“It’s called a trapdoor. A ladder leads down to a small room. My father showed it to me before he died, but I was too afraid of dark holes to go down in it and explore, and I don’t think anyone else even knows about it. So if you hear anyone coming, I want you to hide here.”
“And you.”
He shrugged, then nodded.
The hole was very dark. Poor Steffan. How would he manage hiding in such a dark, tiny hole? She would just have to pray that they would never need to.
“I’m going down to the west wing to try to spy on Alexander and Agnes. I want to see what they know.”
“Don’t be gone long. Please?”
He looked back at her. Then they both seemed to step toward each other. She hugged him and he kissed her cheek. Then he departed while her stomach flipped around inside her.
When Steffan returned half an hour later, they took out the food that Steffan had scavenged the night before.
“Tell me everything you heard Alexander and Agnes say.”
He sighed and his brows drew together.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing, but . . . it was very confusing.”
“Confusing?”
He stared down at the bread in his hands. “I always hated Alexander, even though I haven’t spoken to him much in years. So to hear the way he speaks to Agnes . . . it doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“He said he knew it was wrong to pretend to be me, but he didn’t know what else to do. He was afraid of his father.”
“He must have told Agnes the truth.”
“Which was shocking enough—”
“Ja, since he didn’t have to tell her the truth. She wouldn’t have known, since I didn’t tell her.”
“But he also said he was glad he had done it because it had led him to . . . fall in love with her.”
Magdalen absorbed this information in silence. She could not imagine anyone falling in love with mean-spirited little Agnes.
“But I still want to plant my fist in his face.”
“Agnes doesn’t deserve . . .” She almost said, “Doesn’t deserve to be loved,” but that sounded cruel.
“What she did to you was wicked and unjust.”
“Perhaps they are both sorry.”
Steffan gave a slow nod. “But it’s best not to trust them.”
Ugly thoughts and feelings churned inside her. Her longings felt so unfulfilled. Was it right that Agnes had gotten exactly what Magdalen had wanted? Agnes had gotten true love and wealth by stealing them. Would her wrongdoing be rewarded?
Would Magdalen be punished for not taking what she wanted? For not fighting back and for being too kind and gentle to kill Agnes in her sleep? Magdalen had refrained from telling Lord Hazen the truth partially because she did not want him to execute Agnes. Still, she wasn’t sorry she hadn’t killed Agnes.
“Wait for the Lord,” she whispered.
“What?”
“In the Psalter it is written, ‘I remain confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.’ ”
He sat quietly for a moment, then took her hand in his and squeezed it. “That is what we will do. We will be confident in the Lord’s goodness, and we will wait for the Lord.”
Her heart soared at the way he was looking at her, at his warm eyes and sweet smile.
“Besides,” he went on, “the way of the wicked will not prosper for much longer. We shall regain our proper places soon, and they shall get what their actions deserve.”
Would he take revenge on his uncle and cousin? Or did he only mean that they would be justly punished?
He let go of her hand, and they both went back to eating.
“What else did Alexander and Agnes say? Did you learn anything?”
Steffan opened his mouth, but then raised his hand, as if to keep her from talking. Then she heard it too—the noise of many bridles clinking, horses’ hooves, and men’s voices.
He helped her to her feet and they both looked out the open window.
“Don’t get too close,” he said, his hand on her shoulder. “We don’t want them to see us.”
Many men on horseback made their way through the castle gate. She caught a glimpse of Lord Hazen near the front, his head high.
As she strained her eyes to recognize the faces of the people entering the gate, she said, “I see Katrin. She’s to the right of Lord Hazen.”
“I see her.” Steffan’s voice was grim.
“Do you think your uncle knows we’re in Wolfberg?” Magdalen put her arms around herself, resisting a shudder.
“He at least suspects it. We should be extra quiet and careful. And if he comes looking up here, we will hide under the floor.”
She recalled Lord Hazen’s arrogant face. The man would do anything to keep Wolfberg, she was quite certain. He would not hesitate to murder the true heir.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Steffan watched Magdalen as she sat on the floor of the round tower room stitching up a tattered blanket and alternately looking out the window at the beautiful view.
How long would they be alone together in this room? It was getting more and more difficult not to tell her his feelings. And yet, part of him never wanted this time to end. But when help arrived, it would end. It could happen any day. Lord Thornbeck could come riding up to the castle with all his guards and soldiers. The guests would arrive soon as well, and Steffan would expose his uncle for the evil schemer that he was—if his uncle didn’t kill him first.
“Tonight I’ll go look in one of the tower rooms for my portrait.”
“Is that one of the places you played as a child?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if it’s the place Jacob meant. It could be a place I no longer remember. It could be anywhere.”
“I want to help you search.” Magdalen’s green eyes were placid but intent, her lips full and perfect.
“You are very beautiful. Honestly, I was surprised when Lord Thornbeck did not ask you to marry him.”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling as she covered her mouth with her hand. The sound of her laughter made his chest expand.
