by Anne Herries
‘Is she much hurt?’ Rob asked anxiously.
‘When my physician looked at her he found blood in her hair. He says that she must have been struck on the head. The blow was not a heavy one, for the wound is not deep. However, she may have been unconscious for a while. I do not know how she escaped from her captors, but I think she must have given them the slip somehow and then become lost in the woods.’
‘A badly wounded man was found in a woodcutter’s hut,’ Rob told him. ‘He was brought to de Montifiori more dead than alive, but if he recovers we may discover the truth. May I see her…please? Is she awake?’
‘Not at the moment,’ the Comte said. ‘She recovered her senses when my physician examined her, but nothing she said made sense—except that she asked for de Montfort, apparently.’
‘I must see her to make sure it is Anne,’ Rob said. ‘If she is not…then I must go on with my search, but if it is Anne—’ He stopped abruptly, too emotional to continue.
‘Yes, I understand,’ De Vere said. ‘I shall take you up. She has been given something to help her to sleep. My physician said it was what she needed to rest her mind. I thought it best to abide by what he said—but I shall take you to her room and you may see her for yourself.’
Rob was on thorns as he followed the Comte up a wide staircase. The house was in a much grander style than de Montfort’s and he knew that his host was a wealthy man. He had not taken much notice the previous evening, but now he was more aware of the opulence of the furnishings. However, his mind was busy with thoughts of his daughter. If it was Anne, he would have good news to carry home to his wife and family, though he could not be sure that Anne would wish to accompany him. If she had called for de Montfort, there must be some feeling between them. He had witnessed Stefan de Montfort’s anger at her loss and it echoed his own, but he was not certain of the cause. If Anne loved de Montfort and he loved her, there could be no real objection to a marriage between them—if both wished for it to continue.
If Anne wished to come home once he told her who she was, the circumstances would be altered. The choice must be hers, which was why he had wanted to speak to her first. To Rob it seemed that Lord de Montfort was a harsh man, though that was not cause to forbid the marriage by itself. Rob would have preferred to know more about him before he sanctioned the marriage, but he knew he could not deny Anne if she loved him— but would she once she knew she had a choice? If she was his daughter… The thought tailed away because he could not yet be certain.
Pausing outside the room, Rob felt the tension inside himself. He was building so much on the chance that it had been his daughter that Stefan de Montfort had plucked from the sea. He followed the Comte into the dimly lit room. A serving woman had been bending over the bed. She glanced at her master and curtsied.
‘She seems to have a fever, sir,’ she said. ‘She cries and tosses restlessly. Perhaps the physician should be called?’
Rob moved towards the bed. His heart caught and he felt a rush of emotion as the sob left his lips. ‘Thank God!’ he cried, tears stinging his eyes. ‘She lives…Anne is alive…’ He turned to the Comte, his face working with the strength of his emotion. ‘Yes, she is my daughter. I have thought it might be so for something similar happened to my wife once when she suffered a trauma. For a time she lost her memory, though eventually it was restored to her.’
‘God be praised!’ Comte De Vere came towards him and they shook hands. ‘Should I send for the physician, sir? She is your daughter and I bow to your judgement.’
‘I think I shall send to de Montifiori,’ Rob said. ‘The physician there helped her before and he may have some idea of her condition now—if that does not offend you?’
‘I bow to your judgement,’ De Vere repeated, though he might have wished otherwise. He had hoped that his own physician might tend her so that she would have something to thank him for rather than de Montfort’s man, but he was too much the diplomat to go against her father. He would be no use to his Spanish masters if his true feelings were known, and much of his wealth had come from them. ‘I shall go downstairs now and arrange it. Please stay with her, Melford. If she wakes, she may know you…’
‘I should like to sit with her for a while,’ Rob said. ‘If de Montfort comes, tell him the glad news. My daughter is found and I shall do everything to make her happy.’
‘Yes, of course,’ De Vere said. He left Rob standing by the bed and went out. As he descended to the Great Hall he was in time to see that Stefan de Montfort had just arrived. He smiled, at his most charming, most convincing. ‘Ah, the very man.’
