A Melanie Dickerson Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  16

  AVELINA SAT LISTENING to the local musicians and singers Lord Thornbeck had invited to the Great Hall. A woman sang and was accompanied by a man playing a hurdy-gurdy, another playing the lute, as well as a flute player and drummer. They were quite good, and Avelina enjoyed the music. It was not often she was allowed to listen in when traveling musicians came to Plimmwald Castle, though she usually found a way to sneak into the shadows to hear some of it.

  Magdalen, seated beside her, looked so peaceful as she listened to the music with her eyes closed. Avelina closed hers too. The music seemed to surround her. It was as if she could hear each instrument separately, as well as together. The woman’s voice sounded richer, fuller, and she found herself taking a deep breath and sighing without even meaning to. She sighed again.

  When the song was over, she opened her eyes—and Lord Thornbeck was standing several feet away, watching her.

  Her heart skipped as his lips twisted up on one side and he turned away.

  She glanced over at Magdalen. She was speaking to the Duke of Wolfberg, who sat on the other side of her.

  She wanted to shake her and say, “Don’t talk to Wolfberg! You are supposed to be making Lord Thornbeck love you.”

  She needed to have a talk with her friend. There were only three more days left!

  Just then, Endlein wandered in. Her gaze roved around the room, and she wore a very confused, frustrated look.

  Avelina rose and quietly walked to where Endlein was standing at the back of the room. “May I help you, Endlein?” she whispered.

  “I am looking for my daughter, Annlin. But I don’t understand. Who are all these people?”

  She looked so thin, Avelina said, “Why don’t you come with me to the kitchen and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  “Oh. I never feel hungry. I’m looking for Annlin.”

  But she allowed Avelina to lead her out and down the stairs toward the kitchen.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To the kitchen, to find some food. All is well, do not worry.” Avelina tried to speak soothingly. “After we get some food, I will help you to your room.”

  The kitchen servants looked up when they entered.

  “Can we have some food, please? Whatever you have.”

  Two of the servants gathered some cheese and bread and some fruit pastries and brought them to a table and coaxed Endlein into sitting down to eat. Avelina thanked them, then stayed with her while she ate and the servants went back to work.

  Endlein actually ate quite a bit. Then she suddenly stood. “I need to find Annlin.”

  Avelina touched her arm and said gently, “We cannot find her tonight, Endlein. Can I take you up to your room? Come. Let me take you there.”

  The only problem was, she didn’t know where the woman’s room was. She asked one of the servants, who explained, and Avelina took her arm and led her up.

  When they finally reached Endlein’s narrow little bedchamber, Endlein turned and smiled at her. “When I find my daughter, we shall do something kind for you. What is your name?”

  “Av—Dorothea. Dorothea.”

  “Dorothea.” Endlein turned and went toward her bed.

  Avelina closed the door. It was sweet of Endlein to want to do something for her. Poor Endlein.

  Avelina meandered back to her bedchamber after praying alone at the chapel. Only two more days until the ball.

  She had prayed for forgiveness for all of the half-truths and deceptions of the past two weeks, and for favor with Magdalen, that she would not hate her when Avelina told her the truth. And she prayed that she would not embarrass herself with tears at having to leave this place—at how much she would miss Lord Thornbeck and Lady Magdalen.

  When she opened her bedchamber door and went inside, she saw a familiar-looking piece of paper on the floor. Another note under her door. Avelina picked it up and read it. Meet me on the balcony at the end of the gallery next to the ballroom after dark.

  Her heart leapt at the thought of seeing him again. She had not seen Lord Thornbeck all day. Probably he was spending time with some of the other ladies. But she only felt slightly jealous thinking about that. Now she would see him on this clear night, with the moon and stars above.

  Avelina hurried to tidy her hair. Irma was almost never around to help her with her hair, her dress, or anything else. Irma had confessed the night before that her new friend, Gerhaws, had introduced her to another servant—a man with whom Irma was obviously infatuated, as she was now not even coming back to her room overnight to sleep. Avelina wanted to warn Irma that the manservant would break her heart when they had to leave, but she couldn’t imagine Irma would be eager to hear any advice from her.

