Escape the Woods

by Gabriella Catherine

  Father raised his eyebrows. “I’m glad you were able to find comfort here with us.”

  There was a slightly awkward pause before Sir Kolton cleared his throat. “Well then, I should go, unless I can be of further assistance to you, Duke William.”

  “I thank you, but you may leave. Send your father my greetings.”

  “I will.” He then turned to me. “Thank you for your kind offer last night.”

  “Of course. And I’ll take that from you.” I took the plate of food I had dropped out of his hand.

  Sir Kolton bowed. “Until we meet again.” Then he bowed to my father. “Your Grace.”

  With that, he strode toward the main exit of the Great Hall. A tiny sigh escaped me as I watched him go.

  I saw Father looking at me, so I turned to him. “Guten Morgen.” Then I walked quickly away to dispose of the spoiled food in my hand.

  ###

  The days went by quickly after that. After Britta had been gone for two weeks, I anxiously awaited the letter she promised to send as soon as she arrived in Rugart. Another whole week passed, and nothing came. That’s when I began to worry.

  “Britta and Eric left Darrenberg three weeks ago, and it takes five or six days to get from here to Rugart,” I explained to Jack. “Why wouldn’t I have received her letter yet?”

  Jack replied calmly. “Britta is most likely preoccupied. Just think, it takes one week to get to Rugart, and another week for the messenger to get to Darrenberg. Give Britta at least one more week. I’m sure she’ll write soon. She never forgets anything.”

  I took his words into consideration. He’s right; I should give her one more week. But that was it — one week. If I didn’t hear something by then, I would talk to my father.

  Word came from Duke Aaron, explaining how the men that kidnapped Elsa and Sabine intercepted the letter to my father. They beat Duke Aaron’s messenger and stole the letter. One of the men disguised himself as a messenger and delivered the letter to Darrenberg, then they faked their identities again and claimed to be Duke Aaron’s men.

  The poor messenger was left to die on the side of the road.

  Another week went by, and nothing came from Britta. I made up my mind to go to Father. I knocked on the door to his private study and waited until he opened it. “Liebling, what is it?”

  I entered, and he went to sit behind his large desk.

  “It’s my former maid, Britta Devon,” I said. “She and her husband left Darrenberg to move to Rugart one month ago, and Britta promised she would send me a letter as soon as she got to Rugart.”

  Father nodded. “And have you received word from her yet?”

  “Nein.”

  He didn’t look alarmed in the least bit.

  “Father,” I said, hoping he could hear the plea in my voice, “I’m worried something has happened to them. When Britta promises something, she keeps that promise. I know her. I have known her for several years.”

  “Hush,” he said, as though slightly annoyed at how frightened I had become. “I am certain your maid has only forgotten. It’s nothing to be so upset about.”

  I frowned. “You don’t understand. Britta doesn’t forget anything. I know that she wouldn’t have forgotten.”

  Father breathed in slowly. “Well then, write a letter to her, and I will have my messenger take it to Britta’s home in Rugart. If you don’t hear back from her, I will send one of my men to Rugart to make certain they are indeed safe.”

  I nodded. “Thank you.”

  That same summer day, I sat in my chamber and wrote her a letter.

  Dear Britta Devon,

  What is Rugart like? Did you and Eric have a safe journey there? I miss you, and although my new maid is kind, she is nothing like you.

  I wish to hear about your new home and what it is like living with Eric. Have you met his family? Are they kind to you?

  Please reply soon, so I will not be worried about you.

  — Lady Scarlett

  I folded the parchment and brought it to Father. He promised to send it with his messenger soon. I thanked him and left. Then I walked down to Malachi’s station and asked him to go to the village with me so I could buy a new quiver of arrows.

  As we returned to the castle, I thought about Sir Kolton, and wondered about his family. I imagined what it was like at their castle at night, when it was time to go to bed. I imagined his youngest sister, Zella, climbing up on his lap, holding his hand in hers, playing with his fingers. I then imagined his sister Odelette sitting beside him, sewing a dress for herself. Adelle and Maddalena would be huddled together by the fire with a blanket, reading from a book. Then his parents would enter the room with his two mischievous brothers, and his mother would explain to Kolton and Odelette that the two boys got into trouble that day down in the village.

