by Rizzo Rosko
Eliza's chest deflated as though she’d been holding her breath. "Thank you, milord."
His smile was the only response he would give to her. He would not forewarn her about his intent to watch her, that any misstep she made, any hint he received that she planned for this, would be her undoing. He would send her out himself.
He refused to be used by anyone else.
His step-mother, Marianne, went to Eliza and put her arms about her shoulders, welcoming the other woman whole heartedly. "I am sorry to hear of your situation, Elizabeth. Perhaps we can send a messenger to your father and let him know that you are here."
Eliza shook her head. "'Tis very generous of you, but my father died six years ago. I don't believe he even knew I existed. I am a bastard."
Sympathy swelled inside Blaise when she uttered that profanity. "Do not call yourself that vile word."
Elizabeth’s eyes went to him, their shock that he should defend her from herself plain even to him. Then she smiled, and Blaise felt the anger melt away. He felt light and well.
"Thank you, milord, but 'tis true nonetheless. My mother took me from him before I was born and hid me away until she too finally went into hiding. She feared he would take me from her. 'Twas how she explained it to me, at least."
"Do you know the name of your father?" William asked.
Eliza nodded. "Sir Bartholomew Ferdinand."
As though the air had been sucked from the room, everyone stopped breathing for some seconds.
A flash of memory passed through Blaise's mind, as vivid as though it were happening before his eyes. 'Twas of that old man, Ferdinand, a villain known for torturing women, running towards William and Marianne with a blade in his hand, intent on destroying them.
Blaise had rushed forth and kicked the man's feet out from under him, and the devil fell and stabbed himself in the neck with his own dagger.
Blaise never thought much of the memory, certainly had never lost any sleep over it. But now, guilt wracked his soul that he had apparently murdered this girl's father.
Chapter Three
Elizabeth awoke from her dream and snuggled further into the warmth of her bed. A lazy grin touched her lips. The feather mattress provided a better night's sleep than the mound of putrid hay she'd been using in her mother's hut.
Memories of insects and dirt brought a shiver to her shoulders. Nay, never again would she trouble herself with those memories. Now she was here, in a beautiful room in a castle, and lady in waiting to Lady Gray.
She allowed herself a luxurious stretch before sitting up. It seemed the bedchamber she had been led to the day before had once belonged to Lord Gray's mother, and while it had almost never been used since the death of the woman, it had been kept in a good, clean condition. Now Elizabeth was free to have it.
"I think 'tis time a new soul brought life to it." William had said after suggesting that she stay there.
She'd been shocked at first, having expected to share a room with another servant rather than being given one of her own. Though she supposed 'twas one more thing the lord of the castle thought so little of when compared to having his son’s life spared.
Blaise. How angelic he appeared while observing her in Lord Gray’s solar. Not at all compared to when she first saw him in the road.
The image brought a shudder to her shoulders and a regretful stirring in her chest. No. Best not to think of that. He was safe now, and that was all that mattered.
He had been handsome once she'd brought him in from the rain and cleaned him up, despite the displeasing color of his hair. She had spent a good deal of time with him, listening to his complaints of the muck during their trek back to his castle, so Elizabeth became unnerved when he simply vanished after she explained her situation and who her father was.
His face had paled of color, allowing her to see every individual freckle on his otherwise tanned nose and cheeks. He had excused himself and all but fled from the room.
Elizabeth lifted herself from the bed, walked across the room, and gazed out the window at the sunrise that coloured the horizon.
'Twas two days ago, and since then she had only seen him during meals in the great hall. Though there were fireplaces in each room, enabling a lord and his lady to have their meals in privacy, it seemed Lord Gray insisted upon eating with the men and women who served him, as well as requiring that his family and guests do the same.
"'Twas something Lady Gray demanded when she first came to be mistress of the castle," said Olma when Elizabeth gave her a curious glance. "She said it keeps the servants respectful."
Elizabeth was not precisely certain how that worked, but if the lord and lady insisted on it then she would oblige.
Though they hadn't rushed out of the solar and avoided her as Blaise had when she revealed the name of her father, Lord Gray, and especially Lady Gray, had been giving her strange glances when they thought she would not see them. Being raised the daughter of a prostitute, Elizabeth grew to know when the eyes of another stared at her.
She did not like it. The name of her father obviously stirred displeasure in their hearts and Elizabeth longed to know the reason of it.
Did they know Sir Ferdinand? Was he ally or enemy? And was he truly as horrible as her mother claimed? Or was she a selfish woman who demanded that her daughter live with her in the most foul of circumstances? Was this the reason they had taken such an interest in her, wished to know her age, where she was born, and the name of her mother?
Elizabeth had to answer questions they asked of her, though because of who they were she would never dare to demand answers from them. Olma had yet to offer any information either, but she could ask Blaise.
She would have to step cautiously while in his presence. If the man ever became aware that she had plotted his robbery, she would be tossed from the castle. If she were lucky.
She had hired those men because she knew them, almost. They were part of her mother’s clientele, and harmless enough, or so she had thought. They were to simply watch out for the man with orange hair and surprise him. They were not to beat him into unconsciousness, steal his clothing, and leave him for dead in a rain puddle.
