Jorgen moved to his right.
“Jorgen, you may go.”
Dorothea—but that was not her name—sniffled and stood as Jorgen left the room. How dare she try to gain his sympathy by crying? It would not work.
“What is your name?” he demanded.
“Avelina Klein, my lord.” She was wiping her face with her hands, keeping her head down so he couldn’t see her face.
“Get away from my desk. Come over here, to the light.”
She moved toward the table where the candles were lit and stood on the other side of it from him.
“Look at me.”
She lifted her head. Her eyes were puffy and red. Her chin quivered. A pang went through him and he clenched his teeth. She had made a fool of him.
“I would never marry you.” He infused as much coldness into his voice as possible. “I just declared my intention to marry you in front of all those people . . . You deceived me.”
“I had no choice. I—”
“You had no choice but to pretend to be someone you were not? You came here pretending to be Lady Dorothea. But you are only a servant. This is true, is it not?”
“Yes, my lord.”
She bowed her head, clasping her hands in front of her. “I am sorry. I do not expect you to understand. I must seem despicable.”
Why wasn’t she defending herself? Expressing those strong opinions of hers?
His insides twisted to think he had fallen for a servant, just like his brother, whom he had so criticized for the very same thing.
“Why did you do it? Did you want to humiliate me? Was that Lord Plimmwald’s plan? Did he send you to make a fool of me in front of half the country’s noblemen?”
“No, he did not—that is, he did send me, but he was not trying to—”
“Why did he send you?”
“He wanted you to help us. He was afraid of Geitbart—the duke—taking over Plimmwald. He did not want to offend you. And the real Lady Dorothea could not come.”
He gritted his teeth. He was a fool to even listen to her at all. Heat exploded in his head. He’d confessed to everyone there tonight—half the noblemen in this part of the empire—that he wanted to marry a servant girl.
He should ask her more questions, demand to know every detail, but he was losing his grip on his temper. He imagined yelling at her, shaking her. If she were one of his guards, he’d send her immediately to be punished—locked in the dungeon. Listening to her explanation for why she had deliberately deceived him would cause him to do something he would regret. Still, he could not allow himself to soften, and to add fuel to the fire inside, he had one question for her.
“What would you receive if you succeeded in tricking me?”
She met his eye, her head rising. “I asked Lord Plimmwald for a dowry so I could marry.”
“And whom did you want to marry?” Was there someone at home, a servant boy she was in love with? He clenched his walking stick so hard it dug into his palm.
“I had no one particular in mind, if that is what you are asking.”
“But you wanted to marry.”
“Yes. I wanted a husband who would love me.” Defiance was in her eyes, but there was a slight tremor in her voice, and her jaw twitched, as if she was clenching her teeth.
“So you did all this—risking my wrath, risking that I would find out you were not a rightful earl’s daughter—all for a dowry so you could marry well?”
She tilted her chin up. “I also asked for a goose and a side of pork every month for my family.”
He turned his back on her and ran his hand through his hair. To think that she would ask for such a thing, for a basic provision of food for her family . . . or perhaps she was lying again.
He could not allow himself to feel sympathy for her. He must keep his wits about him.
He must not be like his brother.
“I might have married you. I might have made you my wife, thinking you were Lady Dorothea. What kind of fool do I look like in front of every powerful noble . . . All this, after I condemned my brother for sleeping with a maidservant.”
Why could he not have chosen some other woman? Why Avelina? But he knew why. It was because she had seemed good and kind and had expressed her thoughts without any false pride or pretense. He had admired her forthrightness and her compassion. And although he had never thought a wife with strong opinions was a good thing, he actually found he liked her opinions—or at least admired her for having them. He wanted to get to know her, to know everything that was in her heart. He wanted to marry her and, surprising even himself, to love her. Yet . . . she had deceived him.
“I was not trying to make you choose me.”
He turned around to face her again. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her lips were pursed.
“I would not have let you marry me, thinking I was Lady Dorothea. I would have told you the truth.”
“You wanted me to marry Lady Magdalen.” He expelled a breath, suddenly realizing the truth. “I thought you were only being modest, frightened by my attention.” He had hoped, deep down, she felt the same way about him, that she was just as drawn to him as he was to her. But he had deluded himself.
She looked at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. “I could not marry you. Of course I wanted you to marry Mag—Lady Magdalen. She is kind and noble and she needed a powerful husband like you, since her father died and there is no one to defend her castle.”
That sounded logical, at least. And it was just as logical for him to send her away and never think of her again. Just as logical for him to choose someone else to marry.
“Go to your bedchamber. Do not come down to the Great Hall. I do not wish to see you again.”
He turned and stalked out of the room and down the corridor—and felt as if he’d just been punched in the gut.
In her bedchamber, Avelina sat on the floor by her door, listening for Magdalen to walk by on her way to her room. After a few minutes she heard footsteps. Avelina jumped to her feet and yanked open the door, but it was only a kitchen servant, bringing her a tray of food.
Avelina stepped back and let the servant in, who eyed Avelina askance as she set the tray on her table.
