It was not true. As Pavel glanced around the room, he would wager that the others knew it too. What could they do but accept it?
Pavel noted the tenderness in Stepan's voice as he moved ever closer to Karin. It would have been easy for Karin to mistake it as concern for the young girl, but it was for Karin's benefit. Why?
As Stepan neared Karin, Pavel’s eyes narrowed and he found a new source of anger rising in him. No, he did not want Stepan any closer to Karin. He could not allow it. His hands balled into fists and he fought the urge to lash out.
But as Stepan came within an arm’s length of Karin, she moved from the window, backing away from Stepan or from the scene, who could discern?
Silence fell for several moments.
Stepan looked after Karin. He seemed wounded.
Pavel watched the distance between Stepan and Karin, the anger within him cooling as that space grew.
"Did you need something, Lady Karin?" Zdenek asked. Was it a hope to change the subject?
"No, I ... I just ..." She placed a hand over her mouth. Was she unsettled? Queasy? "Please excuse me." She turned and rushed from the room, grazing Pavel's legs with her skirt as she left.
His heart sank.
"I will see that she is well," Pavel said, excusing himself. He did not care what the others might think. Not in that moment.
Once in the hall, Pavel found it difficult to catch her. Karin quit the room with as much speed as she could muster. And kept going. Pavel lengthened his stride in order to close the distance.
"Karin!" he called as he approached lest he startle her.
She turned. Unshed tears pooled in her eyes. "Pavel, that was horrible! We have to do something ... we cannot just ..."
All too aware of their surroundings, he pulled her into the empty study behind him. Only then did he pull her into his embrace, holding her to himself.
She quieted in his arms, leaning into him.
"If there was something I could do for her, I would." His voice was just above a whisper. "But I cannot."
"It is a lie! Only because she is a Hussite!" Hot tears fell from her eyes. Pavel felt them through his shirt.
"I know. Everyone knows," he whispered near her ear.
"It is not right." She was quieter, calmer, but still incensed.
"I know, Karin, it is not." He stroked her hair.
"What are we going to do?" She clutched his shirt tighter.
She no longer spoke of the servant girl, she wanted to know about their safety.
"We will be careful. And Karin?"
"Yes?" came her small voice.
He pulled back so he could catch her eyes.
"If this ever comes to something bigger... I do not know, perhaps war breaks... being in this place or in the home of any other family loyal to Sigismund... to be found a Hussite will not mean irons, it will mean the sword. Do you understand?"
A small sound escaped her.
He hoped she did understand. If there were war between the two, Hussites would be considered traitors in the eyes of the royals, and traitors were executed.
Still unable to speak, she nodded at him.
He pulled her back into his arms and held her as tightly as he dared, feeling the full force of the ferocity of his love for her.
* * *
Deputy Frantisek busied himself with the Constable’s new recruit, Jakub. He trained him on the many processes of the office. As they went through the routine cell checks, making sure they were clean, secure, and ready for the next unfortunate soul who crossed the line of the law, he tested Jakub’s observation skills.
"Did you hear about the happenings in the village last night?" Frantisek asked.
Jakub returned a blank stare. "Another batch of brawlers get thrown out of the pub?"
"Not everything we do involves dealing with drunks," Frantisek said with modest scorn in his voice. Although, he had to admit things had been rather slow since Jakub joined up. Constable Borivoj had also kept Jakub from the real investigative work until he became more acquainted with him.
"A party from the royal family’s chateau visited Hradek Kralove and was almost killed on their way back when their carriage collapsed on the hill to the east."
"What? How?" Jakub’s eyes gleamed. Having joined only a few weeks ago, he became rather bored with breaking up drunken fights. He was chomping at the bit to hear a real case.
"Not too many answers. But they were on the edge of the road closest to the big drop-off when one of the wheels collapsed. My understanding is that one, maybe two, of the party were inside, and they just got out before it slid off the side of the hill and smashed to pieces."
"Has the Constable assigned anyone to investigate?" Jakub asked, hopeful.
"Investigate what?" came the booming voice of the Constable as he entered the jail. Had he already returned from talking to the local magistrate?
"The incident of the carriage collapsing on the way to the royal family’s chateau. I understand the occupants barely made it out." Frantisek turned to face the Constable.
Borivoj stomped closer, his eyes hard on Frantisek. But they also seemed to ask him to continue. Should he? Dare he not?
"I heard about it this morning from one of the servants restocking the larder at the local butcher. He was gossiping with the other servants."
"Hold that thought." Borivoj stormed into his office.
Frantisek didn't move a muscle until he heard Borivoj summon them. He obeyed, moving in that direction, Jakub by his side.
Borivoj was opening a notebook and grabbing at the nearest quill. "Did you catch this servant's name?"
"No, but he might have been part of the cooking staff. I could point him out." Frantisek swallowed hard. Why didn’t he pay more attention?
"Hmmm," Borivoj mumbled as he scribbled the note. "Did he say who was riding in the carriage?"
Jakub piped up, "I heard three, maybe four men…and a woman from the chateau were in the village."
Borivoj waved his hand.
Would Jakub have more information?
