The Secret Life of Lady Evangeline

by Jan Davis Warren

The garden had been beautifully cultivated without a weed or blade of grass within its borders. Four years later, mere days after the wheat harvest, the farmer and his oldest sons had been murdered and his wife had been forced to flee with her remaining two other children. It was rumored that the distraught widow had cursed any with evil hearts who would take anything from the farm. Rumors abounded after sickness plagued those who had taken the opportunity to steal the abandoned garden’s ripening vegetables. The garden had soon gone to seed with none but the beast of the forest enjoying the fruit of the farmer’s labor.

  Evangeline spotted a noxious weed growing among the volunteer vegetables that had gone to seed and reproduced. If any of that weed’s leaves or seeds had been gathered and cooked with the produce that might explain the rumors of illness and violent distress of any who ate it.

  She smiled and gathered some of its seeds, hiding them in the empty coin pouch she carried. As soon as Henry was able to travel, the curse would strike again. With the brigands ailing, she and the hostages could escape without hindrance.

  As she waited for Helen, she gathered onions and garlic, which had thrived in the neglect. She used her dagger to cut the last stalks of asparagus and dug up a small bunch of potatoes and deposited it all into the basket. There was plenty of edible produce hidden within the dried overgrowth, as if planted this season—evidence that someone lurked nearby.

  When she heard Helen’s whisper, she tucked her dagger back within its hiding place. Working her way to where her friend hid behind the charred remains of the old garden shed, Evangeline stayed within sight of any watching her from the window. She spotted several vines of climbing peas growing up a broken fence, near where Helen waited.

  She reached the peas, turning her back to the house, so she could work and talk without drawing attention.

  “I decided to check to see if Henry and his party were indeed here.” Helen kept her voice low, but her eyes held concern. “You’re well?”

  “Yes.” Evangeline pulled her veil aside. “My daughter lives.” She struggled to keep from shouting her news.

  “And his lordship?”

  “Henry’s injured, but most of his wounds are not severe, though I’m concerned that a blow to his head has left him in and out of consciousness.” She cleared her throat of the emotion that clouded her words. “I can’t leave until he can travel.”

  “I see.” Helen stared at Evangeline, as if searching for more information.

  “What?” Impatience lowered Evangeline’s voice to a gravelly tone.

  “Nothing important.” Helen stepped closer but remained out of sight of the house. “Have you found out who hired these men?”

  “A man named Deverow is the only one who knows.” Evangeline straightened and clenched her dagger. “He’s gone to make a deal to sell little Sarah.” Fury enflamed her at the very thought of such an arrangement. “A deal that will never take place.”

  A rat chose that moment to wander out into the open in front of her. Evangeline unleashed her anger with one swift throw of her dagger.

  “I detest vermin, be they man or beast.” She bent down and retrieved her dagger wiping the blade off on the grass before putting it away.

  “Speaking of vermin, how many brigands are there?”

  “Three. A Frenchman with a bad leg wound. A brute of an Englishman called Griswold who lost two of his fingers during their battle with Henry. And a short, ill-tempered man they call Fisher. He has a minor cut to his shoulder and is perhaps the most foul of the bunch. Fisher must be from around here, for he led them to this place. Strangers would never know of its existence.” Evangeline turned to glance behind her to make sure no one headed their way. “If you get a chance, see if you recognize him.”

  “Why not take the child, escape, and send help back to free Henry?” Helen stepped closer.

  “The Frenchman warned me that if the child were to return home, she would likely be killed by another hireling. She will not be safe until the person who hired these cutthroats is exposed and dealt with.” She added the peas to the basket at her feet.

  The helplessness of not knowing who wanted her child dead stirred up such anguish, Evangeline abruptly changed the subject. “Would you check on Anna and her child? She’s at the abbey taking care of the goats and chickens I purchased.” Evangeline crushed a peapod in her fist wishing it was the throat of the person responsible for hiring the brigands. She stooped over and picked up dropped peas. “While you’re there, I could use some milk for little Sarah, if you could find a way to bring it.”

