The Healer's Apprentice

  Oh, how could I have said I loved him? I’m forever humiliating myself. She covered her face with her hands.

  “Now don’t be upsetting yourself. You need to rest and get well. I’ll be back.” Frau Geruscha took down her cloak from a hook beside the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I want to let Lord Hamlin know you’re better. He was anxious for you.”

  A rush of cold air blew in before she closed the door behind her.

  He was anxious for her. Exhausted, Rose closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. But she couldn’t help wondering what the repercussions would be to her stupidly declaring her love for a betrothed man.

  Someone knocked at the door. After two days of improvement, Frau Geruscha had just sent word to Lord Hamlin that he could come and visit. But Rose hadn’t expected him to come so…immediately.

  Frau Geruscha hurried to open the door, and Lord Hamlin stepped in.

  How could she look him in the eye after what she had said? Rose blushed and glanced down at the blanket covering her.

  She couldn’t help but take a peek. He was so handsome, with his unruly black hair curling against his neck and over his forehead. The memory of him holding her in his arms a few days ago had become more vivid as the sickness continued to subside. She could still feel his rock-hard arms, his broad chest, remember him comforting and assuring her that he would take care of her. Her heart skipped around like a scared rabbit.

  O God, please let me not act like a lovesick fool.

  Lord Hamlin looked serious as he pulled a chair up beside her. “I’m so happy you’re getting well.”

  “Thank you. Frau Geruscha said you brought me back from my ill-fated walk.” Maybe if I pretend I don’t remember anything…“I am grateful to you.”

  “I’m thankful to God that he led me to you.” His voice was low and thick. “I don’t believe you would have survived the night in the cold.”

  Rose fidgeted with the edge of her blanket, rolling it between her fingers. Where is Frau Geruscha? Lord Rupert comes and she hovers. Lord Hamlin comes and she disappears.

  A muscle in Lord Hamlin’s jaw jumped, and he looked away. He stood and walked to the window and stared out, rubbing his palms on his thighs. Then he came back and sat down beside her.

  Why did he seem so agitated? Rose thought of her declaration and felt her cheeks flush again.

  “I suppose you’ll be fully recovered in a few days.”

  “Yes, if God wills it.”

  “I should go. But I’m happy to see you’re better.”

  “Thank you.”

  He turned and put his cloak back on, nodding to her as he left.

  He’d had so little to say, yet he’d been so anxious to see her. Such odd behavior, as if he was as nervous about seeing her again as she was about seeing him.

  A week later, Frau Geruscha was summoned to Duke Nicolaus’s bedchamber. He was sick with fever and a bad cough. Rose was glad Frau Geruscha didn’t ask her to go. The duke could pierce a person through with one look from underneath his bushy black eyebrows, as she well knew. But Frau Geruscha had insisted more than once that he was a good man.

  Frau Geruscha gave him herbs for his cough and fever, but by the next day he was worse. He was having chest pain and chills and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Frau Geruscha came back from her visit to him with worry lines creasing her forehead.

  Wilhelm prayed, attending the chapel prayers every three hours, but still his father worsened. He knelt before the altar as the howling winter wind rattled the windows. Winter was a cursed time of sickness and death. Every year at least one household servant, or someone who worked within the confines of the castle courtyard, died because of the unyielding breath of winter.

  God, unless you give us a miracle, my father will die. Please save him. But perhaps he had no right to ask God to save his father too, after He had saved Rose.

  He stood, bowed, and crossed himself, then left the chapel to visit his father.

  When he reached the duke’s chamber, his mother was standing beside his bed crying. She looked up and said, “Run fetch the priest. Make haste.”

  Wilhelm ran out into the hall. He found Georg and Christoff and sent them to get the priest. He sent a servant to summon Osanna and Rupert then waited with his mother. They watched helplessly as his father drew one weak, shuddering breath after another, obviously unconscious. The chapel priest arrived, with Osanna and Rupert on his heels. As soon as last rites were recited, his father breathed his last, one week after he had taken ill.

