Secret Heart

by Speer, Flora

  “I know nothing about Chantal’s disappearance,” King Henryk insisted. “My desire to find her was the reason why I sent Roarke to solve the mystery, and to locate her if he could.”

  “Ah, Jenia,” Garit cried, obviously choking on tears, “you should have told me at once that my love was dead. You knew I was searching for her. How could you be so cruel? Why did you let me go on hoping Chantal might still be alive, when all the time you knew the truth?”

  “It is possible that Lady Jenia was pledged to keep silence until the moment when she faced King Henryk,” said Lord Giles, stepping forward to join the little group standing before the king and queen.

  Jenia hadn’t noticed him among the courtiers. She had been so concerned with King Henryk and with the charges she intended to make against him that she had for the most part ignored the other men and women in the audience chamber. Now she dared a quick glance at the man who stood behind the throne, who had been watching her with an intent gaze since she first entered the chamber.

  Serlion, the Lord Mage of Dudone, gazed at her from silvery eyes. She was certain he had recognized her, though in her time at court she had deliberately remained in the background. “What do you know of this business, Lord Giles?” King Henryk’s question drew Jenia’s attention away from Serlion.

  “Only that Lady Jenia has impressed me as an honest woman who is laboring under a compelling grief,” Lord Giles responded. “My lord, may I suggest that we retire to some more private place, where we can discuss the matter without disturbing your entire court?”

  “I have been publicly accused of responsibility for the murder of a young noblewoman,” King Henryk declared. “I will hear this demented female’s story in public, so I can refute her charges before all those who witnessed them.”

  “My dearest lord,” said Queen Hannorah, who had remained silent so far, though she had been watching Jenia with a serious and discerning gaze, “no one who knows you could possibly believe you would order the death of a maiden without allowing her a fair hearing and a chance to prove her innocence of any charges made against her. Even were such a lady found guilty of the most heinous crime, I do believe you would commute her sentence out of your own kindness toward women.

  “My lord,” the queen continued, reaching out both hands toward King Henryk as if to emphasize the urgency of her plea, “why should you provide sustenance to those who care only for gossip and slander? Lord Giles is correct to urge privacy. I implore you to send your courtiers to their midday meal and to allow us to hear Lady Jenia’s case under more intimate circumstances. Later, you can easily announce the truth of the matter in a way that will squelch all rumors.”

  “My lord king,” Serlion spoke from his position behind Henryk’s throne, “I must agree with the queen. I perceive no evil intent in Lady Jenia, only a terrible sadness and a most amazing faith in the justice of her quest.”

  Jenia gaped at him, understanding that without her noticing, he had used his magic to probe her mind. He bestowed a slight smile and a nod on her, as if to say he approved of what she was doing. Heartened, though somewhat confused by his intervention, she returned her attention to the king.

  “Clear the room,” Henryk said to the nearest of his household knights. “Send everyone here to the great hall and see to it that the meal is served at once. If their mouths are filled with food and drink that I provide, perhaps their tongues won’t be employed in speculation and gossip.”

  Within a few moments the audience chamber was empty except for King Henryk, Queen Hannorah, Lord Giles, Roarke, Garit, and Jenia. Four of the king’s most trusted advisors, including Serlion, also remained, for the king had asked them to serve as witnesses to what was said. Elwin and Anders departed under protest and only after Roarke ordered them to leave.

  Two other people lingered in the audience chamber, an older nobleman who bore a striking resemblance to Roarke, and a young woman with blue eyes and thick hair that was barely controlled by a golden net that did not hide its sandy color.

  “Lord Oliver and Lady Marjorie, you may go,” King Henryk said to them in a tone that clearly suggested instant obedience would be a very good idea.

  Intrigued despite her own concerns and recalling that Lady Marjorie was Roarke’s lost love, Jenia regarded the pair with interest and curiosity.

  “My lord king,” said Lord Oliver, stepping forward, “my son is involved in this matter. So is my wife’s brother. With your permission, I wish to stay, so that I may testify to the honesty of both men.”

