Three Medieval Romances

by Catherine E Chapman

  “Thank you, Sir,” Eliza said, feeling somewhat disappointed that he did not accompany her into the house.

  “And might I say, on behalf of my father, how pleased we are to welcome you to Braggot Park, Eliza.” With that, Lorenzo –confident that they were not being watched– took Eliza’s hand and kissed it once more. Then he was gone.

  * * *

  “I can see why my brother chose you among his household to send to me,” Sir Richard said to Eliza as she stood before him in the great hall of the house the following morning. “You are quite the prettiest maid-servant I have had the pleasure of beholding.”

  Eliza blushed at her new master’s words and could not possibly formulate a response to his comment.

  “And have no doubt, Eliza, that I know why you are here,” Sir Richard continued. “My brother has sent you to spy on me–”

  “No, Sir Richard!”

  “Oh I’m sure it was couched in some seemingly concerned manner but understand, Eliza, that my brother has one desire concerning Braggot Park and that is to claim the estate from me.” Sir Richard fell silent.

  “Sir Harry and Lady Jane expressed concern that your name was being sullied in connection with a treason plot,” Eliza couldn’t help but admit.

  “And be assured, Eliza, that Harry’s intention is not so much to save my reputation as ruin it,” Sir Richard informed Eliza soberly. “But you, I can see, are a sweet-natured girl without an ounce of malice in you. I am happy for you to stay with us – for sure, the sight of you about the place will do nothing but lift my spirits.” Sir Richard paused. “And when my brother and his wife call upon you to report back to them, Eliza, you need only speak the truth of what you encounter here at Braggot – we have nothing to hide.”

  Eliza heard a stirring behind her and saw her master’s attention wander to the back of the great hall. “You’ve met my son, I think,” Sir Richard said.

  “Yes, Sir,” Eliza replied without looking about, aware of Lorenzo’s approaching footsteps. They came to a halt alongside her.

  “Lorenzo, would you escort Eliza back to the servants’ quarters? Braggot Hall can be a confusing place for newcomers, Eliza, but with a little guidance, you will soon become accustomed to its many nooks and crannies,” Sir Richard said lightly.

  “Of course, Father,” Lorenzo agreed, saying only, “Come,” to Eliza before turning and beginning to walk back out of the hall.

  “I wish you a pleasant stay with us, Eliza,” Sir Richard said warmly as he dismissed her.

  * * *

  Outside the great hall, Eliza struggled to keep up with Lorenzo as he strode ahead down the corridor that ran along the hall’s length, the lead-paned windows looking out upon an interior courtyard.

  After a couple of minutes following Lorenzo in this manner, they had scaled some stairs and reached the upper levels of the house. Eliza realised that Lorenzo had brought her to a part of the building that she had not previously seen.

  “This is not the servants’ quarters, Sir,” Eliza said, as she looked about the grand wood-panelled corridor of which they had just reached an end.

  “No, this was my mother’s chamber,” Lorenzo said, opening the door to a fine bedroom, with a four-poster bed, draped in rich hangings. “It is as it was left when she died. My father will not hear of it being touched – such is his devotion,” Lorenzo explained, ushering Eliza into the room.

  He followed her into the bedchamber and then turned the key in the lock.

  Eliza looked nervously from the room back to Lorenzo, registering what he had done.

  “Does it unnerve you to be alone with me, Eliza?” Lorenzo said, approaching her.

  Eliza could find no words of reply. Lorenzo stood close to her, facing her and challenging her with his dark eyes.

  “Eliza, this is a place where you and I may meet and be away from prying eyes. Here, the concern you express for the differences in our positions need not come between us.”

  Eliza stood frozen.

  Lorenzo stepped forward as if intending to embrace her.

  “Your father instructed you to take me to the servants’ quarters, young master,” Eliza said hurriedly, “and I know there is work waiting for me in the scullery. I would ask you to take me directly to the scullery, Lorenzo, Sir, and to stop playing with my emotions in this manner.” Eliza dodged Lorenzo’s advance and made for the door. “I would ask you to unlock the door immediately, master,” she said, aware that her words were spoken shakily.