  Helen smiled and handed Evangeline a large goatskin flask with a carved wood plug in the end.

  “Milk?” Evangeline’s excitement overrode her caution. The snap of twigs behind made her jump and turn. Griswold. His grumbling and stench was unmistakable. A quick glance back assured her Helen was again hidden from sight.

  “Wha’ milk?” He lumbered up and snatched the goatskin. “Where’d this come from?” Turning from side to side, he searched their surroundings for intruders.

  “I found it here. A villager must have dropped it off for the baby.” She tugged the flask from his grasp before he spilled its contents by his reckless handling and walked toward the house. “If you want another meal, I suggest you bring those vegetables I gathered.”

  “Wait, what villager?” He grabbed the basket and followed. “How’d they know there was a babe ’ere?”

  “The woods carry sounds a long distance. I assume someone heard the child crying.” Without slowing her pace, she continued to the house. “As poor as they are, I’m grateful that they are willing to share what little they have.” She reached the open doorway and hurried inside. The thick stone walls of the larder would keep the milk cooler, so she hung the goat skin on a peg to keep until little Sarah awakened.

  Griswold dropped the basket of vegetables on the table with a loud thump and rushed into the other room. Minutes later, another loud argument erupted among the three brigands. By the snippets she gleaned, Griswold wanted to abandon the captives and escape before the captain of the castle guards appeared with soldiers and hung them. Fisher wanted to kill the captives before they left. The Frenchman argued that they would not be paid if they harmed them or left before their leader returned.

  With the threat of being murdered, Evangeline knew she needed to step into their conversation. She patted the dagger at her side, and walked into the room where the men argued.

  “Please. There is no need for further violence. You are in no danger from the peasant who left the milk. They hate the castle guards more than you. There’ll be nothing to fear from them…as long as you do no harm to anyone here.”

  A sudden gust of wind rattled the windows and slammed the open kitchen door. The old house groaned as if issuing its own warning.

  Silence filled the room. The men’s expressions flashed with fear. The Frenchman crossed himself and mumbled a child’s prayer of protection in Latin. Griswold swore then wiped his mouth, as if to erase his hastily spoken words. Fisher remained silent. He fisted his hands, but not before Evangeline noticed them shaking.

  “That was surely a warning. Purge any thoughts of evil doing while you’re here or suffer the widow Danby’s curse.” She turned before her smile ruined the threat.

  “Wait, Sister. Bless us and ask God for protection against that foul curse.” I-don’t-believe-in-what-I-can’t-see-Griswold surprised her with his urgent request.

  “Why should I? You murder, maim, and kidnap.” She faced him resisting the urge to call God’s wrath down on the lot of them for the harm they had caused Henry and her child. “Until you repent of your wickedness and choose to serve God by doing good, then there’s nothing either He or I are obligated to do on your behalf.”

  A baby’s wail interrupted further discussion. Evangeline skirted Griswold on her way to little Sarah. Her conscience nudged her with the knowledge that she should have given the distraught man a word of instruction on how to repent and find God.


  The wails grew louder and more demanding as she reached her child and found the nursemaid also awake.

  The nursemaid’s arms were wrapped tightly around her legs and hugged against her chest. She must have overheard the men’s argument. Her eyes were wide with fright, as she rocked back and forth, ignoring the toddler’s demands.

  After a quick change of little Sarah’s wet nappy for a dry one, Evangeline gathered up the child and hugged her to her side. She patted the nursemaid’s shoulder.

  “Try not to fret. With God’s help, everything will be all right.” Evangeline glanced down at the nursemaid and saw only despair. It would take more than words to prove to her their plight was not as hopeless as it appeared at the moment. “What is your name?”

  “Rebecca.” The girl’s reply was barely above a whisper.

  Evangeline went into the kitchen and fed the hungry babe with the goat’s milk until she was full. The whole messy feeding experience enthralled Evangeline. Every moment with her child brought her both joy and a fierce concern for her safety. Tummy full, yet the little one again grew fussy shoving her fist into her mouth and drooling.

