The Merchant's Daughter

  “I can hardly believe how much has been done. They’ve worked quickly, haven’t they?”

  “It’s quite an army of men,” Ranulf acknowledged.

  It was certainly a stately home, even he had to admit. The stone front rose two full stories, its gray stone formidable. The wooden front door was wide enough for three people abreast, with long, black iron hinges reaching across it. The roof came to a point, and dipped and rose again at the two round towers on either side. Generous glass panes gave it a peaceful look, as no fear of besiegers had dictated the size of the windows. The beauty of it was undeniable, if he did think so himself, and there was much more house to come, extending far to the rear and to the north from the main section.

  Annabel was one of the few people from Glynval who had been to London, and so would have seen other buildings — churches and a few castles — to rival its eventual size, but even she seemed impressed.

  Ranulf led her to a felled tree in a shady nook where they could observe the builders without being noticed themselves.

  He took a deep breath and began, “We are friends, are we not?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “You are not an ordinary servant. You’re the daughter of a wealthy merchant.”

  “Perhaps at one time, but my father is dead and his ships were all lost. He died a poor man.”

  “Nonetheless, you grew up in a wealthy home. You are educated. You learned languages, learned to read and write. You’ve traveled to large cities. None of the other villagers can boast of these things.”

  Annabel questioned him with her eyes as she perched on the tree trunk a couple of feet away.

  “What I’m trying to say is that there is no one here for you” — he swallowed, having a hard time getting the words out — “for you to marry.” Except me. But he was foolish to even think those words. “And you told me once that you didn’t wish to marry. You wanted to become a nun. Is this still true?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Then I shall send you to Rosings Abbey. I know the abbess there. In fact, she is my mother’s sister. I have written to her and expect to receive her reply any day. Does this please you?” He did not allow any emotion to show in his face as he searched hers.

  Her expression showed interest — and joy. “Oh, yes, my lord. It pleases me. But are you sure you want to send me away? I was indentured to you for three years. My service has hardly begun.”

  Ranulf again had to swallow the lump in his throat before he could speak. “I don’t want to send you away, but I want you to be safe. You see, I will be sending you away in secret. Not even Mistress Eustacia knows my plans. If Sir Clement finds out you are going to an abbey before his investigation is over, he will prevent you.”

  “Oh.” Sober-faced, she stared out into the milling workers.

  “I wish to help you escape any repercussions from people here in Glynval once they find out you know who struck the bailiff. It is the only way to keep you safe from the jury’s inquest.”

  “Won’t Sir Clement come to the abbey and force me to tell what I know?”

  “Nay, you will be safe as long as you stay within the walls of the abbey.” He tried to take a deep breath, but his lungs were too tight. “And as for your service to me, you have done more for me in a fortnight than most other servants do in three years.”

  She blushed and looked confused. She stared down at her hands fidgeting in her lap.

  He wanted to tell her so much more, how she had convicted him of his bitterness toward women and how unjust that had been. She made him realize there were good people in the world. And though it was bittersweet, at least he knew he was no longer dead inside. He couldn’t tell her, but he enjoyed being with her, talking with her, seeing the sincerity of her feelings and the purity of her thoughts. God was obviously alive, alive in her. Hearing her thoughts as they read the Bible together had given him joy he had seldom known before.

  Perhaps he should tell her this, but it would only strain their friendship. She would be afraid of him if she knew the depths of his feelings.

  He sighed. He’d told her his plan. Now he must fulfill his promise to Sir Clement of trying to pry the identity of the bailiff’s attacker from her.

  “Annabel.”

  “Yes, my lord?”

  “Sir Clement and I know you saw who struck the bailiff. From what you say, he didn’t intend to kill him, but the bailiff still has not regained consciousness. I need you to tell me who you were with that night.”

  “How could I hurt him in this way?” She turned toward him, her forehead creased, her eyes pleading with him. “I have no right to keep the information from you, but how can I do such a traitorous thing to a friend who was only trying to defend me from Bailiff Tom?”

