The Beautiful Pretender

by Melanie Dickerson

  Reinhart rapped his cane on the floor. “I should much rather be doing something more productive, like ridding the forest of wolves.”

  Odette was quick to say, “There is nothing humiliating about choosing a bride by getting to know her first.”

  “It will all be well in nine days, after you make your choice.” Jorgen sent him a hopeful expression.

  “I think I must inform you, my lord,” Odette said, “that someone placed something very disgusting in Lady Dorothea’s bed last evening.”

  Reinhart stared at her.

  “Horse manure.”

  His chest tightened. “How did such a thing get past the servants and guard?” He gripped his cane and gave in to the urge to bang it on the floor again. “This should never . . .” Steam seemed to rise into his forehead.

  “No one will tell who did it.” Jorgen frowned.

  He clenched his teeth. When he could trust himself to speak, he said, “Have a guard assigned to watch Lady Dorothea and Lady Magdalen’s corridor. No one is to go in or out of any of the ladies’ bedchamber doors besides their maidservants.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Jorgen said. “I shall see to it.”

  “And ask Lady Dorothea if she would like a different bedchamber.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Odette and Jorgen were looking to him.

  “And set up the hunt for this afternoon. Have the huntsmen make sure the dogs are ready, and the stable workers should have the horses saddled. Notify all the guests and get a count of how many intend to go. That is all. You may go.”

  How dare someone inflict cruelty on Lady Dorothea in Reinhart’s own castle. If he found out who was responsible, he would expel them immediately.

  The next day was Sunday, and Avelina and Magdalen walked to the chapel together.

  Lord Thornbeck was already there, kneeling near the front of the nave, which quickly grew crowded with the guests, all the servants of the guests, and Thornbeck Castle’s servants and workers. Even many of the margrave’s guards were there, kneeling before the chancel, bowing reverently, or gazing up at the large crucifix over the altar.

  The early morning sun was shining through the stained-glass windows in brilliant colors. A yellow bit of glass was lighting up Lord Thornbeck’s head like a halo. But Avelina bowed her head and closed her eyes to block out his image.

  After silently reviewing her sins from the past week, Avelina prayed for her father, brother, and sister in Plimmwald, that she would get through the next eight days without having to lie, and that Lord Thornbeck would choose to marry Magdalen.

  After Holy Eucharist and Communion, some hymns sung by a boys’ choir, and a brief homily from the priest on the importance of showing kindness as Jesus did, everyone filed out of the chapel and headed to the Great Hall, where they would all break their fast.

  Lord Thornbeck’s voice came from just behind Avelina and Magdalen. “I hope you found an interesting way to spend your day yesterday during the hunt.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Magdalen said. “We talked and read.”

  “Talking and reading.” He nodded. “That can certainly be interesting.”

  Avelina peeked over her shoulder to see if he was being sarcastic, and he was looking straight at her. Other people were all around them, but they seemed to mostly be having their own conversations.

  “Yes, Lady Magdalen read your book and enjoyed it. Did you do well on your hunting trip?”

  “We did not do as well as we’d hoped. There seems to be a shortage of deer just now.”

  Someone coughed on the other side of Lord Thornbeck. Avelina turned her head and saw his chancellor, Jorgen, and Odette walking beside him. Odette wore a look of chagrin and Jorgen was trying to hide a smile behind his hand.

  They walked together—Lord Thornbeck with Magdalen and Avelina—and talked until they reached the Great Hall. Lord Thornbeck indicated that they should sit beside him, but Avelina purposely placed Magdalen by the margrave’s side and she sat on the other side of Magdalen.

  During the meal, Lord Thornbeck said to Magdalen, “I was sorry you did not join us for the hunt.”

  Avelina’s heart fluttered. That certainly indicated interest in Magdalen.

  “Please forgive me, but Odette said it would not be taken amiss if I did not go. I simply do not like the hunt.”

  “There is nothing to forgive. You were not obligated to go. But if you do not mind me asking, why do you not like the hunt?”