After a moment in which he didn’t seem to realize he should continue, Jakub’s words rushed out, “Frantisek was showing me the local pubs, and the barkeep at the larger one on the corner pointed out the special party. There were four men seated and a fifth — so, maybe it was five men — came in and spoke to them for a few moments before leaving. I overheard them mention that a young woman was with them." Jakub looked back and forth between the two men. "Is that helpful?"
Deputy Frantisek watched him with a slight nod. "We always need to observe. You never know when something may be important. What do you think, Constable?"
After Borivoj finished scrawling the details into his ledger, he left it open to dry while he took a few minutes to muse over this new information.
"I do not know," he said after some pacing. "I have heard several things over quite some time. There is not anything solid to proceed with, but I have kept notes. Anything involving the nobility, especially those connected to the royal family can be... delicate. So you must keep word of this to yourself." He gave them each a stern look. "That is all I can say." With that, he closed the ledger and dismissed them.
After they had left Borivoj’s office, he closed the door.
Jakub continued to walk into the jail while Frantisek held back. Was it now? Could he address this with the Constable now?
"What is the matter?" Jakub said, turning toward Frantisek.
"Nothing. Just another matter I need to discuss with the Constable."
Jakub sighed, heaving his shoulders. It was clear he knew he was being left out.
"I need you to sweep out the cells."
Jakub gave him a reluctant nod, moving in that direction.
Frantisek shifted his attention back to the Constable's strong door and gave it a light knock. "Constable?"
"Come in," Borivoj called.
Frantisek entered, making sure to secure the door behind himself. Walking closer to the desk
, he stopped just short of Borivoj. "Constable, is there something else going on?"
"I'm not sure." Borivoj chose his words with great care, examining his deputy's features.
"I understand that some things need remain secret, but how can I have your back if you do not let me know what is happening? How many years have we served together?"
Borivoj seemed to be contemplating how much, if anything, to share. "Frantisek, have you heard of other accidents involving the Viscount or the chateau?"
"On rare occasion...what have there been...maybe three?" Frantisek replied. Was the Constable leading him somewhere? Had he decided to trust Frantisek with something of a delicate nature?
"Eight. And spanning almost ten years," Borivoj said.
It couldn't be. But he did not doubt the Constable or his numbers. Still…ten years? There was one thing that confused him. "You have been here many years, but this dates back before your tenure."
"The third time I heard of an incident at that chateau, I got a hunch there might be something more to these accidents. So, I started collecting notes," he said, pausing. He gave Frantisek one of his hard stares. "You must realize the delicacy this involves. If there is something happening at the royal family’s chateau, we must have an solid case before we ask the slightest question, or the king would have our guts for garters."
Frantisek sat down. He was starting to see why the Constable was slow to include him. "What do we do?"
" Keep collecting facts and listen for any news . Don't even think of starting an investigation. You hear how Jakub got wind of last night's incident from a gossiping servant? Believe me when I say gossip flows in all directions. If we start asking questions without proper cause, news will travel fast." Borivoj nodded in the direction of the door where, not far beyond, Frantisek knew Jakub had gone back to checking the cells as directed.
"He doesn't know the ropes yet and might trip in his eagerness to solve something. We must leave him out, or he will ruin any chance of uncovering something sinister."
Frantisek gave a silent nod. He understood. "Can we even inspect the remains of the wreckage?"
"I have already been there and collected what notes I could. I found one wheel intact, and it was clear it had been cut by blade."
"Then—" Surely that was enough!
But Borivoj cut him off. "I know this may seem to be the opening we need. But we must tread with careful steps, and I am thinking about how to proceed with this proof."
Frantisek nodded. He would do as Borivoj said. Mind his step and watch the boundaries. But he would keep his eyes and ears open.
* * *
Karin had not packed a gown appropriate for a ball, so the Viscountess ordered that a gown be made. And so measuring and fitting sessions filled Karin's days. These sessions seemed to last forever. The initial planning and measuring took place in the Viscountess's private cabinet, a place where Karin had yet to be invited.
"It will be good for us to spend time together, I think," the Viscountess said as the seamstress, introduced as Anastazie, set out fabric selections. "Your days have been full of isolation and young men. Not that time with attractive, fit young men is a tragedy." The Viscountess laughed.
Karin could not help but smile, her face warming as her thoughts shifted to Pavel's physically fit and attractive physique. "No, my lady."
"Please, I want you to call me Pavla," she said.
"I don't know if I could do that," Karin said, surprised at the Viscountess’s suggestion.
"But I insist." The Viscountess touched her arm. "It pains me we haven't become better acquainted."
"You have a grand house to oversee," Karin said, "I understand."
"You are too kind," the Viscountess said, her words thick like syrup. She glanced toward Anastazie.
Karin’s gaze followed. The seamstress had finished laying out the fabric choices.
"Now, enough of that. Let us come and pick out your colors to start with."
The Viscountess led Karin to the couch to look at the rich greens, blues, reds, and golds. One by one, the Viscountess held them in front of Karin, putting them down in one of two piles. One pile was the fabrics about which she shook her head, and the fabrics in the other pile were the ones she would cock her head to the side about and make a quizzical face. Karin figured "no" and "maybe," respectively. But when the Viscountess picked up a deep forest green, her face lit up.