  “You need feel no shame at your emotions, Eliza. My mother was a passionate woman. She would be happy to know we can take comfort in one another’s company, here in her chamber.”

  “My only emotion is fear,” Eliza replied candidly, backing away from Lorenzo, so that she ended up pinned against the panelled wall.

  Keeping his distance from her, Lorenzo reached out his arm and stroked her cheek as gently as a feather with the fingers of his right hand. “Forgive me, Eliza,” he whispered softly, “I mistook your feelings upon our first encounter. I hope you will not think me a brute–”

  “You did mistake me, Sir,” Eliza said breathlessly and almost too eagerly.

  Lorenzo looked coolly upon the girl who remained standing with her back to the wall. “I shall do as you ask, Eliza, but know that we can ever meet in this room. You must remember this. And if you find that your heart has a place for me in it, you will come to me here tomorrow evening.”

  Lorenzo looked directly into Eliza’s eyes as he spoke his final words. As she turned her head to avoid his gaze, Lorenzo’s stare fell to her bosom. He watched the bare outline of the tops of her breasts as they rose and fell with her pounding heart.

  Remembering herself, Eliza complained, “Sir, you continue to offend my sensibilities. I have asked you to take me from this place.”

  Without further discussion, Lorenzo unlocked the door and escorted Eliza from the chamber to the kitchens down below, walking at a steady pace alongside her en route. They didn’t speak to one another as they walked on and Eliza felt abandoned to be so close to him but no longer experiencing his touch.

  Upon reaching the kitchens, Lorenzo registered the look of distress on Eliza’s face. “As you requested,” he said, gesturing to the small flight of stairs that led downward.

  “Thank you Sir,” Eliza replied simply.

  Before quitting her, Lorenzo leaned into Eliza and whispered in her ear, “Remember, if you find a place for me in your heart, you will meet me in my mother’s chamber tomorrow night.”

  Eliza made no reply and avoided looking into Lorenzo’s dark eyes as he raised his head.

  Content that they were alone, Lorenzo kissed Eliza shortly on the cheek, before turning and striding away.

  Eliza stood looking after him, not knowing what to think.

  * * *

  For the rest of the day and throughout the next Eliza could reflect upon nothing but Lorenzo’s invitation to meet him in his mother’s bedchamber once night fell. As the sun began to set and Eliza’s duties about the house were completed, she retired to the kitchens and took solace in the company of her fellow servants, in order to safeguard herself from giving in to temptation.

  By eight o’clock it was dark. The kitchen staff had served Sir Richard’s dinner and were clearing up from the meal.

  “Eliza,” the cook began, “I’m told that the young master has retired to his quarters unwell. He has requested some dinner be taken up to him. Would you please take him this dish?”

  “Cannot someone else take it?” Eliza asked nervously.

  The cook looked at her dubiously but, to Eliza’s relief, a man-servant was quick to relieve Eliza of the task.

  The next night, the same scene was replayed in the kitchen. “The young master has returned late from hunting, Eliza,” the cook began. “He has retired to the library and requested some dinner be taken to him there. Will you take his meal?”

  “Cannot someone else take it?” Eliza asked falteringly, wary of appearing
lazy but eager to avoid an audience with Lorenzo.

  This time the cook stood firm. “The young master specifically requested it be you, Eliza,” he replied.

  With trepidation, Eliza scaled the flight of stairs from the kitchen and walked towards the door of the library. Standing at the door, struggling to compose herself, Eliza jumped as it opened from within.

  Lorenzo stared at Eliza, his dark eyes burning.

  “Your dinner, Sir,” Eliza began.

  “Come in,” Lorenzo instructed.

  As Eliza entered the room, Lorenzo said, “Please put it on the small table.”

  Eliza did so and then swiftly made to quit the library.

  But Lorenzo barred her path to the exit, asking, “Am I to conclude that you have no place for me in your heart?”