  She scurried to Magdalen’s door, but before she could knock, she noticed a piece of paper attached to the door.

  I am waiting for you at the balcony.

  M.

  She glanced at the end of the corridor. The guard was not there. Where had he gone? And if Magdalen was waiting for her at the balcony, then she must already be with Lord Thornbeck. A pang of jealousy attacked her like a bird of prey, its talons gripping her heart.

  No. She stomped her foot to force her heart to listen. I will not allow jealousy to get hold of me. Magdalen was her friend, and Avelina could never have Lord Thornbeck anyway.

  She hurried toward the balcony. She would be joyful for Lord Thornbeck and Magdalen.

  So why did she have to blink away tears as she walked?

  When she arrived at the gallery, the long, narrow room’s only light came from the windows and the moonlight outside, as all the torches and candles had been snuffed out. As she walked the only sound was the swishing of her skirts and scuffling of her slippers on the stone floor. The portraits seemed to watch her as she passed, their eyes following her. Her heart beat faster, and she was thankful when she reached the open door at the other end of the long room.

  Avelina wrapped her arms around herself, as the air was quite cold, and stepped onto the balcony. She looked to her right. A young woman was there, alone, leaning against the railing, but she was not Magdalen.

  “Good evening, Lady Dorothea.” Fronicka said her name slowly, drawing it out. “Come and have a talk with me.”

  Avelina took a step forward, then stopped. Something was amiss. Where were Magdalen and Lord Thornbeck? Why was Fronicka here?

  “It is a beautiful night, is it not?” Fronicka smiled in a friendly way—almost too friendly.

  “It is.”

  “A little warmer. Quite warm for this time of year.”

  “Hm, yes.”

  “The sky is beautiful. Did you notice?”

  Avelina gazed up. Perhaps Lord Thornbeck and Magdalen decided they wanted to be alone. Another pang smote her breast, taking her breath. They would be married soon. Of course they did not want her around.

  Fronicka motioned her closer to the railing. “If you stand over here, you can see a few of the lights from the town, and also a few more stars.”

  How strange that Fronicka was behaving this way. Did she want something? “What are you doing out here gazing at the lights and the stars?”

  “I had nothing else to do.” Fronicka smiled.

  Cautiously Avelina approached the railing and looked out. She did not see the lights Fronicka had spoken of, but she did not care enough to ask her about them.

  “So, is it you or Lady Magdalen who will marry Lord Thornbeck?”

  Avelina started to say, “It is not I,” but she stopped herself. Fronicka was up to something. So she said, “I suppose only Lord Thornbeck knows the answer to that question.”

  Fronicka looked over the balcony railing. “This is such a beautiful place, is it not? I can see the rose garden from here. Look.”

  Avelina took another step closer. She laid her hand on the railing and looked down. The rose garden was visible to their right by the light spilling out from the lower-floor windows inside the castle. But straight down was a sheer drop
, a ravine with small trees and bushes growing out of it, so deep she could not see the bottom. She looked back at Fronicka. The hair on the back of Avelina’s neck prickled and she shivered. She should have brought her cloak.

  “Who are you, Lady Dorothea? Are you truly that lady? Or are you someone who has come here to take her place?”

  Avelina stepped away from Fronicka, and the railing pressed into her lower back. “Why would you say such a thing?”

  “No reason, except that I recall hearing that Lady Dorothea had golden blonde hair, and yours is brown. And that Lady Dorothea’s eyes were green, but yours are blue.”

  “Many people’s hair darkens when they get older.” Let Fronicka not see panic in my face. “I don’t know why you are so suspicious, Lady Fronicka.”

  Fronicka started fingering the embroidery on her belt. “I wanted to marry Lord Thornbeck, but he barely looks at me. He’s too busy spending time with you and Magdalen.”

