Fairy Tale Romance Collection

by Melanie Dickerson

  She and Colin hurried away down the stairs.

  Chapter

  12

  As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Lord Claybrook entered the Great Hall only a few feet in front of them. She shrank back, instinctively throwing her arm back as though to hide Colin, who flattened himself against the stone wall. Lord Claybrook walked confidently through the doorway, never glancing in their direction.

  Margaretha sat down on the steps, placing her hand over her heart. It vibrated against her hand, so hard was it pounding. “He nearly saw us.”

  “If he sees you,” Colin whispered, “do not act as if anything is amiss. But if he sees me, our plan is ruined.” He grabbed her upper arms, forcing her to look at him. “You must help me find a few loyal guards, men you are certain would never betray your family. Then you will need to go to Claybrook in the Great Hall. Since he asked your mother to tell you to meet him there, he will become suspicious if you don’t show up.”

  Margaretha’s heart fluttered. He seemed so wise and capable, his hands warm and reassuring as they gripped her arms. Thanks be to God that he was here, helping her.

  “Will you come with me?” she whispered.

  “Yes, but you must lead the way.”

  He let go and she hurried to leave the castle by a back door. Colin followed just behind her to the gate.

  When they arrived at the gate house, a guard was there, but Margaretha did not know him. With him was one of Lord Claybrook’s guards, wearing the blue and gold of Lord Claybrook’s uncle. Margaretha smiled at them, hoping she didn’t look suspicious. A glance behind her showed Colin hanging his head, no doubt trying to hide his face.

  Margaretha turned back toward the castle, and when she did, she saw more of Claybrook’s guards near the stable. Were they trying to keep track of who was coming and going?

  She clasped her hands and bit her lip as she walked, keeping to the back side of the castle so as not to be visible to Claybrook from the windows of the Great Hall. God, have you truly entrusted me, a girl who has never faced danger of any kind, to help save Hagenheim? To place such a responsibility on me, when I never imagined I would need to do anything like this . . .

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Colin whispered behind her.

  Margaretha kept walking as she turned her head to answer. “Of course. I know every foot of these — oh.” She ran into something . . . or someone.

  “Careful, Lady Margaretha. You should look where you’re going.”

  She took hold of his massive arm. “Bezilo.” He was as loyal as any of her father’s guards. She would wager her life on it. “We must speak with you, Bezilo, but we need to go where no one will hear us. Please come with me.” They were near the flower garden, which was behind the castle, sheltered partially by trees. She led the two men through the short iron gate and motioned them to follow her to the shade of a low-hanging mulberry tree.

  Once they were under the relative seclusion of the thick leaves and branches, she told Bezilo in a hushed voice, “We are in danger. Lord Claybrook is trying to take over Hagenheim.”

  Bezilo’s eyes went wide. “I knew it. I never trusted that foolish looking foreigner.”

  “Well, my friend — for indeed, I consider you my friend and one of my father’s most trusted guards — this man here is also a foreigner, from England, and if not for him, we would not have known of Lord Claybrook’s treachery.”

  Bezilo turned to Colin and nodded.

  “We don’t have much time,” Margaretha went on without translating for Colin. “I need you to get a message to my father as soon as possible. We need to let him know that Claybrook is plotting with his uncle to take over Hagenheim and kill my father and Valten. But I’m not sure where Father is.”

  “Duke Wilhelm and Lord Hamlin were checking out some reports of brigands to the north. I shall find them, don’t worry.”

  “What did he say?” Colin asked, tapping her arm. “Translate for me.”

  “Just a minute,” Margaretha told Colin, barely glancing away from the guard. “How will you leave without Claybrook’s men seeing you? His guards are milling about the stable.”

  “I can leave the castle gate on foot and get a horse from town.”

  “They’re watching the castle gate as well.”

  “I’ll say I’m going to see my sister who sells vegetables in the Marktplatz.”

  “What are you saying?” Colin demanded.

  Margaretha explained briefly to Colin what Bezilo planned to do.

