Three French Hens

  Brinna held her breath in horror as the woman, who could only be Joan's maid, approached. At any moment the woman would cry out in horror once she saw Brinna up close and realized that her eye color was all wrong and her features just a touch off--but it never happened. Instead, Brinna's eyes were the ones to widen in realization as she saw the clouds that obscured the woman's eyes leaving her nearly blind. Brinna was safe for now, so long as she kept her mouth shut. But she had to figure a way out of this mess by morning, else she might find herself spending the day watching them dig a grave to bury her alive in.

  Brinna stood silently between Royce and Lord Laythem, her head bowed to hide the color of her eyes and her shaking knees. She couldn't be sure whether they shook from her fear of discovery, or the fact that she had been standing with her knees slightly bent all throughout the priest's short morning Mass in an effort to appear an inch or so shorter so as not to give herself away to Joan's father.

  It was fate that had brought her here. Fickle fate, blocking her at every turn, making escape impossible. First her clothes had left the room on Joan's back; then Joan's maid had arrived to usher her to bed before settling herself on the pallet before the door, ensuring that no one entered ... and that Brinna couldn't leave. She had spent the night wide awake, tossing and turning, as she tried to find a way out of this cauldron of trouble. The only thing she had been able to come up with was to simply slip away at her first opportunity, find Aggie, get her to find her something more appropriate for a servant to wear, then do as Sabrina had suggested.

  Fate had stepped in to remove that opportunity as well. She simply had not been given the chance. Joan's maid had barely risen in the morning and begun to fuss around Brinna before the door had burst open to allow Lady Menton and a bevy of servants to enter. Aggie had been among them, and Brinna had waited stiffly for her to say something, but the woman who had raised her from birth seemed not to recognize her as Brinna was bathed, dressed, and primped. It wasn't until just before Royce arrived that Brinna had realized that the woman had known who she was all along. The bath had been removed and Lady Menton and the rest of the servants had left with it when Aggie had suddenly stepped up to her and placed a silver chain about her neck.

  "Yer necklace, m'lady. Ye can't be getting married without this," she had murmured. " 'Twas yer mother's."

  Brinna had lifted the amulet that hung from the chain in her hand and peered down at it, her eyes widening as she recognized it as the one that Aggie had worn for as long as she had known her.

  "All will be well," the old woman had whispered gently, and Brinna had gasped.

  "You know!"

  Giving her a sharp look of warning, Aggie had gestured to Joan's maid, who was busy digging through the chest, then chided Brinna gently. "I've known from the beginning. Did ye think I wouldn't when I met that other girl in here?"

  "But what do I do?"

  "You love him, don't you?"

  Brinna's answer had been in her eyes, and Aggie had smiled. "Then marry him."

  "But--"

  "Here we are." Joan's maid had approached then with a veil for her to wear, and Aggie had merely offered Brinna a reassuring smile and slipped from the room. Then Joan's maid had veiled her, Royce had arrived, and she had found herself making the walk she had made every day since taking on this foolish masquerade. Only this morning she had known she was walking to her death.

  Mass this morning had been delayed and shortened due to the wedding, but now the priest had finished it and moved on to the ceremony while Brinna struggled with what to do. She knew what she should do. Throw off the veil that half-hid her features and proclaim who she really was before this went any further. Unfortunately, fear was riding her just now. While Brinna loved Royce, she certainly did not think that she could not live without him. She was quite attached to living actually. In fact, the more she considered how some poor smithy had been killed for daring to misrepresent himself as his lord, the more she loved life.

  "Do you, Joan Jean Laythem, take Royce to be your ..."

  A rushing in her ears drowned out the priest's voice briefly, and Brinna felt the sweat break out on her forehead as she swallowed some of the bile rising up in her throat.

  "Love, honor, and obey ..."

  Love, she thought faintly. Aye, she loved him. And she thought he might actually love her, too. But how long would that last once he realized how she had tricked him? Good Lord, he would loathe her. How could he not when she was taking the choice away from him. Tricking him into marriage with a scullery maid.

  "My lady?"