  Kolton’s mother would then take Zella from Kolton’s lap and coax all the other children to bed. Gustav and Merrick would shove each other on their way out of the room, and Odelette, Maddalena, and Adelle would speak softly to each other as they made their way to the large chamber they shared.

  Then Kolton would stand and his father would place his hand on his shoulder and speak to him. Responsibly, Kolton would nod to his father, and then kiss his beautiful mother goodnight. She would put her arm around his strong shoulders and hug him, and then watch him walk out of the room and head up to his chamber, where he would read from his Bible until he fell asleep.

  Then his mother would kiss his father and walk silently out of the room, carrying Zella, who lay asleep on her shoulder.

  “Lady Scarlett.”

  I snapped out of the fairytale when Malachi said my name.

  “Yes?”

  “Do you need me to escort you to your chamber?” We stood in the courtyard.

  “No, I can manage from here on my own. Thank you.”

  ###

  For the next two weeks, Cordel and Jack were preoccupied with all the work that had to be done before they set off for the warrior’s camp. I didn’t speak with them much, but mostly studied and read in my chamber. The weather was very hot, and it was uncomfortable to be out riding or doing any sort of activity.

  Another week passed, and I’d received nothing from Britta. What if something terrible had happened to her and Eric? What if they had become lost, and now they were out in the woods in the dark, huddled under their small carriage, wishing they were inside, dry? Or, what if they had run out of food and were now starving to death and were lost, unable to find a village to buy food? Or what if they were robbed? Beaten? Left on the road to die and be eaten by vultures?

  I couldn’t handle the anxiety anymore. I walked to my father’s study.

  He was bent over his desk in the semi darkness of the evening. “Scarlett. Come in.”

  I entered and shut the door behind me. “Father, I’m sorry to bother you, but I haven’t received a letter from Britta Devon yet. It has nearly been three weeks and I’m worried about her. Did your messenger deliver it?” My voice trembled. Please let him understand and be sympathetic.

  “My messenger said he left it at Eric Devon’s house.” He looked tired.

  “I can’t help but fear that something has happened to her and her husband.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Father asked. “Do you know the route that they took?”

  “I’m sure I can find out. Someone must know — Britta’s family or someone who had contact with Eric. Perhaps Eric’s friend.”

  He looked to be thinking it through.

  “Please send some of your men after them, down the same trail they took, just to make sure they’re all right.”

  He considered it. “All right. If it’s bothering you so much, I will send Sir Brendon and several others after them in the morning.”

  I let out a breath. “Thank you, Father. I can try to figure out exactly which route they took tomorrow.”

  “You let me take care of that,” he protested. “I will have Sir Brendon handle everything
. You go get some sleep now.”

  I nodded. “I’ll try. Goodnight.”

  ###

  Five nights later, Father, Cordel, Jack, and I sat in the Great Hall, eating fresh fish and vegetables for dinner.

  “I am so torn,” Jack explained to me while Father and Cordel talked quietly amongst themselves. “What does a man do when there are two wonderful maidens and he must pick one to be his wife?”

  “Two maidens?” I knew Jack had interest in Lord Hanz’s daughter, Gwen, but who else was he considering proposing marriage to?

  “Yes, two,” he replied. “I don’t wish to speak their names at the moment.”

  I shrugged and continued eating my dinner. But Jack wasn’t finished telling me about his dilemma.

  “You see, they both have good qualities,” he began. “There are some things I like about one woman, and some things I like about M—” He paused. “The other woman.” He took a sip from his goblet. “And how should I know whether either would accept me?”

  I looked up from my food. “Jack, considering your title, I don’t think either maiden would refuse you.”

  He frowned. “They would both accept my proposal just because of my title? Do you have no faith that a maiden might actually love me for something other than my title?”