  “Tis, her teeth.” The Frenchman limped into the kitchen and settled onto a chair.

  “What?”

  “I come from a large family. As the eldest, I saw this many times. It’s when the teeth break through. My mother sometimes gave the babe a boiled chicken leg bone stripped clean and smooth to chew on.” He shrugged. “Alas, we have no chicken to boil. Perhaps you should pray and a neighborly peasant will miraculously provide one?” His tone and pointed stare left no doubt of his suspicion.

  “God provides the needs of the faithful.” She examined the baby’s mouth. Her gums were indeed swollen and tender where a tiny white tooth pushed upward.

  “I’m hungry.” The nursemaid walked into the room, her eyes red from crying. She walked over to the fireplace and stirred the contents in the pot. “Is this vile soup all there is to eat?”

  “Watch the baby while I fetch more water from the well.” Evangeline set the fussy Sarah on the floor.

  Rebecca nodded but turned her attention back to the contents of the pot.

  Evangeline would prepare a mild drought that would ease little Sarah’s pain, but it would make her sleepy again. Sleep may not be a bad thing if the wails now emanating from the house were any indication of what the day held. With the brigands on edge, she needed to keep Sarah quiet. Evangeline prayed for wisdom for what to do next.

  Her thoughts turned to the herbs she’d need, as she picked up the bucket she left at the well.

  At the sound of hooves hitting the hard-packed earth, headed toward the farmhouse, the bucket slipped from her fingers and spilled out its contents.

  Had the guards been alerted after all? She hid behind one of the heavy posts that held the roof over the well. She watched as a lone rider galloped into the farmyard. Even in this heat, he wore heavy chain mail. A sword rested in its scabbard within reach. He dismounted and tied his horse to a sagging rail of the pen then headed toward the house.

  As he walked closer, Evangeline paled. Her heart began to pound. She grabbed the oak post for support. Her knees threatened to buckle.

  “Butcher!” A strangled cry escaped in a raspy moan of horror.

  This was the man who had killed her servants and guards then ordered his men to trap her inside the hunting lodge and set it on fire. The scars on her back burned. The sound of the inferno roared in her ears.

  She shoved a shaky hand into the pocket of her habit and found her dagger. Her vow of revenge spoken that day, as she’d clawed her way out of the inferno, would finally be fulfilled.

  Her fingers closed around the hilt. The blade was free.

  His every step brought him closer to fulfilling her vow. The patch over his one eye and long scar were the result of Evangeline’s weakness, for if she had been stronger he would have not recovered from the wounds she had inflicted in her defense that day.

  He hadn’t expected resistance. The stench of his body pressing her against the great room wall… His touch… Even now the memory filled her with rage. He had been as surprised as she at her strength and determination to thwart his attack. A dagger of finely honed steel had rested on a stand within her reach. She’d grabbed it and struck blindly, hitting the assassin’s face. Blood everywhere…

  Evangeline gulped air like a drowning person until she regained her focus.

  A nightmare relived. He was back. This time she was not weak from childbirth and grief. Just a few steps closer and she would end his miserable life. Her only regret was never finding out who had hired him to kill her.

  Her muscles tensed.

  “Sister! Come quick!”

  Evangeline jerked upright.

  “Please. The baby is ill.” The nursemaid grabbed Evangeline by the arm and pulled her toward the house.

  Chapter 10

  Raised voices stirred Henry awake. He strained to make out the words.

  “Imbecile” was easily discernible, which was followed by “Imbeciles, imbecillus, imbecille,” spoken in French, Italian, and Latin. He smiled.

  Evangeline had often switched languages using the same word when she was vexed beyond measure. Angry, her emerald eyes would sparkle with the fire of battle.

  Regret, more painful than his wounds, nettled his mind. He should have found a way to make her understand why he couldn’t do as she asked and send his brother’s widow away.