  Magdalen explained that she had cried on the first—and last—hunt she had ever gone on. “I did not want to ruin anyone else’s enjoyment of the hunt yesterday.”

  “Lady Dorothea,” he said, looking past Magdalen. “You told me you would not be going on the hunt. Was it because you do not shoot a bow?”

  “It was because I do not ride well.” She had told him that her first day in Thornbeck.

  “Perhaps it is because you were thrown as a child?” He raised his brows.

  “No, I—” She stopped herself before saying it was because she had never owned a horse. “I’ve just never had a liking for horses.”

  He stared at her, as if thinking of something else. Then he turned back to Magdalen. “Do you like horses, Lady Magdalen?”

  “Oh yes, I like animals of all kinds. I had a pet dog as a child. When he died, I couldn’t bear to get another one.”

  Avelina pretended great interest in her food as she listened to their conversation. But when Lord Thornbeck leaned toward Magdalen and said something low in her ear, too low for Avelina to hear, her heart thumped harder.

  When the meal was over, Lord Thornbeck bid them a good day. As soon as Avelina and Magdalen stood and left the table, several other ladies, including Fronicka, crowded around Lord Thornbeck. One young lady actually asked his opinion about her dress.

  Avelina hurried Magdalen away. As soon as they were in the wide foyer at the junction of the stairs and the grand ballroom, Avelina whispered, “What did Lord Thornbeck say?”

  “When?”

  “You know! When he leaned and whispered in your ear.”

  “He did not exactly whisper. He—” Magdalen leaned over to look past Avelina’s shoulder. That’s when she heard a woman’s footsteps swishing toward them on the marble floor.

  Fronicka was coming, alone. “There is something strange about you, Lady Dorothea.” She clasped her hands behind her back, as if to look demure. “You don’t know how to dance, you don’t ride well and therefore could not go on the hunt with us, and your servant said she had never been a lady’s maidservant before she came on this trip with you. Sometimes I wonder if you’re even a lady at all.”

  Avelina’s breath seemed to leave her, and her heart pounded as Fronicka looked down at her through half-closed eyes. Her nose pointed high as she turned away and went back into the Great Hall.

  “She’s more of a lady than you will ever be,” Magdalen said under her breath, but Fronicka was already too far away to hear.

  But Fronicka was right. Did she even know how right she was? Avelina’s heart gradually slowed. Surely Fronicka had not discovered the truth. If she had, she wouldn’t hesitate to tell everyone.

  “Oh, so what Lord Thornbeck said . . .” Magdalen started up the stairs and Avelina hurried after her.

  “What? What?”

  “He said . . .” Magdalen drew out the words dramatically, then she whispered in Avelina’s ear, “he wants us to meet him in the rose garden just beyond the south side of the castle in the morning.”

  “Oh. But surely he meant only for you to come.”

  “No, he specifically said for me to bring you with me. And I shall not go at all if you do not come.”

  “Oh, but you must! He wants to talk to you.”

  “He wants to talk to you too. He said so.”

  If Lord Thornbeck was taken with Magdalen, as he obviously was, he would surely want to get to know her better, and having Avelina around would be uncomfortable. However, he might fear it would be improper for Magdalen to be al
one with him, so for that reason, Avelina would go along with her.

  Avelina heard the soft knock at her door and quickly opened it. Magdalen stood there smiling. “Are you ready?”

  “Let me put on my shoes.” The old pair of Dorothea’s slippers were so thin they nearly had a hole worn in them. She only needed them to hold up for seven more days.

  They slipped out the door, not speaking until they had made their way down the stairs and out through a side door that led to the kitchen.

  The morning air was crisp and cool and Avelina wrapped her shoulders in Dorothea’s old velvet cloak. “How did you sneak away from Hegatha? Did she allow you to go without her?”

  “She was out, so I left her a note.”

  “Won’t she be angry?”

  “Probably.” Magdalen’s frown turned into a grin. “It will be worth the guilt she will heap on me to sneak away to meet the margrave with you.”