‘How is she?’ Stefan asked, his voice harsh with anguish. ‘Will she live? What happened to her?’
‘She received a blow to the back of the head, but she must have escaped from her captors somehow and wandered into the wood. She was unconscious when we found her, though she later came to herself and cried out in pain. My physician gave her something to help her rest,’ the Comte said, though he did not mention the fact that Anne had called for de Montfort. ‘Her father is with her now and he asked me to tell you that she is indeed his lost daughter. He is determined to do all that is necessary for her happiness. He has asked if your physician will come to her—she may have a fever.’
‘I should like to see her,’ Stefan said. ‘She should be at de Montifiori where she can be properly cared for.’
‘Your physician may stay here,’ De Vere told him smoothly. ‘I think it would be unwise to move her for the moment. Besides, her father is her guardian now. You must speak to Melford if you wish to take her with you. I am not certain he would agree.’
Stefan hesitated. He sensed that Comte De Vere was against it, and he knew that Anne’s father would probably prefer to stay here. She was Melford’s daughter and he had no right to force the issue, even though she would have been his wife in a few days. Had that happened, he would have fought his way to her room and taken her by force if necessary, but she was not his wife. He was not sure that she would wish to be once she knew who she was and where she belonged.
He had asked Anne to marry him because she could not continue to live at his home without the protection of his name, but a part of him had always known that he was not worthy of her—he could never be worthy of a lovely innocent woman like Anne Melford.
‘You will tell Melford that I came to inquire how she was?’
‘Yes, of course. Certainly—and you will ask Ali to visit her as soon as is possible?’
‘He will come at once,’ Stefan said. ‘Please tell Lord Melford that I go to England to finish the business we spoke of. Anne is safe in his care and I shall visit her at her home when…I can…’
‘I shall give Lord Melford your message,’ De Vere promised. ‘Is there a message for the lady Anne?’
‘None for the moment, except that I shall visit her when I am able.’
De Vere inclined his head. ‘It shall be exactly as you ask,’ he said. ‘You go to find and punish the man who did this, I presume?’ He would send word to Cowper, warning him that de Montfort was on his way. Cowper was a fool, but still useful as a spy at the English court, and much of what he disclosed when in his cups had found its way to Spain. De Vere’s Spanish masters were not happy with the way Prince Arthur’s wife had been treated since his death. Katherine of Aragon was a Spanish princess, and some thought both she and her dowry should be returned to Spain—unless Prince Henry were to wed her.
‘Cowper does not deserve to live,’ Stefan said, a nerve flicking in his cheek. ‘If he wished to be revenged on me, he should have come to me like a man in single combat. To kidnap an innocent girl and—’ He broke off as the bile rose in his throat. ‘I shall not rest until justice is served!’
‘Then I wish you well,’ Comte De Vere said, his manner seemingly open and concerned. ‘If Lord Cowper was behind this dastardly attempt to steal the lady Anne, I should like to see him punished.’
‘He knew that I would kill him once I had discovered what he ha
d done,’ Stefan said. ‘I do not know what went wrong with their plans. Perhaps they thought she was dead and abandoned her. We may discover the truth if the man we have at the chateau recovers consciousness.’
‘We must hope that he does,’ De Vere said, though privately he thought it better if the man died without speaking. ‘If there is anything I may do for you?’
‘Nothing—except take good care of her,’ Stefan said. ‘She will be safer here. At least you have no enemies!’
‘You cannot blame yourself for what happened, de Montfort,’ the Comte said, though there was a gleam of sat isfaction in his eyes.
Stefan inclined his head, but did not answer. He turned and left the room without another word, leaving De Vere to stare after him. He smiled as he thought of the young woman lying upstairs. Anne Melford had been in a difficult position at de Montifiori. She might have agreed to a marriage because she thought she had no other option. If Anne loved de Montfort there would be no changing her and she would wait for him to visit her at her father’s home, and if she did not…she would be grateful to De Vere.