  Wilhelm numbly put his arms around his mother and sister while they cried on his shoulders.

  He was now the duke and ruling prince of Hagenheim.

  Chapter 24

  Rose stood beside Frau Geruscha and watched the coffin pass through the castle courtyard. The cart carrying Duke Nicolaus’s body was flanked by six knights as it made its way to the Hagenheim cathedral for the funeral. Following behind on foot came Duchess Katheryn, Lady Osanna, Lord Rupert, and Lord Hamlin, although he was no longer Lord Hamlin. Now she would have to call him “Your Grace.” If she ever had occasion to speak to him again.

  A veil covered the duchess’s face, but Rose could still see her expression, stoic but drawn and sad.

  Lady Osanna slipped her hand underneath her veil and wiped her eyes. Lord Rupert looked meek and quiet for once, his hands clasped in front of him. But Rose only had a glance for them. Her focus was on Lord Hamlin—or Duke Wilhelm, as he would now be known, the region’s new leader.

  Her heart ached with compassion for him. He held his shoulders up and his head high, but Rose saw the weight of responsibility and grief in his eyes. She longed to throw her arms around him and comfort him. But she could never do that, especially now.

  He looked up and caught her eye. Rose’s heart went out to him. She did her best to make her eyes convey that she was sorry, sorry for the burden of grief she knew he was carrying. He gave her a lopsided smile as he passed.

  Frau Geruscha put her arm around her shoulders as she quietly wept. She was ashamed to realize that she wasn’t only weeping for Wilhelm, his father, or the rest of his family. She was a seventeen-year-old who didn’t belong anywhere, to anyone. In a few weeks she would lose the man she loved to another woman. And she was a failure at the only job she had ever tried to do.

  “Rupert, I need to speak to you alone.” Wilhelm looked at him from beneath lowered eyelids, daring him to refuse.

  Rupert’s lip curled. “Whatever you say, Your Grace.”

  Wilhelm led the way into the library and shut the door behind them. He turned to face Rupert. “Father had not yet signed the proclamation making you the bishop of Hagenheim. You will not be bishop. I’m bestowing the position on the cathedral priest.” He crossed his arms.

  “I see.”

  “But I have a proposition for you.” Wilhelm said a quick prayer and let his arms fall to his sides. “I want to marry Rose.”

  Rupert blinked.

  “I propose that the two of us change places. I will abdicate all my rights as the oldest son to you. You will be duke, and Duke Godehard’s daughter, Lady Salomea, will then be betrothed to you. I will inherit only the land, tenantry, and house that were formerly entailed to you.”

  Neither of them spoke while Rupert stared wonderingly at him. He lifted his eyebrows. Then he put his hand to his chin and stared at the wall.

  Wilhelm’s face grew hot as he waited for Rupert to speak.

  Finally Rupert looked at him and asked, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I agree.” Rupert’s eyes glittered as he smiled.

  “Very well. But I must first make the offer to Rose.”

  “Very well.” Rupert’s look was triumphant.

  “Listen to what I heard from Margrite, one of the serving maids at the castle.”

  Rose sat at Hildy’s kitchen table, having convinced Frau Geruscha to allow her and Wolfie
a visit to town. She didn’t feel much interest in the gossip, but she was glad to be with Hildy and away from her own life in the southwest tower.

  “Margrite said that Lord Hamlin—I mean, Duke Wilhelm—told Lord Rupert he couldn’t be bishop. His father had not yet made it official, and Lord Hamlin—the duke—would not go along with it.” Hildy arched her eyebrows. “Furthermore, I heard Lord Rupert was after Lady Anne. They were seen having a private tête-à-tête in the apple orchard several days ago.”

  “That sounds like the Lord Rupert I know.”

  “But at least you know he preferred you to her.”

  “Not exactly. He knew a duke’s daughter would never consent to becoming his mistress, but he believed a woodcutter’s daughter would jump at the chance.” Rose tapped her fingernails on the wooden table. “Don’t worry, Hildy. It doesn’t upset me. I realize that power and wealth mean more to him than love. He only wanted me when he thought he could have it all. And frankly, I’m glad I’m not Lady Anne, because I wouldn’t want to be married to Lord Rupert.”

