“Fine.” Evangeline dismounted, tied Misty to the back of the cart and joined Helen. “Did you know the king has suspended taxes in this region for three years?” At Helen’s gasp of delight, she grinned. “It might be because of all the gold and grain recovered from Hemming’s thievery. The king still got his tax money, just all at once. The bulk of the grain was distributed fairly to the people and kept them fed through the winter and spring.” The tax burden relieved from the peasants and farmers shoulders would provide a great incentive to plow as many fields and raise as many crops as they could manage. Even immigrants were welcomed to come and find employment with promise of an allotment of land for those willing to work hard. It was good to see so many happy people.
With everyone eager to put the past behind them and willing to work hard, a great deal had been accomplished in such a short time.
"It's wonderful to know the restoration on the building is finally complete." Evangeline glanced over at the abbey as they passed by. The money Evangeline had hidden in the wall had been put to good use toward that effort.
"And with the many generous donations, the workmen were also able to enlarge the chapel." Helen shifted positions to get more comfortable.
"Everything has worked out better than we could have hoped, Amen." Evangeline smiled, knowing even the money Henry had hidden in the carriage had been recovered. Besides contributing to the work done on the abbey, a good portion of those funds were needed to repair the castle from neglect and replace the lost wages of the servants who had become unpaid slaves during Hemming's occupation. The castle was once again a happy place to work and live.
“How are all of our friends?” Hope warmed Evangeline’s heart.
“Busy as us, but eager to have the gang together again one last time. So much has happened since The Fox and his gang retired.” Helen turned the cart down a well-used lane toward the old mill.
“We went from a feared band of outlaws to peace-loving, law-abiding citizens. God is good.” Evangeline had a rush of gratitude for the better-than-could-have-been-expected outcome. Only the traitor, Mouse, had died. The rest of their gang had done well in the region’s new era of peace and prosperity.
“Wren, her mother and younger brother moved from living in the cellar beneath the old Danby farm house to occupying their home again. Their farm has flourished since a young farmer was hired to help them rebuild the barn, repair the house and plant the land. He and Wren have grown close. I predict before the wheat is harvested the two will wed. The new priest, Father Benjamin has stayed busy announcing marriage banns and performing marriage ceremonies since he arrived.” Helen laid a hand on her protruding abdomen. “I never knew life could be this good.” She glanced at Evangeline with a glow of contentment.
“I know what you mean.” Evangeline leaned over to give her friend a quick hug. She hoped one day their children would become as close friends as she and Helen. “How about Owl and Sparrow?”
“Owl has also remarried. Her husband is younger than her by a decade, but has earned her respect with his hard work and is shaping up to make a fine blacksmith under her mentorship.”
“The old mill is working!” Evangeline pointed to the waterwheel turning.
“I cannot remember when last it ran. It’s hard to imagine how fast they repaired it.” Helen kept the pony pointed toward a newly built addition to the smaller mill doubling the space.
“Henry thought it important to have a working mill nearby to accommodate the farmers and their harvests.” Evangeline turned to check on Misty, who plodded along behind the cart. The mare shook her head with impatience at the sedate pace.
“Since her late husband once owned the mill, Sparrow supervised the repairs with the help of an apprentice, a Scot from Glasgow, someone Henry recommended. I heard the Scots’ first few weeks were a bit rough, including very loud and heated discussions between him and Sparrow about how to repair and improve the mill’s mechanics.” Helen laughed. “I think they are getting along much better now. Who knows? Father Benjamin may be called to wed them or bury them after it is all said and done.”
Evangeline joined in her laughter.
“The rest you will have to wait and find out for yourself. We are here.” Helen drove the cart into the clearing next to the Mill and stopped under the shade of two towering oaks.
The door of the mill opened, and her friends poured out leaving no doubt that the gang had survived and flourished since they had last been together.
The Fox’s gang had been thrown together by necessity and forged into a sisterhood by a righteous cause. Their connection would be forever bonded by friendship far stronger than the restriction of class between servant and high-born. At least in this place and at this moment they were all equal.
After Evangeline’s lengthy confession to Father Benjamin, he had strongly advised she refrain from mentioning her part as the Fox to anyone, including Henry or her father. She had agreed it was indeed a secret part of her life best left buried in her past. Only these brave women knew each other’s real identities, and they had all sworn a vow of silence on the matter. Her secret was safe with them, for they had proved themselves trustworthy. They had as much to lose as she, if the truth of the matter ever came out.
The legend of the Fox had grown with the rumors he had put to right the wrongs of Castle Brighton. With the resurgence of the Fox, no one would ever guess the part these women had played in setting things right here. If rumors were correct, Griswold, as the Fox, had continued righting wrongs, making him and his gang welcomed by villagers wherever they went. Even songs were sung in his honor, no doubt something Griswold would appreciate in his quest to fulfill his new calling.
It was time she left her secret life behind and wholeheartedly embraced her most important role of Lady Evangeline of Castle Brighton, wife and mother.
