by K. J. Nessly
David gathered his wits and asked, “And this is?”
“Claude,” she replied; pleased with herself as though she were show-casing some exotic pet.
Dessert was served by Baker Claude himself. It was a crème cake often favored by nobility but normally too rich for David’s taste. Lady Blackwood is right, he thought as he tasted the dessert, Claude is an excellent baker.
“Non’ for m’lady?” Claude asked, his heavy accent hard to decipher, when Kathryn politely declined.
“You have no idea what you’re missing, Lady Caterina,” Lady Blackwood called from the other end of the table. “Not even the king’s chef can compete with our Claude.”
Was David imagining things, or was Claude suddenly studying Kathryn out of the corner of his eye.
“I’m afraid sweets are not something I enjoy,” she apologized, speaking for the first time. David noticed something akin to wistfulness flicker in her eyes and felt his curiosity aroused. He had never, ever seen Kathryn look wistful before, and he would never have thought she would manage the look while appearing miserable.
Claude’s eyes lit up. “Den per-aps something else can interest you, ave I,” he said as he hurried away, ducking just in time to clear the doorframe.
David turned a curious eye towards Kathryn who shrugged. Claude returned with a small tray of pastries. Beside him he heard Kathryn catch her breath.
Claude set the tray next to her. “Once knew someone who enjoyed dese ave I, per-aps you will as well.”
“Claude!” Lady Blackwood scolded, her voice rising. “Lady Caterina does not care for your simple tarts!”
Kathryn held up her hand to silence Lady Blackwood, “On the contrary, Lady Blackwood,” she said looking up into Claude’s face, “They’re perfect. Thank you.”
Something passed between Kathryn and Claude that David couldn’t identify. He did however notice the quick wink that Claude gave Kathryn before he left.
After a few moments, Kathryn stood. She addressed Lady Blackwood. “Please excuse me, but I find that I am still wearied from our journey through the storm and feel the need to lie down.” She waved her hand at her untouched tarts. “I still would very much like to enjoy these later, perhaps after I rest. Could you arrange for them to be sent to my room?”
“Of course, Lady Caterina,” Lady Blackwood hurried to assure her. “I will arrange it with Claude,” she turned to face the rest of the group. “He refuses to let anyone but himself handle his pastries, claims that no one else can keep them in perfect order.”
Kathryn curtsied and left the room, but not before David saw a solitary tear work its way out of her eye and race down her cheek.
For the rest of the evening David’s thoughts constantly flew to Kathryn. He was positive now. Kathryn’s past was here. Something awful had happened here, no doubt the accidental oversight Lady Blackwood spoke of during dinner.
But apparently not everything was awful. There was a history between Claude and Kathryn, a history that seemed to be the one bright spot in Blackwood Manor. David was determined to find out what it was.
Chapter 30
She couldn’t stop crying. No matter how stern a lecture she delivered to herself or how hard she focused on not tearing up, the tears kept coming even half a radian after leaving the dining hall. Kathryn’s mind flew to the day she was rescued, especially Claude’s parting gift of a bag of strawberry tarts…and then to her second day as Lady Blackwood’s slave.
“Well, what ‘ave we here?”
The deep baritone startled her and she whirled around only to find herself face to face with a giant.
She must have looked absolutely terrified because the giant knelt down and spoke quietly and calmly. “’Ey, now…it’s alright, little one. I’m not goin’ to hurt ‘ya.”
He smiled at her as she calmed down. “Dere now, at’s better. Name’s Claude. What’s your name, little one and how did ‘ya get here?”
She lowered her eyes to the floor and looked away. One of the servants passing by overhead Claude’s question, “That’s Lady Blackwood’s new servant,” she said with a sniff. “Her name is Margit.”
Claude gently studied her as the servant continued on her way. “You remind me of my own little Caterina,” he said softly. “I think dat’s a better name for you den Margit.”
Surprised at his tender manner, she studied him.
“Margit!” Lady Blackwood’s piercing call shattered the silence, startling both girl and man. “There you are!”
Claude straightened as Lady Blackwood came around the corner. “Apologies milady,” he said quickly. “Twas sayin ello to young Kathryn, ere.”
Lady Blackwood opened her mouth to speak and then closed it abruptly. Finally she said, “You know this girl?”
Claude nodded. “Seen er in the village before, ave I.”
Lady Blackwood paused. “And her name is Kathryn?”
Again Claude nodded. “Yes, milady. I ‘eard several people call her dat, assume at’s er name.”
Lady Blackwood whirled on the young girl. “Is it your name?”
Deciding that she liked Kathryn better than Margit, she nodded.
The lady of the manor rolled her eyes. “Thank you, Claude. You’ve solved one mystery for us. Perhaps you know why she refuses to talk as well?”
Claude rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Think it’s cause she’s a mute, milady,” he said slowly.
“Well that would certainly explain some things. Kathryn report to the kitchen immediately.”
As she hurried to the kitchens, Kathryn glanced back in time to see Claude smile and wave at her.
A soft knock at the door roused Kathryn from the memory. Reluctantly she pulled herself up and opened the door.