  “Why did you want to marry him so badly? There must be another titled man to whom your father could betroth you.”

  “I had a reason to want to marry Lord Thornbeck.” Fronicka’s smile was cold and sent a shiver down Avelina’s spine.

  “Are you in love with him?”

  “What a naive thing you are. Of course not. Love has nothing to do with marriage.” Fronicka stared up at the sky for a moment. “I wanted to marry him to get Thornbeck. It rightly belongs to my father, and once I married him . . .”

  “You would kill him, and your father would take over.”

  “You are not as foolish as I thought.” Fronicka stepped toward Avelina.

  She leaned back against the railing.

  It suddenly gave way behind her.

  Avelina cried out as the night air embraced her. She flailed out both hands and grabbed the part of the railing still attached to the balcony.

  Her feet dangled below her. She was going to die.

  She opened her mouth to scream but no sound came. O God, help me!

  She clung to the railing with all her strength, her hands gripping the broken railing, the only thing keeping her from plunging to her death into the ravine below. She tried to pull herself up. She was not strong enough. Her heart jerked and pounded, her breath came in painful gasps.

  She finally forced in enough air and screamed, short and high-pitched.

  She held on tight, the muscles in her arms clenching painfully. If she let go, she would fall into the deep ravine below. She would never survive such a fall. She screamed again.

  How long could she hold on?

  Fronicka hovered over her, staring at Avelina’s hands where they gripped the wooden railing. The cool, assessing look on her face made Avelina’s stomach sink.

  Fronicka stood and ran away, saying, “Help! Someone, help!”

  Her hands were slipping. The darkness below seemed to be pulling her, sucking her down. She no longer had enough breath to scream. She closed her eyes. What would happen to Jacob and Brigitta and Father? How would they get food without Avelina’s wages? How cruel for her to die now. Would Lord Thornbeck and Lady Magdalen find out she’d lied? Would they hate her?

  The sound of footsteps made her open her eyes. The balcony vibrated with the steps, and suddenly Lord Thornbeck was standing over her.

  He fell to his knees and grabbed her arms, just above her wrists. “I’ve got you. Let go.”

  He was holding her arms with a grip so tight it hurt. Please don’t let go. But she was still dangling. She would have to let go for him to pull her up. How could she? Fear gripped her even tighter than his hands, fear of plunging to the ground below. What if he lost his grip and dropped her? She couldn’t let go.

  “Look at me,” Lord Thornbeck demanded, his voice strained and gruff. “Let. Go. Now.”

  Avelina squeezed her eyes shut. She let go, her heart pounding.

  He pulled her up as she raised her knees, scraping them on the edge of the stone balcony. Then her legs touched the solid, flat surface.

  She clung to him without even opening her eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight as he sat back on the floor of the balcony.

  Her breath was coming hard. She pressed her cheek against his chest. His heart beat in her ear, thumping nearly as fast as her own.

  “You are safe now. I have you. You are safe.” He held her even tighter.

  Avelina squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on his solid warmth to push back the thought that she almost died.

  “Are you all right?” Fronicka was behind them. “She leaned against the railing and it gave way. I was so frightened. I ran to get help, but I couldn’t find a guard.”

  Avelina shuddered and pressed her face into Lord Thornbeck’s shoulder. He held her tight against him. If only she could stay like this forever, safe and warm and protected, or at least until she stopped shaking.

  She forced herself to pull away from the delicious warmth of his chest and sat up, unable to look into his face.

  “Are you well?” He still held her with one arm around her back. He reached out and brushed the hair that had come loose out of her face. She finally looked into his eyes.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I leaned against the railing and it broke. I fell.” Her lip quivered and she pressed her hand against her mouth. “I fell, but I grabbed the railing and held on. I was so afraid.”

  A violent shudder shook her whole body.

  “You are not well,” he said.

  “I am well.” She stared down at her feet. “But I lost my shoes. They were my only pair.” Tears dripped from her eyes as her teeth started to chatter uncontrollably.