  I held back a giggle and spoke quietly, not wanting to interrupt Father and Cordel’s serious conversation. “Aren’t you cocky?” I asked, raising my eyebrows teasingly.

  Jack grimaced and went back to eating.

  Just then Sir Brendon entered the Hall, clearing his throat to get Father’s attention. My heart jumped, and I dropped my fork on my plate.

  “Excuse me,” Father said to us, rising and stepping over the bench. When he approached Sir Brendon, they began speaking in hushed voices, and Jack and I exchanged anxious looks. He’d put down his fork also, and he seemed to be holding his breath.

  After a few minutes, Father finally walked slowly, reluctantly, back to the table. I thought I would burst with apprehension. He sat, and just as I opened my mouth to ask him what was going on, he said, “I need to speak to Scarlett.” It was his way of dismissing my brothers.

  Cordel stood and strode out of the Hall without a word. But Jack didn’t move. He stayed seated, giving me a look that told me he wasn’t going anywhere.

  My stomach tightened at the sight of the leftover fish that sat on my plate, the smell suddenly nauseating me. The room felt hot, and sweat formed on my back, between my shoulder blades.

  I looked up and met Father’s eye. “I think you know what this is about,” he muttered.

  I swallowed hard. Jack reached for my hand under the table. He held on tightly, firmly, as we waited for Father to continue.

  “Sir Brendon and several of my men have followed and searched the same trails Britta and her new husband traveled. But they didn’t make it to Rugart.”

  I stared at him, waiting.

  “After three days of riding, Sir Brendon and the others came upon a steep, rocky slope, one that seemed impossible to ride down by carriage. There was a river along the side of the narrow trail, and as the men were making their way down the path, they discovered a carriage lying on its side in the river.”

  My hand went limp inside Jack’s. I ached to leave the room. To leave the stale smell, the anxiety, and the suffocating, warm air. But I couldn’t escape. I had to hear what he was going to say.

  “It hurts me to tell you that the carriage was the one Eric and Britta left Darrenberg in.” He looked down, his hand partially covering his face.

  “That… that can’t be.”

  “I am sorry,” Father whispered. He still wouldn’t look at me.

  I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure I believed it was true. The room was spinning. Perhaps I’d heard him wrong. “How do they know? It could be anyone’s carriage. Surely it isn’t Eric and Britta’s!”

  “Sir Brendon is almost certain it is theirs. The carriage was yellow, and the horse was drowned.”

  Still unable to believe this, my whole body began to tremble. Jack squeezed my hand so hard it should have hurt, but my body was numb. “But there is no proof. Have they even found any—” I paused, thinking of sweet Britta and her kind, beautiful face. I grew dizzier, and fought to regain my voice. “Have they found any bodies?”

  “No, they have not.”

  “Then there is no proof it was Eric and Britta’s carriage.” I would refuse to believe Britta and her new husband had drowned until we knew with absolute certainty that they were dead.

  Father said, “Sir Brendon and the other men managed to drag the wooden carriage out of the river, and they searched its contents. It is Eric Devon’s carriage.”

  “The carriage is here?”

  “Yes.”

  Impulsively, I jumped up from the table, shaking off Jack’s hand. I bolted for the door leading to the courtyard.

  “Scarlett!” Jack and Father both called.

  Father stood and intercepted me, throwing his body between me and the door, holding me back. “Scarlett, stop! It’s no use. Sir Brendon has already begun to dispose of the carriage.”

  The room spun faster, and I became so dizzy that I stumbled backwards onto Jack. He caught me and held onto my shoulders to sturdy me. My breath rushed in and out of my lungs in short, jerky breaths. Tears blurred my vision. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t possible. I couldn’t lose Britta. I couldn’t bear it.

  “This can’t be true. How do you know it’s their carriage?” I rasped.

  “They found wedding gifts, baskets full of plates, spoons, and small bowls, and also a trunk of women’s dresses. Britta’s wedding dress was found among the other belongings.”

