The Secret Life of Lady Evangeline

by Jan Davis Warren

  “I was the happiest man in the kingdom. All afternoon we laughed and talked of our wondrous future, full of plans and expectations.” Sadness replaced the joy on his face. “Three months later we went to a large open market. She’d insisted she needed to purchase more items for the baby.” His voice lowered until Evangeline had to lean in to hear. “I’d stepped away to check out a vendor selling new weaponry and to visit with some old friends.”

  Evangeline took his hand, and he squeezed it.

  “I heard the screams of warning, but I couldn’t push through the wall of frightened people. A team of runaway horses dragged a broken wagon through the crowd like a scythe through a wheat field, cutting down everything in their path. In their wake people lay injured and dying. By the time I reached your mother, it was too late.” He rubbed his hand over his face, as if trying to remove the image. “Her injuries were severe. By God’s grace she lived, but we lost the baby. The physician told me that she might never be able to bear a child again.” He cleared his throat. “Yet here you are.” He patted her hand. “Now, that’s enough sad tales of the past. What else has happened to fill your voice with such sadness?” He stroked her face and dried her tears with the long sleeve of his nightshirt.

  His love and warm hug melted away the sorrow of their mutual losses, filling the void with his all-will-be-well assurance. As a child, she had believed he could fix anything wrong in her little world. His reassuring presence still soothed her fears, but she knew better. Only God could cure the evil that had invaded their lives and their land.

  She told him of the dead bodies she had found on the road, but not of seeing Henry. Was her father well enough to hear even more bad news?

  “I’ll have my servants search for the men to assure the dead receive a Christian burial.” He patted her shoulder. “What else? I sense there is yet more heavy news to share.”

  “I found out today that Ox and Urso Hemming, representing himself as Robert Greene, the Earl of Evanwood, have been using your name and the crown to murder and steal.

  “I’d heard of the stealing and murders but didn’t know that Ox was connected to our fake earl.” Lord Brighton adjusted his pillows to sit up straighter. “After my attempts failed to imprison the imposter, which cost the lives of six brave guards and eight faithful servants, I realized I have traitors among my staff. I dare not risk more lives when I had no idea whom I could trust. Not even Elsa has been able to ferret out the spies, so it was time to enlist some help. Two months ago I sent secret missives to the king and your husband, asking for their assistance.” His voice was once again strong.

  She slid off the bed to pace the room. His requests for help were a well-kept secret indeed, if neither she nor her friends had heard wind of it. Since Hemming and Ox now knew of Henry’s arrival, her father’s life could be at stake. How would she protect him?

  “I have had confirmation from each. I heard that a fine carriage with a guard was seen traveling toward the castle. It could be that Henry chose to come immediately, not waiting for the king’s troops.” He shifted to draw the covers closer. “And now it’s your turn. What more have you to tell me?”

  Not wanting her father to know of things that would evoke a scolding or worry, she’d avoided mentioning her reason for being on the road that day.

  “I was in the forest near the place where Henry’s carriage stopped. I saw him clearly but he did not see me. I heard a child’s cry come from within the carriage before he drove off.” To ease the knot of fear in her chest, she walked to the portico. Dawn’s early light shone on the activity in the courtyard below. Children played tag and mothers bent over wash tubs as they gossiped and kept a close watch on their brood. How could life appear normal with so much evil in their land?

  She turned toward her father.

  “I know deep within my heart that the child I heard is mine.” Her suspicion that her sister-in-law had hidden Evangeline’s child from her and the many other lies Evangeline had caught the woman in during her stay at the castle had spilled out in detail and brought forth sudden clarity of Millicent’s motive.

  The evil wench wanted Henry for herself.