  Blinking, she peered at the priest, suddenly aware of the silence that surrounded her. They were waiting for her answer. Her gaze slid to Royce, taking in the expression on his face. It was two parts loving admiration, and one part concern as he awaited her response. Swallowing, she tried to get the words out. I do, she thought. I do. I do. "I don't."

  "What?"

  Brinna hardly heard Lord Laythem's indignant roar as she watched the shock and alarm fill Royce's face. Shaking her head, she gave up her slouching and stood up straight and tall, wondering even as she did what madness had overcome her. "I cannot do it."

  "Joan?" The confusion and pain on Royce's face tore at her.

  "You need the dower for your people. If that were not so ... But it is, and I cannot do this to you. You would never forgive me. And you shouldn't forgive a woman who could do that to you."

  Royce shook his head in confusion. "What are you saying?"

  "I am not Joan."

  There was silence for a moment, then Royce gave an incredulous laugh. "You jest!"

  "Nay. I am not Joan Laythem!" Brinna insisted, and her heart thundering in her chest, she ripped the veil from her head. As those there to witness the occasion leaned forward in confusion, wondering what they were suppose to be seeing, she whirled to face Lord Laythem. "I am naught but a scullery maid. I--your daughter--I was sent to tend to Lady Laythem when she arrived because her lady's maid was ill. When she realized how similar we were in looks, she insisted I take her place for Lord Royce to woo," she ended lamely, despair and resignation on her face.

  "Joan." Lord Laythem turned her to face him, then paused in surprise as he noted the extra inches she suddenly sported. Frowning, he shook his head and looked her grimly in the eye. "Joan, I--green," he declared with dismay.

  Royce frowned, his stomach clenching in concern at the expression on the man's face. "My lord?" he asked warily.

  "Her eyes are green," Lord Laythem said faintly.

  "Nay, my lord." Royce frowned at him, his own eyes moving to the lovely gray orbs now filling with tears of fear and loss. "Her eyes are as gray as your own."

  "Aye, but my daughter's are green."

  Royce blinked at that, then shook his head with horror. "Are you saying this is not your daughter?"

  "Aye," he murmured, his gaze now moving slowly over her features, taking in the tiniest differences, the smallest variations with amazement, before he recalled the problem before them and asked. "Girl--what is your name?"

  "Brinna," she breathed miserably.

  "Well, Brinna, are you saying that since my daughter has arrived here, you have been Joan?"

  "Aye," she confessed, shamefaced.

  "Even in the stables?"

  Her face suffusing with color, Brinna nodded, wincing as Royce cursed harshly.

  "And where is my daughter now?" Lord Laythem asked, ignoring the younger man.

  "She ran off to marry Phillip of Radfurn last night," Brinna murmured, turning to peer at Royce as she said the words and wincing at the way he blanched. Knowing that all his hopes for his people were now ashes at his feet, she turned away in shame, flinching when he grasped her arm and jerked her back around.

  "You knew her plan all along? You helped her?" he said accusingly with bewildered hurt, and Brinna bit her lip as she shook her head.

  "I helped her, aye, but I didn't know of her plan. Well, I mean, I knew she did not want to marry
you and that she was looking for a way to avoid it, but I did not know how she planned to do so. And ... and had I--I didn't know you when I agreed to help her, I just--she offered me more coins than I had ever hoped to see and I thought I could use them to make Aggie comfortable and--" Recognizing the contempt on his face and the fact that nothing she was saying was helping any, Brinna unconsciously clutched her mother's amulet and whispered, "I'm sorry."

  "Look, girl," Lord Laythem began impatiently, only to pause as his gaze landed on the amulet she was clutching so desperately. Stilling, he reached a trembling hand to snatch at the charm. "Where did you get this?" he asked shakily, and Brinna swallowed nervously, afraid of next being accused of being a thief.

  "It is my mother's," she murmured, recalling what Aggie had said as she placed it around her neck. Brinna had always known that Aggie was not the woman who had birthed her, but since Aggie had always avoided speaking of it, Brinna had never questioned her on the subject.

  "Your mother's?" Paling, Lord Laythem stared at her blankly for a moment. Then, "What is her name?"