  “No one has ever questioned my honesty, or Garit’s, either,” Roarke declared in an awful voice. “Your veracity may be in question, Lord Oliver, but your doubtful honor and that of your wife is not under discussion here. I advise you to obey the king.”

  “In heaven’s name, Marjorie,” Garit begged, “go away and leave me to grieve in peace. You have caused me enough unhappiness without interfering any further in my life.”

  “No,” Jenia said suddenly. “Let both of them stay. From what I’ve heard of them, they will understand emotions that defy the decisions made by parents or guardians who arrange noble marriages.”

  “I agree,” said Queen Hannorah. “My dearest lord, let Lord Oliver and Lady Marjorie hear the accusations and Lady Jenia’s story. Perhaps they can offer advice and wisdom to our discussion.”

  “Wisdom?” Roarke demanded, glaring at Lord Oliver. “From my foolish father, a man who cannot keep his hose fastened in the presence of a pretty girl?”

  “That’s enough, Roarke,” said King Henryk. “We are not here to discuss your family squabbles, but to listen to and refute false accusations made against me. Since my queen requests that Lord Oliver and Lady Marjorie be allowed to remain, I will permit them to stay. When we have finished here, I will send the two of them along with my four witnesses to explain to my courtiers what has transpired and I will place no curbs on what any of them choose to say.

  “Perhaps that decision will prove just how baseless your accusations are,” Henryk said, speaking directly to Jenia. “I do formally state here before these witnesses that I had nothing to do with the disappearance of Lady Chantal of Thury. Nor did I have any knowledge of her fate until you announced her death just a few moments ago.

  “I do not know of any other ruler who would deign to listen to such accusations, or to defend himself against them. I do so now only because three men whom I trust and honor are standing with you to add substance to your charges. I feel compelled to point out what is obvious to me from their remarks. You have repeatedly lied to men who treated you with respect. I warn you not to lie to me, for unlike your protectors, I will not treat you well if you do. Now, Jenia, you may speak,” King Henryk finished, not according her the title of lady, as she had not called him king. Henryk sat down on his throne and motioned to Queen Hannorah to sit, too.

  Jenia had recovered somewhat from her initial outrage at the king’s insistence upon his ignorance of Chantal’s fate. Finding herself not yet doomed to immediate imprisonment or beheading, she decided it was time to be a little more diplomatic than she had been so far. Behind the throne, Serlion nodded to her as if in encouragement. “I thank you for the opportunity to recount everything that happened to Chantal and me,” she said to King Henryk

  , speaking in a quieter, more reasonable tone than she had previously used. “I promise, I will tell only the truth – the entire truth as I know it.”

  “About time, too,” Garit muttered behind her.

  Roarke said not a word, and the ominous silence from his direction unnerved Jenia for a moment.

  “Go on, my dear,” Lord Giles said, touching her hand. “I, at least, am disposed to believe you, for I know how deeply troubled you were while you stayed with me at Nozay. If you begin by explaining exactly who you are, perhaps that will make the story easier to tell.”

  “Thank you for your kindness and your trust,” Jenia said, swallowing tears. She sent a misty smile at Lord Giles and then she began her dreadfu
l tale of love and deception and betrayal.

  Chapter 9

  “I was born at Gildeley Castle in eastern Sapaudia and named Matilda Jenia after my two grandmothers,” Jenia said. “My mother and Chantal’s mother were twin sisters, and my father and Chantal’s father were good friends. In the way of most noblemen, they were often gone from home, either at court or guarding the border with the Dominion. My mother disliked Gildeley. She always said it was a gloomy, lonely place. In my father’s frequent absences she preferred to stay at Thury, with her sister.

  “That is how Chantal and I grew up together, as close as if we were twin sisters, too. We resembled each other so closely that we used to play pranks on the grownups, dressing in each other’s clothes and each pretending to be the other. Unfortunately, all four of our parents are now dead.”