  A memory stirred of meeting Henry for the first time at the king’s ball. Seventeen-year-old Evangeline had been flattered by the devoted attention of the very handsome and dashing twenty-one-year-old Henry. Their instant attraction kept them on the ballroom floor excluding all who might be tempted to intrude. A blonde woman with menacing dark eyes, wearing a beautiful green gown with a lower-than-proper scooped bodice, pushed through the crowded dance floor and tried to step between Evangeline and Henry. The brash blonde demanded he dance with her. He pried her fingers from his sleeve and quietly, but sternly rejected her. Adding insult to injury, Henry drew Evangeline away and introduced her to the king as his future bride. The spurned woman made such a scene with her tantrum that the king had his guards escort the woman from the castle with orders to keep her out.

  Evangeline realized that woman had been Millicent.

  “Come.” Her father patted the side of his bed.

  Evangeline returned to stand by the bed near him. She knew he couldn’t see her but his hearing was astute.

  “Even as a child you had premonitions that came true. At three, you cried and refused to go to the stables to visit your pony, which you loved. You insisted a bad dog was there, though all of the dogs were friendly. A fox, sick with rabies showed up at the stables that same day and attacked a stableman who barely avoided being bitten before putting the poor beast out of its misery. The next day you were happy to go to the stables.” Lord Brighton smiled. “I learned to listen whenever you mentioned a vision, dream or a warning.”

  “Then why didn’t I know about the brigands who tried to burn me alive in the lodge?”

  “Perhaps you did but in your grief you couldn’t hear the warning.” Lord Brighton smiled. “You have a gift from God, Evangeline, but you must keep close to the Lord to hear His whispers.”

  A cold chill stiffened her with resolve. She needed to get back to the abbey. It was time for the Fox to intervene. She had stayed too long, the morning was slipping away and there was much to do.

  “I received word that Henry and the baby might have been captured by brigands and could be at the old Danby farm.” She drew a deep breath. “His delay may be nothing more than a problem with the carriage. I must go and see if the report is true.” She pressed a kiss on her father’s forehead.

  A soft knock on the door sounded a moment before it opened.

  Evangeline tugged the veil into place to hide her face. Their trusted servant, Elsa, stepped inside.

  “Sister.” She bobbed a curtsy and came toward Evangeline with a welcoming smile. “I didn’t know you were in the castle. My spies are getting slack.” She chuckled, but Evangeline doubted that much got past their faithful servant, with the exception of the traitor who was passing on information to the Earl of Evanwood. The sad fact was that some people were willing to do anything for a few coins. No matter how clever the traitor thought they were, the truth would prevail. Evangeline had known Elsa most of her life and the elderly servant heard of everything that went on in the vast castle, village and surrounding farms. She sat down a tray of food for Lord Brighton.

  “Elsa, I’m sorry I can’t stay and visit this morning, for an emergency has arisen and I must return to the abbey.” She handed the basket of herbs to her and snagged a warm breakfast cake to satiate her hunger. “By now, you are as well versed in using these healing herbs as I.” She hurried to the door. “I’ll return with more as soon as I can.”

  “Good bye, Lord Brighton. I’ll return soon.” With Elsa there, she couldn’t say more.

  “Good bye, Sister. I look forward to our next visit. God go with you.” Concern blanketed his words.

  Taking a seldom used passage, Evangeline avoided the fraudulent Earl of Evanwood, his men, and the servants who roamed the castle. She slipped from the castle through the same tunnel she’d taken to enter
.

  The walk to the abbey was long, though she knew she’d made it in far less time than it usually took to travel the distance to the castle and back. Freed of the burden of deceiving her father, her body was energized by the knowledge that her dear father knew the truth and still loved her unconditionally.

  When she arrived at the abbey, Anna was milking one of the two nannies in the newly built pen. The young mother spoke soft and encouraging words, coaching the goat to give more. Little Angus fussed beside her.

  “I’m almost finished, babe.” Anna patted the child then resumed her chore with joy in her voice.

  Not to be hindered with questions, Evangeline skirted the yard and kept out of sight until she reached the edge of the abbey, then slipped inside unseen. A far cry from the castle, the abbey was a modest structure of three rooms. A large stone fireplace covered one wall to her left and was once used to heat and cook. With the fear of burning the structure to the ground, she’d avoided using it since her one attempt to use it to cook a meal resulted in filling the abbey with smoke and sparks. It was far safer to cook outdoors over the stone fire pit.