  Rumors had spread throughout the castle that Evangeline had taken a lover. Even now the thought enraged him. From then on seeing the glow of happiness whenever she spoke of the unborn child had inflamed him with jealousy. He’d feared the baby was not his.

  Guilt burned his conscience.

  Their last angry encounter, he had demanded to know the name of the father of the child she carried. Why had he listened to gossip? Millicent had insisted the rumors were true, but the look of hurt in Evangeline’s eyes told him the real truth. It had not been his wife who’d betrayed him. Before he could apologize, Evangeline’s expression had turned to alarm. The pain of labor tore the breath from her.

  He was shooed away from her…their chambers by concerned servants. The labor had taken two long days. He couldn’t eat or sleep for fear he would lose her and the child.

  When he thought he couldn’t take another moment of her suffering, the groans were interrupted by the cry of a baby. Boy or girl, it no longer mattered.

  He knew his daughter’s cries. The thought of Sarah jerked his eyes open. Where was she?

  His body was uncooperative and his eyes refused to focus as he turned his throbbing head in search of a servant to help him up. Too blurry-eyed to see, he couldn’t make out his surroundings and his throat was too parched to demand attendance. His daughter’s wails stirred up fear for her safety. He couldn’t wait for help. She needed him.

  Weak and trembling, he struggled against the sagging bed to sit up and drag his legs over the side. Pain struck him from his shoulder and ribs, sucking the breath out of him and dotting his already impaired vision with black spots. Using the large log bedpost, he pulled himself to his feet. The room tilted beneath him. He fought to stay conscious, but the darkness overpowered him.

  Dispatching her enemy would have to wait. Voices of the brigands gathered in the other room rose then dropped beyond her hearing. She had no time to waste on them.

  Evangeline gathered the child to herself and held her firmly as the babe wretched again and again as if poisoned. Evangeline wiped the toddler’s face with a damp cloth and rocked her.

  “What have you done?” The raspy tone of Evangeline’s voice didn’t diminish the fury.

  “I was only trying to help.” The nursemaid whined and handed her a jar of powder. “I gave her this.”

  Evangeline smelled the contents then confirmed her guess by tasting a tiny bit of the powder then spit.

  “This vial contains a mixture of crushed alder berries, which causes convulsive vomiting. In
a child as young as Sarah it could have killed her.”

  With the toddler’s tummy full of milk, the potion had triggered an instant and violent reaction, but the goat’s milk had also coated her stomach. The vomiting freed her of the toxin, though she would need plenty of water to dilute any still in her system.

  The child’s tears turned into angry wails of protest when Evangeline tried to get her to drink more water, something she adamantly refused to do after throwing up again.

  She warmed the last of the goat milk, and after much consoling, was able to get her to drink a small cup full. The milk soothed her daughter’s stomach, and the fussing stopped. She rocked the exhausted baby in her arms.

  “Why would you try and kill the baby?” Evangeline glared at a tearful Rebecca, who sat at the table wringing her hands.

  “I swear, I dinna know the potion would ’arm her.” It was obvious she was hiding something. The young woman stood and paced the length of the kitchen, then heard the voices in the other room. She hurried back to the table.

  “What aren’t you telling me? Confess the truth and know peace.” What Evangeline wanted to do was put a knife to the foolish woman’s throat until she told her all.

  “I was told it was a tonic to settle the baby’s stomach for the journey. She rather liked the jostling, so I drunk the potion.” Her eyes shown with a brief reflection of guilt then hardened. “Why not? I needed it most.” The tone again turned whiny. “The motion of a carriage made me dizzy and sick.” She dropped into a chair. “But the remedy didn’t work. I felt worse than before.”

  The memory of the coach stopping and the girl retching gave credence to her story, yet Evangeline could tell by the girl’s nervous manner there was more than she had yet revealed. She was far too high-strung to be a nursemaid. Why would Henry trust such a person to care for their daughter?

  “You are not skilled at caring for a child nor able to tolerate travel, then why would you agree to such a trip?” She glared at the girl.

  “I… I…” Wide-eyed with fear the girl jumped up from her seat.