  "I don't know."

  "Of course you know, you must know." He gave her an impatient little shake. "What is her name?"

  "She doesn't know."

  They all turned at those words to see Aggie framed in the chapel door. Mouth tight with anger, she moved her wretched old body slowly through the parting crowd toward them. "She's telling the truth. She doesn't know.

  I never told her. What good would it have done?"

  "Aggie?" Brinna stepped to the old woman's side, uncertainty on her face.

  "I am sorry, child. There was no sense in yer knowing until now. I feared ye would grow bitter and angry. But now ye must know." Turning, she glared at Lord Laythem grimly. "Her mother was a fine lady. A real and true lady in every sense of the word. She arrived in the village twenty-one years ago, young and as beautiful as Brinna herself. The only difference between the two was that her eyes were green."

  Her gaze moved from Brinna's gray eyes to Lord Laythem's own eyes of the same gray-blue shade before she continued. "I was the first person she met when she arrived. She told me she was looking to buy a cottage and perhaps set up shop. My husband had just passed on and we had no children. We used to run an alehouse from our cottage, but it was too much for a woman alone to handle, so I sold her our cottage. When she asked me to stay on and work with her, I agreed.

  "As time passed, we became friends and she told me a tale, of a pretty young girl, the older of two daughters born to a fine lord and lady in the south. The girl was sent to foster with another fine lord and lady in the north, where she stayed until her eighteenth year, when the son of this lord and lady got married. The son returned from earning his knight's spurs three months before the wedding."

  She glanced at Lord Menton meaningfully, nodding when his eyes widened at the realization that she spoke of him. Then her gaze slid to Lord Laythem again. "He brought with him a friend--and it was this friend who changed our girl's life. She fell in love with him. And he claimed to love her, and to want to marry her. Young as she was, she believed him," Aggie spat bitterly, making Lord Laythem wince despite his confusion.

  "They became lovers, and then just before his friend's marriage, her lover was called home. His father had died and he had to take up his role as lord of the manor. He left, but not before once again vowing his undying love and giving our girl that." She pointed to the amulet that hung around Brinna's neck and grimaced. "He swore to return for her. Two weeks later a messenger arrived to collect our girl and take her home. She returned reluctantly only to learn that her parents had arranged a marriage for her. She refused, of course, for she loved another. But her parents would hear none of it. Marriage was about position, not love. Then she found out she was pregnant. She thought surely her parents would cancel the marriage and send for her lover then, but they merely pushed up the date of the marriage, hoping that the intended groom would think the babe his own. Our girl collected all the jewels she had and took part of the coins meant for her dower and fled for here, where she knew her 'love' would eventually return for her as he had promised.

  "She came to the village because she knew that if she approached Lady Menton ... your mother, my lord"--she explained, with a glance at Robert--"she would have sent her home. She thought that if she hid in the village, she would hear news of when her lover returned, yet not be noticed by the people in the castle. So, she waited and worked, and grew daily with child.

  "Time passed, and I began to doubt her lover, but she never did. 'Oh, Aggie,' she'd laugh lightly. 'Do not be silly. He loves me. He will come.' " She was glaring so fiercely at Lord Laythem as she said that, that Brinna was getting the uncomfortable feeling that she knew how this was going to end.

  "He didn't, of course, but she kept her faith right up until the day she died. The day Brinna was born. She had walked to the village market as she did every day for news, and she returned pale and sobbing, desperately clutching her stomach. She was in labor. A month early and angry at the upset that had brought about her birth, the babe came hard and fast. She was barely a handful when she was out. So wee I didn't think she'd survive the night."

  Aggie smiled affectionately at the tall strong girl beside her as she spoke. "But you did. It was your mother who didn't. She was bleeding inside and nothing I did could stop it. She held you in her arms and named you Brinna, telling you and me both that it meant of nobility. Then as her life bled out of her, she told me what had upset her and brought about her early labor. She had heard in the village that her lover had returned. He was here visiting the young Lord Menton. He had arrived early that morning.... With his new bride, our girl's own younger sister." Aggie's hard eyes fixed on Edmund Laythem. "Brinna's mother was Sarah Margaret Atherton, whose sister was Louise May Atherton Laythem."