De Vere was pleased as he contemplated a future with the lovely young woman who had attracted his attention from the first. He would find it amusing to take her from his neighbour, and to flaunt her as his wife under de Montfort’s nose. It would give him almost as much pleasure as he would have when the Chateau de Montifiori finally belonged to him.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’ Hassan asked as Stefan prepared for his journey to England. ‘I know you wished me to stay here to protect Anne, but she is with De Vere and her father now. I can do nothing.’
‘Yet still I would ask you to stay here,’ Stefan told him. ‘If Ali is with her, he cannot watch over the injured man, and you know something of healing yourself. I would have the truth of what happened that night and what part Cowper played.’
‘I shall obey you, of course,’ Hassan said. ‘But as soon as I have news I shall follow. I do not like the idea of your being in England without me to cover your back.’ He smiled as Stefan raised his brows. ‘I know that you have others to watch out for you, but we have been as brothers these many years.’
‘Yes, we have,’ Stefan said. He was tempted to change his mind and yet something told him that Hassan should remain here for a while. ‘I trust no one as I trust you, Hassan. I feel you are needed here for the moment, though I cannot say why.’
‘Your instincts have always served you well,’ Hassan said. ‘I shall do as you ask, but if I feel I am needed by your side or if I have news I shall come.’
‘Yes, that is fair,’ Stefan said. ‘You are closer to me than the brother I lost, Hassan. Your instincts are good; if they tell you to come, then no doubt I shall be in need of your help.’
The two men embraced briefly. Stefan nodded his head, turned away and went down to the Great Hall. He knew that Ali was already on his way to De Vere’s house and he prayed that Anne would soon be well again. However, he had done his best to thrust all thought of her from his mind. He would not forget her, but he would give her a chance to forget him, because she deserved better. Besides, he had vowed to seek revenge on Cowper for the ill he had done, both to Anne and others. It would not be easy, for Cowper knew that his life was forfeit. He would do all he could to have Stefan murdered before he was killed himself.
‘Stefan…’ Anne muttered, her eyelids fluttering. ‘Stefan…please help me…’
‘Rest now, my little one,’ a voice said and a cool hand touched her forehead. ‘She feels cooler—has the fever gone?’
‘It is on the wane,’ another voice said close by. ‘I think she is nearly over it, my lord. The mixture I made will help her grow stronger once she is herself again. Do you wish me to stay until she is completely recovered?’
‘You have another patient, I believe?’
‘Yes, but he is being cared for,’ Ali said. ‘However, I believe that your daughter is almost better. I know you have been concerned for her, but believe me, she was not as ill this time as before. We nearly lost her then, but she is in no danger now. I cannot tell whether she will be herself again, because a blow to the head sometimes causes problems, but in every other way she should soon be well.’
‘What kind of problems?’ Rob asked, looking at his daughter anxiously. She seemed to have settled again, and there was no sweat on her brow.
‘As you know, she could not remember her name,’ Ali said. ‘It may be the same case. I cannot promise you that she will be as you remember her. A blow to the head is not predictable, though I do not think it was hard enough to have damaged her brain.’
‘If she lives, her mother will make her well again,’ Rob said. ‘I shall take her home and with love and care she will come back to us.’
‘Then I shall leave you,’ Ali told him with a smile. ‘Anne is in good hands. I know she has a good home, for it was evident in all that she was and did. She is as wise as she is beautiful and we shall miss her at the chateau. As I have told you, Lord de Montfort has gone to England. I have a feeling that I am needed at the chateau, though I cannot tell you why.’
‘Then you should go,’ Rob said. ‘I cannot thank you enough for saving my daughter’s life—if not this time, then last time. If ever I can be of help, you have only to ask.’
‘All I ask is that you should be fair to Anne—and to Stefan de Montfort. I know that some think ill of him, but he is a good man in his heart, and I believe their destiny lies together.’
‘We shall see what Anne wants,’ Rob said. ‘But I give you my word that she shall choose whether she wants to marry de Montfort or another.’