  Eliza averted her eyes from his gaze and replied simply, “What you ask of me is wrong, young master–”

  “Is it wrong to feel and fulfil desire? Wrong to know passion?”

  Eliza failed to find words of response as Lorenzo edged towards her. She dropped her head but Lorenzo lifted up her chin and looked seductively into her eyes. “I have spent the day riding hard to exorcize this passion from my soul,” he said, “but I find my desire has only grown with the exertion.”

  In an instant Eliza closed her eyes as Lorenzo’s lips met hers.

  His kiss was as intense as his piercing gaze. Eliza felt herself abandoning control of her will.

  Lorenzo’s lips traced a course from Eliza’s own, via her neck, to her cleavage. She threw back her head and let out a gasp of excitement as Lorenzo began to explore her breasts, pulling the sleeves of her dress gently from her shoulders and lowering the bodice to expose her flesh.

  “You cannot submit to your desires,” Lorenzo said as he drew Eliza over to a chair. Sitting down upon it, he pulled Eliza to stand before him. Gazing up at her contemplatively, he continued, “but you make no effort to resist my advances.”

  “I find I cannot, Sir,” Eliza explained breathlessly.

  “So if I were to impose my will upon you,” Lorenzo continued, opening his legs and urging Eliza forward to stand between them, “you would make no objection?”

  Eliza couldn’t answer. She could no sooner agree to his proposal than she could prevent herself from going along with it.

  “Very well,” Lorenzo said, smiling up at Eliza as he drew her closer.

  Taking her in his arms, Lorenzo’s hands sought the hem of Eliza’s dress. Once found, his arms disappeared beneath the folds of her skirts, his hands making a steady progress, stroking the backs of her legs until they reached her thighs.

  Eliza took Lorenzo’s head of thick curls in her hands and closed her eyes, barely able to conceive of his actions.

  But as Lorenzo’s hands approached the uncharted regions of her being, Eliza jumped to hear an insistent knock at the door of the library. She felt Lorenzo’s head escape her arms and his own hands withdraw from her petticoats.

  “Lorenzo, open this door at once, I wish to find a volume,” a voice called from without.

  “My father,” Lorenzo said urgently, springing from the chair.

  * * *

  The following day Eliza drifted through her work routine, unable to apply herself properly to any task. The very intensity of Lorenzo’s passion had left her feeling empty in the depths of her being once his attentions had been so abruptly withdrawn with the untimely arrival of Sir Richard.

  Eliza recalled vividly the anxiety she had experienced concealing herself behind a long, plush curtain hanging at the window at the far end of the library, while Sir Richard sought out his book. He had demanded that Lorenzo quit the library and accompany him back to his cosy fireside seat. When they had gone, taking all light with them, Eliza had precariously navigated her way out of the room, with only the moonlight outside the window to guide her.

  Since the incident, no words had gone between Eliza and Lorenzo. They hadn’t yet encountered one another alone; only Lorenzo’s eyes had expressed his feelings when he and Eliza had passed each other about the house in company.

  Now, once again, Eliza didn’t know how to interpret what had happened. Would Lorenzo, having made his conquest in as much as he must now surely know that his passion was shared, cast Eliza aside?

  * * *

  At the close of the following day, Eliza found herself in possession of the key to the Lady’s chamber. Against all reason she had taken it from the servants’ quarters when the opportunity had arisen upon completing her duties.

  The kitchen staff were busy preparing a banquet in honour of the arrival of Sir Harry and Lady Jane on a visit to the Hall. Eliza managed to take advantage of the ensuing chaos to slip away as the veil of night fell.

  Stealthily she crept through the house, bound for the upper levels. On reaching the corridor, at the end of which was the Lady’s chamber, Eliza looked about her to ensure the coast was clear. Satisfied, she proceeded to the door of the bedroom.

  Eliza’s heart beat fast in anticipation of the possibility that she might discover Lorenzo there. She acted against her better judgement but felt compelled to go to him – to show him that she could submit to her desires and to prove to him that he alone was her heart’s desire.

  Eliza found the door secure. Quietly, she unlocked it and slowly, silently she pushed it open.