  “Are you falling in love with him, then?” Avelina held her breath, waiting for her answer.

  Magdalen’s half grin turned into a half frown. “I am still hoping you will fall in love and decide to marry him.”

  “Magdalen! You know he favors you now.”

  Her brows shot up. “I do not think he fancies a wife as young as I am. You are closer to his own age. But we shall not argue about it. We shall simply enjoy his company. Agreed?”

  “Very well.”

  The air was misty with fog as they entered the small rose garden. Vines clung to the stone wall, and there were only a few roses, one here and there, that were still in bloom so late in autumn.

  Lord Thornbeck suddenly appeared in the mist ahead, standing next to the family mausoleum. He came toward them and cleared his throat. Avelina got the idea that he was trying to think of something to say. Perhaps one reason he was so gruff sometimes was because he had not spent much time with ladies and did not know how to make polite conversation. And this morning he did not have Odette to help prompt conversation.

  “Did you see the flowers that are still blooming?” he finally asked.

  Avelina let Magdalen walk ahead of her. “I like the yellow rose with pink around the edges.” Avelina stopped and leaned down to get a better look. When she straightened, Lord Thornbeck and Magdalen were staring at her.

  Avelina pretended not to notice as she turned and wandered away to find another fully bloomed rose. When she glanced over her shoulder again, the margrave and Magdalen were talking. Avelina resumed examining the roses and bushes and trees. Her plan was working perfectly. So why did a pang of regret shoot through her middle?

  “Lady Dorothea, come and join our conversation.” Lord Thornbeck was seating Magdalen on a wooden bench between two large rosebushes.

  Avelina walked forward and sat beside Magdalen, then the margrave seated himself on the bench facing them. He was not smiling.

  Silence stretched between them until Magdalen said, “We were just speaking about how difficult it is for our lord to choose a bride from among his guests.”

  “I did not say it was difficult,” Lord Thornbeck said. “I said it was uncomfortable to invite ladies to one’s home for the express purpose of choosing from among them whom to marry.”

  “Then why do it?” Avelina wished she hadn’t been so quick to speak, but she couldn’t take back the question.

  His expression was stern as he stared back at her. “I am doing it because I do not wish to marry someone who will be . . . less than what I am expecting in a wife. I do not wish to have the king choose my bride for me. If I can find a suitable wife, one that he approves, I shall not be forced to marry someone whose character may be less than exemplary or someone who may not wish to marry me and therefore will be unhappy in our marriage.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Do you think so?”

  His obvious interest in her opinion surprised her. “Yes. You are the margrave. You can do anything you want, and if you want to find a wife you consider to be suitable and a woman of good character, then you should use any reasonable means to do so.” Again, she probably should not have said so much. She sounded terribly impertinent. Once she returned to Plimmwald she would have to watch what she said, lest she speak her opinions the way she had here and offend Lord Plimmwald.

  Before that happened, Irma would put her in her place, no doubt.

  “I do not wish to force anyone to marry me who does not wish to.”

  Was he thinking of Magdalen? She did seem a bit unenthusiastic around him.

  “I am sure you know that a woman of good character, modesty, and prudence would not make her wish to marry you very obvious. She will not be hovering around you, trying to force your attention to her every moment.” She spoke carefully, hoping he would see the contrast in her description between Lady Magdalen and Lady Fronicka. “She would not try to make you look unfavorably upon another woman to make herself look good. She might seem quiet and reserved, but that is only her Christian meekness and sobriety shining through.”

  Magdalen was staring at her with wide eyes and a wisp of a smile on her lips, and Lord Thornbeck’s expression was nearly the same.

  “Are you saying that if a lady does not show great interest, it does not necessarily mean she does not wish to marry me?” He lifted one brow, waiting expectantly.

  He had never looked so handsome. Ugh. She should not be thinking such a thing.

  “Precisely. You are a man of great character yourself, are you not? Wishing to show kindness to the poor, a man of godly ideals in every area of your life?”

