The Lady Bornekova
Sara R. Turnquist
The Lady Bornekova
by Sara R. Turnquist
Published by Clean Reads
www.cleanreads.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.
THE LADY BORNEKOVA
Copyright © 2015 SARA R. TURNQUIST
ISBN 978-1-62135-428-4
Cover Art Designed by CORA GRAPHICS
First to God, who has gifted me.
To my parents, who nurtured me.
And to my husband, who encouraged me.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
About the Author
Untitled
Chapter 1
Journeys and Farewells
Karin was cold. She was cold and wet and tired. The dampness of the concluding day seemed to close in on the coach as if to suffocate its passengers. They lurched to one side and Mary reached out to steady her lady. Karin brushed Mary's hand away. Mary's kindness was appreciated for the hundredth time, but Karin was too road weary to indulge the overzealous handmaiden. Still, she managed a small smile before adjusting her skirts. There were patches of still-damp cloth that had gotten drenched in the rain and road puddles when they'd stopped for the carriage to be pulled out of a rut.
Father’s voice warmed the still space. "Karin, need we ask the coachmen to stop to stretch your legs?"
"No, father, I'm quite all right."
"We are almost there, I am quite certain. You'll fair better once you are on solid ground again."
Karin nodded. "Yes, father, I'm sure you're right."
The car fell silent again. There had been many of these short spurts of dialogue, mere pleasantries, between Karin and her father, followed by long stretches of silence. This had been much of their conversation for the journey. And for much of the past month, she mused. In other circumstances, she would have welcomed the opportunity to spend time with her father, but the last weeks of tension between them did not allow for that.
Catching Mary’s eye, Karin considered once more that her handmaiden, too, was being moved far from the place she called home. But she found this change of scenery exciting—a grand adventure. Yes, Karin may have been lost in self-pity the last several days, but she could still hear the servant gossip.
Karin closed her eyes against the reality of her plight. But she was powerless. Moments later, the canter of the horses slowed. Father and Mary moved to the window. Who would catch the first glimps of their lodgings? Feigning interest, Karin did the same. The summer palace, now off in the distance, was fast approaching.
At the heart of the structure was a portico, shielding the door which would give them access. Large burgundy walls reached toward the clouds, still dark and spewing moisture. Tall windows indicated the massive structure had but two stories, while two towers alluded to more above the second level.
The foregrounds did not appear elaborate. Among the carved-out pathways, Karin saw an ornate fountain in the yard. Trees and shrubs dotted the landscape. It was a grand estate — albeit not as grand as the palaces in Prague — but as big as any summer home or hunting lodge she had known the royal family to possess.
This particular chateau was the favorite hunting lodge of her father's friend, Viscount Vlastik Dvorak. And it would be her home for the next days, weeks, perhaps months. To be sure, she hadn't been privy to that information. It was, perhaps, an appropriate place for her exile. There wasn't another living soul within easy riding distance. These places were built for seclusion. And that was what she was here for.
Their carriage slowed and tilted as it climbed a final hill, closing upon the portico. Karin leaned back, focusing her mind in silent prayer. The horses’ hoofbeats created a tempo that measured the steps to their destination and to her fate.
The carriage slowed to a stop. Karin opened her eyes. And the pitter-patter of the rain above them had ceased. This was the purpose of the portico—such an occasion as this dreary, rainy day. Horse and carriage fit underneath and their exit out would be onto dry ground.
A manservant stepped out of the massive structure and opened the carriage door. Father exited, then turned, offering his hand first to Karin and then to Mary. As she set her feet onto the firm land, she sent another prayer of gratitude.
"This way, my lord," the manservant said, ushering them into the chateau.
They stepped first into a foyer. Karin drew in a breath. Indoors at last. She embraced the warmer and much drier climate. With difficulty, she resisted the urge to shake the rain from her strawberry-blonde hair. The décor of the chateau drew her eye. Deer and elk heads, along with a variety of hunting weapons, some primitive, hung on the walls. A servant took father's overcoat and Karin's cape while a maidservant stepped closer to Mary.
"Zuzana will take you to your room," the manservant said to Mary.
The two maidens separated from the group as the manservant led Karin and her father farther into the house.
They paused in a large, circular room. Was this the receiving room?
"I will let Lord Dvorak know you have arrived." The manservant bowed and took his leave.
Karin's gaze wandered around the ornate room — too much to take in. The ceilings were massive and high, dwarfing Karin in the space. One wall boasted a large fireplace, the flames within hard at work warming the room. On the adjacent wall stood a large mahogany doorframe and door, more intricately carved with artistic design and scrollwork than anything else in the room. A family crest hung on the doorframe. At each corner of the room, and at each side of the mantle above the fireplace, stood small suits of armor looking down on them.
