you wouldn’t have to marry her.”
Ranulf turned and glared at Sir Clement. “Sir, you are determined to anger me.”
“Nay, nay.” Sir Clement smiled and shook his head. “Forgive me. My task makes me prone to say the very thing that will elicit the most information. Forgive me, my friend. I am merely trying to understand.”
“Understand this. Annabel doesn’t love me and isn’t interested in men or marriage. And I will never again marry a woman who doesn’t love me.”
Sir Clement’s face sobered. He pursed his lips in a frow
n. “I do understand.”
Yes, he surely did. The rumors had spread far and wide about how the young lord’s beautiful bride had scorned him for the company of the third son of a baron, whom she’d been in love with before she agreed to marry Ranulf. Everyone had known of her affair — except Ranulf. Once they were married, she made no secret that she despised his scars and didn’t love him. At first he believed he could win her heart — and then he’d caught them together.
And what had she done then? Laughed.
His gut twisted at the memory.
“But I think you are wrong about one thing.”
Ranulf looked at him wearily. “And that is?”
“You said Annabel wasn’t interested in men.” He tapped his chin with his finger and watched him. “Most men, perhaps, but … she trusts you.”
“All my servants trust me.” A flicker of hope ignited inside him. I am a fool.
“But not all your servants look at you the way she does, I’ll vow.”
Sir Clement hadn’t seen the way she’d looked at Ranulf when he embraced her after the viper frightened her. She’d looked horrified, repulsed. She did come into his arms willingly enough this morning. But she doesn’t love me.
The coroner tapped his chin again. Abruptly, he turned to face Ranulf. “I will do as you have asked and not speak of what Annabel knows. And I will expect to hear that you have found out the mysterious attacker’s identity.”
“Of course.”
Annabel tried to avoid Lord le Wyse’s gaze at supper, but she knew she would need to change his bandage after the meal was over. Once the table was cleared, she took the honey flask and bandages and waited beside his chair. He waved her to a stool and she sat.
She concentrated on unwrapping the bandage while Lord le Wyse listened to Sir Clement and Gilbert Carpenter speak about the problems caused by the recent drought.
Her fingers fumbled with the sticky bandage more than usual, but his burn once again showed no signs of becoming worse. She began to wipe his arm with a wet cloth and bit her lip in consternation at the way her hand trembled. What was wrong with her?
Annabel cleaned his arm as quickly as she could. As before, she encountered an old scar leading up to his burn. She knew the scar was from the wolf attack several years before, when he was only a youth. How brave he had been …
She found Lord le Wyse watching her, but his expression seemed guarded.
She was almost finished with the task. Sir Clement stood. “Gilbert, could you take me to see how your building is coming along?”
Gilbert Carpenter rose and followed him out. Mistress Eustacia, the last person left in the upper hall, slipped out the door after them. Wondering why they had all left her conspicuously alone with her lord, she finished wrapping his burn, tying the bandage in place.
Lord le Wyse said nothing. She tried to avoid looking at his face, but she felt him watching her as she gathered all the bandages and supplies and began putting them away on a shelf nearby.
Would he want her to read to him tonight? When he didn’t say anything, she picked up the bucket of scraps from their evening meal and turned to take them outside.
“Don’t go.” Lord le Wyse laid a hand on her wrist. “Stay and read.”
He removed his hand as she set down the bucket. Why wouldn’t her heartbeat slow? Her wrist still tingled pleasantly from where he’d placed his hand.
She waited as he pulled the most comfortable chair near the fire and nodded at her to sit. He retrieved the large Bible from the chest behind the screen and laid it in her lap. Annabel shivered.
“Are you cold?” Lord le Wyse’s forehead creased.
She shook her head but wrapped her hands around her arms.
“Are you feeling ill? If you don’t wish to read tonight —”
“Nay, I’m well. I do wish to read.” At that moment, she wanted to read the Holy Scriptures more than anything in the world.
He turned and disappeared behind the screen. When he came back he carried a brightly colored blanket with silk embroidery. She could only watch as he took the book from her lap with one hand and laid it on the table then unfolded the blanket and spread it over her. He retrieved the Bible and placed it back in her lap.
Annabel was surrounded now with the scent of the blanket, her lord’s own scent of lavender and warm masculinity. “Thank you.”