  To the right, a small doorway led to the prayer chamber, but rotting roof beams had collapsed months ago, rendering that room uninhabitable. The remaining thatched roof over the main room had huge holes that let rain and creatures in, but the back room where she stayed was still mainly dry and safe. She opened the heavy wood door, stepped inside her chamber and waited until her eyes adjusted to the dark interior. Thick stone walls held up heavy beams which angled down until the thatched roof almost touched the ground, forming a lean-to at the back of the abbey. Light through the opened door allowed her some visibility. The almost cave-like windowless chamber had sparse furnishings. A small rickety table held the chipped water pitcher, a tallow candle and her Bible. It was a dungeon compared to her airy bedroom with the high ceilings and large windows in the castle. Everything appeared untouched. She hid the gold in the hole in the wall and replaced the stone. Confident it was safe, she cleaned up the dust left behind on the floor then washed her face and hands. She tugged the veil in place and smoothed her habit.

  A screech of alarm sent her running to the door. She clutched her dagger and wished she’d kept the short sword she’d left in her room at the castle.

  One of the brigands she’d seen pursuing the carriage held Anna with a blade against her throat, another waited on a horse nearby.

  “What is going on here?” Evangeline held the dagger at her side, the other hand readied to free the blade concealed in the large cross she wore around her neck. A touch would release the mechanism that would separate the blade from the holder. She held it at ready.

  “So you don’t know where the Sister is, huh?” The man shoved the girl away and she rushed to her squalling child. Picking Angus up, she hurried to Evangeline’s side.

  “I didn’t know you were home, Sister.” Anna glared at the man who had accosted her. “Tis the truth.”

  “I just arrived.” She patted the girl on the shoulder and turned toward the two men who waited in the yard. The man on horseback had a bound leg. He held the other man’s horse.

  “You the nun who heals?” The man on foot had a dirty bandage around his right hand. With a menacing look of determination, he stalked toward them.

  Evangeline whispered to the girl, “Take your child into the forest and don’t return until these men have gone.” She stepped in front of her, to cover her escape.

  “I can’t leave you alone.” Anna’s courage warmed Evangeline.

  “God is with me. Protect your child. Now go!” Evangeline waved her hand behind her back for her to leave.

  Before the girl reached the trees the brigand on horseback cut her off, and the one on foot rushed forward and grabbed her by the hair jerking her to a halt. She struggled against his hold to maintain her grip on Angus.

  “I didn’t say you could go, little girl.” The man pulled Anna toward Evangeline.

  “Release them at once!” Evangeline prepared to strike. Her anger made the words hoarse and terse. With a swift glance at her two opponents to assess her options, she readied to do whatever was necessary to keep the girl and her child safe. Drawing a calming breath, she searched her thoughts for a way to free Anna and best these marauders.

  “I am Sister Margaret Mary.” Appearing helpless would give Evangeline the element of surprise and supply her with a certain advantage, so she relaxed her stance.

  “Then it’s you we’ve come to get.” The man on foot continued his approach, dragging the terrified Anna behind him, making her struggle to remain upright while keeping the screaming child tightly within her grasp.

  “Let them go, and I will discuss the matter with you.” Evangeline raised her voice to be heard over the wailing.

  “I give the orders here. Come with me or watch these two die before your eyes.” He stopped in front of Evangeline and grinned, showing rotting teeth and a glint of blood lust in his eyes. Jerking Anna to his large barrel chest with his bandaged hand, he again pressed a knife against her throat with the other.

  “Stop!” Evangeline commanded with a regal tone of one used to being obeyed. She stepped forward. The hilt of the dagger bit into her fingers. With her training, Evangeline had the skills to disarm the two injured brigands. She took a stance ready to do what was necessary to protect Anna and Angus. Save us Lord from the evil ones.