Karin turned in a small circle. Family portraits covered the walls. These images were the faces of the men who had established the royal lineage, made the family known and carried it through the generations. One lone round table in the room held flowers. She breathed in the sweet subtle fragrance of the seasonal blooms, a bouquet of yellow daffodils.
A voice sounded, bouncing around the space. "Viscount Vlastik Dvorak."
Karin spun to meet her host. A warm, robust man entered. She arched a brow. At some point she must have met him, but his features were not familiar. His nose was round, and his eyes were bright.
Though it was quite unnecessary, they were introduced, "Earl Petr Bornekov and his daughter, the Lady Karin Bornekova."
Viscount Dvorak rushed for father, seizing father’s forearm with both of his thicker ones. "Petr, my friend! So good to see you!"
"Vlastik, how is the hunt?" Father’s face broke in a wide grin.
"Good, good. You will see, it is a great time for the hunt. We have been out every day, save today. Such weather for your journey! I hope it was well."
"One wheel found some bad road. Except for the rain, I think our trip was pleasant."
"Ah, some of those roads are maybe not so good, I think. But, it will
be worth the trip."
"It already is, I assure you!" There was a pause in the pleasantries as father remembered Karin. "It has been a while, Vlastik, but you may remember my daughter Karin."
"Yes, yes, but this cannot be the small girl I knew!"
Karin fought the urge to drop her gaze. What must she look like? For certain her long, curled hair was wet and matted. Did her complexion belie an even greater pallor than her typical fair skin would?
"A girl no more," Father confirmed.
"No, indeed," Karin inserted. How was she to measure up this robust man? But she could always fall back on her good breeding. She curtsied. "Thank you for your hospitality, my lord."
The man's overbearing personality made Karin feel even more small and unsure of herself.
"It is my pleasure," Vlastik said. The man's eyes gleamed bright, but they sat small in his face.
He seemed an easy man to be in company with, but perhaps not easy to trust.
"I am pleased for the excuse to bring your father to this hunting lodge!"
"My absence has not been for lack of want to join you, my friend," Father said.
"It is no matter. You are here now. Come, come, let me show you the chateau." He waved his arm.
What could they do but follow him?
The conversation soon became that of banter between two old friends as the Viscount led the party from the receiving room toward the rest of the house.
Brushing past Karin, she was all but forgotten as the Viscount led them from room to room. What was his destination? Was his purpose as innocent as it seemed?
Neither the Viscount nor Petr made any attempt to speak to Karin or include her in conversation as they toured the grand estate.
Karin attempted to take in her surroundings, but it was impossible with the speed at which they would quit each room. It also seemed as if the Viscount didn't exercise even the occasional breath, as Father had a difficult time getting a word in.
At some length, Father did speak into a rare space. "Perhaps Karin would like to retire to freshen up."
"Of course," the Viscount said.
He motioned for a young girl who passed in the hall. "Would you show the Lady Karin to her rooms?"
The servant girl nodded, curtsying to her master.
Karin nodded and hid a short sigh. She was all too happy to take her leave of the two men and even happier at the prospect of being alone, if for even a few minutes.
Smiling at the young servant, she followed her deeper into the enveloping halls.
* * *
Why was this young woman at the chateau? A great secret surrounded her arrival, and no one seemed to know it. The servants always knew everything, but this was an exception. Everyone in the house was perplexed about her arrival. Only one thing appeared to be common knowledge: she was going to be staying for quite some time. Perhaps the Viscount had plans for her. It would not be the first time he entertained taking on a young girl. Either way, her presence did not make everyone happy—one person least of all, someone who didn't like surprises, who didn't like intrusions.
Did the Viscount already have designs on her, already have a claim? That would not do. No, someone would have to do something about it before anything more progressed. Prudence may beg one wait to gain more information, but it would not do to risk the situation developing any further. Again, it would not be the first time.
* * *
Earl Petr Bornekov was not a hard man. However, he had his limits. And Karin had been able to do as she pleased, her behavior gone unchecked, for far too long. Now he faced the results of this indulgence. Was pressing upon her some of the consequences of her actions truly so bad? Somehow Karin saw it that way. But there was nothing he could do about it. This was how it was to be. Of that he was determined.
The Earl and the Viscount had been close friends for many years. It was an advantageous alliance for the Bornekov family. Vlastik had become a special friend of the royal family. Something that propelled his value far above his station. And so, Petr had chosen his words with great care when proposing that Karin might enjoy an extended holiday at the hunting lodge with the Dvorak family. Petr’s friend seemed all too pleased to reconnect with him, so much so that Vlastik did not concern himself with the details of the circumstances. In this way, the plan had come into being.
