A Melanie Dickerson Collection

  “This looks like an interesting group.” She smirked as she picked a rose off a bush and twirled it between her fingers.

  Lord Thornbeck’s lips formed a tight line and his brows lowered. Fronicka flitted around him, smiling and asking him questions about the garden and about what they would do today. Lord Thornbeck gave her one-word answers, then said, “I shall escort you ladies back to the castle now. I have duties.”

  Avelina and Magdalen walked together while Lord Thornbeck was forced to walk by Fronicka’s side. As soon as they were inside, he excused himself from them and walked away, his cane tapping the marble floor as he went.

  15

  THE SUN WAS barely up, and Irma was not, when Avelina glanced down at the note that had been slipped under her door the night before, still amazed at what it said.

  She made her way quietly down the corridor to softly knock on Magdalen’s door. She opened it without waiting, but just as she slipped inside, she caught sight of the guard at the end of the corridor, watching her.

  “Dorothea,” Magdalen said. “I am almost ready. Hegatha, will you finish lacing up the back of Lady Dorothea’s dress?”

  Hegatha frowned as she came around Avelina’s back and laced up the last few inches of her gown and tied it with little jerky movements.

  “Thank you.” Avelina gave her a smile, but the woman simply walked away to assist Magdalen with the last touches to her hair.

  When she was finished, they hurried out into the corridor and walked toward the stairs. The man who had been standing at the end of the corridor was still there.

  “Magdalen?” Avelina whispered. “Do you not think Lord Thornbeck is also taking the other ladies on outings like this?”

  “He might be,” Magdalen whispered back. “He might be doing it secretly, two ladies at a time, so no one will be jealous.”

  Avelina nodded. It seemed likely. “I don’t think he likes crowds.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Lord Thornbeck stood waiting for them.

  “You got my message, then. Good. Let us go.” They made their way down the hill via the stone steps to the stable. The early morning sun was spilling between the tree limbs and painting everything with a pale light. Lord Thornbeck wore a leather mantle, but his slightly wavy dark-brown hair was bare. He had a couple days’ growth of beard on his face, which made him look rugged and even more masculine than he normally did. Her heart beat strangely. When she went back to Plimmwald, she hoped she could remember exactly what he looked like at this moment.

  Lord Thornbeck checked both of their saddles carefully while his horse was being saddled beside him. He helped Lady Magdalen onto her horse, then it was Avelina’s turn.

  His grip on her elbow was strong as she stood on the mounting stool and put her foot in the stirrup. Lord Thornbeck lifted her onto the saddle. He looked her in the eye, and her breath stilled in her chest. There was such an intense expression on his face, but there was also something else . . . tenderness.

  He turned away from her, as though reluctantly, and limped up to his horse. He mounted while the stable boy tucked his walking stick into a loop on his saddlebag. Then they were off, riding slowly down the side of the castle mount.

  The manor house on Red Stag Hill was built of pale-pink stone. It stood just south of Thornbeck Castle and was the home of Jorgen and Odette.

  They dismounted and were greeted at the door by Chancellor Jorgen and his wife, whose servants took their cloaks. Next they were treated to a large breakfast of eggs, cold meat, and pastries with various kinds of sweetened fruit fillings.

  “Are there any cherry ones?” Avelina whispered to the servant who was offering them on a large platter.

  The servant pointed to one, and Avelina took it and bit into it. She sighed. Tart but sweet.

  “Is cherry your favorite?” Odette, who was sitting beside Avelina, asked.

  “Favorite pastry, favorite tart, favorite fruit.” They were all looking at her.

  “You do not eat them raw, do you?” Magdalen was staring at her. “Hegatha says uncooked fruit will make you sick, and she never lets me eat them uncooked.”

  “I confess I do. I have only sickened once from eating cherries, and I think that was because I ate too many.” Odette and Magdalen chuckled and Lord Thornbeck graced her with his slight smile.

