The Lady Bornekova

by Sara R. Turnquist

  Then she saw why he had avoided her gaze. There was sadness in his eyes. Was it as painful for him as it was for her? She allowed her mind to absorb his words. Would she be married to someone else? Have children with another? Belong to someone else? Not to Pavel?

  "No...” She shook her head, looking at the ground. It couldn’t be. Turning her face to look at him once more, she continued, “I have never heard any of this. Why would my father not tell me? It cannot be true!"

  "But it is, Karin," came his simple reply, his face downcast.

  "No!” The anger welling in her found it’s way out. Her words gained strength. “How can he care so little for my happiness?"

  Pavel faced the horse, his body still turned in that direction. Yet he made no further move to ready the saddle. "This marriage has been set and cannot be undone."

  Karin drew in a ragged breath. "Who…” She could barely speak the words. “Who am I to marry?"

  He closed his eyes against the truth. "Stepan."

  "Stepan?" She widened her eyes.

  "It is a match made from your birth. The Viscount will not disregard their agreement because we are in love."

  For the first time, Karin imagined a future without Pavel. It was almost too much to bear. Had it only been a few days ago she had been able to picture her future at all? Yes, the day he asked her to marry him. The future had seemed so bright then, filled with images of Pavel and the happiness they would have in a life together. Now those images were shattered, and there was nothing but darkness before her.

  Pavel brushed past her, bringing her back to the present. He continued to ready his horse. Was he leaving then?

  "Pavel, where are you going?" She reached for his arm.

  He halted. "I cannot stay." Meeting her gaze once more, she saw that his eyes were glazed with unshed tears.

  Could it be? She would not say goodnight to him this night or any other? Or see him the next day? It was too much.

  Tears ran down her face.

  "I cannot stay here. See you each day, be near you, all the while knowing I can never have you. I fear my heart would be beyond repair."

  "No," She shook her head, barely able to see him through her tears. With grasping fingers, she reached for him, clinging to his shirt, his chest, as if he were a lifeline.

  A crazy plan struck her. "I will come with you!"

  * * *

  Wiping at her eyes, Karin moved to grab another saddle. "We will run away together."

  Pavel strode toward Karin, coming up from behind and wrapping his arms around her, stilling her movements. "We cannot do that. Where would we go? Where would we belong?"

  "Who cares? As long as we are together." She shifted in his arms. Was she so determined to saddle a horse? Could he stop her? His hold on her was not tight, but she did not break free. Did she not truly want to?

  "It would not be right." He turned her to face him. "I will not shame you and your family. It is not God's plan, Karin." Gazing into her green eyes, he risked the loss of his heart forever.

  "How can it be His plan for us to not be together?" There was weakness in her voice. And sorrow in her eyes. It nearly broke him.

  "I don't know, but it is." He pulled her closer for perhaps the last time, allowing himself to linger in that embrace for longer than he should have. It tempted him to stay, to fight for her, to take her up on her offer of elopement—anything that would give them the happy ending they longed for. But it would be an illusion.

  Still, he could not help but catch her lips for one last kiss, and he tried to convey all of his affection and love for her in that last contact so she would never forget that there was someone who had cared for her to such depths.

  Karin’s hands clung to his shirt as if to never let go.

  He moved his hands over hers, intertwining their fingers before maneuvering her hands so he could press a final kiss to each one as he released her lips with a pang of regret. If only he could disguise the moisture in his own eyes as he pulled away.

  "I must go."

  Karin's shoulders shook with sobs that threatened to break free. "Please," was all she could manage.

  Mounting with one swift move, he focused on directing the horse. If he peered into her face one more time, would his resolve melt into concession?

  "Pavel!" she pled as he shifted his horse.

  But he couldn’t look back. He would never leave if he did.

  He urged the animal into a trot, then a cantor. And mere moments later, all sense of the stables and the chateau was far from his awareness. But he could not pull it…pull her…from his heart.