During their first days, Vlastik did everything in his power to distract Petr with hunting, wine, and all other manner of merrymaking. Perhaps Petr was more ready for abstraction than he realized.
Karin kept to herself, making only the obligatory appearances. Watching his once vibrant daughter become so subdued wasn't as easy as he would have thought. It concerned him.
During the day, Karin spent much of her time walking the grounds and sitting alone. She was polite and pleasant to those she interacted with, but those instances were rare. And, though she kept her distance from him, Petr could see the effects of her sleepless nights. The weariness in her eyes and the darkness underneath were telling. This doubly concerned him, as the time for his return home approached. What had he expected? What had he hoped for? Perhaps that she would be more adjusted to life at the chateau before his departure.
Vlastik tried to encourage him often. “Do not worry yourself. She will settle in to life here.”
Had he not a care for why Karin’s countenance was so dejected? Perhaps he did not. It would be best, in fact, if he did not.
"My son and his friends will arrive tomorrow,” Vlastik continued at a noon meal.
Karin had begged off that she wasn't hungry and had excused herself early.
"She will enjoy the company of young people closer to her age. You will see. It will lighten her spirits."
Vlastik’s son and his friends? Coming here? Petr and his wife had intended this to be a time of solitude. But how could he express that without opening himself up to more questions?
"So much has changed for her, Petr," the Viscountess soothed. "Give her time."
The concerns of the coming guests aside, Petr wanted to take solace in their words. But they didn't know Karin. They didn't know how stubborn she could be and how impassioned that fiery spirit of hers was. And now he was caging that spirit.
* * *
Stepan Dvorak gazed out of the window of the large library. His gaze drifted over the grounds of the Charles University. He had come to love this place. Many of his friends chided him, teasing him for wanting to come here and study. His position and future as Viscount would not depend on anything he did or did not do at the university. Whether out of sheer determination to prove them wrong, or as a product of his character, Stepan outperformed his peers. Yes, his professor’s accolades would have made any father proud — except his father did not care. His father knew this truth as well.
But now he looked over the buildings with a heavy heart. This might be the end of his time at the university he had so come to appreciate. His conversation with one of his professors echoed in his thoughts.
“What a pleasant surprise, Lord Dvorak!" Professor Evzen was quick on his feet to greet his pupil with all due respect and propriety. "What brings you here?"
Professor Evzen had been a mentor to Stepan throughout his time at the Charles University. Stepan appearing at his door was a common occurrence.
"I came for one of our chats," Stepan said. Would the weighings of his mind be evident in his stance?
Professor Evzen's eyes told him they were. "Please, come sit." Evzen indicated a pair of chairs at one end of the room.
Stepan crossed in front of Evzen to one of the proffered seats.
"What has brought you?" Evzen probed.
Stepan was quiet for several moments. Many thoughts clouded him. He chewed at his lip. Should he speak from his heart, weighted into his stomach? Where to begin?
“Just say what is on your mind.” Evzen encouraged, sitting back in his seat. From all appearances, he was not concerned in the least.
“I do not think I will be returning.” There.
He had voiced it.
There was no surprise in Evzen’s face. Was Stepan’s plight that obvious? Stepan stared at his mentor. Surely there was something to be said.
“Please, continue.”
Stepan drew in a long breath. “I fear my father does not see the reason in my studies.”
A stoic face greeted him.
Stepan stood and paced the room for some moments as the silence filled the space. Then he stopped, staring at the bookshelf on the wall opposite Professor Evzen.
“He says that my tenure here has been an indulgence. That it is time I took my proper place.”
“Is he wrong?”
Stepan jerked around to meet Evzen’s eyes. They were clear and neutral. Neither challenging nor urging.
Running a hand through his hair, Stepan pushed out a breath through his teeth. “Perhaps. But maybe not. What does a Viscount need of these philosophical things?”
“What indeed?”
Stepan winced. If he was looking for easy answers, he had come to the wrong place. He sat and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, letting his attention rest on a spot on the floor as if the answer would magically appear there.
“Any leader needs to understand better how to rule.”
Evzen nodded.
Stepan sat straighter. “I could understand his hesitation when that heretic was rector. Not even I wished to remain here under his leadership and teachings. It is a benefit to us all that the Council of Constance has seen an end to his preaching.”
Evzen raised a brow.
“I should hope that Hus will remain shut up and put away for the remainder of his life. Surely the king will not see him freed.”
No reaction from Evzen. His voice remained even. "Come now, Stepan. You know the king only cares about the papacy...that things go his way, and the university remains in his back pocket. It is his brother which burns with hatred for Hus."
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