by Rizzo Rosko
His words of being introduced to the lady of the castle finally reached her. Elizabeth jerked to a stop in panic. "Nay, milord, I—" She cleared her throat and forced calm into her heart. "Please, milord, may I dress first? I am appalled in the manner in which I presented myself would like to do better for yer wife."
He laughed. Laughed! "I do not believe Marianne will much care how ye look, but I shall send ye off with a maid if it calms yer soul."
He spoke in such a gentle manner that Elizabeth already felt at ease in his presence, as though she were a dear friend.
Elizabeth had always been taught that wealthy men, lords, and ladies were cruel beings who did not much care for pleasantries unless they were directed towards themselves. Her mother told her that they took what they wanted, and did not care a whiff of anyone else.
She had always known it had been a mistake. The nobles were called nobles for a reason and Lord Gray was proof enough of that. She'd known the man for less than five minutes and she liked him already.
***
Elizabeth was taken an empty bedchamber, and as promised, a young servant girl came to help her out of her filthy rags. The tight sleeves pealed from her arms like a second skin, and Elizabeth’s body seemed to inhale a breath of fresh air as it was removed.
Despite the wonderful welcome and treatment, Elizabeth could hardly contain her awe at her surroundings. 'Twas no servant’s room she had been directed to. She could tell even though she had never been inside of a castle before.
The elegantly carved four poster bed, with a mattress that looked thick and soft with clean quilts was the item worth the most admiration. She could not wait until she could sleep in it. Thick rushes on the floor welcomed her feet, and painted oak furniture were proof enough that Lord Gray must indeed have enjoyed their first meeting.
As she had yet to explain that she'd saved the life of Lord Gray’s son, 'twas likely she’d only been shown this room because Lord William assumed she truly was Blaise’s betrothed. She shuddered to think of what he would do when he discovered it had just been a jest on her part.
Eliza wanted to bathe, but with how quickly her gown had been thrown on her, and the promise of meeting the lady of the castle in mere minutes, she didn't dare ask for one. ‘Twould be too presumptuous after having been given so much already, and take far too long.
“Ye seem out of sorts, milady.” The girl said while her fingers worked on the many buttons and laces.
Elizabeth scratched her arm under the tight sleeves; dirty skin itched beneath the fine fabric, driving her mad. Though she had scrubbed her face with an old rag before setting off with Blaise, her body protested any further movement before washing. “Could we perhaps take another moment for me to wash?”
The servant girl’s face widened, as though she hadn’t thought of it. She turned her head to the empty basin where water should have been, and bobbed an apologetic curtsy.
“Forgive me, milady. I ‘ad not realized water ‘ad not been brought in.” The girl promptly scurried out of the room like a frightened little bird. Elizabeth stood confused when alone. How long would she take? Would Elizabeth still be in time to be introduced to Lady Gray?
Those thoughts barely left her head before the girl rushed back inside with a pitcher in her hands. She poured the water into the basin that sat on the table, and Elizabeth sighed and surged forward like a starved man towards food.
She splashed her face and rubbed her neck with the cool liquid while the girl behind her worked on loosening her gown so that she might scrub her arms. She washed until the water turned brown with the mud from her hair, face, and arms. The servant girl swiftly carried off the soiled water and brought fresh water to her so that she might finish cleaning herself.
Ah, what would she have done without the swift little bird behind her? Elizabeth did not care that the water splashed against her gown as long as it was only in small drops, just so long as she emerged a clean lady.
She scrubbed everywhere she could without entirely removing the only fine bit of clothing she owned, even scraping the dirt out from under her fingernails.
Her skin felt lighter, not tight with drying mud, and while her hair was again soaking limp because of when she put her entire head in the basin, she still felt clean and refreshed. She heaved a happy sigh and addressed the girl trying to dry her hair without wrinkling her gown. "I think I am ready now. What is yer name, girl?"
"Olma, milady," she said, leaving her hair so that she might return to helping Elizabeth back into her gown. "Shall I send that one for washing?" She asked, indicating the tattered gown with a jerk of her head.
Elizabeth looked at it and winkled her nose. "Nay, I shall never wear it again after tonight."
***
Elizabeth was led to the solar where Blaise intended to explain to his father that he was not betrothed to the woman he had brought home with him. While she did not look forward to what would no doubt be a humiliating encounter, she delighted when all eyes in the room focused on her.
Blaise's especially. No longer wearing the shoddy blanket she presented him with earlier, her heart fluttered at the sight of his clean tunic, boots, and leggings, all of which fitted him tightly.
Elizabeth resisted the urge to reach up and touch her heart. How strange! She had seen him naked before and walked with him knowing there was naught beneath that foul robe she gave him but hard flesh, and yet the sight of him fully clothed still sent a shiver through her.
He suddenly seemed ... perfect. Even his hideous hair, now washed of the dirt that darkened the orange color, seemed as bright as a flame on top of his head.
He turned his head away from a conversation with his father, looked at her, and his jaw dropped while the color of his eyes seemed to become a brighter shade of blue.
She had no jewels to speak of, but the gown she wore and a hard scrubbing made her feel as refined and beautiful as any real lady. The little servant girl, Olma, had done a wonderful job braiding her thick brown hair in a shining crown above her head.
Remembering herself, she curtsied to everyone in the room. "My lords, my lady." She amended, seeing the woman standing beside Lord Gray. Her belly protruded heavily away from her body, but that did not deter the gentle smile on her face.
She had hair of such brilliant, impossible red that Elizabeth would have been certain she was Blaise’s mother, if only they did not appear so close in age. "Are ye to be my new daughter?"
“New—” Elizabeth sputtered, her body heating. Had Blaise not explained that they were not to be wed after all?