  Brinna gasped and turned accusing eyes on the older man standing beside Royce. She was blind at first to the tears coursing down his face.

  "They told me she was dead," he whispered brokenly, then met Brinna's gaze beseechingly. "Robert knew of my love for your mother and sent word to me that she had been called home. I moved as quickly as I could, but winter struck before I got affairs in order and could leave. As soon as the spring thaw set in I hied my way south to Atherton, but when I arrived, it was only to be told that she was dead. Her parents offered me her younger sister, Louise, in her place. I was the lord now and expected to produce heirs as quickly as possible to ensure the line, and she looked so like Sarah I thought I could pretend ..." His voice trailed away in misery. "It didn't work, of course. In the end I simply made her miserable. She wasn't my Sarah. Sarah was full of laughter and joy, she had a love for life. Louise was more sullen in nature and shy, and all her presence managed to do was remind me of what I had lost. In the end I couldn't bear to be around her, to even see her. I avoided Laythem to avoid the pain of that reminder."

  Taking Brinna's hands, he met her pained gaze firmly. "I loved your mother with all of my heart. She was the one bright light in my life. I would give anything to be able to change the way things worked out in the past, but I can only work with the now. I am pleased to claim you as my daughter." Pausing, he glanced at Royce, then squeezed her hands and asked. "You love him?"

  "Aye," Brinna whispered, lowering her eyes unhappily.

  Nodding, he then turned to Royce. "Am I right in assuming that you love my daughter?"

  Royce hesitated, then said grimly, "I don't know who your daughter is. I thought she"--he gestured toward Brinna unhappily--"I thought this was your daughter, Joan. Now, it seems she is a scullery maid who is your illegitimate daughter and that she was pretending to be Joan so that the real Joan could run off with my own cousin. I won't be married, I won't get the dowry my people need, I--" He paused in his angry tirade as Brinna gave a despairing sob and turned to hurry out of the church.

  Lord Laythem watched his daughter flee, then turning determinedly on Royce, he straightened his shoulders. "Leave your anger at h
er deception aside and search your heart. Do you love Brinna?"

  Royce didn't have to think long at all before saying, "Aye, I love the girl, whether she is Joan or Brinna, lady or scullery maid. I love her. But it matters not one whit. My people depend upon me. I have a duty to them. I have to marry a woman with a large dower." He heaved a sigh, then straightened grimly. "Now if you will excuse me, I shall leave and see if I cannot accomplish that duty and at least--"

  "You have the dower." At Royce's startled look, Laythem nodded. "We had a contract. Joan has broken it. Her dower is forfeit. Now you need not marry for a dower. You may marry as you wish. If you love Brinna, I would still be proud to have you for a son-in-law."

  Royce blinked once as that knowledge sank in, then whirled to the priest and grabbed him by the lower arms. "Wait here, Father. We'll be right back," he assured him, then whirled to chase after Brinna.

  Lord Laythem watched him go with a sigh, then smiled at his friend Lord Menton as he and his wife stepped forward to join him.

  "I didn't know," Robert murmured, and Lady Menton stepped forward to squeeze Edmund's hand. "Had I realized that Sarah was in the village, I would have sent a messenger to you at once. And had I known she had a daughter here--"

  "I know," Edmund interrupted quietly, then arched an eyebrow at his friend's daughter, Christina, as she stared after the absent Royce, shaking her head with slight bemusement. "What is it?" he asked her.

  "Oh nothing really," she murmured, giving a small laugh. "I was just thinking that if Brinna is your daughter, she too is half-Norman and they really were three French hens after all." When he and her parents stared at her blankly, she opened her mouth to explain about the day she had found Sabrina, Brinna, and Joan in a huddle, and the comment she had made about "three French hens," then shook her head and murmured, "Never mind. 'Twas nothing."

  Royce rushed out of the chapel just in time to see Brinna disappear into the stables. Following, he found her kneeling in the straw where they had made love, sobbing miserably. Swallowing, he moved silently up behind her and knelt at her side. "J-Brinna?"