  They talked and laughed, listening to funny stories from Jorgen, Odette, Lord Thornbeck, and Magdalen. Avelina even told her own story, about a servant boy who had stolen a bracelet from another servant, then tried to sell it to the young man who had given it to her in the first place. She told another story, a true one, about a puppy she tried to hide from her father. She had to change a few minor details, but they all laughed.

  She was not so different from noble men and women, and neither were Jorgen and Odette, even though they were not born into noble families either. But if they all knew that her father was a stable worker and she was a servant . . .

  They had long finished their meal and continued sitting and talking. Avelina wasn’t sure she had ever enjoyed herself so much. But was Lord Thornbeck truly singling Magdalen and her out, or was he taking other pairs of ladies out like this? Perhaps he truly did prefer Magdalen over all the other ladies and had taken them to Chancellor Jorgen’s home to escape Fronicka’s prying. But if that were the truth, why did he take Avelina with them?

  They spent nearly the entire day at the chancellor’s house, and by the end of their visit, it felt as if the five of them were longtime friends.

  As they prepared to leave for the castle, Avelina found herself standing near Lord Thornbeck. She would probably regret it later, but she decided to ask, “Are you prepared to accept the consequences of leaving the other ladies behind today?”

  He met her eye and after a few moments, he said, “I hope you are not being subjected to consequences.”

  “There was the incident with the horse manure in my bed.”

  “I posted a guard at the end of your corridor since that happened.”

  “So that’s why that man stands there all the time.”

  “I will send you and Lady Magdalen and Odette ahead and I’ll come later.”

  “I don’t think that will fool Fronicka. But do not worry. I think Lady Magdalen and I had such a wonderful time that it was worth all of Lady Fronicka’s jealousy. Why don’t you bring her and Lady Otilia tomorrow?”

  He leaned forward. “I will not be bringing Lady Fronicka here.” His look was fierce, his brows drawn together and down. “Why would you speak of Lady Fronicka? Why would you want me to bring her here?”

  Avelina’s heart pounded and her breath shallowed.

  Lord Thornbeck turned away from her. He ran his hand through his hair, causing it to stick out in a few places, and blew out a huff of air.

  What had she said that bothered him so much?

  Just then, Odette called out, confirming that they were ready.

  Avelina tried not to look back at him as she hurried away, but somehow she could not resist turning. He met her eye. His expression was more questioning than angry.

  The next day, Lord Thornbeck left another note under their doors for Avelina and Magdalen to meet him in the solar. When they arrived he showed them his collection of sculptures and paintings that were not of his family members and therefore were not in the gallery. They were mostly scenes of nature—trees, animals, birds, and people working.

  Avelina and Magdalen stood admiring the works of art and pointing out various aspects of the paintings and sculptures. The margrave commented here and there or answered their questions.

  “It is a beautiful view, is it not?” Lord Thornbeck stood beside Avelina as she stared out the window at the rugged land below. In the distance she could see the spire from Thornbeck Cathedral.

  “It is very beautiful. Plimmwald is rather flat, and I think I prefer these beautiful mountains.”

  “Truly?” His face held such a tender look. It made her heart trip over itself.

  ??
?There is no place like home, of course, but the mountains and valleys are so wild and exciting compared to level places. Do you not think so?”

  “I do.”

  A shiver went up her spine. Part of her wanted to lean toward him so she could see deeper into his brown eyes, to put her arms around him and feel his warmth and strength.

  How could she even think such a thing? He was to be married to Magdalen and very soon. She would only be here for five more days.

  The truth was, she liked Lord Thornbeck so very much. The disloyalty to Magdalen made her stomach feel sick. After all, her friend was so kind and generous. But could she help it if she thought Lord Thornbeck was everything a woman might desire in a man? He was not perfect—he was peevish in the way he hardly ever smiled or laughed, and he was harsh sometimes to his servants—but beneath that severe exterior, she sensed an earnest intention to do what was right. And that longing in his eyes, that conscientiousness in his every action, took her breath away.

  She turned away from him, closing her eyes to get her thoughts under control.