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No. He would only break my heart until I grew to hate him. He’s a selfish, self-centered man.”

  Hildy stared.

  “I’m sorry, Hildy, but it’s true. I don’t love Lord Rupert, and I don’t think I ever did. Frau Geruscha was right. I should have asked God his will for me. But instead I let my emotions control me, for all the wrong reasons.”

  Rose hoped Hildy would understand.

  Hildy slowly nodded her head. “Lord Hamlin is the one you love, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, let’s not talk any more about it, please, Hildy. I’ve thrown myself on God’s mercy and I’ll just have to see what he does for me.”

  It was five weeks before Christmas, three weeks since Lord Hamlin’s father had died, making him His Grace the Duke of Hagenheim, or Duke Wilhelm, as his equals would call him. In three more weeks Duke Wilhelm’s betrothed would be brought out of hiding and presented to him at Hagenheim Castle. A week after that, they would be wed.

  Rose didn’t want to think about it, tried to tell herself it didn’t matter to her, and that if God was merciful, she would be leaving town after Christmas anyway.

  Today was also Rose’s birthday. Frau Geruscha gave her a new pair of gloves and had the cook bake her an apple cake. Her father came to wish her a joyful day before heading out to his work in the forest.

  “Thank you, Father.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and he smiled.

  A pang went through her at her father’s attempt to act as though everything was normal between them. She should have already gone to him and thanked him for taking her in, should tell him she appreciated him, and that he was a good father. But she hesitated and the opportunity was gone.

  In the afternoon someone knocked at Frau Geruscha’s door. Rose opened it to find Duke Wilhelm standing before her.

  “Good afternoon, Rose.”

  She recovered her composure, curtsied, and stepped back to let him enter. “Your Grace.”

  Duke Wilhelm winced, then gave her his one-sided grin. “How are you, Rose?”

  “I am well.” Rose tried not to betray her nervousness, but she seemed to have lost all grace herself as she jerked the door closed and fidgeted with the beads hanging from her waist. She wasn’t sure why she felt so breathless. He was the same man, except for the fact that he was now the duke.

  She finally remembered the appropriate words for the situation. “I want you to know how grieved I am about your father’s death. May God rest his soul.” Rose solemnly bowed and crossed herself.

  “Thank you. Will you sit with me?” He swept his hand toward the wooden bench against the wall.

  Rose sat and Duke Wilhelm took the space beside her. He looked away then brought his gaze back to her face. He shook his head and said softly, “You’re so beautiful.”

  Rose felt turned to stone. What did he mean? How could he say such an improper thing?

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  Rose jumped. Frau Geruscha appeared from the storage room and smiled warmly at Duke Wilhelm.

  Good. She didn’t hear him.

  “Good afternoon, Frau Geruscha.” He stood and nodded to her but did not move away from Rose, even though his nearness to her should have drawn a frown at least from Frau Geruscha. Surely she wasn’t afraid of offending “the duke.”

  “Let me say that I’m so sorry about your father,” Frau Geruscha said. “Is your mother well?”

  “Yes, I thank you, as well as can be expected.”

  She motioned with her hand. “Rose will take your cloak for you.”

  Rose jumped up so quickly she bumped the bench and almost knocked it over. Duke Wilhelm unfastened his wool cloak and swept it off his shoulders, revealing a purple doublet over matching hose. His sleeves were white with intricate gold embroidery—clothes fit for a duke. He let Rose take his cloak and hang it on a peg on the wall.

  “Well, I have a lot of work to do upstairs. I’ll be back down in half an hour.”

  Rose stared after Frau Geruscha. What work could she have to do upstairs? And why was she leaving Rose alone with Duke Wilhelm, announcing to them that they had a full half hour of privacy? The woman was clearly going daft.

  She turned to Duke Wilhelm. Remembering his last words to her, she blushed, trying to think why he would say such a thing.