Elizabeth sighed and shook her head. Perhaps the amount of money she had given them as payment was smaller than she had thought. “‘Tis my own fault for trusting them.” She supposed she should feel grateful they had not outright killed him in their attack, and not simply because then her plans would have been for naught. Elizabeth did not know how she would have been able to live with herself had a man’s blood been put on her hands.
Elizabeth turned away from the colourful glow rising from the east. Perhaps if she confessed…
She shook the thought away quickly. Nay. She could never tell him. To do so would risk everything she had worked hard to accomplish. She could never sell her body as her mother had, and what little she could grow behind that hut or steal from the unsuspecting travellers was not enough to ensure her survival.
Blaise Gray was known for his lonesome rides. Or, at least, Elizabeth imagined they were lonesome. Every time she had seen him he was always alone, not a knight or even a page with him. 'Twas a miracle no one had thought to rob him before. As reckless as he was, Lord knew he practically begged for trouble. Elizabeth had done him a favour. At least now he would be more aware of the dangers.
A knock sounded on the door, breaking her silence and startling her into a fearful jump. Dear Lord! What if a servant heard her speaking to herself on the other side of the door? With a trembling voice she called, “Who is there?”
“‘Tis I, Lady Elizabeth.” Olma's voice carried softly to her ears.
Elizabeth sighed. She had not lived at Graystone for long, but she knew already that Olma kept to herself and did not search for gossip as other servants did. Still, she would have to remember to keep her thoughts inside her head and not speak them out loud.
Elizabeth allowed the girl entrance, and then Olma proceeded to bustle about and dress her in the gree
n gown she had worn her first day in the castle.
Lord Gray had promised to find her some old gowns that belonged to his mother and have them hemmed to fit her, but until then she would have to wear her green one. She hoped the other gowns would be ready soon, for she had no desire to use hers any longer than necessary. She wished to preserve it. It had, after all, been a gift from her mother.
"Olma, where is Lord Blaise?" Elizabeth asked while the girl worked on the strings of her corset.
Olma paused briefly before the tightening at her back continued. "‘e is usually with the men at the gate or tending to the mews."
"The mews? Are there not men who will do that for him?"
"Aye, but ‘e prefers to go down anyway, Lady Elizabeth."
Elizabeth's spine tingled as Olma referred to her as a lady. 'Twas not the first time she had heard it since arriving, but she never grew weary of the sound.
‘Twas what she had always dreamed. To be what she truly was, more than a peasant girl who struggled to feed herself every winter.
The delicious tingle soon vanished, replaced with a cloud of worry and fear. Though Blaise would never learn of her part in his near death, and, God willing, Lord Gray would never learn it either, Blaise’s obvious suspicion frightened her.
'Twas impossible that he could know of it, though her fear had almost gotten the better of her when he stood up, naked in her hut, and demanded to know how it was that she knew his name. Her fear had nearly prevented her from giving a valid response until she recalled that his hair would make the perfect excuse. After all, 'twas what she used to send those men after him in the first place.
Though she was certain her lie had worked, she still caught his narrowed glances that were surely meant to be secret, and the distrust that lay across his face as he observed her.
Anger twisted her guts. He acted so distrustful of her when he and his family obviously hid things of her own past from her.
Elizabeth would rectify that. She would be with Lady Gray and accompany her throughout whatever the lady decided to do during the day. Eventually, Elizabeth would make it known that she wished to become better acquainted with the young lord whom she had saved.
She knew better than to attempt any romantic involvement. She would befriend him. Then she would hint and pry until the answers of her father were revealed to her. 'Twould be difficult, but she would persist until all that anger and suspicion in his soul melted away.
She was not some evil fiend out to steal his wealth, and she would not be thought of as one simply because he chose to dislike her. She merely wished to live a life outside of that hovel where she had been raised. Clean, and safe from predators of both the animal and human variety.
She would befriend Blaise, gain his trust, and in return the young lord would be at ease knowing his home had not been invaded by a creature of foul intent.
Elizabeth could hardly wait for their next meeting.
***
Blaise lounged while his father paced. Marianne stood by and watched her husband with her hands clasped above her bulging belly.
"The girl is six and twenty. Too old to be your daughter. You know this," she said.
Blaise shuddered and lifted his goblet to his lips to chase away the chill. He thanked the Lord for that small miracle. That the woman who had rescued him, and for whom he had experienced physical lust, no matter how brief, was not his sister, was a tremendous relief.
Still, his father continued to pace. When Eliza revealed who her father was, next she spoke of the identity of her mother.
When she explained that her mother was Bertha Hollow, the same prostitute whom William had once visited in his youth, panic had entered his eyes until she revealed her age. She had been born a good year before his father ever went to Bertha for her services.
As Blaise had not been in the solar at the time to learn of this, he had to be told later. Terror chilled his blood at the thought until Marianne used calm logic to explain how Eliza could not have been mistaken. If she insisted that Ferdinand was her father, then her father he must be.