“I cannot say any handsome young men have ever asked me to marry them, except for one earl who later broke our betrothal when he realized our copper mines had run out. And your uncle.”
“I am sorry that happened to you. Please forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive. You did not create the misunderstanding. Lord Hazen did.”
“Yes, but—”
“Do not give it a moment’s thought. Besides, even though I will no longer need to get married, I shall be in high demand by impoverished noblemen everywhere, as soon as they hear that our mines in Mallin have iron ore.” She smiled triumphantly.
She was right. The thought of those impoverished noblemen caused heat to rise up the back of his neck. How dare they look at Lady Magdalen as a means to wealth? She was so much more than that. She was brave and kind and compassionate. They wouldn’t be able to appreciate her . . . the way he did.
Still staring down at her mending, she said, “I suppose you will be glad to finally have your house all to yourself again when your uncle is defeated and your cousin is sent away.”
He thought for a moment. “Now that you say it, it will be rather sad.”
She looked up at him. “Why?”
“My grandmother is dead, as well as Jacob, and my uncle has dismissed all the servants that I knew and depended on. And I will also miss you very much . . . when you’re gone.” His chest constricted just saying the words.
She looked down again. “I should think you’d be glad to get rid of me. I must be a reminder of a terrible time in your life.”
He stepped toward her. “I have enjoyed every minute I’ve been with you.”
She stared at him, her mouth open. She said quietly, “I have enjoyed every minute with you too. I thought you
were a bit unkind at times, but you’re not.”
“You thought me unkind?”
“But you are not.”
“Why did you think that?”
“I suppose it was because you were very angry when I first saw you. And because you said you never intended to marry for love.”
He sat back. “Is that why you were shouting at me before Agnes came to force you to work inside the castle?”
She pursed her lips. “It was because you were trying to keep me from going back home, and for completely selfish reasons. You only wanted me as a witness, to help you get your place back.”
How did this happen? He hadn’t wanted to start an argument.
“You are right. I was being very selfish. I was not thinking of you at all, and I am truly sorry. You had every reason to dislike and distrust me then.”
“You were deceitful.” She looked down, her voice quiet again. “But you had every right to say you didn’t want to marry me. I was only shocked that I had come to Wolfberg because of your uncle’s wicked plot.”
This was getting worse and worse. Her face was drawn and sad, and she wouldn’t even look at him.
“Magdalen, I was distraught and distracted that day. I did not know then what I know now. I feel very differently . . . about everything. Especially you.”
She gave him a sidelong glance from beneath lowered lashes, then looked away.
“Besides that, I did run to your rescue that day when Agnes forced you to go inside the castle.”
“I remember.” Her grimace turned into a tiny smile. “Chivalrous to the core.”
How did she make him feel warm, pleased, and unsettled all at the same time?
“It’s getting colder.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.
He leaned over and closed the window facing the sea and then walked to the window facing the castle gate and closed it too. It was nearly dark and would be a cold night.
Magdalen rubbed her arms. How much longer would they be in this tower room? Every time her hand brushed against Steffan’s, every time he drew close and looked into her eyes, she wondered if she’d reveal her feelings to him without even intending to, if he could see it on her face, or if she would blurt it out. But that would make things uncomfortable for both of them.
“Shall we go look for your portrait now?”
He hesitated, looking out the window. “I suppose it is late enough. My uncle will be in the Great Hall now.”
Magdalen followed Steffan out of the door and down the twisting spiral stairs. They did not even whisper, and soon Steffan stopped at a door. He tried the handle and it opened. They walked inside and he closed the door behind them. The room was quite dark.
“I will open the window,” Steffan whispered.
She realized she’d been holding on to Steffan’s arm, so she let go. He moved quietly across the room. She heard him unlatching some shutters, and then light spilled in as he swung open the shutter.
While Steffan took a small wax candle out of his pocket and worked to light it, Magdalen strode to a pile of old tapestries illumined by the twilight coming in through the window and started looking through them. Dust rose from them, burning her nose, and she sneezed.
Steffan got his candle lit and set it on a small table beside a ragged old trunk in the corner. He opened the trunk and started looking through it.
Soon, Magdalen had looked through the entire stack of tapestries, and when she was certain no portrait was hidden among them, she moved to a wooden box. Perhaps the portrait was inside. She opened it easily, as there was a hole where the locking mechanism should have been.
She tipped the box over, but nothing was inside. The box did not even have any hiding places along the back.
“Are you finding anything?” She hurried over to where Steffan was taking things out of the old trunk and putting them on the floor beside it.
“Only a lot of junk.”
Magdalen glanced around the room. There was nothing else for her to search, so she went over to the large fireplace and looked inside. Perhaps there was a hiding nook inside it, as it did not appear as though anyone had built a fire in it in a long time. She found nothing, but her bare feet were black with soot.
Steffan stood behind her.
“Oh! I didn’t know you were there.”
“Wipe your feet with this.” He handed her a cloth.