  A horrible pang of guilt—and something else she shouldn’t try to name—snaked through her chest.

  Soon Lord Thornbeck excused himself. “Some correspondence I must attend to.” He left them in the solar.

  Tamping down those ridiculous feelings, Avelina said, “What do you think of Lord Thornbeck?”

  “He is a good sort of man.” Magdalen stared distractedly at a painting of Thornbeck Castle in winter, with bare-limbed trees all around it. “Why do you ask?”

  She spoke so dispassionately, she could not be in love with him. Oh God, please let her fall in love with him. She couldn’t bear to think of either Lord Thornbeck or Magdalen in a dispassionate, less-than-joyful marriage. But they were both good people. Surely the love and joy and passion would come, in time.

  Magdalen turned and looked hard at her, her brows drawing together, as if she was about to ask her a question.

  “Let us go exploring the castle.” Avelina grabbed her arm. She couldn’t bear to answer any probing questions or tell her friend a lie right now. “It is so big, and I have not seen nearly all of it. Perhaps there are some hidden passageways and lost rooms somewhere.”

  “You make it sound fun.” Magdalen laughed. “I suppose it cannot do any harm.”

  They left the solar, which was on the third level, and walked through a corridor Avelina had not been down before. “This must be the way to the west wing.”

  “Maybe we should not go there,” Magdalen said, her voice hushed. “I do not think Lord Thornbeck would want us to.”

  “Did he say we couldn’t go to the west wing?”

  “I don’t remember, but I got that impression. Is it not where his brother died?”

  “I had not thought of that.” Would it be completely destroyed after the fire? Or still mostly intact?

  The corridor was lit by small windows about ten feet apart along the wall facing east. They stopped to look at the view, as it was different here. Then the corridor took a sharp turn and there were no more windows to let in light.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Magdalen asked.

  “No, but if it gets too dark, we’ll turn around and go back.” And get a torch.

  They walked until Avelina could no longer see her feet.

  “Maybe we should go back,” Magdalen whispered.

  Just then—“I see a light ahead.” It was faint but Avelina headed toward it. When they reached it, she could see that the light was the glow around a doorway at the end of the corridor. In fact, there were two doors—one at the end of the corridor and the other along it, to the right.

  Avelina reached for the glowing door. She pulled on the iron handle and it creaked open a crack, letting in more light. As she eased open the door, she gasped and stepped back, bumping into Magdalen.

  She was looking into open space and sky. On the other side of the door, there was no floor, no walls, only . . . sunlight.

  Magdalen clutched Avelina’s shoulder, pulling her back. “Dear heavenly saints!”

  They both stared as they looked out the open doorway. That’s when Avelina noticed the smoky black covering the walls. “The fire must have destroyed whatever used to be behind this door.”

  “Perhaps it was a balcony.”

  The door to their right suddenly opened. A woman stood staring at them, then said, “Annlin?”

  It was the woman who had wandered around the ballroom floor the night of the ball. She stared at them with vacant gray eyes.

  “Good day. I am Lady Dorothea and this is my friend Lady Magdalen.”

  “Have you seen Annlin?”

  “No, we have not,” Avelina said.

  The woman motioned for them to come inside, and Avelina followed her in.

  “Dorothea?” Magdalen whispered rather urgently behind her, questioning whether she should be doing this.

  Inside was a room littered with half-burned furniture, including a bed frame that was broken and blackened, its curtains nearly entirely burned away. The window at the opposite wall was thrown open, letting in the cold air.

  The walls were all covered in soot, and piles of ash and half-burned cloth lay in the corners and on the floor.

  “Are you not cold?” Magdalen approached the woman and took her hand. She looked back at Avelina. “Her hand is as cold as ice.” She turned back to the woman. “Please come with us. We will take you somewhere warm.”

  The woman followed them a few steps, then stopped and pulled her hand away from Magdalen. “No, I must stay here. Annlin might come back. She was here. She might come back.”