  * * *

  Petr watched much of the exchange between Pavel and Karin from the window of the study where he and Pavel had met several minutes before. Regret poured through him. He did not relish the pain his daughter must feel, but what he did was best for her and for their family. And that is what fathers do.

  It was obvious that she cared deeply for this young man, and it pained him to see her as she crumpled to the ground upon his departure.

  But young love was fleeting. Perhaps she could find a lasting love with Stepan. What Petr may or may not know about Pavel's standing or family was irrelevant. A binding agreement had already been made with Vlastik, an agreement which had not been entered into lightly, an agreement which the previous night he expressed his intention to fulfill. Petr's hands were tied, regardless of Karin's feelings.

  She would come through this infatuation in time. He was sure of it. All the same, his heart ached for his daughter as she fell to the ground, body wracked with sobs as Pavel rode away. And, as much as he wanted to give her this private moment, the members of the house would be moving about any moment.

  Karin must be retrieved lest the whole house be made aware of the situation. His decision to go after his daughter at once was also hastened as it started to rain. She, however, did not stir. Instead she remained, lost in her own world, ignorant even of the rain coming down upon her.

  In Petr’s desperation, it seemed to take forever to make his way through the halls of the chateau and out of the stables. As he knelt by Karin's side, lifting her face to his, he became aware of the extent of Karin’s pain. Her eyes reflected a hollowness.

  "Karin, come inside," he spoke in a volume to be heard above the wind and rain, but hoped it was gentle enough to coax his daughter.

  She looked through him, unresponsive to his request other than to move her chin from his grasp and drop her head into her hands.

  Petr leaned over her, moving close to her ear. "Karin, I know you are upset. You will come to understand in time. But there is no reason sitting out here in the rain. You are making a spectacle of yourself!"

  No movement. No sign of life except the heaving of her sobs.

  Petr cursed this stubborn streak. Gathering her in his arms, he prepared to carry Karin into the house. He was surprised that he did not met with resistance. She was limp.

  Moving toward the house, rainwater dripping from Karin’s dress, Petr did not stop until he arrived at her bedchambers.

  Mary was waiting, straightening the room. Upon spotting her master carrying Karin, she halted.

  Petr, however, did not pause. He launched into a series of instructions with a tone that communicated the need for immediacy. "The Lady Karin needs a warm bath and fresh clothes. She is unwell."

  "Shall I send for the doctor?" Mary stepped into motion behind Petr.

  "That will not be necessary. She has a bit of a chill from being out in the rain.”

  Petr sat Karin on a chair while Mary rang for assistance.

  Mary then moved toward Karin and began to unlace her dress.

  Karin remained still, motionless, as if in a trance. It could have been happening to someone else, for all the reaction she gave. She did not so much as flinch as Mary pulled at her wet clothing, exposing wet skin to the cool room.

  That was the last thing Petr noticed as he left Karin to her privacy.

  * * *

 
; The Lady Karin kept to her room in the days that followed. There was much talk among the inhabitants of the chateau of a relapse. Only Mary and Petr were permitted to enter her chambers. So it was just that—talk, speculation. Not only was Karin keeping to her room, but she remained bedridden in those days as well. This was not known either.

  Her caregivers could not make sense of it. She had not a fever nor sign of ailment. Yet she remained unyielding to any and all attempts to coax her out of her room. For the most part, she remained wholly unresponsive.

  Karin woke each day with no desire to get out of bed. Not even the dawn streaming through the window could brighten her mood. Her heart ached, yes, but it was more. The world no longer held promise; it was a dark place. Everything was so bleak, as if the darkness were something physical that could smother her. Many days she wished it would so she would not have to feel the way she did.

  She could not find the motivation or the strength to pray. This may have been the worst of it—to have no one to turn to. In the weeks prior, when she had been in such a hopeless situation, she always had prayer. When all else had seemed grim, she found solace in prayer. But there was no light to be found there now–nothing, it seemed, could penetrate this dreariness. And so it continued to envelop her, day after day.