“Good idea.” They didn’t need her black footprints leaving Hazen’s men a perfect trail.
“The portrait isn’t here.” He planted his hands on his hips. “But we should keep looking.”
And so they searched another room, as no one slept in that wing of the castle and it was mostly deserted even in the daytime. After half an hour, they were satisfied it was not in that room either. One by one they searched all the rooms in the east wing that were unoccupied and not near Lord Hazen or Alexander’s bedchambers. They found old clothes, blankets, and toys that had belonged to Steffan and Gertrudt, but no portrait.
Magdalen reached up to push the hair out of her face, which had come loose from her braid, and found Steffan watching her.
“We should stop for the night.”
“Is it still night?” She glanced at the window. The gray half-light of dawn was beginning to show through.
“Not for much longer.” Steffan sighed. “At least we know where the portrait is not.”
She would have laughed if she’d had the strength. They trudged back up the stairs. They were almost at the top when Magdalen stumbled. Steffan caught her arm and kept her from falling.
“Thank you.”
“Are you well?”
“Just tired.”
They both fell onto their makeshift beds and were soon asleep.
Steffan’s back ached from all the searching he and Magdalen had done the night before, and he sat whittling a piece of wood. Magdalen was still asleep, but the sun was high and his thoughts would not seem to leave him alone.
A sound came from the door like a key turning in the lock. Steffan jumped to his feet, clutching his knife.
The door opened, and Alexander and Agnes stood looking at them.
Steffan leapt at Alexander with his knife aimed at his coward’s heart.
“Please! Wait!” Agnes threw her arm across Alexander’s chest.
Alexander held out a loaf of bread. “We mean you no harm. We brought you food.”
“What sort of trickery is this?” Steffan glanced behind him to make sure Magdalen was all right. She stood by the window with wide eyes and her hand over her heart.
“It’s no trickery. If we wanted to harm you, we would have brought my father up here. We simply wanted to tell you that we intend to help you regain your rightful stations.”
“And why would you do that?”
Alexander’s normally pale cheeks reddened. “I never wanted to pretend to be you. My father . . . he would not listen to reason. He has gone mad with greed and a sense that he deserves whatever he wants. And Agnes feels the same way I do.”
“Is that true, Agnes?” Magdalen asked. He could tell she wanted to believe them, but after all Agnes had done to her, she was not certain if she should.
“I am sorry.” Agnes took a step forward, then glanced at Alexander. “It was my father’s idea all along. But I am sorry for doing it. I . . . I was wrong.”
The boldness in Agnes’s eyes put him on his guard. “No one turns from evil to good so quickly and easily.” Steffan gripped the knife and stepped closer to protect Magdalen if necessary. “Who else knows we are here? Whom did you tell?”
“No one. Last evening we were taking a walk and we heard you laughing. We saw that this window was open, and it’s normally closed. We also heard that some food had been stolen from the kitchen during the night.”
Steffan glared at him, trying to think of how they might escape.
“I can understand your anger and mistrust,” Alexander said, “but I tried to talk Father out of it. He had discovered there was valuable iron ore
in Mallin’s mines through a mining expert who had once been employed by the baron. This expert explained that whoever ended up mining the iron ore would become quite wealthy. So Father had me pretend to be you and marry the heiress of Mallin. If I had not gone along with his plan, he would have killed me.”
“We have known each other since we were children, Alexander, and I have never seen you so humble, meek, and mild. Why the change of heart? Why do you care?”
Alexander did not answer for a moment, staring off to the right. He took a deep breath and let it out. “I know you don’t believe me, but I didn’t want you to be harmed. I didn’t want that on my conscience. I am not the unfeeling person my father is. I am not like him.”
Perhaps that much was true. Alexander never struck him as being the same sort of heartless, greedy person as Lord Hazen. Whiny and fearful, yes. But he had been a child. Perhaps he had grown up and decided to turn away from his father’s wicked ways. Still, Steffan and Magdalen had been betrayed too many times not to be cautious now.
“My plan,” Alexander went on, “was to protect Lady Magdalen from my father. I thought I could at least do that much to redeem myself in God’s eyes. And then . . . I discovered the woman I married was not Lady Magdalen, but a pawn in her own father’s scheme.”
Magdalen crossed her arms and eyed Agnes across the room. She obviously was doubtful of his assessment of his wife’s situation.
“Nevertheless, I fell in love with her. I told her the truth about who I was, and she told me the truth as well. I can’t bear to think of my father trying to separate us.” He put his arm around the girl’s shoulders and drew her to his side.
“Changed by love.” Steffan’s voice conveyed ridicule, and he cringed at his own bitterness.
“Anyway, we brought you some food.” Alexander held out a cloth bundle. “I understand why you would not trust us, but if there is anything else we can do for you . . . We want to prove that we are sincere.”
Steffan felt the scowl fading from his face. But when he pictured himself walking toward Alexander and accepting the food from his hands, he also pictured his cousin shoving a knife between his ribs.