  “I try to be.”

  “Then a woman of good character will be very attracted to you, will consider you a wonderful potential husband, even if she does not show it.” Avelina had to swallow the lump that rose into her throat. “She will count herself fortunate to have secured your good opinion.”

  He stared back at her, unblinking.

  “Is it getting warmer?” Avelina stood. “Perhaps we should walk around and see all the roses before the sun burns through the fog and overheats us.” She turned away and wandered toward the wall behind them. Truly, there was little likelihood of it becoming that warm, but she needed to free herself of his penetrating stare, and a sudden fear had gripped her. Could he have thought she was speaking of herself instead of Magdalen?

  She wandered over to the climbing rose clinging to the stone wall and fingered the soft red petals of a stray rose, closing her eyes as she tried to slow her breathing. Behind her, the voices of Lady Magdalen and Lord Thornbeck drifted toward her, but she could not make out the words.

  She could not have faced him another moment. When she was with Lord Thornbeck, it was so difficult to keep from talking to him. She was so drawn to him, to his opinions, his deep-brown eyes, and his rich, rumbly voice—which was exactly why she needed to stay away and let him talk to Lady Magdalen.

  She leaned closer to the rose, so close that the cool, velvety petals caressed her cheek. She breathed deeply of the scented flower, pressing this moment into her mind so she could remember it in the future when she was a servant again, cleaning up after someone else, or helping in the kitchen now that Lady Dorothea was gone, or building a fire, or leaning over a boiling pot of pea-and-oat pottage she was cooking for her family.

  She wanted to remember being in the company of the Margrave of Thornbeck—a noble man who was so conscientious about choosing an equally noble wife that he would go to such lengths as this. And to remember the sweet and proper Lady Magdalen, who never put herself forward and would not even do so now, when the margrave obviously was thinking of marrying her.

  Footsteps were approaching behind her. She straightened and continued to wander down the path.

  “My mother always said,” Lord Thornbeck said, “that a lady could only sleep in a bed and could never sleep in a chair or on the ground. And a lady would never be able to sleep on a dirty mattress at an inn, where peasants had slept.”

  Magdalen laughed. “I may not be a lady then. I get a backache
if I am not sleeping in a bed, but when forced to it, I can sleep almost anywhere.”

  Avelina had slept on the floor many times or on the cot in the little adjoining closet next to Lady Dorothea’s bedchamber. But she already knew she was not nobly born.

  “My mother said a lady could feel even a tiny pea if it was underneath her.”

  “What did you say to your mother?” Lady Magdalen asked.

  “I said that was nonsense. She was only picking up on the fact that ladies generally expect, and are accustomed to, the finest and softest beds, not that they have any sort of special ability to feel lumps in their mattresses. What do you say, Lady Dorothea?”

  She was forced to turn and join their conversation. “I say a lady is no different from a peasant. They—we—all have flesh and bones and feelings and desires. The same blood flows through one’s veins as the other’s.”

  There she went again, expressing her fanciful opinions that no one else agreed with. Her face heated.

  “Perhaps you are right,” Lord Thornbeck said quietly.

  “Will you test us, then?” Magdalen said, “and put a pea under our mattresses and see who is able to sleep and who is not?”

  “I suppose my mother might have done something of that sort,” he said, “but I would not even try the experiment to discount it. Besides, I do not care about whether or not you can feel a pea under your mattress.”

  “But you have been testing us, have you not?” Avelina couldn’t resist asking. “When we were walking through Thornbeck, did you not have those children come and ask us for food? To see how we would react?”

  The margrave hung his head. When he looked up, he had a faint smile on his manly face. “You have found us out. Odette and Jorgen arranged to have the children from the orphanage perform that mummery for you all. And only you and Lady Magdalen passed that test.”

  “Only Lady Magdalen gave them anything,” Avelina pointed out.

  Lord Thornbeck gave her a hard stare. “But you were the one who demanded something be done for them. Were you not?”