  “So far, I cannot dispute what you say,” King Henryk remarked. “I am aware of your family relationships. I know also that when your father and Chantal’s were killed in the same battle with Dominion intruders, and both of your mothers died shortly thereafter of the same winter illness, I agreed to the request of your mothers’ older brother, Lord Walderon, to be made guardian of both girls. Chantal came often to court, but I have never seen you before this day – unless you played one of your pranks here and pretended to be Chantal.”

  “I have seen you,” Queen Hannorah said to Jenia. “When Lady Chantal was at court last year, you acted as her attendant. I noticed then how alike the two of you were. I mentioned the resemblance to Lady Sanal and she told me that you were a poor cousin to Chantal, taken into Lord Walderon’s household at Chantal’s behest. She said you were devoted to Chantal.”

  “Only that last detail was true,” Jenia replied. “Chantal and I loved each other dearly. But I entered Uncle Walderon’s household as his ward, not as a poor relation. Unfortunately, I proved to be much too outspoken and Walderon took a dislike to me.”

  “I can believe it,” King Henryk said dryly. “You are not destitute; though your inheritance is not as vast as Chantal’s, I do recall that you have a rather nice dowry in Gildeley Castle and the lands surrounding it. It is Walderon’s duty to arrange a suitable marriage for you. Why did he not do so? And why did I not notice you when you were last at court?”

  “No one notices servants,” Jenia said. “Especially not servants who wear drab gowns and plain linen headscarves, and who keep their faces lowered. I did so in order to remain close to Chantal while avoiding Uncle Walderon’s spite. Queen Hannorah is unusually observant. Garit, on the other hand, was so deeply in love with Chantal that he never bestowed so much as a passing glance on any other woman, including me. When we met again after I was washed ashore, then he did notice the similarity. He thought at first that I was Chantal.

  “As for Walderon’s duty to me,” Jenia said, continuing her story, “he chose to neglect me. I was the lesser heiress, after all. I imagine he thought he’d find a husband for me after he had married off Chantal to his advantage.

  “You must understand that when we were alone together, Chantal was mischievous and delightfully funny. She was completely different with Walderon because she was afraid of him. She tried to be mild and sweet with him, and I never saw her openly defy him. As a result, Walderon apparently thought she would be easy to manipulate. He spent his matchmaking energies on arranging a marriage between Chantal and Lord Malin of Malemon. The fact that Chantal detested Malin made no difference to Walderon. The two men had some private agreement. I’m not certain exactly what it was, but I do know Walderon stood to benefit greatly from Chantal’s marriage.”

  “My lord, I can attest to the truth of this portion of Jenia’s account,” Garit said. “Chantal told me much the same story. She hated and feared Walderon, and she was repulsed by Lord Malin.”

  “Who can blame her?” murmured Queen Hannorah. “Malin is a despicable man, who preys upon young girls and boys, not caring which he lures into his clutches, so long as his victims are pretty and innocent. Henryk, I have warned you about him and you promised to look into the matter.”

  “I did so,” the king responded. “Malin doesn’t know it yet, but he is about to be punished and the marriage he recently contracted will be annulled. Lord Serlion has assured me of that.”

  “So I have,” the Lord Mage spoke up from behind the throne. “Within a few days, Lord Malin will be in custody and divested of all his properties.”

  “Now,” King Henryk said, “let us return to the question at hand, which is Chantal’s fate. What happened to her, Jenia? Make the story brief, for I warn you, I am growing impatient.”

  “Chantal had grown fond of Garit, and he professed to love her,” Jenia said, choosing her words carefully so as not to embarrass Garit. “Chantal told me that, as is required for a Kantian nobleman, Garit had applied to the king of Kantia for permission to wed her. He was only awaiting the king’s letter of response before speaking directly to King Henryk. He hoped thus to bypass Walderon’s plans. But clever Uncle Walderon forestalled Chantal’s hopes by insisting she was to wed Malin in ten days,” Jenia added with sarcasm worthy of Roarke at his coldest.