  “Good.” Colin nodded approvingly at Bezilo, as if with the authority of Duke Wilhelm himself. “But before he goes, he should alert the other guards that there will be a fight in the morning at dawn, or probably sooner. Or perhaps he should alert one guard and let him tell the others, but only the ones they are certain are loyal.”

  Margaretha relayed his message to the burly guard.

  Bezilo grunted. “Very well, I shall. But do you have a plan, Lady Margaretha, for you and your family to escape?”

  “Yes. We shall say we are going to visit someone, or that we are going on a picnic. You must tell Father and Valten that we are at the manse in the forest.”

  “I will. Now I am off to warn the other guards. You two stay here a moment so that we are not seen together.”

  Margaretha translated to Colin as Bezilo walked away. Colin looked sharply at her, his hands clenched into fists. He had changed so much since the first time she saw him, lying almost lifeless on Frau Lena’s narrow bed, covered in dust and grime and dried blood. And then later, wearing those green-speckled clothes.

  Now, even with the brown woolen tunic and hose of a stable boy, when she looked into his intense blue eyes, he made her breath catch in her throat. His hair was clean, thick and wavy, a dark-brown-almost-black which set off his bright blue eyes. His expression was less wild but every bit as intense as when he had demanded to speak to Duke Wilhelm that first day. His cheeks were no longer hollow and his shoulders brawnier after eating the hearty fare the cooks fed the servants.

  It must have been a powerful spirit that had brought this foreigner, this peculiar stranger, to their town. He had come and everything had changed. She’d always felt so safe, and if not for Colin, she never would have suspected Lord Claybrook of being a murderer and a violent usurper.

  “Margaretha, we must hurry. Claybrook will be expecting you.”

  No one besides her immediate family members called her by her given name with such familiarity, but she was not in any mood to scold him for it.

  She followed him out of the low garden gate and back toward the castle.

  Colin dropped back to follow behind her as they walked. “I will hide in the library, which I saw across from the Great Hall,” he said quietly.

  “Very well.” Ahead of her was Hagenheim Castle, a place more dear to her than any other. Its soaring towers never failed to fill her chest with contentment. To her left was the town of Hagenheim, where lived the families of the maids and other servants she had grown to love. There was Irmele the cook, who made her favorite cake for her birthdays. Irmele’s sister, whom she loved and talked about so often, lived near the Marktplatz with her many children and her husband, a butcher. Margaretha’s maid, Britta, had several brothers and sisters who lived in two large family homes on the street behind the Rathous, the older ones married. Margaretha had visited them once with her, and they had treated her like a queen. She had asked to hold Britta’s infant niece, and the baby had spit up on her, making Margaretha laugh, but horrifying everyone else. They had scrambled to clean her shoulder with cloths, apologizing profusely until Margaretha had made them laugh at themselves over all the fuss.

  Hagenheim was a place where everyone knew which days to come to market and exactly where to find the town’s butchers, tanners, bakers, and blacksmiths. No one ever left, very little ever changed. Everyone smiled and spoke to each other, and everyone knew each other and knew what to expect from another day in Hagenheim.

&nbs
p; Would that now change? Would the townspeople’s safety be shattered because of Lord Claybrook? She simply couldn’t imagine her father allowing that to happen. Even if he wasn’t here, wouldn’t he come and save them before that peacock Claybrook could lift his hand against them?

  No, instead of counting on her father to save them, she must trust her own wits, which she’d never placed much value on before, as well as this young foreigner, to save her family, her town, and everything she had ever known. As strange and frightening as it was, it was equally exciting to think that she and Colin were pitting themselves against a dangerous foe and outwitting him until her father could come. Her father would be so proud of her — if she could manage to get her family out before Claybrook captured them.

  As she rounded the side of the castle, bringing the gatehouse into full view, her eyes were drawn to the girl on horseback just entering the castle yard.

  Her heart sank to her toes. “Not Anne.”

  “What is it?” Colin hissed behind her.

  “Only my cousin, coming for an ill-timed visit.”