"This is the one," she said more to Anastazie than to Karin.
Was Karin's opinion irrelevant?
"The dress designer needs a fabric from this selection as well." Anastazie indicated a subset she had laid out. Those fabrics coordinated with the one the Viscountess had already chosen.
The Viscountess made a quick selection, a dark green heavy satin with a gold damask pattern. Not what Karin would have chosen, but she dared not speak out against her hostess.
Anastazie motioned for Karin to stand before the mirror to be measured.
The Viscountess took a seat nearby and signaled a servant to serve her a beverage.
The dressmaker undressed Karin to her chemise. It was not the first time Karin had been measured, but it was a bit odd to be in naught but her chemise in front of the Viscountess and the strange seamstress. Her family had used the same dress designer her whole life. But there surely was no reason to be embarrassed, so Karin pushed those thoughts to the side.
It would be different as well that she was to have no say in the gown. Even the dresses commissioned by her mother bore something of Karin’s opinion. Still, she would not speak back to the Viscountess if the older woan wanted to plan a gown for her.
Karin and the Viscountess spoke little while Anastazie worked. They exchanged talk of the weather, shared words about the young men in the house, and talked of the current fashions.
"It is good we are becoming better acquainted," the Viscountess said, sipping her drink as she watched Karin move this way and that for the seamstress.
Karin had great difficulty discerning the truthfulness of the Viscountess’s statements. The woman reminded Karin of a fairytale character with a golden tongue. Did everything from her lips sound overtly charming?
Karin was all too grateful when Anastazie assisted her back into her garments.
The Viscountess ordered a drink brought for Karin as well. Once Anastazie finished, the Viscountess bade Karin sit with her for a few moments. Then she spoke with the seamstress.
"Beata has the dress design we agreed on?"
"I saw the design this morning," Anastazie said, gathering the fabrics.
"Good." The Viscountess’s smile was perhaps a little too wide. She waved her hand and Anastazie scurried from the room.
"What were we speaking of? Ah, yes, we were becoming better acquainted.” The Viscountess shifted to catch Karin’s eyes. “I have not yet solved the mystery of what brings you to the chateau."
"My parents wished for me to have time away," Karin said, shrugging as she raised the cup to her lips.
The Viscountess’s eyes narrowed as they continued to study Karin. Why did it seem as if they bore into her?
"Come now, my dear." The older woman placed a hand on Karin's. "You can trust me. I am nothing if not discrete."
"Forgive me, my lady, but I have told you what I can." Karin fought the urge to inch away from the Viscountess. She wished to create distance between those deep eyes and herself. "Perhaps your husband might share more if you but ask—"
The Viscountess pushed away from Karin’s hand and looked opposite. "Clearly you do not wish me to know." Her tone had darkened.
"It is not so simple." Karin’s own voice was rather timid.
As quickly as she had twisted away, the Viscountess turned back, all smiles. "I am certain. Should you ever choose to trust me, I will always have an ear bent in your direction."
"Thank you," Karin said, a bit unsure. What had come over the Viscountess to cause such a change? Was there any way to know?
Karin stared at the cup, no
w resting in her lap, and wished for a reason to excuse herself. There might be cause to call up her outing with the young men. Perhaps if she chose her words well, it would make her excuse seem more reasonable.
"Please forgive me. I have forgotten the time, Viscountess. I promised to join the men for their afternoon outing. If you will excuse me," she said, standing.
"Of course, have a fine time," the Viscountess said, her tone dismissive.
Karin curtsied before exiting. She hated lying. The truth was that the men had said they would wait for her appointment to be concluded. But Karin found cause to stretch the truth. Forgive my deception, Father.
Making her way down the hall, she almost felt as if she were escaping. Had the measuring session been so bad? Or had she just been so uncomfortable in the Viscountess's presence? She could not be certain. But she was eager for fresh air and the invigorating exercise of a ride.
Moments later, Karin was secured in her saddle—as secured as she could be. It irritated her that decorum dictated she ride sidesaddle. The fact that her sleeves were as long as her gown did not help. What was the likelihood they would get tangled in the horse's legs?
"Ready?" Stepan called out. His eyes sought Karin’s. Did he need confirmation from her alone?
She nodded.
Everyone took off.
All except Karin. Her horse, a caramel-colored mare named Whiskey, wasn’t so eager. And she couldn’t fault the hesitation. Something made Karin uneasy on the horse.
Pavel lingered, keeping a modest pace with Karin. Did he sense her hesitation?
After some moments, they reached and maintained a fast trot, but it was not near quick enough to catch the others. Were the young men attempting to show off for her sake or would the spirit of competition been present regardless? Anything done on her account was lost.
Her focus remained on the horse underneath her—keeping control of Whiskey’s movements and maintaining her place in the saddle. Something was not right. Whiskey seemed skittish, and the saddle... something was not right.
Karin and Pavel breached the edge of the forest only to find that their friends were well out of sight and hearing. She wished them well on their race.
The Lady Bornekova Page 12