After she left this place today, she would no longer be associated with the Fox…unless.
She frowned and shook off the thought. Only God knew what tomorrow might bring.
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Don’t miss The Sword and the Secrets, book 2 in the Secrets series!
Chapter 1
1209
England
“Aarrgh!” A second too late, Lord Henry John Stanton III pivoted to the left, and swung his sword in a tight arc to deflect the sharp blade that grazed his midsection. The coppery smell of blood and the sting of pain triggered the battle rage of the warrior he once was.
Using the flat of his blade and a heavy downward thrust, he aggressively disarmed his sparring partner. The rush of the fight surged through his veins, driving his every instinct to strike harder. Attack with lethal force.
No! Shaken, John threw down his sword and took three steps back. “I…” But for God’s grace, he had almost delivered a killing blow. How could he have let the fight take hold of him so?
John swiped his hand across his eyes. Too many sleepless nights from fighting the relentless dreams. Those nightmares plunged him into never-ending bloody battles and kept him exhausted. His last encounter with the enemy, ten months ago, had left him near death and ended his two year service in the king’s army. Memories he would give anything to forget. So much death and destruction and…
The large, raised scar on his side burned with fresh intensity.
“By the saints!” His best friend, William, rubbed his bruised knuckles and released a string of unsavory curse words. His gaze met John’s, then dropped to John’s torn tunic with its growing stain of fresh blood. William motioned to the crimson-stained tear with an expression of horror and regret. “I tripped.” He ran his uninjured hand through his hair and hung his head in defeat. “Is it bad?”
“No.” John growled, raising his tunic to examine the wound. He swiped away the blood, then cleaned his hand against the ruined fabric.
“I’ll replace your tunic.”
“Hang the garment. A hair’s breadth closer and you would be explaining to my family why you killed their only son.” John’s voice rose in anger, not because of his wound, but at how close he’d come to ending William’s life. He retraced his steps, picked up his sword, and with a shaky hand shoved it into its battle-scarred scabbard.
“That would not be a conversation I’d likely live to finish.” William paled as he swiped the sweat off his brow. With a groan of frustration, he bent down, retrieved his fallen sword, and gave it an angry swing, lopping off the tops of a patch of tall weeds. “It’s all the fault of…” He didn’t finish his thought and, instead, pushed his sword into its war-worn sheaf, and then picked up a woven bag from the ground. “I must not be the only one distracted to allow my blade to come so close.”
“Aye.” John slapped his friend on the back to show there were no hard feelings. Neither were of a mind to continue their sparring, so they shouldered their equipment and ambled back toward Brighton Castle. “I’m glad the glen is far from prying eyes, or the whole village would be ablaze with embellished details of our swordplay.” John glanced around to confirm there were no witnesses.
“Your sister…” William waved his hand at John’s torn tunic. “I should have never yielded to her last request.”
“I assume you refer to Elise.” He checked his wound and found the scratch had stopped bleeding. “I am more inclined to blame our injuries on our equal lack of focus.” John’s desire to help William keep his skills honed was the only reason he would wield a sword again. Boastful pride and arrogance on the battlefield had cost many unnecessary deaths, including the hostages they’d sought to free. Their screams still tormented even his waking thoughts.
“John?” William raised his voice to get his friend’s attention.
“What?” John rubbed his hand across his brow to erase his thoughts, then glanced over at William to show he was listening.
“I said, certainly ’tis Elise I’m speaking of.” William sent him a look as if John were daft. “Your eldest sister, Sarah, is long married and lives near London, and I cannot imagine someone with aught against quiet, little Hanna.” He loosed a deep sigh. “How can three sisters be so different?”
“So what has Elise done now?” John adjusted his pace with William’s slower, more awkward, gait. His middle sister always seemed to have her hands in something.
“This.” William tapped his right leg with his scabbard, receiving a dull thump. They had met at the glen, and John had been so consumed with his own problems he hadn’t noticed until now. William’s pant leg was usually tied just below his knee, exposing a pine peg, but now the garment fell to his ankle where a shoe appeared.
He stopped and raised his pant leg. “See?” A carved wooden leg, with an attached foot enclosed in a leather shoe, was visible. “It’s heavy and awkward. This thing caused me to stumble, and is the reason my blade came close enough to strike you.”
William’s limp became more pronounced the longer they walked. He stopped at a tree stump and sat. “I can’t stand it another moment.” He unstrapped the wooden leg, held it up, and pulled off the shoe to show John.
“Hmmm.” John barely suppressed his laughter at the detailed sculpting of the foot with individual toes and toenails. It must have taken his sister weeks to carve such a life-like foot. “’Tis a work of art. What don’t you like about it?”