  Anne had already seen her, so Margaretha waved and pasted on a smile, starting forward to meet her. “I shall take Anne with me to see Lord Claybrook, which may provide a helpful distraction.”

  But when Margaretha glanced behind her, Colin was gone, probably to the library to wait for her.

  Margaretha met Anne as a stable boy trotted forward to take Anne’s horse.

  “You look beautiful.” Margaretha clasped her cousin’s hand, bracing herself for Anne’s reply.

  “Oh, Margaretha, you always say that and I never believe you are sincere.” Anne half frowned in her sardonic way. “But the blue color of this dress does set off my complexion perfectly. And don’t you look like the sweet little girl you are.” She smirked, looking down her nose at Margaretha. One might think by her tone and her words that Anne was at least ten years older, instead of only ten months.

  “Come into the Great Hall, Anne. I have someone I want you to meet.”

  “Why? Who is it?”

  “An English earl, Lord Claybrook.”

  “An earl? Is he married?”

  “No, as a matter of fact, he’s not.”

  “One of your suitors, Margaretha? Surely you don’t want to introduce me to him. Perhaps he will prefer me over you.” Anne smirked.

  “If he does, I don’t mind.” Margaretha smiled pleasantly.

  “Is something wrong with him? He must be vile and ill-favored.”

  “Some say he is handsome, but you may see for yourself.” Margaretha changed the subject of conversation, asking Anne about her father and mother, Margaretha’s uncle and aunt, Lord Rupert and Lady Anne. Some might have thought it strange they gave their daughter the same name as her mother, but she looked so much like her, it seemed appropriate.

  “Father and Mother are well, as usual. I decided to come and visit you, Margaretha, since dear Jaspar is away. I am never so discontent as when Jaspar is away. I miss him so much.”

  Anne sighed dramatically as she spoke of her brother. Margaretha had never understood the way Anne fawned over her younger brother, Jaspar. He was a year younger than Margaretha, and he had ever been as insufferable as most young boys, more so even than her own brothers. He was so accustomed to getting his own way, he expected everyone to give him whatever he wanted.

  “I think you shall be . . . too distracted to be discontent here with us, Anne.” Margaretha smiled. But perhaps she was being wicked by not telling Anne to flee for her life. Knowing Anne, she would make such a loud fuss that Lord Claybrook would hear of it and realize Margaretha knew what he was planning.

  No, she couldn’t risk revealing the truth to Anne.

  Anne followed her into the castle, asking Margaretha, “Do you think my hair looks well? Perhaps your maid could pin it up a bit higher.”

  Margaretha turned her attention to her cousin’s silky, light brown locks as they walked. “Anne, your hair is beautiful, as always.” Not a hair was out of place, even though she had ridden five miles from her parents’ country house.

  “He is an earl, after all. If you don’t want him, and if he is sufficiently wealthy, I might take him off your hands.” Anne smiled when she didn’t think Margaretha was looking.

  Margaretha had no illusions that her cousin would respect the fact that Lord Claybrook was her suitor. But she hardly cared, and at the moment she didn’t have time to dwell on her cousin’s lack of loyalty.

  As they drew closer and closer to where Lord Claybrook would be waiting, Margaretha had to concentrate on not appearing nervous. She had to remember how she had treated Lord Claybrook before and behave exactly the same way. She could not allow herself to excite his suspicion or their plans would not work.

  Taking a steadying breath, hardly listening to Anne’s complaints about how dirty the roads were and how her gelding had soiled his legs and her dress, Margaretha entered the Great Hall with her cousin beside her.

  Lord Claybrook stood to welcome them.

  Margaretha’s blood went cold at the sight of him, but she forced herself to smile even as part of her wanted to demand that he explain how he could pretend goodness while his heart was as black as the devil himself. She must focus on the part she was playing.

  “Lord Claybrook, may I introduce my cousin, Lady Anne? She is the daughter of Lord Rupert Gerstenberg. Anne, this is Rowland Fortescue, Earl of Claybrook.”

  “It is my pleasure to meet such a lovely young lady, one who is also Lady Margaretha’s relation.” Lord Claybrook smiled as he bowed over Anne’s hand and kissed it.