  Ranulf felt the heat rise up his neck. Once again, he wished he had been the one with her, the one to help her.

  “Annabel, if you tell me now, I will only tell the coroner after you’ve gone to the abbey. And I will make sure Sir Clement and the entire village knows that this person was defending you from the bailiff.” She seemed to be considering it, not looking quite as perplexed as before. “I promise I’ll do all I can to keep the person safe from repercussions. No one can blame him when they find out what the bailiff was doing to you.”

  “I don’t want you to be blamed, either.” Her lip quivered and tears swam in her eyes. But she swallowed and blinked the tears away. “I will tell you, but please promise me that you won’t reveal it unless you have to, to keep yourself safe from blame.”

  “I promise. But I need you also to tell me everything that happened. Don’t leave anything out. Then when this is all over, if the bailiff recovers, he can be properly punished.”

  She stared down at the ground, pursing her lips and blinking rapidly. His longing to reach out and comfort her was so strong it was a physical ache. But he held back.

  She took a deep breath and began telling about walking through the woods to the privy. She didn’t look at him, just stared at the ground while she talked.

  “He grabbed me. I tried to scream, but he put his hand over my mouth. I bit him on the hand, but he just held me harder, hurting my face. He dragged me off the path and into the woods.”

  She continued talking in a monotone voice, until she said, “He managed to take my knife, but I got away from him before he could really hurt me.” Anxiety seeped back into her voice as she said, “I tripped and fell, and I was so terrified.” She lowered her voice to a whisper as she said, “Then someone came and lifted me up.”

  “Who was it?”

  She didn’t say anything. A tear dripped from her eye.

  “Was it Gilbert Carpenter?”

  She shook her head.

  “Was it Stephen Blundel?”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “He’d heard me try to scream. I told him to run, but he picked up the rock to defend us from the bailiff. He threw the rock and it hit the bailiff in the head. And that’s all. If Stephen hadn’t been there, the bailiff might have caught up with me, and … he would have …” She shook her head and wiped her face with her hands as tears began streaming down her face.

  “So it was Stephen.”

  She nodded, her head down as she tried to hide her tears from him.

  The young furniture maker. He finally knew the protector’s identity, but seeing Annabel’s distress, he was almost sorry he had forced her to tell and to relive that terrible night.

  She leaned forward and grasped his wrist. “Please don’t tell anyone. He begged me not to tell. He begged me. Please don’t tell.”

  She was suddenly gripped with guilt. Had she done the right thing? Oh, Stephen, forgive me! I’m a terrible, traitorous friend. What would happen if the bailiff died and the coroner found out it was Stephen? Would Stephen be executed? Would he have to pay a heavy fine to the king and to the bailiff’s remaining family?

  He’d told her he had some money, and he was saving it to build a house for himself and his mother. His plans w
ould be destroyed. What would he think of her?

  Compassion was clearly etched on Lord le Wyse’s brow. He slid closer. “I’m so sorry.” He placed his arms around her and pulled her to him.

  She let him hold her against his chest. She was getting his shirt wet with her tears, but he didn’t seem to mind. When she started to sob, he held her closer, his arm cradling her shoulders.

  She should pull away, stand out of his reach, but instead, she leaned against his solid chest and let the warmth and comfort of his arms flow through her. But the worry over what would happen to Stephen came back.

  She lifted her head from his chest and grabbed his arms, holding him away from her. Choking back tears, she said, “I bind you, sir, to what you said before — that you are my friend. Please help Stephen if Sir Clement finds out about him.”

  “Please don’t worry. I will take care of Stephen and help him every way possible.”

  She sagged in relief, and Lord le Wyse pulled her back into his arms. Her head fell weakly against his shoulder.

  She should push him away. His arms were strong, but he would not force her to stay.