“It’s too heavy and, in spite of the padding, it rubs a blister when I wear it.” He lowered his bag and pulled out a simple, lighter-weight piece of carved pine, which was wide enough at the top to fit his stump, then narrowed to a dull point. It was scarred and discolored from daily use, quite a contrast from the smooth and polished limb he’d removed. The pine peg had a hollowed out top, lined with a thick pad of wool to cushion his stump.
He folded his pant leg and used the straps to attach the well-worn peg leg in place. “I know she means well, but why she insists on trying to invent a better leg is beyond me.” He tapped the wooden peg. “This works fine and I’m able to do most anything I did before.”
“She just wants to help. Besides, I think she’s a bit smitten with you since you saved my life.” He waited while his friend stuffed the carved masterpiece inside the bag and stood.
“Smitten?” He shook his head and walked on. “She’s destined to marry someone with a title, a lord or maybe even a prince. Not a low-born, crippled soldier.” His protest hinted at his regret.
“You earned your knighthood in battle. I heard the commander give the scribe orders for your commendation.” John wondered if those orders had been lost, since no mention was made about a ceremony after the commander was killed in battle shortly after.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t think anyone thought either of us would live long enough to receive such honors after our last battle.” William adjusted his bag to his other shoulder. “Such a title still wouldn’t make me a noble.”
“I don’t think my parents are as determined to find a suitably royal husband for Elise as you apparently are.” He sympathized with his friend’s dilemma, but he knew of his parents’ concern that Elise’s unorthodox interests and refusal, as she put it, to being bartered off to a stranger in an arranged marriage, had already made the process of finding her a suitable husband a challenge.
“When I think of what I heard happened to the last candidate who came to court her…something about singed hair and beard.” John’s humor could no longer be withheld, and it bubbled out in undisguised laughter. “Elise’s version of the matter was simply that the pompous windbag got less than he deserved after he tried to take liberties with her while she was in the middle of a volatile experiment.”
“If I’d…we’d been there, the scoundrel would have suffered far more than singed hair.” William’s angry tone and scowl confirmed John’s suspicions.
His friend was indeed in love, or at the very least, in danger of falling deeply in love with Elise. The thought lightened John’s mood. The man who saved his life would make a worthy husband for his unique and creative sister.
“William, we grew up together, and are close as brothers, but I still do not understand your fascination with Elise. I love my sister, but she has been taking things apart and inventing contraptions since she was able to use tools.” John allowed another chuckle to escape. “My parents never knew if the furniture would hold together after she’d been around.”
“Aye. I remember an incident involving a visiting dignitary.” William’s scowl was replaced by the crinkle of laugh lines.
“I think that was when she was twelve. After the wheels came off the king’s magistrate’s carriage, she confessed to the vandalism. All because she wanted to see how the blacksmith had fashioned the new brackets that attached the undercarriage. That cost my father a new carriage to replace the broken one and a lot of futile promises of keeping my sister in hand in the future.” John smiled at William’s lighter gait. “My mother finally insisted Elise be given a tutor to direct her inventive passion and a shop of her own to experiment to her heart’s desire, safely away from anything in and around the castle.”
John stopped as the sound of thundering hooves headed their way. “Looks like we’re about to have company.”
Two riders galloped toward them, slowed, and then stopped a short distance away. His mother, Lady Evangeline, and the subject of their discussion, Elise, waited as the men approached.
“Good day, gentlemen.” Lady Evangeline nodded to William, then focused on the bloodstain on John’s torn tunic. Her gaze met his, and he smiled with a slight nod of assurance for his wellbeing.
She frowned, making it clear there would be further discussion as she examined and doctored his wound when he arrived home. “Son, we must start for London first thing in the morning. The girls are almost packed,
but your servants said you’ve done nothing in preparation for the trip. They said you’ve decided to travel later. Is that true?”
Her expression of disapproval stirred John’s conscience, but did nothing to dissuade him from his decision.
“I’ve decided to wait and leave in week or so. Before I leave, I’ll help William track down the predators killing our sheep.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, for he had intended to offer his help with the hunt. A glance at William showed he was avoiding eye contact with either woman. As an honest man, he wasn’t a good liar, and John had not discussed his decision to leave later, or about helping him with the hunt, something he would address once the women had gone.
“I heard you have a gift for me?” John turned his attention toward his sister, hoping to avoid being questioned further. His mother had an uncanny way of knowing when her children were hiding something from her, and he wasn’t ready to discuss his decision with his family just yet.
“Hanna told you?”
When John confirmed with a nod, Elise smiled. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but that’s all right. It’s my latest invention. I’ll give it to you when you get home.” Excitement edged her tone, but Elise couldn’t keep her eyes off of William. She frowned when she spotted him wearing the old peg leg, sending her gaze up to the carved foot sticking out of the top of his bag. Her mouth opened, and then closed without speaking as she glanced from William to their mother.
“This trip is supposed to be a family outing. I know Sarah will be disappointed when you don’t arrive with us.” Lady Evangeline was not to be deterred by idle conversation.
The Secret Life of Lady Evangeline Page 24