“She claimed that her mother took her from her father before she had been born and that her mother went into hiding later. I had assumed Bertha had been killed by Ferdinand when we stopped hearing from her.” His father said.
Marianne’s eyes were downcast. “That poor woman. To have to hide away from Ferdinand her entire life.”
“Aye,” William stopped his pacing and sighed.
Blaise shrugged, refusing to let the tale bring any pity out of him. “I still distrust the daughter.”
His suspicion aside, he could hardly believe his rescuer was older than he by almost a full year. His step mother was also older, and Blaise's original betrothed until he had written her a letter calling off their marriage.
Insulted, the red-headed wench had gone and kidnapped his father and married him instead, even if only by accident. It seemed Blaise would be forever haunted by older women in his life.
William nodded at Blaise’s earlier statement. "Aye, I know ye do. But ‘tis not all that concerns me. If she truly is the daughter of Ferdinand then she has no doubt inherited some of his more dubious personality traits."
Blaise found himself under the hard blue stare of his father. "I believe this would be a fine time for your suspicious nature to run free. Keep on your guard around her."
"William! 'Tis nonsense that a person can inherit any bad behaviours and ye well know it. If it were true, I would be a gambling addict.” Marianne said. “Elizabeth saved Blaise's life, we owe her more than our suspicion."
"My dear, I am shocked that you so eagerly defend the girl, considering your hatred for her father."
Blaise had heard this story more times than he could count, and so he stopped paying attention to the bickering of the older people in the room. Blaise's true father was not the man standing in the room with him at all, but a mere groom who worked in the stables. Robert. Despite his lack of education or wealth, the man had still managed to deceive Blaise's mother, the first Lady Gray, Alice, into believing her husband felt no love for her because of their constantly botched intimacy.
She allowed herself to be fooled by a man far beneath her, letting a mere servant seduce and bed her. William, unaware of his wife's betrayal, sought the help of a prostitute named Bertha to teach him the ways of the marriage bed. It would allow him and his wife to perform their matrimonial duties without William causing any harm to Alice.
Thankfully Alice confessed to her sin shortly after the affair. Unfortunately, she already had the child of another man in her womb. She gave birth to Blaise months later. She died during the ordeal, but William, who loved them both so dearly, raised a bastard son of a servant as his own anyway.
The groom, Robert, was sent away, only to return years later, cold and starving during the winter months. William took pity on the man and allowed him to stay as a groom once more.
As Blaise grew older, he allowed himself to be fooled by the man just as his mother had been. Believing Robert to be the victim of William's lack of love for Alice, Blaise had sympathized more with a servant than the man who was raising him. He had allowed himself to be used, not realizing until Robert kidnapped Marianne and sold her to Ferdinand that he had been tricked.
Robert had only taken such an interest in Blaise in the hopes that one day, after William's death, Blaise would lift him from his status as a groom and allow him luxuries other men of such low stations could never even dream of.
William did not hold Blaise responsible. And when they went to Ferdinand to retrieve Marianne from his clutches, Blaise was forced to take action when the man pulled out a dagger and rushed to kill his father and Marianne.
Did Eliza know that Blaise was responsible for the death of her father? Did she even know what sort of man her father had been? Blaise knew that if he would ever have any peace in his own home, he would need to find the answers quickly.
William approached Marianne and gently took her hand f
rom its resting spot on her belly, though she still frowned and turned her head away in a pout. "Do not trouble yourself, my dear. I am not accusing the girl of anything, merely giving warning to stay on guard."
Marianne's face softened. "I like her. She reminds me of myself."
"'Tis a dangerous notion ye speak of," Blaise said behind his goblet. Marianne spun her vicious eyes on him. Blaise knew that if not for her condition she might have leapt across the room to brawl with him.
'Twas just as well that a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” William called. Olma opened the door and curtsied to the people in the room. Blaise's eyes were drawn to the vision behind the servant girl. The same gown as before, yet she still appeared as serene and heavenly as when his eyes first witnessed her in it.
She was too beautiful, too innocent to be involved in some devious plot to worm her way into his family and this castle.
He shook his head to clear it. Thoughts such as that were exactly why he needed to keep his defences strong against her sinful smile. Her eyes half lidded and full mouth parted as though inviting him to kiss it. Surely she could not know the silent message she was sending him at that moment?
He shook himself again. Fool. She is the daughter of a prostitute. She is perfectly aware of her behaviour.
Blaise returned her lusty smile with a snarl. Oddly displeased with her open shock and the way she stepped back.
"Blaise!"
He cringed at Marianne's voice shrieking in his ear. She glared down at him with her hands fisted on her hips.
He met her stare of annoyance with a playful smile, refusing to be moved. "Aye, Marianne?"
She made a sound of displeasure and walked forward to greet Eliza with a warm smile. Blaise watched them eagerly.
***
Elizabeth found herself being embraced by Lady Gray with all the warmth and comfort of a sister. Elizabeth grew warm under the treatment.
When Olma had first brought her to the door of the solar, shock greeted her at the sounds of the voices within. "I thought Blaise was at the mews?"
