WolfeStrike (de Wolfe Pack Generations Book 2)

by Kathryn Le Veque

  Or perhaps not.

  It wasn’t like Tor was apt to do anything about it.

  As Isabella lost herself in memories of the women Barbara and Lenore had targeted in the past, Barbara led Isalyn into a large chamber on the northeast corner of the apartment block. It was quite roomy, with a big, fluffy bed and an enormous wardrobe against the wall.

  “This is where you will sleep, my lady,” Barbara said, standing by the open door. “I will have servants bring fuel for the fire and a few lamps for light. You will notice that I closed the shutters that face the wall; soldiers are sometimes on the wall walk and they can look through the window if they try, so I thought it best to discourage them from peeking at you.”

  By this time, Isalyn had moved to the bed, setting her satchel upon it. “That was thoughtful of you,” she said. “Thank you.”

  Barbara gestured to the one open window. “That window faces north, so you will have excellent views all day,” she said. “It also faces the kitchen yard, so if it becomes too noisy, do not hesitate to inform me.”

  Isalyn went to the window, which was a big one. To the north, she could see mostly the walls and treetops and the brilliant blue sky. It was a nice view. But that was only if one was looking straight ahead or up. Looking down gave the view of most of the kitchen yard and the pens where the goats and pigs were kept.

  And then there was the smell.

  Not wanting to complain, however, Isalyn didn’t say a word about it. She wondered if the placement was on purpose considering she felt there was something off about these women from the start. Still, she was gracious.

  “It is quite fine,” she said. “Thank you again for your kind attention to my comfort.”

  Barbara was still standing by the open door as Isabella went to look from the north window. Realizing the kitchen yard was right there, she frowned.

  “Barbara, surely you did not have to give her the room that overlooks the pigsty,” she said. “There are seven other chambers in this block. Can she not have one of those?”

  It was clear that Barbara didn’t like being questioned. She stiffened. “You and your father and your brother occupy three of them,” she said. “Lord de Featherstone was given the big, comfortable chamber on the ground floor. One of the smaller chambers on the first floor has been used for storage and the other two share a leaking roof, so this is the best and only place I can put Lady Isalyn unless you would like her to share your chamber.”

  Isabella almost agreed but thought better of it. She had just met Isalyn and to insist she share her chamber might be a little too much, too soon. She had a good feeling about Isalyn but she didn’t want to force the woman to be her very best friend in the first day of knowing her, so she simply smiled and turned to Isalyn.

  “You may take my chamber if you wish,” she said. “It does not overlook the pigsty.”

  But Isalyn shook her head. “Do not worry so much,” she said. “Truly, this chamber is fine. I am most appreciative.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I am. But you are very kind to worry so much.”

  Isabella smiled at her, thinking that perhaps the woman might like to be left alone since she had spent all morning traveling. “I am sure you wish to rest now,” she said. “I will take my leave, but I look forward to seeing you tonight at the feast. You promised to tell me all about London.”

  Isalyn smiled. “And I will,” she said. “I am looking forward to it as well, my lady. And, again… I cannot apologize enough for what my brother did. You are so very gracious not to bear a grudge.”

  Isabella paused, lifting her slender shoulders. “My grandmother says that life is too short to live with regrets or grudges,” she said. “I suppose everything in life happens for a reason. Even having a prospective husband run away. I will see you this evening, my lady.”

  “Please call me Isalyn.”

  “And you will call me Isabella.”

  With that, Isabella turned for the door, pausing to let Barbara pass through first before following her. Quietly, she shut the door behind her, leaving Isalyn alone in the vast, well-swept chamber.

  Truthfully, Isalyn was glad to finally be alone. Not that she hadn’t liked becoming acquainted with Isabella, because she had. Very much. She was a sweet girl and Isalyn was feeling increasingly bad for what her brother had done to her, but Isabella seemed to be taking it very well. She had a mature outlook for one so young.

  Isalyn liked that.

  Feeling happy that she had come to Blackpool, Isalyn untied her satchel and began to unpack.

  As she unrolled the garments that she had packed and went to hang them up on pegs inside the wardrobe, her thoughts begin to drift from Isabella to Tor. Isalyn had been as close to giddy as she had ever been in her life when they had first arrived at Blackpool and he had come out to greet them. The way he looked at her made her heart sing in a way she never realized it could. She had spent her entire life in London, around male friends of her aunt’s, and she had also spent time with her own friends, many of whom were actors. Never once had she had the same reaction to them as she had to Tor.

  All Isalyn knew was that a look from him made her heart race. A word from him was like music to her ears. And when he smiled… that was when the moon and the stars and the heavens seemed to open up and all she was faced with was utter brilliance. What made it even better was that he seemed to be quite attentive to her also.

  Was it possible that he was feeling the same giddy ardor that she was?

  Isalyn was eager for the feast to begin that evening, but she also knew that feasts simply weren’t a meal. They were events. They would start in the evening and sometimes go all night, and if that was the case tonight, she wanted to enjoy every single minute of it. She wanted to stay up all night, talking to Tor and coming to know a remarkable man. Therefore, she knew that it would be wise for her to try and sleep this afternoon, just a little, so that she would have the ability to stay up all night and speak to the provincial knight who had quite ably captured her attention.