  “Eliza!” the young lady Harriet exclaimed.

  Eliza stopped in her tracks to behold Harriet, framed in the lead-paned bay window, standing face to face and close up against her cousin.

  “Eliza!” Lorenzo echoed as Eliza, close to tears, turned and fled from the room.

  Eliza ran along the corridor and downstairs to the next landing. Here she slowed her pace and strove to compose herself.

  Within moments she encountered Lady Jane, quitting a guest chamber. “Eliza, my dear,” the noblewoman greeted, “how delightful to see you.”

  “Madam,” Eliza replied, curtsying and bowing her head to hide her distress.

  “How timely that we have met. I require your assistance in waiting on myself and Harriet during our stay–”

  “But–”

  “Fear not. I have already obtained Sir Richard’s agreement to my scheme.”

  “Very well, Madam,” Eliza replied obediently, her eyes still downcast.

  “You will come to my chamber later tonight,” Lady Jane insisted.

  * * *

  Next morning Eliza found herself in Harriet’s chamber, busy dressing the young lady.

  “I swear, Eliza, you are the most sensitive of ladies in waiting – both in your touch and your disposition,” Harriet observed. “Why on earth did you fly away from my cousin and I last night?”

  “I thought I had interrupted a private meeting, Miss,” Eliza replied.

  “Nonsense! What could Lorenzo and I possibly have to keep secret?”

  Eliza said nothing. Involuntarily, she tugged at a knot in Harriet’s hair as she brushed it.

  “Ouch!” Harriet complained.

  “Sorry, Miss,” Eliza said.

  “Surely, Eliza, you do not suspect my cousin and I of being sweethearts,” Harriet continued.

  “It would be none of my business if you were, Miss,” Eliza replied despondently.

  “But my cousin – Lorenzo! Why, the very thought of it is outrageous. I’ll not hear of you entertaining such nonsense.”

  In the early evening Eliza was called upon to dress Lady Jane for dinner.

  “I wonder, Eliza,” the Lady began, “whether you have observed anything of note during your time at Braggot Hall.”

  “Nothing, Madam,” Eliza replied, thinking that the only irregular sight she had beheld was that of her young master locked in the Lady’s chamber with Harriet the previous evening.

  “But you keep your eyes and ears open?” Lady Jane pursued.

  “Yes, Madam.”

  “And you will inform Sir Harry or myself if you witness or suspect anything untoward?”

  “I sh
all, Madam,” Eliza assured her.

  Lady Jane fell silent as Eliza fixed her precious jewels about her neck.

  “And what do you make of the young master, Eliza?” she asked once the necklace was in place, gazing at herself in the mirror and addressing Eliza’s reflection in the glass.

  “I know not what to make of him, Madam,” Eliza replied, avoiding the Lady’s direct gaze in the mirror. “Only that he is most civil towards me in passing,” she added cautiously.

  “Do you not think he and my Harriet will make a handsome couple, Eliza?” Jane asked, unable to suppress a smile and a twinkle in her eye at the suggestion.

  “Yes, Madam, most handsome,” Eliza replied as dispassionately as she possibly could.

  * * *

  Eliza slept fitfully that night. She had not, of course, approached the Lady’s chamber again after her discovery of Lorenzo’s liaison with his cousin. And now she tried her best to dodge the young master and avoid his eye if she did find herself in his presence.

  Attending Harriet the following morning, Eliza found the young noblewoman in a playful mood. “How peculiar it is, Eliza,” she began as she stood in her petticoat, awaiting the riding habit Eliza was fetching for her, “that you so often encounter me in a state of undress but I have never beheld you in such a state.”

  “It is merely the difference in our stations, Miss,” Eliza replied plainly.

  “But what a modest little mouse you are, Eliza. I can barely conceive of you unclothed.”

  Eliza gave her no response. Being of an age with Harriet, and her servant, she was not at liberty to chide her for her flippant talk and so was obliged to tolerate it.

  “Tell me, have you ever known love?” Harriet continued.

  “No, Miss.”