  “S’il vous plait, Sister. Please. His Lordship’s very ill. If you no want him to die, you must come now.” The man on horseback rode closer.

  His mention of Henry stayed her from lunging forward to free Anna by plunging her dagger into the brigand’s arm.

  Until the king’s soldiers arrived, she was Henry and the child’s best chance of escape. To free them she needed these men to take her to them without delay, but she wouldn’t allow them to hurt Anna or her baby.

  “Griswold, release ma fille and her bebe.” The Frenchman ordered. “We must hurry to avoid the castle guards patrolling the road.”

  The man with the bandaged hand grumbled in protest but released the young mother and her child. Anna again rushed to Evangeline’s side. They appeared physically unharmed.

  “Go! Hide in the woods until we’ve gone,” Evangeline whispered before she turned and stepped toward the men waiting in front of her.

  A quick glance behind her confirmed that Anna had used the crumbling abbey for cover and made her escape unhindered.

  “Let’s go.” The one called Griswold grabbed Evangeline’s arm in a punishing grip.

  “First”—she jerked free—“I need to gather my healing herbs.” Grabbing a large basket from the end of the garden, she released the dagger and let it remain hidden in a secret pocket in the folds of her habit. She used the garden knife she’d left inside the basket to cut the fresh herbs and plucked dried ones from the fence where they were hung.

  “Why take the dried up ones?” The man called Griswold hovered by her side.

  “Because drying concentrates the potency and makes them able to be ground into a fine power to make a poultice or for drinking.” She headed toward the abbey to fetch her bag, which contained clean linen for bandages and the items needed to sew up wounds.

  A rough hand on her shoulder halted her steps.

  “Enough.” The brigand’s unwashed body and foul breath made Evangeline’s stomach revolt in protest.

  “Unhand me.” Royal indignation rose in her voice. She slapped the man’s injured hand with the flat side of the garden knife. He yelped and released her. Regret was immediate when she saw a murderous anger fill his eyes and flush his face.

  She shoved the knife into the basket of herbs, stepped back, and raised her empty hand in surrender. “If you want me to tend to your wounds as well, I must fetch my travel bag, which contains the necessary supplies.” She edged toward the abbey’s opened door. “It’s just inside the doorway.”

  He stomped close behind her.

  “Here.” She grabbed the leather
bag and shoved it into his chest, making it necessary for him to grab it. “You can carry it.”

  He backed out of the way while she pulled the heavy door closed, allowing her to take the lead toward the man on the horse.

  Griswold hurried up from behind, pushing her forward with his elbow. When they reached the mounted rider, Griswold handed up the basket and bag before turning toward Evangeline. Without warning, he grabbed her by the waist and threw her onto his horse, then leapt up behind her. He grabbed the reins and kicked the animal into a gallop, making Evangeline, riding side-saddle, cling to the horse’s mane to stay on. The breeze from the ride kept a certain amount of the man’s stench at bay.

  She felt the brigand lean against her. Thankfully, her habit kept a barrier between them.

  “Maybe you got something in that bag to keep that tot from squalling, too.”

  A whispered prayer of thanksgiving shot up to the heavens. The child was alive. With an urgency to see for herself, she willed the horse to go faster.

  The jarring trip seemed to take forever before they turned down an overgrown path and she knew where they were headed. As Wren reported, the prisoners were being held at the Danby Farm. The place she had thought to stay the night before the twins showed up on the road to lead her to the castle, God’s divine intervention, no doubt.

  Remnants of the burned out barn, like a charred skeleton, stood a hundred paces from the vine-covered, abandoned farm house. A sound, like a whispered moan, moved through the tall trees surrounding the property and sent a chill down her spine.

  The men pulled the horses to a halt. Griswold jumped down and pulled her off the horse with an iron grip.

  A frequent nightmare washed over her. Panic stole her breath. Something about the familiarity of the scene stirred old memories of her near death by the hand of just such brigands. The remote surroundings, the blackened remains of a fire that had taken the lives of good men, the foul smell of her captors and their bruising treatment—all were part of her horror.