  Therefore, she put away all of her belongings and stripped off the dark green traveling dress that she was wearing. Underneath it, she wore a very fine lamb’s wool shift that was both lightweight and warm. It was one of the finer garments that her father imported and she had a few of them. When he sold them in his stall in Carlisle, he could barely keep them in stock.

  Stripped down to just the shift, Isalyn climbed into the big, fluffy bed only to realize that the mattress was not stuffed with feathers as she had hoped, but stuffed with straw. Stuffing a mattress with straw or dried grass or even rags was not unusual, but it was usually done in the poorer households. In a fortress like this, she had expected a little better, but she resigned herself to it and lay down, listening to the straw crackle and feeling it poke.

  In fact, realizing that the mattress was stuffed with straw made her realize that the two chatelaines, Barbara and Lenore, might have done it deliberately to make her feel unwelcome. Perhaps they did that to all of the female visitors, or perhaps they only did it to women they had taken an instant dislike to. Whatever the case, the room with a view of the pigsty and the scratchy straw mattress belonged to her and it would be a great tale to tell her friends in London. She would regale them with the story of the two harpies of Blackpool Castle.

  It sounded like a great play in the works.

  Giggling to herself, Isalyn drifted off to sleep in the early afternoon. Contrary to what Barbara had suggested, the noise from the kitchen yard didn’t bother her in the least and she slept for a few hours before awakening in the late afternoon.

  Yawning, Isalyn awoke to the sounds of goats bleating. Nonetheless, she felt rested and content, but it occurred to her that the room was a little chilly because of the stone walls and the lack of any direct sunlight into the chamber. With the covers up around her neck, it further occurred to her that no fuel for a fire had been brought as Barbara had promised.

  Realizing this, she rose from t
he bed and quickly put her traveling dress back on. She wasn’t entirely sure that servants hadn’t come while she was sleeping, knocking on the door and not receiving an answer. She assumed that must have been what had happened, so she went to the door to summon a servant to let them know that she was awake and that they could stoke her hearth. Putting her hand on the door latch, she tried to lift it only to realize that it was fixed in place.

  The latch wouldn’t budge.

  Curious, Isalyn tried to force the latch to lift several times before realizing that it was a futile effort. Peering at the lock itself, she could see that the bolts were firmly in place, meaning the tumblers had been turned in order to move the bolts into their locked position. She could not imagine why the door would be locked, so she assumed that it was merely a mistake. Someone had accidentally locked her in. She began to knock on the door, calling to anyone who was within earshot and asking for help with the door.

  That went on for several minutes before she realized there was nobody within earshot to help her. She wasn’t frightened, nor was she angry, but she was annoyed. The sun would soon be down and her chamber would be plunged into chill darkness, so it was important for her to catch the attention of a servant to help her. She didn’t want to be stuck in a freezing tomb all night.

  Giving up on the idea of banging on the door and yelling for help, Isalyn went to the shuttered window that faced the wall walk, thinking that she could open up the shutter and speak to one of the soldiers and ask them for help. That seemed to make the most sense, so she made her way over to the shuttered window only to discover that the shutters were locked.

  Just like the door.

  And the only window that was open was facing over the pigsty.

  Now, it was starting to occur to Isalyn that this was no accident. She had received a strange sense of scrutiny from the chatelaines since she had arrived, and now she was in a chamber that was cold, without a fire or food, and with a locked door and one locked shutter. She would have not been suspicious had it only been the door, but now she was starting to put the pieces of the puzzle together and realize there was a pattern.

  Her hostesses were making sure that she was not only uncomfortable, but trapped.

  It was starting to make sense as to why Isabella had accompanied her to her chamber. The woman had known something that she had not. When Barbara and Lenore had come to the hall to take Isalyn to her chamber, Isabella had looked at the women with an expression that suggested a coldness.

  Guardedness.

  Considering how friendly Isabella had been towards her, that change in manner had been sudden and strange.

  Maybe there was a reason for Isabella’s coldness towards them.

  Isalyn was thinking that perhaps she should have given Isabella’s change in manner more credit. This was her first visit to Blackpool and she didn’t know the people, nor did she have any reason to be suspicious of anyone. But in hindsight, there had been signs all around her that she had ignored. She didn’t want to be immediately suspicious of a new place and new people.

  Now, she was paying the price.

  Going to the window that overlooked the pigsty, Isalyn peered over the ledge to see just how far of a drop it was down into the pigsty. Had her hostesses put her on the ground floor, she could have simply jumped out the window with little effort, but being that she was on the first floor, there were more logistics involved with it. She had no doubt that the pair had known that.

  But she wasn’t going to let that stop her.

  The yew tree was at the window that had the locked shutters. Isalyn could see it through the pattern of the shutters. Locking those shutters had been to keep her from climbing out onto that tree and making her way to the ground. When she remembered that she had thanked Barbara for shutting them, she felt like a fool.