  Anne’s eyes were wide, and there was a definite hint of interest in her upraised, arched brows. She began talking with Lord Claybrook in her most superficially charming way, asking him about himself and complimenting him with smiles of her own. But Margaretha barely heard what they were saying. Her mind was flitting to Colin, probably hiding in the library, to Bezilo warning the guards of the impending attack by Claybrook’s men, and to her father, wherever he was. When would he come to save them?

  “Lady Margaretha, you look thoughtful.” Claybrook’s thin lips curled in a slow smile.

  “Oh, I was only thinking about the ride my mother said you wanted to take me on. But since my cousin Anne is here, let us stay and chat, or perhaps play a game of chess.”

  He gave her a sharp look out of the corner of his eye. Or was she only imagining it?

  “I think it will be just as well to stay here and take a ride another time.” He was studying her.

  She smiled. “Thank you, Lord Claybrook. I don’t particularly feel up to an outing today.”

  He was wearing another elaborate hat today, but the liripipe wound around the hat and then was secured to his shoulder, to make it more suitable for riding, she supposed.

  A movement in the corner of the room caught her attention. One of Claybrook’s guards was watching them, standing near the door to the corridor. Had Lord Claybrook always had a guard stationed nearby?

  “Shall we set up the chessboard?” Margaretha smiled cheerfully.

  While Anne spoke with Lord Claybrook, Margaretha tried not to look nervous, but her eyes seemed to dart without her consent to the doorway, and her hands shook slightly as she clumsily set up the chess pieces. At the same time, she found it extremely difficult to look Lord Claybrook in the eye without shuddering. She could only hope he didn’t notice.

  Anne played the first game with Lord Claybrook. She took a lot of time in selecting her moves, but she still lost to Lord Claybrook fairly quickly. She complimented him in his great wisdom and skill. As they were setting up the game again for Margaretha to play with Lord Claybrook, the guard by the door seemed to be watching someone in the corridor, then slipped out. A few minutes later, a loud scuffle, along with shouts of “Halt!” and “I have you!” and “Cease or you die!” came from the vicinity of the library and corridor.

  Margaretha tried not to show understanding. Instead she tried to appear shocked
and confused. Meanwhile, Lord Claybrook’s face went hard as he stood and strode to the door. He stopped abruptly and turned back to stare at Margaretha.

  She tried to imitate Anne’s blank but curious expression. “Who is that? What is happening?” Anne asked innocently.

  Margaretha shook her head. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded breathless.

  Another of Lord Claybrook’s guards ran past the open doorway. There was scuffling. Claybrook disappeared through the door. A few moments went by and he reappeared, his face red.

  Behind him, Colin stumbled forward as a guard shoved him. He met Margaretha’s eye for the briefest moment, then looked down at the floor. The guard held his hands behind his back.

  Lord Claybrook ground out between clenched teeth, “Do you know this man?”

  Margaretha’s breath seemed to leave her entirely. She concentrated on breathing and shrugged. “A stable boy?”

  “What was he doing in the library, meeting with one of your father’s guards?”

  “I do not know, and I am astonished at your using that tone of voice with me. What is the meaning of this? You only need to send for the stable master and he will come directly and take this man back to his duties and punish him, if suitable.”

  “I have a better idea.” Lord Claybrook turned to Colin. “Why don’t we ask him?”

  Claybrook slammed his fist across Colin’s face. Margaretha cried out, then pressed her hand over her mouth to silence herself.

  Bright red blood oozed from Colin’s lip as he glared at Claybrook.

  “You’ll be sorry,” Colin growled in English.

  Claybrook laughed, then clicked his tongue against his teeth. “Not before you are sorry.” He also spoke in English as he stepped forward menacingly. His guard still held Colin’s hands behind his back as Claybrook stood nose to nose with Colin. “What does Lady Margaretha know? If you told her anything you shouldn’t have, then I may have to kill her.”

  Margaretha pretended not to understand their English, even as she trembled at Claybrook’s words.