  “I’ll get you new shoes.” Lord Thornbeck caressed her shoulder.

  She kept her head down, hoping he would not see that she was crying. “I-I think I-I sh-should lie down.” Her vision was spinning. She didn’t want to faint.

  Lord Thornbeck turned to one of the guards. “Carry her to her chamber.”

  The guard came over and helped her to her feet, then lifted her in his arms. She felt herself growing even dizzier, and her vision began to blur and darken.

  Her head fell back against the man’s shoulder and she kept her eyes closed. She should probably feel very embarrassed, but she was too close to fainting to care how she looked. She could hear Lord Thornbeck’s footsteps and walking stick thumping beside her.

  When they reached her chamber, she peeked through her nearly closed lids. Lord Thornbeck opened the door and the guard carried her straight through to her bed and laid her down.

  Lady Magdalen’s voice came from near her doorway. “What happened? Is Lady Dorothea sick?”

  Someone took her hand. Avelina opened her eyes and Magdalen was standing at her bedside.

  “She has had a terrible fright,” Lord Thornbeck said. “I shall send for Frau Schwitzer to see if she needs a doctor.”

  She expected Lord Thornbeck to leave the room, but he was still standing there. He stepped toward the bed. “This never should have happened,” he said in a quiet, deep voice. “I had no idea the railing was loose.”

  She wiped her cheek and tried not to sniff. “Thank you, Lord Thornbeck, for saving me.”

  “I thank God I was able to reach you in time.” He reached over and squeezed her hand, the one Magdalen was not holding.

  Guilt froze the tears behind her eyes. She had no right to enjoy his touch. She was a terrible friend in that moment, because she wanted him. Oh, how she wanted him to love her! To always be near to hold her and protect her. She turned her head away from him and made sure her hand stayed limp inside his.

  “I shall leave you alone, then.” Lord Thornbeck turned away and walked out of the room with the guard who had carried her in.

  Reinhart rubbed his face with his hand. He could still smell her light, flowery scent, like springtime and lilacs, could still feel her in his arms, and his heart skipped a beat. Seeing her dangling from the balcony, hanging over that deep ravine, knowing she was one moment
away from death, sent a bolt of lightning through his veins. Thank You, God. He had arrived in time.

  He limped back to the balcony. Thankfully, his lameness had not prevented him from saving Dorothea. He must have thrown down his walking stick when he heard her scream, and a guard retrieved it for him when he was holding her on the balcony.

  He made it to the balcony and approached the railing. He got down on his knees to examine it, but most of it was gone, and unless he was mistaken, even the part that Dorothea had been clinging to was gone. There was only a broken bit farther over on the balcony. Had someone done something to the railing, possibly cutting it, so it would break when someone leaned on it? They could have broken off the part that was cut and gotten rid of it.

  But who would do such a thing?

  He would discuss it with Jorgen. They could send someone to fetch the broken pieces of the railing from the ravine below and possibly discover if this was an accident or a deliberate attempt at murder. First the pottery shards, now this. Was someone trying to harm Lady Dorothea?

  Reinhart pushed himself up with the walking stick, remembering again how he had pulled her from the edge of death. He closed his eyes and relived how she had clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. Later, when Lady Magdalen had held her hand, she’d clung to her, but when he tried to hold her other hand, it had laid in his like a wilted flower.

  He still had no idea if she cared for him or not, and the ball was tomorrow night.

  He turned and went to find Jorgen.

  Avelina raised her hand to her face, the one Lord Thornbeck had squeezed a moment ago, and was overcome by his familiar scent—the smell of evergreen trees and mint leaves the servants put in his laundry. Warmth washed over her as she remembered how he had held her tight, much tighter than necessary, sitting on the balcony floor.

  Surely it was only a reaction to the frightening situation. Surely he did not love her.

  “Dorothea, what in heaven’s name has happened to you tonight?”