  “Chantal was in despair at the prospect of marriage to so loathsome a man,” Jenia continued. “She told me she would rather die than be bedded by Malin. She told Walderon much the same thing, and promised that during the ceremony she would declare she was being forced and she’d refuse to sign the marriage contract. Walderon threatened her, saying if she did refuse, King Henryk would confiscate all of her lands, leaving her a pauper, which would mean no nobleman would want to marry her. I suspect he knew about Garit’s plans and that’s why he hastened the wedding date. Chantal’s feelings did not matter to him.

  “Garit, I am sorry to reveal your secret, but it is part of the story,” Jenia said. “Chantal told me about your plan to flee together before the marriage to Malin could take place. You intended to take her to Auremont, didn’t you? I have slept these past few nights in the room you prepared for her and I’ve sat in the garden you had made for her pleasure. I have worn some of the clothes you collected for her to use.”

  “It’s all true,” Garit said, “and I am not ashamed of those preparations. I would have done anything to protect Chantal from Malin. I tried to convince Lord Walderon of Malin’s unsuitability, but he refused to listen to me. Chantal and I decided we had no other choice. The night before her wedding day, Chantal was to slip away from her attendants and from Lady Sanal and join me. She said she could leave without being noticed, but she didn’t tell me every detail. When she did not appear at the appointed hour, I knew someone had stopped her. I never saw her again.” Garit blinked several times, clamping his mouth shut as if fighting back tears.

  “Roarke, did you know about this scheme?” King Henryk demanded.

  “Only later, after Lady Chantal was gone and after you assigned me to find her,” Roarke said. “Knowing of Garit’s devotion to Lady Chantal, one of the first things I did after accepting your orders was question him. He told me about their failed plan and swore me to silence. I saw no reason to create a scandal by revealing the tale, especially since Garit was utterly bewildered and very frightened by the lady’s disappearance. It was clear to me that he had nothing to do with it and that he was seriously worried about her.”

  “I will not comment on a plan devised in defiance of a noblewoman’s legal guardian,” said King Henryk “except to say I cannot approve of it. Chantal should have come to me and made her concerns known to me, as her liege lord.”

  “Would you have listened to her?” Jenia asked, her voice heavy with scorn. “More importantly, would you have helped her? Chantal believed you would not help, that you would favor the wishes of two of your noblemen over the pleas of a mere woman.”

  “She should have come to me,” Queen Hannorah said softly. “I would have spoken to the king on her behalf.”

  “What’s done is done,” King Henryk said. A quick, chopping motion of his hand silenced all comments on the subject
for everyone except the woman standing so defiantly before him. “Jenia, I expect you to tell us without further delay what happened to Chantal.”

  “She asked for my help and I gave it. How could I deny a blood relative who was also my dearest friend? It was my suggestion that we should switch our clothes as we used to do when we were children and I should appear in the great hall that evening as Lady Chantal, wearing a silk gown and jewels, while she dressed as me, in my role as her attendant. We hoped my usual plain manner of dress would make it easier for her to slip away unnoticed at the appointed hour.”

  “So, she did try to meet me?” Garit asked. “But, what happened to her?”

  “The same thing that happened to me,” Jenia answered. “Chantal and I parted that evening, she to meet Garit and I to continue my deception by pretending to be Chantal heading for her bedchamber. Somewhere along the corridor, here in your own fortress, Henryk, I was assaulted on your orders, struck on the back of the head, and carried away unconscious by men who believed that I was Chantal.”

  “What?” exclaimed the king. “I never gave such an order.”

  “Did you not?” Jenia challenged him. “Then why, when Chantal and I awakened in a cold and damp dungeon, were we told that you had ordered our removal from Calean?”

  “I would not do such a thing,” Henryk repeated.

  “We were told, over and over again, that you were responsible for our imprisonment,” Jenia insisted. “We were informed that, because Chantal was causing so much trouble over her proposed marriage, you had decided to confiscate her lands. Disloyal noblewomen must expect such treatment. That’s what our guards told us. In view of how Walderon had threatened Chantal, saying that was exactly what would happen if she continued to refuse to marry Lord Malin, both of us believed what the guards said.”

  “What they said was untrue, a bald and slanderous lie,” King Henryk declared. “I’ll soon get to the bottom of this ridiculous claim. Where were you held?”