  But she didn’t want to push him away. He promised he would keep Stephen safe, and she realized she trusted him to do that. She heard his warm, deep voice say, “Don’t cry. All will be well.”

  She closed her eyes, savoring the warmth and closeness of him. She sniffed, and Lord le Wyse handed her a handkerchief.

  “I’m sorry.” She pushed back to wipe her nose and her eyes. She shook her head. “I-I shouldn’t be crying in your arms. It’s wrong. Please forgive me.”

  “I do not feel wronged.”

  His voice was so altered, so raw, Annabel looked up. Lord le Wyse’s expression was strange again, the way he had looked when she drew away from him in the upper hall after Sir Clement had finished his questions.

  Slowly, he reached his hand toward her face. Her heart trembled in her chest as he placed his palm gently against her cheek. His thumb caressed the damp skin under her eye. “I will miss you,” he whispered.

  Her skin tingled beneath his touch. She stared at his lips. They looked so inviting, so enticing. What would it feel like to kiss them, to feel loved? Before she could stop herself, she reached out and touched Lord le Wyse’s cheek with her fingertips, staring into his warm brown eye.

  The rough texture of his beard against her fingers seemed to bring her out of the fog in her mind. She pulled her hand away and leaned back.

  “Sweet saints above,” she whispered. Her heart hammered faster than any smith’s mallet as Lord le Wyse removed his hand from her cheek but continued to capture her gaze with his.

  Now what had she done? What did it all mean? They both sat, pretending to be calm, but she saw something in his eye that told her he was reining himself in … No, she was imagining things. Her lord would never … think about … what she was thinking about. He would never think about kissing her.

  Lord le Wyse closed his eye, breaking the connection. He turned his head slowly, as if the motion caused him pain, and stood to his feet.

  Annabel also stood. “I must go. Mistress Eustacia —”

  He nodded without looking at her. “You may go. Don’t worry. I won’t tell your secret unless I know I can keep both you and Stephen safe.”

  “Thank you, my lord.” She hesitated, not willing to leave him. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed to be watching the laborers as they worked on his house.

  After a few moments it seemed plain that he wanted her to go, so she turned and walked away.

  He was sending her away to live with the nuns. She would be away from the inquest, away from Sir Clement’s questions, and away from Lord le Wyse and the disturbing feelings he stirred within her.

  She couldn’t get to that abbey too soon.

  Chapter

  16

  Annabel’s thoughts skittered everywhere while she tried to help Mistress Eustacia cook. She dropped the basket that held the peas, strewing them all over the stone floor. She dropped the water bucket, spilling water over her feet. She dropped everything she touched until Mistress Eustacia sent her to the mill to inquire when the flour would be ready.

  As Annabel walked along the dirt trail carved by cart wheels, a heaviness filled her chest. Forgive me, Father God. I didn’t mean to betray Stephen. And as for Lord le Wyse, I shouldn’t be feeling this way about my lord.

  But soon she’d be at the abbey, away from him and away from these strange sensations. Then I’ll be good again, God. I’ll read your Holy Writ and pray every waking moment. She couldn’t disappoint anyone there. At the abbey she’d be away from people, and away from temptation and these troubling thoughts. Lord God, why does Lord le Wyse look at me in that way that makes my heart flutter like birds’ wings? Why did he touch my cheek? Forgive me, God, but it felt so good.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering as her cheek tingled.

  “Annabel!”

  She stopped abruptly. Stephen stood only an arm’s length away. A shudder convulsed her as she realized how close she’d come to smacking headfirst into her friend. She’d been walking with her head down, so lost in her thoughts …

  “You didn’t even see me.” Stephen’s look of amazement made her aware of how odd her behavior must appear.

  She shook her head, unable to make the effort to smile. “I was thinking, not watching where I was going. Forgive me. Are you well?” Cold fingers wrapped around her throat. What would Stephen say to her if he knew she’d betrayed his secret?