After the servant left, she lifted the cloth covering the food. The smell that wafted up to her made her stomach turn. She laid the cloth back over it and went back to the door and sat, drawing her knees up and laying her head on them.
Was Lord Thornbeck able to eat? Tears stung her eyes again. Dear God, please . . . comfort him. I’m so sorry for hurting him. She sat, alternately praying and crying.
Someone was coming down the corridor. Avelina stood too quickly and had to reach out a hand to steady herself. Before she could open the door, someone knocked.
Avelina opened the door to Magdalen.
“Oh, Magda—Lady Magdalen, please forgive me. Please let me explain.”
“May I come in?”
“Yes, please. Come in.” She closed the door. “Please forgive me for deceiving you.”
“I forgive you, of course.” Magdalen’s expression was sad, and she sighed. “But I would like to know why.”
“My lord, the Earl of Plimmwald made me feel as though I was doing it for the good of our people.” She sighed. “He told me people would die if I did not strengthen our alliance with Lord Thornbeck.”
She proceeded to explain the whole story while Magdalen stared, shook her head, and nodded for her to go on.
“I am so sorry for lying to you. I never wanted to deceive anyone. And once I was here, it seemed rather easy to assume Dorothea’s identity. No one questioned that I was her.”
“So this is why you said you could not marry Lord Thornbeck!” Magdalen slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Avelina. How can you ever forgive me?”
“Forgive you?”
“For not believing you. I thought you were only trying to be kind to me, to sacrifice Lord Thornbeck so I could marry him. I didn’t understand when you said you coul
dn’t marry him. I knew he was planning to choose you.”
“How could you know?”
“I could tell by the way he looked at you. And then yesterday he told me so himself.”
“He told you?”
“Yes, but he was worried that you didn’t care for him, and I assured him that you did.” Magdalen put her hands up to her face. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, you couldn’t have known. Besides . . .” Avelina blew out a breath, trying to push back the tears. “I did care for him . . . very much.” And he cared for her. Her breath hitched and she pressed her hand over her lips to keep them from trembling.
“He fell in love with you. Perhaps . . . perhaps he will still marry you.” But even Magdalen looked doubtful.
“No. He told me tonight that he would never marry me.”
How good it had felt to be chosen by him, even in the midst of her horror at what was about to happen, at his discovering she was an imposter. It was like being in his arms after he rescued her from falling off the balcony, his fine woolen tunic against her cheek. So much heaven . . . but it could never be. Not for her. She was Avelina the servant, not Dorothea the earl’s daughter. Dear heavenly saints. How she wanted him to love her, wanted his love. The pain was so great she doubled over.
Lady Magdalen put a hand on her shoulder.
She couldn’t think about how much it hurt to be so close to having his love, only to lose it. She should think of Lord Thornbeck and how humiliated he must feel for asking her to marry him in front of everyone.
And what about Magdalen?
“You must hate me for deceiving you.”
“It sounds as if you had little choice. I do not hate you, Doro—Avelina. Do not be so hard on yourself.”
“But I am only a servant. You must be so angry—”
“I am surprised, but I am not angry. You have a noble heart. You always did seem too kind and openhearted to be the daughter of an earl.”
Avelina might have laughed if she had not been so miserable. “I know I have no right to ask for your friendship anymore, Magda—” She stopped and corrected herself again. “Lady Magdalen.”
“Nonsense! You shall always have my friendship.” Magdalen squeezed her shoulder.
“I felt so guilty for deceiving you, I am glad I can tell you now. Even though . . . everything is ruined. But perhaps something good will come of this. Now that he knows I am not Lady Dorothea, perhaps he will want to marry you.”
Magdalen smiled and shook her head. “I never wished to marry Lord Thornbeck. And when I saw the way he looked at you, I knew, even if you didn’t, that he was falling in love with you. Besides, I am still hoping I may end up betrothed to the Duke of Wolfberg.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. When the two of you were dancing and talking at the ball . . . I should have known.” But she had been too busy trying to make sure Lord Thornbeck noticed Magdalen.
“It is too cruel Lord Thornbeck can’t marry you.”
“Even if he wanted to, it would not please the king. The king wants him to marry someone who will help him form an alliance, who will keep the kingdom stable. Marrying me would not please anyone. And he does not want to marry me now. He made that very clear.”
Avelina rubbed the back of her neck, which had begun to ache. “I was going to tell you the truth tonight. I would not have parted from you without telling you.”
Magdalen gave her a gentle smile. “I believe you. I am only sorry . . .” She shook her head and sighed. “Sorry things did not work out for you and Lord Thornbeck.”
Avelina shrugged. “It was never to be. I never expected to marry the margrave.”
Magdalen gave her a sad frown.
Seeing the compassion on Magdalen’s face, Avelina’s composure started to unravel. She bit the inside of her lip to try to gain control. “I will let you go to bed since it is very late. Thank you for letting me explain and apologize.”
They walked to the door together and Magdalen gave her a hug. “Please know that you will always be my friend. If I can ever do anything for you, please . . .”
“Thank you.” It was all Avelina could trust herself to say. She squeezed her tight, then Magdalen slipped out and went down the corridor to her own chamber.