‘Then I know what she will do,’ Ali said and smiled. ‘She may not know it yet, but they are bound together— it is written that when you save a life, that life is yours and you must care for that person all your life.’
Rob frowned as the Arab physician bowed his head and left the chamber. He did not deny that something was owed both to him and to Stefan de Montfort, who had pulled her from the water. Anne undoubtedly owed her life to them, but it did not mean that she was destined to be de Montfort’s wife. If she chose to change her mind, he would see that she was free to return home and live as she pleased amongst her family.
Hassan bent over the sick man, bathing his forehead. He was muttering feverishly, tossing on the sweat-soaked pillows, his hands working on the covers.
‘Hit her too hard,’ Fritz muttered. ‘You fool…if she’s dead he will kill us.’
‘You do not know how truly you speak,’ Hassan said. He poured some of the mixture Ali had left into a cup, adding water and a little honey to sweeten the bitter taste. Putting an arm beneath his shoulders, he lifted his patient and held the cup to his mouth, letting some of the liquid slide down his throat. ‘Swallow! It will do you good, though I am not sure it will prolong your life once Stefan knows it was you.’
Fritz opened his eyes and stared at him. ‘He’ll pay a fortune in gold if I tell him what I know,’ he said clearly. ‘Cheated…he was cheated and I have the proof…’
Hassan’s eyes narrowed as he lowered the man to the pillows. ‘What do you know of this?’ he demanded. ‘Cowper cheated Stefan, but there was no proof.’
‘Signature forged…’ Fritz muttered. ‘Never meant to hurt the woman…stupid fool…Marc killed her.’
‘If you can prove that Cowper stole Stefan’s birthright, he might spare you. Tell me where to find the proof.’
Fritz’s eyes had closed. He was moaning again, the moment of lucidity passed. Hassan considered pouring water over him, but dismissed it as unlikely to bring him round. If he were telling the truth, he was worth saving, because his testimony could be exactly what Stefan needed to recover his birthright.
Hassan’s eyes fell on the pile of clothes lying nearby. He crossed the room in quick strides and made a search. Finding the leather pouch attached to the man’s belt, he opened it and found some papers folded and folded again. Opening them, he saw the signature scrawled over an
d over again, understanding at once what it showed. Someone had copied Lord William de Montfort’s hand until they had a fair copy—had it then been used to sign away everything the lord owned? Everything that Stefan ought to have had by right.
In itself it was not clear proof of anything except that someone had tried to forge a signature, but it did not prove Lord Cowper was guilty. Only the man lying there in that bed might be able to do that with a sworn testimony.
Hassan tucked the papers away inside his jerkin. The wounded man was lying quietly now. Ali’s mixture would help him to sleep as it cooled the fever. Hassan returned the pouch to the pile of clothes. He would keep the papers and give them to Stefan, though they were only proof that his suspicions had been correct. Someone had forged those papers, but it would still have to be proved. However, if Fritz recovered, he might be persuaded to sign a sworn statement. He would do so if he valued his life. Once he had that too, Hassan could go to England, because he had a premonition that before too long had passed Stefan would need him.
Hassan left the room. As he walked across the courtyard to the main house, he saw Ali dismount from a horse and go into the house. He hurried to catch up with him. The physician would want news of his patient, and Hassan was anxious to discover if the lady Anne had recovered her senses.
Anne’s eyes fluttered and opened. She moaned because the light hurt her eyes. She put her arm across her eyes because the sunlight was full on her face. Someone went to the window and drew the curtains, shading the room.
‘Does that feel better?’
Anne was comforted by the familiar voice. ‘Thank you,’ she said. She opened her eyes again and saw the man looking down at her. He smiled and she made a little whimpering sound. ‘I am so thirsty, Father. Is Mother here? Tell her I have such a headache.’
‘Anne dearest,’ her father’s voice said, and his voice shook. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for her hand, much affected by her recovery. ‘We did not know what to expect when you woke. You know me? You know who I am?’