Lord Gray took the woman's hand and patted it gently. "Marianne, my dear, I am sorry to say that 'tis not to be. Ye have only just arrived shortly before our guest, and have not heard Blaise's confession."
William looked pointedly at his son. Blaise's face coloured all the way up to that flame-shaped orange head of his, and in turn Blaise sent a sharp glance towards Elizabeth. "Aye, Marianne. Elizabeth and I are not to be married. 'Twas her simple chattering that spawned that rumour."
Elizabeth bristled and clenched her fists. "I would have made no comment at all had ye not been jesting with those men outside that I was yer whore."
William snapped his eyes towards Blaise. 'Twas the first time Elizabeth had seen their calm blues appear so sharp. "Is that true?"
Blaise had the decency to duck his head in an abashed manner. "Father, I was attacked on the road last night in the rain and robbed of everything."
Marianne brought her hand up to cover a small gasp. William's eyes widened. "Was this the reason for yer grand entrance today?"
Blaise nodded. "Aye. I did not want the men to know that I had been taken in by a few peasants. So I explained to them that I was robbed while bedding her."
"Foolish boy." Lord Gray said.
Elizabeth's mouth dropped when, instead of scolding him further, Lord Gray pulled Blaise from his seat to hold him. "I care not about the nature of yer robbery so long as ye are returned safely."
/> Blaise pulled eagerly away from his father's grasp and cleared his throat. "Aye, well, 'tis also the reason why I bring Eliza with me today. She saved my life."
All eyes returned their attention to her. Elizabeth’s body warmed under their curious stares. She ducked her head as though she could avoid the heat.
Lady Gray grinned proudly. Lord Gray eyed her curiously, rubbing his chin. "Is that so? Against a band of thieves? Well then, I can certainly see why ye wouldn't want the men outside knowing of that."
"William!" Lady Gray’s grin disappeared.
"I was only saying," he muttered.
Elizabeth decided to speak for herself before Blaise could utter another word. "Actually, milord, I came upon Blaise later. The men attacked him and left him for dead in the middle of the road. He lay in a puddle, and if he had been left there and not awoke before the rain could fill it with more water, he would have drowned."
William looked to his son for confirmation.
Blaise folded his arms tightly over his strong chest. He sneered at naught in particular, as though hesitant to admit to his near defeat at the hands of a puddle. "'Tis true. I have the wound on the back of my head to prove it."
"Thank the Lord ye are safe." Lady Gray said as her husband reached his hand behind his son’s head to find the giant lump. Blaise hissed when his father’s fingers touched it.
"It appears we owe ye quite a bit of thanks, Elizabeth." Lord Gray said. "I am not one to let a deed like this go without its reward. Name whatever ye wish, and I shall give it to ye."
Blaise smiled playfully at her. "She has expressed an interest in working in our kitchens."
"Nay! No! I—" Elizabeth stopped herself, humiliated by her outburst. She cleared her throat and softened her voice. "Please, milord, my father was a wealthy nobleman, but unfortunate Fate had me taken from him before the time I was born and raised in poverty. If ye believe ye owe me anything, I would like to have that rectified."
William shook his head. "I cannot give ye a title, but if money is what ye seek, I can arrange for something."
***
Blaise awaited her reply. He waited for Elizabeth to prove that she was just another greedy harlot out to make a profit off of him, despite how difficult it was seeing her as anything but innocent with the beauty that seemed to encase itself in her very being. She practically glowed with it as her wide eyes blinked while she thought of what answer she would give.
Her dark eyes turned and met his. Blaise’s breath stilled. How did she have the power to do this to him? ‘Twas infuriating. She gazed inside of him as though attempting to see what was in his head. Blaise did not like it. He scowled and turned away.
Elizabeth returned her attention to his father and hesitated, as though unsure of herself. After a moment she shook her head. "Nay, milord, for payment in saving the life of yer son, I humbly ask to be able to live in this castle with ye and yer family."
Blaise rocked back on the soles of his booted feet. Surely she jested! He looked to his father. The man scratched his chin as though contemplating an answer.
Finally, William looked at him. "'Tis yer life she spared, what say ye?"
Blaise wanted to deny her the right to live in the castle as an equal instead of a servant since that was the wench's goal the whole time. He stared into her eyes, the same color as the mud which had been caked on her during their walk back to the castle. He'd nearly been thrown off his guard when she presented herself, washed and dressed like a true lady, but he knew the truth.
Or at least, he thought he did. The pleading look she sent him now was nothing like the manipulative stares he used to receive from Robert whenever the man wanted something.
He knew better now. He would never allow himself to be manipulated again.
Still, Eliza was...different. He sensed something beneath her, hiding, and he did not like it. Still, if he was wrong about her, would he be tossing a woman who had saved his life, with nothing but the best intentions in mind, out into the cold?
He needed to know for certain before he made that decision. He needed to prove to himself whether she was innocent or guilty of using him for her own benefit. Whether or not she be a greedy social climbing wench, she still saved his life. The least he could do was allow her to stay while he made up his mind. "She stays, for now."
Eliza's chest deflated as though she’d been holding her breath. "Thank ye, 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.
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 yer situation, Elizabeth. Perhaps we can send a messenger to yer father and let him know that ye are here."
Eliza shook her head. "'Tis very generous, milady, 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 yerself 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’s anger melted away. He felt light and well.
"Thank ye, 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 ye know the name of yer father?" William asked.
Eliza nodded. "Sir Bartholomew Ferdinand."
As though the very air had been sucked from their lungs, everyone ceased their 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, and he had certainly never lost any sleep over it. Now, however, guilt wracked his soul that he had apparently murdered Eliza’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 small, albeit, beautiful chamber 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 the space with another servant rather than being given it all to herself. 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, 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. ‘Twas 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 narrow stone 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.