  “I am. How do you fare?” He looked at her so intensely, and leaned toward her so near that she took a step back.

  “I am well.” What would he think when she went away to the abbey in a few days? She couldn’t tell him, of course. Lord le Wyse had told her not to, and she couldn’t betray two people in one day. She would simply have to leave him a note.

  Stephen stared at her again with that strange look. He swallowed, making his Adam’s apple bob up and down, as though he were about to say something, then he closed his mouth.

  Finally, he spoke. “I hear the bailiff’s condition hasn’t changed. He’s still asleep.”

  Annabel nodded. “No one knows if he will recover.” That was why he was behaving strangely. He was thinking of the bailiff. Should she tell him that the coroner had questioned her? She never kept secrets from Stephen, but she was too ashamed of how much she had revealed to Sir Clement.

  “I-I try not to think about it, but I dream about it every night.” That was when she noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

  “Oh, Stephen, please don’t worry so much. I truly believe everything will be all right.” After all, Lord le Wyse promised to protect us, both of us.

  Stephen fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I know it was the bailiff’s fault for trying to hurt you, but I hope he doesn’t die. I don’t want that on my conscience.”

  “I know, but I’m sure God will forgive you. He will, Stephen.”

  He looked uncomfortable and changed the tone of his voice when he asked, “How are you faring with Lord le Wyse? I hear he has a horrible temper.”

  “Oh, no, he doesn’t.”

  Stephen gave her a quizzical look.

  “I mean, sometimes he can be harsh, I suppose, but he is good and fair and I can’t imagine he would ever mistreat anyone.” She thought about how kind he had been to her, how gentle, how he even comforted her …

  “You like him, don’t you?” A look of surprise and amazement spread over Stephen’s face.

  “W-what? Like him? Whatever can you mean? He is my lord. How can you suggest such a thing?” She clamped her mouth shut. She was protesting too much, as she inwardly cursed the blush that was heating her face.

  A slow smile came over Stephen’s face. “I’ve been wondering if you would ever notice a man. Now I see — “

  Annabel snorted. “You see nothing. I am only his servant.”

  “But he is a kind man? I am glad of
that.” Stephen winked.

  Annabel opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what.

  “I met a girl named Abigail,” Stephen said with a sheepish half smile. “She’s from Lincoln. Do you know her?”

  “Oh yes, she seems nice.”

  Was Stephen actually blushing? “She is nice.”

  “Why, Stephen! Are you sweet on this girl?”

  “Shh!”

  Annabel looked for the source of Stephen’s sudden panic, and saw a woman was coming down the road toward them: Margery, the miller’s young wife. Annabel quickly turned to Stephen. “We’ll talk later, but please believe me when I say that everything is going to turn out for our good. And I know God forgives you.” She gave him a quick embrace before Margery got close enough to hear what they were saying.

  Annabel continued down the road toward the mill. Seeing she couldn’t avoid Margery, she plastered a smile on her face and greeted the busybody blonde.

  “Oh, Annabel! I haven’t seen you since the day before you went to work as Lord le Wyse’s servant. Are you well? Has it been simply horrible?”

  “No, of course not, Margery. I am very well.”

  “I told you then that you should marry. I couldn’t believe you refused to marry Bailiff Tom! And now he’s — no one knows if he’ll ever be well again. So many terrible things happening in Glynval. Everyone says” — she lowered her voice and glanced over her shoulder — “that the new lord is cursed. He brought all these hardships on us.”

  “Cursed? That’s nonsense.”

  “Well, just look at him! With that claw for a hand and only one eye. If I ever saw anyone who looked cursed, it would be him. Although I can imagine he was quite handsome before — But that temper! Everyone says he’s a perfect beast, yelling and growling at people.”

  “Margery.” Annabel felt the anger rising inside her and struggled to stifle the ugly things she wanted to say. After taking a deep breath, she said, “I think it is a terrible thing to speak so of one’s lord.”