She wanted to look at him but didn’t trust herself. Instead, she opened the Holy Writ and turned to the section she had marked the last time they read by placing a feather between the pages. It was Romans chapter eight, and she began to read. “Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit who gives life has set you free.”
She sighed and relaxed into the chair, feeling warm and safe.
Chapter
15
Ranulf’s heart seemed to beat slower as he listened to Annabel read verses from the letter to the Romans, even though he was only able to concentrate on the words in snatches. He knew he needed to tell Annabel of his plan to send her away to the abbey, and Sir Clement had left them alone so she would reveal who struck the bailiff, but he couldn’t do it. He would do it tomorrow, but right now … he couldn’t justify it, but he simply needed to be with her, to hear her read.
In the morning he would find some way to coax her into telling him who threw the rock. Once he had that information, he could send her away quietly, thus fulfilling her wish and keeping her safe at the same time.
“… Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”
Father God, let my sufferings not be for nothing. And don’t let Annabel suffer any longer. Help her realize none of this is her fault. Protect her.
His chest ached at the thought of sending her away, but he wouldn’t think about that tonight. Besides, she wanted to go. It was her wish to devote herself to a life of prayer, study, and service. If he could do nothing else for her, he could give her this wish.
“… And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
She stopped after reading that verse and stared at the page.
“Annabel? What are you thinking?”
“I was just thinking about all these things that have been happening lately and wondering how God could work them out for our good.”
He waited for her to go on.
“You didn’t deserve to have your arm burned. How could that be a good thing? Or the grain crops getting burned up, or Sir Clement’s questions … How could all that be good?” She shook her head and looked down. “I suppose I shouldn’t say such things.”
“It doesn’t say it’s all good. It only says that God works in all things for the good of those who love him.”
She seemed to think for a moment. “Do you love God, my lord?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Then I suppose we must believe that all this can be, and will be, worked out for your good.”
“And for your good.”
“Yes.” She seemed afraid to look at him tonight. Had he frightened her that much when he held her in his arms this morning? She hadn’t seemed repulsed by him, had laid her cheek against his chest … but then she’d seemed to realize what she was doing and ran away.
Finally, she did glance up at him, but her gaze darted around so that she never looked him in the eye. “God wouldn’t want us to disbelieve him,” she whispered. “So we must believe it will all … be well in the end.” She sighed.
He reached out, on impulse, and grabbed her hand. “It will be well. I promise.” He squeezed her fingers and let go.
Staring down at her hand, she nodded. After another minute, she continued to read, her voice shaky.
The nex
t morning Ranulf found Annabel in the kitchen. It has to be done. “Will you take a walk with me?”
She looked startled, even a little afraid, but she nodded and laid aside the bread dough she was patting into a loaf, wiping her hands on her apron. Mistress Eustacia gave Annabel a look that made him wonder what they had been talking about.
She followed as he strolled toward the clearing where the work was going on for his new home. After several moments of silence, she asked, “How is the construction of your castle coming along?”
“Castle? Is that what you call it?” He smiled in amusement. “I suppose it must look like a castle, but castles are fortresses for the politically ambitious. This house won’t be built for defense. If someone wishes to do me harm, I’m afraid they’ll encounter little resistance.”
“Oh.”
“We have finished the foundation. I hope to move in most of the household by All Souls’ Day — which is appropriate, I think.”
All Souls’ Day came almost two months before Christmas, the day when everyone said prayers to help extricate the dead from purgatory. He only hoped by then he could keep his heart out of the purgatory of loving beautiful women who didn’t love him.
As they drew nearer, the clang of the smiths’ hammers rang out, as well as shouts from the various workers. Soon they were able to view the whole scene on the swell of land above them. Carters hauled stone up the hill and up the ramps built along the sides of the walls. Masons laid the stones with mortar while a nearby lime burner made more.
The trenches for the foundation had been dug, the foundation laid, and the walls were rising quickly. Lead workers, carpenters, and roof tilers all performed their various skilled tasks, with laborers assisting, carrying, and fetching.
“Oh.” Annabel stood still, watching the scene with wide eyes. She looked so fascinated, Ranulf couldn’t help but smile.
“What do you think of my ‘castle’?”
“It’s nearly finished!”
“Only the front section. I shall move into it in a few weeks.” And she wouldn’t even be around to see it.
The Merchant's Daughter Page 19