  “I need to speak with you, Rose. Will you sit with me?” he asked again.

  Alarm welled up inside her. Could he mean to make some horrific proposal similar to Lord Rupert’s? Rose swallowed, trying to control her rising panic. But what choice did she have but to sit and listen? No one ever refused the duke anything. So she sat back down, clasping her hands together until her knuckles turned white.

  He sat beside her and leaned forward, his forehead creasing as though in concentration. Then he clenched his fist on his knee and stood up, pacing the room. Even Wolfie lifted his head and stared with one ear cocked.

  What was the matter with him? She opened her mouth to break the silence but he spoke first.

  “Rose, do you remember when you took care of my leg, when I was gored by the wild boar?” He came closer then sat down again beside her.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Well, I must confess to you that ever since that day…I’ve been struggling…with myself.” He suddenly stood again and strode across the floor, his hands clasped behind his back.

  Rose hardly dared to breathe as she waited to hear what he would say next.

  He glanced at her from the other side of the room then paced some more. “You’ve always talked to me as if I were a real human being and not the son of a duke. You’re genuine, gentle, and good.” He stopped and stared out the window. “I tried not to think about you. I even told God I would never touch you again after the ball when we danced together.” He turned his head to look at her. “But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I wanted to watch over you and protect you. I hated to think about you with Rupert, but I thought at least he would take care of you. But now—” He crossed the floor and knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his.

  Rose’s spine stiffened in surprise. Her heart raced at the fervor in his eyes.

  “I love you, Rose, and I’ve figured out a way for us to be wed.”

  Strange inklings of dread mingled with a surge of hope. She stared at him, wondering if she was dreaming again. She’d dreamed about marrying him so many times.

  “In three weeks my betrothed is coming here, to the castle. But Rose, I can’t marry her. I tried to believe that I could love her, and I’m sure I could have had I not met you. But knowing you, Rose, loving you as I do, I can’t possibly marry someone else. So I came up with a plan.” He took a deep breath, still clutching her hands between his. “I will abdicate all my rights as the eldest son to Rupert, and he will marry Lady Salomea. We will switch places as it were, and I will inherit his manor and he will be ruler of Hagenheim.”

  Ros
e took in his eager, expectant look, which softened to one of heart-rending tenderness. He bowed over her hands and began kissing her fingers, one by one.

  “No.” Rose shook her head slowly.

  Duke Wilhelm stopped. He raised his head and stared, waiting, looking painfully patient.

  “We can’t.” Rose’s chest felt hollow, her heart dead and still. Her shoulders became almost too heavy to hold up. She shook her head again. “You can’t.”

  His eyes grew big. “Everyone will say I’m insane, but I don’t care, Rose. Is it insane to marry the girl I love? A girl with golden brown hair, with gifts of beauty and goodness and storytelling?”

  “No.” She shook her head again. “I can’t let you do it.” Unable to bear the betrayed look in his eyes, she looked away. “You would regret it…regret me.” Pain welled up inside her as she listened to her own words. Please don’t hate me.

  “No, Rose, no.” He sounded angry.

  “You are the responsible one. Your brother is not half the leader you are. You know that. You would begin to realize you had made a mistake, and you would resent me.” She met his gaze. “I couldn’t bear that.”

  “I could never resent you.”

  Rose spoke softly. “One day you will be glad you took your rightful place and married Lady Salomea to protect your people. Duty is important to you, as it should be, and God will bless you for your sacrifices.”

  “Rose, please.” He bowed his head and squeezed her hands.

  O God, help me. The pain twisted inside her like a knife. Her heart was wrenched from her chest. Was Lord Hamlin hurting like this? I don’t want to hurt him. But it would hurt him more, in the grand scheme of his life, if she accepted his proposal now.

  He slowly raised his head and looked into her eyes. “Do you love me, Rose?”

  Rose squeezed her eyes shut against the raw hope in his gaze. “Please don’t ask me that.”

  “Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll walk away.”