Claude stood before her, a small tray of fresh tarts in his hands. He turned his head peering up and down the hallway considering those who would be within earshot before he spoke in his deep basal voice, “milady wasn’t ungry for deese earlier, thought you might ike em now, I did.”
Kathryn waved him inside, closing the door securely behind them. They looked at each other for a long moment, finally she asked, “You know who I am?”
Claude smiled and dropped the ridiculous accent he affected when speaking to anyone but her. “Yes, little one, I know who you are.”
She couldn’t stop the tears from falling down her cheeks. “How did you know?”
“Oh, Caterina, how could I forget your eyes?” Claude asked, his own eyes glistening.
Kathryn smiled through her tears. “You knew me by my eyes?”
“Well,” Claude shrugged. “You were also the only person named Caterina I knew outside my village.”
“You named me Kathryn, not Caterina,” she reminded him.
He smiled at her. “Ah, but Kathryn and Caterina are the same name. Caterina is my people’s way of saying Kathryn.”
“What does it mean?”
He brushed a tear from her cheek. “It means pure, or innocent, one.”
Kathryn laughed softly. “So you knew me by my eyes and my name.”
“No, I suspected. I didn’t know until I offered you my berry tarts.”
She was crying again. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”
“How could I forget you?” You were the bravest little girl I had ever known.” Claude reached inside his apron and brought out a handkerchief which he handed to her.
“You were my only friend,” she told him, wiping her eyes.
“What about that little bird of yours?”
“You remember that?” Kathryn asked in amazement.
Claude smiled.
“I named her Destiny, she still stays with me.” She nodded towards the perch near the fireplace where the eagle had returned to and from where she warily eyed the baker.
“I am happy you have a better life now,” Claude said as he moved towards the door. “I have to get back to the kitchens but I want you to know I have never forgotten you, and I never will.”
Kathryn pulled his head down and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, “Thank you, Claude.”
His dark skin hid the redness of his blush but Kathryn could see it in his eyes, finally he spoke, “Years ago you were a silent shadow of a girl, now you are a beautiful, confident woman.” Claude settled to one knee, reached out, and enveloped her with his arms and she embraced him. After a minute he stood and placed both of his hands on her shoulders smiling at her and she at him.
They bid each other goodbye and Kathryn closed the door behind him. She had given up trying to fight the memories, she simply let them come and flow through her mind. Surrendering required less energy than fighting…at least in the beginning.
Sometime later, another knock sounded at the door. Kathryn considered turning the person away, but thought better of it. Anyone who would be knocking wasn’t someone who would give up. Opening the door she found David, once again, standing before her.
“Can I come in?” he asked quietly.
Too tired to refuse him she nodded and opened the door wider. He entered quickly and noticed the tarts sitting on the small dressing table.
“I never knew you liked berry tarts,” he commented.
Kathryn looked to the treats, “He remembered,” she whispered. “After all this time, I can’t believe he remembered.”
“The baker?”
She nodded. “Claude was the only one who cared about what happened to me.”
“What did happen to you?” David asked quietly, coming to stand behind her.
Kathryn couldn’t stop the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing no matter how hard she tried, “You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
All her life she had never said a word and suddenly she was very, very tired. Tired of hiding, tired of hurting, tired of the pain, and tired of being alone. “Because no one can ever understand what I went through!”
Destiny left her perch and flew to the small table that stood next to Kathryn. Emotionally ravaged, Kathryn looked to her old friend for comfort. Reaching out a hand, she gently stroked Destiny’s feathers. Her companion let out a soft call and then bobbed her head back and forth several times. Confused, Kathryn studied the bird.
Destiny hopped several times toward the edge of the table and then stretched her neck outward, as if pointing toward something behind Kathryn. Stymied, Kathryn glanced behind her. All she saw was David. Her confusion soared. What was Destiny trying to tell her?
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
She may not have understood Destiny’s message, but Destiny understood her. The bird hopped up onto Kathryn’s shoulder, gave her a quick nuzzle and then stretched her neck out again in David’s direction.
“What about David?” She asked quietly.
Destiny crossed the room in a single glide and perched herself on David’s shoulder. The surprise in David’s face was as great as Kathryn’s. Destiny had never let David pet her and suddenly she was sitting on his shoulder? The bird hopped gently for a few seconds and then let out a soft call.
It took Kathryn a few seconds to place the familiar mannerism but when she did she sat down hard on the floor. She stared in shock at the wall.
It was their rock climbing signal. When Destiny found a safe ledge she would hop on it several times before calling out. She’d just done the same thing to David. Kathryn finally understood. Safety. Destiny was telling her that David was a ledge that Kathryn could grasp to keep from falling.
Destiny’s talons gripped David’s shoulder and he forced himself not to wince. Destiny was sitting on his shoulder. He was more surprised than when he had learned Kathryn was his aunt’s ward. He glanced away from the bird to see the remaining color leech out of Kathryn’s face. Already moving as she collapsed, he hurried to her side. “Kathryn?” Destiny had already left his shoulder and was hopping on the floor next to her friend.