Avelina walked back to the bed and curled up in a ball, too weighed down to even undress or get under the covers.
19
AVELINA HEARD THE door to Irma’s small room open. She lifted her head from the bed. She must have finally cried herself to sleep. Her eyes were gritty and her head ached.
Irma hurried toward her. “I see you are taking this hard, but this is no time to pity yourself. We have to leave, now.”
“Now? In the middle of the night?”
“It’s not the middle of the night. It will soon be morning. And we have to leave before Lord Thornbeck throws us out in the cold. Come on. Get your things together.”
“He wouldn’t throw us out while it’s still dark.” At least, she hoped he wouldn’t.
“I have heard from the other servants that he is furious.” Irma glared down at her.
Avelina did not bother to sit up. Her face felt heavy and her eyes burned. “Why should we hurry back? We will not exactly be welcomed at Plimmwald, now that we have failed so thoroughly.”
“Listen, Avelina. You are not thinking clearly.” Irma started gathering things from around the room and stuffing them in bags. “Let me make the decisions. If we leave now, Friedrich can go with us and we won’t have to ride by ourselves all the way to Plimmwald.”
“But did Lord Plimmwald not send guards to escort us back?”
Irma huffed. “We cannot depend on them. They will have heard, like everyone else, that you are only a servant girl. They’re probably halfway back to Plimmwald already to tell the earl the news. Besides, Friedrich has arranged it all, and he will lend his protection.”
“Friedrich? Is that your love’s name?”
“Yes, that is his name. While you were enjoying yourself with the margrave and pretending you were a princess, I was . . . enjoying myself as well. At least Friedrich loves me and is willing to help us.”
“Can’t we wait until morning?” Another tear leaked out as she pressed her hand over her face.
“It’s nearly dawn now! You cannot tell because it is snowing.”
“Snowing? When did that start?”
“During the night. Now get up and help me. You aren’t an earl’s daughter anymore.”
Avelina sighed and pushed herself up. What would happen to them once they were back in Plimmwald? Nothing good.
She helped Irma pack up their things. “Do you think we will make it safely back to Plimmwald with no guards?” Traveling presented many dangers.
“We have to, princess. Now let us go.”
They hefted the bags to their shoulders and left the room.
No one was around the dark corridor, with only one torch burning. Irma headed to the back stairs, the ones the servants used, and Avelina followed her. Irma certainly was in a hurry. Avelina had never seen her move so fast.
She probably should not be leaving without Lord Thornbeck’s permission. He had sent her to her chamber and expected her to stay there until he told her to leave. But he would surely not care that she was sneaking away early in the morning. He would be glad to get rid of her, of the reminder of his folly of choosing to marry the only maiden among ten who was a mere servant.
“Oh, wait! I have to say farewell to Lady Magdalen.” She turned and started back up the stairs.
“No!” Irma whispered. “We need to go now. Friedrich will be waiting; the horses will be waiting.”
Avelina hesitated. No, she could not go without telling Magdalen. “I’ll only take a minute.” She hurried to Magdalen’s door with her heavy load, then laid it on the floor by the door and knocked.
Hegatha answered, her lips pursed in a sour frown. She just stared at Avelina.
“Please, may I speak to Lady Magdalen, only for a moment?”<
br />
Magdalen came up behind Hegatha in her underdress. “I am here.”
Hegatha moved away.
“I wanted to tell you I am leaving, and to say thank you for your friendship.”
“Why are you leaving?”
“We have the chance to go back with a man to guard us, but we have to go now.”
Magdalen reached out and embraced her. “I will miss you, and I hope I see you again. Are you sure you should be leaving now?”
“Yes, I must go. Farewell, and thank you.” Avelina turned to leave so Magdalen would not see her cry.
“Come, make haste,” Irma said when she returned. “We have a long way to go.”
Irma’s gaze darted to the side, and she would not look at Avelina.
When they got to the bottom floor of the castle and walked outside, the cold hit Avelina in the face, along with huge flakes of snow that clung to her eyelashes and the dampness on her cheeks. The moon was nowhere in sight, obscured by the snow and clouds. Irma was ahead of her and she plunged forward into the darkness toward the stable.
Irma seemed to know just where to go. They came to three saddled horses, which Avelina did not even see until she was only a few feet from them. Irma tied her bag to the back of her saddle, and Avelina did the same. Friedrich helped Irma to mount, then Avelina. As they were covering themselves with the fur robes slung over the horses’ saddles, a howl, long and wild, came from the woods. Another howl joined it.
Avelina shivered. “Could that be wolves? They sound close.”
Irma did not answer her. She was sitting sidesaddle on a large black gelding, while Avelina was riding a brown mare, which was small and docile. Friedrich mounted his horse and the three of them set out into the cold, predawn, snow-white forest.
“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” They seemed to be headed away from the town of Thornbeck, instead of toward it.
“Friedrich knows a shortcut.”
Her head still ached from all the crying. Stupid thing, crying. It changed absolutely nothing about the circumstances, but it made your eyes burn, made your face puffy and blotchy, and gave you a headache.
The Medieval Fairy Tale Collection Page 42