  “Do you not want to go search for her in the kitchen?” Avelina asked. The woman was so thin, she seemed in need of a good meal.

  The woman placed her hand against her cheek and stared into the near-empty room. “I don’t know.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  Avelina startled, spinning around.

  Lord Thornbeck stood in the doorway. “It isn’t safe in this part of the castle.” He glanced from Avelina to Magdalen and back again. Then he held his hand out to the woman. “Endlein. Come. You should not be here either. People are looking for you.”

  “Where is Annlin? Did the margrave take her away somewhere?”

  “No, Endlein,” he said, as she took his hand and followed him out.

  Frau Schwitzer was behind him. She took the woman’s hand and led her away, talking softly to her.

  Avelina held her breath as Lord Thornbeck turned to Magdalen and her. “You should not be in the west wing. Why did you come here?”

  “Please forgive us.”

  “Let us go.” He ushered them out, placing his body between them and the door that led to a sheer drop to the ground far below, and then followed close behind them. When they were past the end of the corridor, he mumbled, “Need to have someone seal up this entrance.”

  They stood in front of the solar, back where they had started. Would he berate them for their curiosity? Was he angry?

  “The third floor of the west wing is a dangerous place. You could have been killed if you’d stepped out that door.”

  “Forgive us,” Magdalen said again.

  “It was I who wished to go to the west wing,” Avelina said quickly. “I dragged Lady Magdalen with me.”

  Lord Thornbeck sighed and ran his hand over his eyes. “The bedchamber where I found you is where my brother died. I tried to save them, but it was too late.”

  “Them?” Avelina asked.

  His face was angled slightly away from them as he stared at the floor. He nodded, an ever-so-slight movement. “My brother, Henrich, and Annlin. She was his . . . they were lovers, even though she was . . . a servant.” He rubbed the back of his neck and grimaced, as though in pain. “The absurdity of a margrave and a servant . . .”

  Avelina’s stomach churned. No doubt that was how he would feel if she fell in love with him. “A servant.” He said it as if it was the worst thing i
n the world. “Absurd.” But she couldn’t let Magdalen or him know how his words twisted inside her heart like a knife.

  “We argued about it the day he died. I tried to convince him to give her up, to realize how wrong the relationship was. He was angry with me—and very drunk—when he went to bed that night. I can never seem to forget that. It was partially my fault he died. If I had not been so harsh in what I said, if he had not been so drunk . . .”

  Avelina’s heart seemed to actually be breaking inside her chest at the pain in his voice and in his face. “I am so sorry.” Her words sounded empty.

  “The woman is Annlin’s mother, Endlein, a kitchen servant. She became very addled, as you have seen, after the death of her daughter. She wanders up here sometimes to this room, as if she knows this was the last place where her daughter was alive.” He shook his head. “Even though she is no longer able to work, I cannot send her away.”

  “That is kind of you,” Avelina said.

  He stared down into her eyes. If Magdalen had not been present, she would have thought he was thinking about kissing her, the way he seemed to be staring at her lips.

  How he would hate her if he found out she was a servant, that he was opening his inmost thoughts to someone so far beneath him.

  Lord Thornbeck drew back and cleared his throat. “I need to have someone build a wall over the doorway to the burned balcony, and close off that entire corridor. But in the meantime—” He focused his eyes on Avelina. “Do not go near it.”

  “How did you know we were there?” Avelina asked.

  “I didn’t. Odette came to tell me the servants couldn’t find Endlein, so I went up there to look for her.”

  “Lord Thornbeck?” Chancellor Jorgen rounded the corner. “Are you ready to sign these documents?”

  “Ladies, excuse me.”

  He went to attend to his duties, while Avelina and Magdalen went back to their bedchambers. He did have a temper. She had seen it displayed when her horse had those sharp shards of pottery underneath its saddle and he’d shouted at his servants and guards, and she’d seen anger in his eyes and heard it in his voice when he found them in the west wing. What would he do if he discovered she’d been deceiving him all this time?