  At long last, Father summoned a physician. But nothing was determined to be amiss physically. Though upon closer examination, the doctor did have an answer.

  "Your daughter is suffering from what is called 'melancholia'. It is caused by an imbalance in the body. She must get plenty of sunshine each day. Many cases of melancholia respond well to music and dancing. And you must make sure to keep her out, among people. Helping her find things which she enjoys will be the only way to help her restore balance."

  Karin heard all of this, but these things did not interest her. She looked to her father.

  He shook his head. Did he, too, think the task insurmountable? What would he do? Would he attempt to follow the prescribed plan?

  The doctor reached into his bag, rummaging for a few seconds before he pulled out a package of herbs and handed them to Mary. "Brew these into a tea twice a day and have her drink it slowly."

  Mary nodded.

  "Should I send for the girl's mother?" Father asked.

  Would that make things better? If Mother was here? Or would Mother’s concern make this worse?

  "I would recommend not. She needs companionship, yes, but I think she may need more of a firm hand."

  "Of course, doctor."

  The doctor laid a firm hand on Father’s shoulder then moved toward the door.

  "Thank you again, doctor," Father interjected. And the two stepped through the door and beyond the reach of Karin’s hearing.

  Karin had worn out her ability to follow their conversation either way. She had not a care for whatever would happen. Turning her head away, she longed for sleep to overcome her.

  * * *

  Zdenek, Luc, Radek, and Stepan had lost all sign of the animal they were tracking. Stepan glanced at his friends. They, too, appeared none the worse for it. No one seemed interested in picking up another trail. Should they return to the chateau? Continue to ride through the woods in silence? Neither seemed likely to quell the swell of anger within him.

  "Have you received word from Pavel?" Luc spoke into the thick silence. No one had dared speak of Pavel since his sudden, unannounced disappearance.

  "No," Stepan said, keeping his focus on something in the distance. What was in Pavel’s thoughts? Why had he not spoken to Stepan? Did their friendship mean so little?

  Turning toward Luc, he found three sets of eyes on him. "I had expected some manner of explanation…" Stepan paused. He wanted to offer some words on Pavel's behalf, but he had none. Pavel had neither informed him nor discussed whatever matter had arisen to cause him to quit the chateau in the manner in which he did. And to not have sent word added insult to injury.

  "Something of great importance must have pulled him away.” Radek’s features were set, solemn. Must he always seek out the best in everyone?

  "And what of this strange illness which has gripped Lady Karin?" Zdenek voice was low, laced with concern.

  "I, too, am distressed by it," Stepan replied, frowning.

  "Is it not a relapse of her earlier illness?" Luc quirked a brow. He always kept one ear tuned in to the household servants' gossip.

  The others fell silent. Were they each as Stepan—caught between their thoughts and emotions? Worried about both Pavel and Karin?

  Luc’s gaze flickered to Zdenek and his mouth rose on one side, a rather crooked, mischievous smile. "What of the girl from the ball? Eva, I think, her name was.”

  As much as his heart weighed, Stepan’s eyes cut toward Zdenek. Would his face color?

  “Zdenek?” Luc continued, “Have you had opportunity to call on her?" Though he spoke to Zdenek, Luc’s gaze flew between Radek and Stepan.

  And then it happened. Zdenek's face became bright red. What would he say?

  Zdenek hesitated. "I..." He licked his lips as his words trailed.

  "It does seem no one could place you afternoon before last," Radek said, looking at Stepan and raising his brows.

  "Oh?" Luc’s voice rose, glancing at Zdenek.

  His face deepened to another shade of red.

  Radek’s shoulders shook as laughter seized him. Then he cleared his throat. "What Zdenek does with his time is his own."

  "Thank you," Zdenek said. His eyes were on Radek, his mouth upturning slightly. Could it be gratitude for at least one understanding friend?