Kathryn however, wasn’t noticing either of them. Her gaze was locked on the wall, shock and distress plainly visible on her face. “Kathryn.” She still didn’t reply to him. He took her face in his hands. “Kathryn? Come on Kathryn, say something.”
Whatever Destiny had done, it had completely scrambled Kathryn’s wits. Panic began to bubble up in his body when she remained unresponsive. He was a heartbeat away from sending for Jenna when she finally stirred.
Her eyes flickered to Destiny who was standing next to her knee. “Safety.”
Confused, David looked to the bird who was bobbing her head up and down and cooing. He didn’t understand what the bird was trying to convey.
Kathryn apparently did though. “Safety,” she whispered again. “That’s what you’re trying to tell me, aren’t you girl?”
Destiny nuzzled Kathryn’s knee and pointed toward David again. With a heavy sigh, Kathryn started to get to her feet. She swayed from side to side so badly that David was afraid she’d fall again. He wrapped one of his arms around hers and helped her up.
Gently, David steered her to the small couch and helped her sit down. Destiny followed and settled herself in Kathryn’s lap. David sat down next to her, cautious concern in his eyes. Idly, Kathryn began stroking her like his sister would stroke her cat.
Kathryn took a deep breath and finally said. “I’ve never told anyone what happened.” She was staring at the far wall, but her eyes told him she was seeing something beyond the grim gray stone that made up the barrier between them and the storm outside.
He waited patiently. Experience with his sisters had taught him that if he pushed, Kathryn would most likely close up and he’d lose this one chance. When she was still silent after several minutes, he was tempted to prod her, just a little. However Kathryn had taught him something about patience in the months they had been together so he waited her out.
As she took comfort in the feel of Destiny’s feathers and her warm body, Kathryn felt the urge to get up and leave. Forget what she had told David. Up until now, she hadn’t told him anything that he hadn’t already known or guessed. She could stop now and put this whole episode behind her. Her past could remain in the past, the wounds left half-healed. But Destiny, the only person in the whole kingdom that she trusted, was telling her to confide in David.
And, surprisingly, there was a small part of her that wanted someone else to know. A small part that wanted someone else to feel her pain—so that she wouldn’t have to be alone. Kathryn felt that it was time to share her story and she knew that David had been right. He was the right one to hear it.
Taking a deep breath she began, “I never knew my parents. I was raised by a couple who claimed to be my aunt and uncle.”
Their faces swam before her vision. Her uncle, the village blacksmith, covered in black soot and his clothes dotted with small burns from embers that had escaped the fires he worked with. As she remembered, she saw in her mind his face – a face twisted and styled into a permanent snarl forged by a life of bitterness and hate. In one hand he held a long fire poker, glowing red at the tip, and in the other, his ever present tankard of strong spirits. As she gazed on his face she could see his lips moving, her mind filled in his voice and the words: worthless, coward, disgrace. Those were the kinder terms he had called her.
Her aunt’s face swam into focus next. Sapling thin from hard labor, her aunt’s forehead was deeply furrowed and creased. Kathryn couldn’t remember ever seeing her smile. Her aunt’s arms were covered and dotted with long scars. Kathryn remembered far too many nights with her aunt cowering in a corner while her uncle flew into a drunken rage tossing furniture, crockery, and any else he could get his hands on. Stumbling and staggering he would pursue the helpless woman throughout their small hovel spitting curses and accusing her of being lazy, greedy, and disrespectful of him. Pieces of chewed pork and sputum would catch in his greasy beard as he barked out orders and raved at the children. More often than naught he would do more than just ransack the house. Catching her by the hair he would pull her aunt close and with wild eyes he would rave a
t her through blackened and missing teeth, his rancid breath nearly causing her knees to buckle. Then the beatings would begin. During the day her aunt would nurse her wounds while Kathryn cleaned up the mess. Memories of days and nights of aching hunger caused her stomach to clench.
“I don’t know if they were my true aunt and uncle. They never treated me like one of their own children and I didn’t resemble them. When it was meal time I had to wait until their family had eaten and survive on what was left.
“It was bad enough having an uncle who was a destructive drunk who enjoyed annihilating every item in the house. As you can imagine money was tight in the home.” Her cousins, two boys and a girl, had voracious appetites and had hungrily devoured every meal her aunt had prepared as if they had gone days without food. Her uncle was just as insatiable and by the time they had finished there was very little for both Kathryn and her aunt to survive on. Usually her aunt gave her the last few scraps of food from her plate, but there had been many nights where there had been nothing in Kathryn’s belly.
“They insisted I sleep in the barn with the animals, during the snowy months I was allowed inside, but never by the fire and heaven forbid that I should be given more than one blanket.” After a short pause she went on. “It wasn’t so bad, I was able to sleep next to the animals and use their body heat to keep me warm during the colder nights.”
She could still smell the musky scents of the old horse and cow that had been her roommates. Those nights were part of the reason Kathryn often found solace in the stables, reading with her back against Lerina’s warm body. On the nights she had slept in the barn, she was often warmer than those nights she had spent in the house. And, by sleeping in the barn with the animals, she could escape from her uncle’s inebriated antics.