  “Perhaps they were kidnapped?”

  He shook his head doubtfully. “If they were kidnapped by robbers or gypsies, why wouldn’t they have taken the gifts and the trunk?”

  He was right. Robbers and gypsies didn’t kidnap. And they only killed when there was something they wanted to steal.

  A sob escaped me; more of a scream than a cry. I clutched my heart; it burned intensely.

  “I’m sorry, Scarlett,” said Father.

  Jack put his arm around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest, but I hardly noticed. I thought of Britta, so sweet and motherly and innocent. She didn’t deserve to die. All she wanted was to be happily married. She’d been my friend for years. She was the closest thing I had to a mother after mine died. And now she was gone, too. I’d never see her again.

  I looked up at my brother. Jack was on the verge of tears. He wrapped both arms around me, embracing me tightly as I began to cry. I felt myself go limp in his arms, but he held me up.

  “Everything’s going to be all right,” he said softly. “I’m here, Scar.” But even his voice trembled with disbelief.

  CHAPTER 23

  The Hawmann family held a funeral several days later in the cathedral. I held back tears as I stood with Jack, watching Britta’s family and Eric’s friends walk down the aisle between the pews. There were no coffins, as there usually were, because there still were no bodies found. I tried to accept the fact that Britta and her husband were dead, but some part of me refused to believe it.

  Sir Kolton stood on the other side of the cathedral. In the midst of all the sadness and mourning, he looked so handsome. He stood with who I guessed was his mother, and when she began crying, he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her against his chest. I felt numb and ached to be held like that, gently and securely.

  As soon as the funeral ended, I went outside into the heavy sunlight to be by myself. Jack didn’t try to follow me. I stood beneath the trees Merida and I had stood under on Midsummer’s Eve. I had been able to hold back from crying through the whole funeral, but now, resting my forehead against a tree, I broke down. Strong, painful sobs escaped me, and I clutched my heart. I cried not only for Britta, but also because my brothers were leaving within a couple of days, and because I hated my father’s new decree,
and because I had compassion for Zachariah, Izaak, Lukas, and Micah.

  After my mother died, when I was a little girl, I told Jack I was so sad that I felt like I would die. This was the first time since that day that I felt that same desperate, overwhelming pain. I wasn’t sure I had the strength to go on. I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  How long would my brothers be gone? Would they be gone for two more years? Possibly three? I had lost my friend, I would soon be losing my brothers, and I had lost nearly all my freedom. It wasn’t how I anticipated my life going.

  Just as my knees were about to buckle beneath me, I heard my name being called. “Lady Scarlett.” It was almost drowned out by my sobs. I pulled away from the tree and turned around.

  Kolton.

  He approached me, concern on his face.

  I drew in a quick breath, trying to calm myself.

  “There you are,” he said gently. He came and stood only a few inches away from me, looking into my eyes with a pained expression. “Are you all right?”

  Holding onto the tree so I wouldn’t fall, I said, “Yes…I’m fine.”

  But he knew that was a lie. I must have looked like a mess, and I swayed unsteadily like I was about to faint.

  Kolton took a navy blue handkerchief from his satchel and held it out to me.

  I took it and began drying my tear-streaked face. “Thank you,” I whispered before bursting into tears again. Humiliated, I turned away from him, leaning my forehead against the tree again. I clenched my eyes shut, not believing this was happening in front of Sir Kolton.

  I felt a warm, gentle hand on my back. I glanced up to see Kolton standing right beside me, looking at me intensely. He gently stroked my back and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  “You are sorry for me, yet she was your cousin?”

  “You still cared about her. You saw her every day. This must be very hard for you.”

  The kindness in his dark blue eyes took my breath away. What would he do if I threw my arms around him? Would he hold me and comfort me and let me lay my head against his chest? Or would he think I was too forward? It wasn’t considered appropriate for me to embrace a man I had only met three times, but he was the one stroking my back, wasn’t he? What could I do to show him that I approved of his kindness and affection?