  "Especially if he wants to call on pretty young ladies," Radek said, before a fit of laughter escaped him.

  Zdenek frowned at his friend.

  Stepan joined his friends in their merriment at Zdenek’s expense. It was hopeless.

  * * *

  The following morning, Mary threw open the curtain upon entering Karin's bedchambers.

  Karin recoiled from the harsh light. She groaned and drew her covers closer to her face, shielding her eyes from the intrusion on her senses. But it was all for naught—Mary removed the duvet. A struggle over the covering ensued, but Karin's weakened arms were no match for Mary's strength.

  When Karin met Mary's eyes after the battle, she expected to find triumph or pity, or even perhaps a smug look. But the eyes which met hers were sad, sympathetic, and even regretful. It softened Karin's resolve and gave her the courage to sit up.

  What had the doctor said the previous day? Her memory of his visit seemed rather blurry. Still, Mary went about readying her. For what? Would she be forced from the room? Where would she go?

  Sunlight. The physician had spoken of sunlight. Would Mary take her to the balcony? How that would have excited Karin before. How hard had she fought for her trips to the balcony during her previous recovery? But now, it frightened her. The bed was a safe place, and getting out of it would be stepping forth into her life, a life she did not want to face. Couldn’t she just huddle into the warmth and safety of the bed? Refuse, once again, to face her life? Or would Mary, and even Father, fight her reluctance?

  Just one step at a time. Now that she sat in the bed, she needed to make it to the chair nearby. This chair was the same in which she would sit while Mary prepared her garments each day. It was safe, wasn’t it?

  Karin stole a glance in Mary’s direction. She busied herself selecting the things she would dress Karin in.

  Her gaze moved over toward Karin. Was she making sure Karin didn't fall back into the bed? Or perhaps because Mary wished she could find the words to encourage Karin?

  Mary pulled out one of Karin's favorite dresses—a comfortable burgundy dress made up of simple lines from a rich fabric. Next, Mary pulled a light kirtle from her trunk and began preparing them both.

  Watching Mary go about her business, Karin allowed herself to become lost in the monotony of her movements, to be distracted from the overwhelming task of getting out of the bed. While forcing her mind to
stay latched onto the ministrations of Mary's hands, Karin set first one foot, then the other, on the floor.

  It felt rather strange to stand after so many days of being in bed. There she stood, supporting her own weight. And nothing terrible had happened. She did it!

  Karin's next goal was the chair and, labored step by labored step, she moved ever closer. It was no easy task to reach it, but this, too, she accomplished.

  At last, she released her weight into its capable structure. The chair almost toppled as she dropped into it.

  Mary spun. Had the clattering noise been so loud? Seeing Karin in her dressing chair, Mary offered a small smile before turning back to her work.

  This was perhaps the first fully pleasant exchange between them, and it was the first stirring of hope within Karin in several days.

  * * *

  Deputies Frantisek and Jakub had spent the better part of their week inquiring around the village. Had anyone seen any strange goings-on around the grand carriage, which had been in the village the week prior? It was all for naught. No one could give Frantisek any information—at least, no useful information.

  A laundry woman said she may have seen someone near the carriage, but she did not know what the person was doing. The description of said person was average height, average weight, and brownish-blonde hair—perhaps.

  "It was dark," she explained to Frantisek.

  How was he to follow up on that? Better yet, how was he to take this information back to the Constable? Frantisek wanted to have something to take back to Borivoj, but it seemed as if he would return to the prison with nothing again—nothing but this witness statement that was less helpful.

  Borivoj would want Frantisek to follow up on it the next day, and he would have to figure out how to do so.

  Jakub was all eagerness at the start—a real police investigation. By now, even he was wearying on their questioning of each villager to return with no real information. So much for training him in investigations.

  Turning at the baker's shop, they made their way back to the prison. Upon entering, the sound of boots clomping on the floor echoed. Was the Constable pacing? Borivoj had assigned them to this task, so he’d had to cover all other calls.