  She had thanked the woman for locking her in.

  Sheer rage was beginning to take over at this point. Thinking quickly, she ripped the linens off of the bed in preparation for her escape. The coverlet and the two linen sheets beneath were firmly and carefully tied end to end, creating a rope that she tied off on one of the legs of the bed.

  Throwing the rope from the window, she climbed onto the ledge and noticed servants out of the kitchen yard going about their business. She called to them and waved her arms, but when she shouted, the goats and pigs below would make noise because they were startled by the sharp sound of her voice. She shouted four times but, each time, she was drowned out by a frightened animal. Frustrated and impatient, she grabbed the rope and began to lower herself out.

  Truthfully, she’d never done anything like this before and quickly discovered that it was not as easy as she had thought it would be. It took upper body strength and a good grip. About halfway down, the bed must have slipped because the rope suddenly gave way and snapped her right off. Isalyn fell the last few feet to the ground, landing on her backside in the mud as the pigs squealed and scattered.

  For a moment, she simply sat there, a wee bit stunned at hitting the ground so hard. But her shock was momentary. She was out of the chamber and that was all she cared about. Struggling to her feet, she was also so angry that she was quite certain the devil himself would have run from her at that moment.

  Now, she was on the hunt.

  Storming out of the kitchen yard, she found herself in the inner bailey, heading for the great hall. Her entire backside was soaked with mud, and it covered most of the back of her head and her hair. It was on her arms and hands, and the only thing it didn’t seem to be on was her chest and face. By the time she entered the great hall, there were flames of fury shooting out of her ears.

  She had come to do battle.

  Unfortunately, the hall was empty except for the knight who had greeted them when they had first arrived at Blackpool. He was sitting at the table eating the remnants of a meal, but he caught movement out of the corners of his eyes and looked up just as Isalyn approached the table.

  His eyes widened at the sight.

  “My lady?” he gasped, rising quickly. “What on earth happened to you?”

  Isalyn was ready to explode. “What is your name, my lord? I have forgotten.”

  “Christian, my lady. Christian Hage.”

  “Christian,” she said through clenched teeth. “I will explain the situation to you – the door to my chamber was locked. The shutters were locked except for the ones overlooking the kitchen yard. I had to climb from the window to escape the chamber because no amount of screaming or banging would bring anyone to my aid. I had no fire, no food, and no way to communicate with anyone. Where are those two chatelaines?”

  His wide eyes grew wider. “You… you were locked in?”

  Isalyn nodded. “The latch would move, but the bolts were in place,” she said. “I can only assume that someone, whoever had the key, had locked the door from the outside. But things like that do not happen by accident. Did they think I was going to simply sit there all night and weep because they had locked me in?”

  Christian sighed heavily, closing his eyes as if to ward off what he was being told. He didn’t say what he was thinking; The Vipers strike again. Only this time, they had struck on a woman who wouldn’t take it lying down. Christian could see that simply by looking at her.

  Lady Isalyn was fit to be tied.

  Before he could answer, however, Barbara and Lenore chose that moment to enter the great hall. The entered through a servant’s entrance that was behind Christian so he didn’t see them.

  But Isalyn did.

  Suddenly, she was rushing around him, mud and all, running towards Barbara and Lenore as they came into the light.

  Christian ran after her.

  “You!” Isalyn boomed, pointing to Barbara. “I want you to listen to me very carefully and answer only when spoken to. Do you understand me?”

  Barbara and Lenore, caught off-guard by a very muddy and angry lady, were taken aback by the sight of her.

  “My lady!” Barbara gasped. “What…
?”

  “Silence!” Isalyn shouted. “You do not ask any questions. I will ask the questions. You are chatelaine of Blackpool, are you not?”

  Barbara was looking at her with wide eyes. “Aye, my lady.”

  “Does anyone else have control over your duties?”

  Barbara cast a nervous glance at Lenore. “My… my sister is also chatelaine.”

  “Who prepared my room today?”

  “I did, my lady.”

  “Are there locks on all the doors in the building you call the apartment block?”

  “There are, my lady.”

  “Who carries the keys?”

  Barbara blinked. “I-I do.”

  Isalyn stood aside. “Get into that apartment block. Do it now.”

  Barbara had never been spoken to that way before by another woman. Not ever. She was used to being in charge and in control but, at the moment, she had lost both. Isalyn had the power and Barbara was moving to do her bidding out of sheer shock.

  “My lady,” she said calmly. “If you would tell me what this is about, mayhap I can…”

  “Shut your lips!” Isalyn snapped. “You are not speaking. You are doing as you are told. Where are your keys?”

  Barbara licked her lips nervously. “With me, my lady.”

  “Were they ever out of your possession?”

  “Nay, my lady.”

  “Then get into that apartment building before I drag you over there by the hair.”

  Barbara’s mouth opened in outrage and she looked at Christian, standing behind Isalyn. But Christian had a stony expression, certainly not one of support, and Barbara was starting to feel cornered. Without another word, she tucked her head down and began to move, very quickly, from the hall. Lenore scurried after her, with Isalyn following closely.