His father’s words lowered a heavy weight onto his chest. Thinking that his old friend could kill anyone, especially him, brought home the very unpleasant truth of how much John had become like his father—irrationally angry, suspicious, and violent.
Westley fingered the petals of a red rose as he stood in the flower garden. He should stop standing around, stop waiting to see if Eva would come and read with him.
“Westley!” his mother called to him as she walked out to meet him. When she was still several yards away, she said, “Your father just told me that someone may have been trying to kill you when you fell in the river. Why did you not tell me?”
“I did not know until two days ago, Mother.”
The pained look on her face only made his heart sink a little lower than it already was.
“Do you think Eva is telling the truth about John being the one who struck you?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed, then pulled off a loose rose petal and made indentations with his fingernail in the easily bruised flower’s flesh. “At first I was angry that she would even accuse him. But I don’t want to falsely accuse her of lying either. It’s just so hard to believe that John would try to kill me. Why? He has no reason to hate me.”
“You have not seen much of him the last three years, have you?”
He shook his head, still watching the rose petal grow more limp and wilted in his hand.
“What did she tell you about why she lied about being mute?”
“She said she was trying to avoid marrying someone. I suspect she may have meant the Earl of Shiveley.”
“Oh.” His mother’s mouth opened and her expression changed. “Did you tell your father that?”
“I don’t think I did.”
“Don’t you remember that your father’s cousin was Lord Shiveley’s first wife?”
“I had forgotten that. What was her name?”
“Margaret. It was nearly fifteen years ago. She married him, and for the next few months, every time her mother and father saw her, she had bruises on her face and arms. And then she was dead. We all suspected that he murdered her.”
“Was nothing ever done about it?”
“Nothing. It is difficult to cast suspicion on an earl, especially one as wealthy as he is.”
“I don’t remember you telling me anything about that.” He felt a burning in his stomach.
“Well, you were only a child at the time. We didn’t want to tell you something so sordid and terrible. And you did not know poor Margaret.” Mother’s face was sad as she stared out into the distant trees.
Just the thought of Eva marrying someone so despicable . . . No wonder she was so desperate to leave him, to disguise herself however she could to get away. But again, he did not know if she was fleeing Lord Shiveley. Even so, it was his men who had come after her.
“But don’t you realize? If she was to marry Lord Shiveley, and if she was living at Berkhamsted Castle, she must be . . . the king’s cousin, the one who supposedly sings so beautifully she can enchant the birds out of the trees.”
Westley’s mind raced. Could it be? After all, she knew nothing about the work of a servant, and her hands had blistered so badly she obviously had never done any hard work. But she knew how to read Latin and owned a Psalter—and she had a beautiful voice. He had heard her sing in the clearing near the river. Had he been so distracted by the fact that she had lied about being mute that he hadn’t realized hers was the same voice he’d heard from the upper window of Berkhamsted Castle?
“We must protect her!” Mother’s eyes widened and her expression was intense. “We must keep her hidden until we can tell the king what we know about Lord Shiveley’s first marriage. Surely he will not force his cousin to marry someone who murdered his first wife.”
“But the king might not believe that.” Perhaps we can keep her here forever, and the king need never know.
Mother bit her lip. “I cannot bear to think of her being mistreated the way Margaret was. I shall speak to your father about this.”
Westley watched her go.
Eva is the cousin of the king of England.
Westley and Aldred walked around the North Meadow where the Harvest Festival would take place. Sellers would come from miles around with their booths and wares, and they would need plenty of room.
Horses’ hooves sounded on the road just beyond a stand of trees. When they came into view, the horsemen spotted Westley and Aldred and proceeded toward them.
They wore the colors of the Earl of Shiveley.
Westley stepped forward.
“What village is this?” the horseman in the lead asked.
“Glynval. Ranulf le Wyse is the lord here, and I am his son. Is there some way I might help you?”
“We are searching for a maiden with red hair, seventeen years old, very tall. She is thought to have left Berkhamsted Castle on foot almost two weeks ago. Have you seen her?”
Westley squinted and cocked his head to one side. God, please let Aldred stay quiet. He didn’t dare glance Aldred’s way.
Westley shook his head. “May I ask who is looking for her? Berkhamsted Castle is one of King Richard’s royal residences, is it not?”
“King Richard himself is searching for her, as is the Earl of Shiveley.” Raising himself up in his saddle as if trying to look imperious, he said, “Lord Shiveley is concerned for her safety. It is very important that she be found safe and well, so if you were to find her, Lord Shiveley would reward you well for escorting her back to Berkhamsted Castle. King Richard has also promised to add his own reward for her safe return.”
“It would be enough for me to see a maiden of the realm safely home,” Westley said with a bow.
“What did you say your name was?”
“Westley le Wyse of Glynval.”
“Are you certain this maiden is not taking refuge in your village? She was probably traveling with another woman, fifteen years older than the red-haired maiden.”
“It is a small village. My father and I would notice if someone new came here.”
“Very well.”
“Is she Lord Shiveley’s betrothed?”
The guard placed his hand on his sword hilt, shifting in his saddle. Finally, he said slowly and deliberately, “Yes. She is.”
Westley’s gut twisted. “I shall not detain you any longer.” He stepped away from them.
The guard nodded and turned his horse around. The men rode away.
“Why did you not tell them?” Aldred asked. “They must have meant Eva and Mildred.”
Westley looked him in the eye. “I believe Eva may be in danger from these men, and I don’t want you repeating any of this to anyone, Aldred. May I depend upon you?”
“Of course. You are our lord, even if you do not allow us to call you that. And you can depend on the rest of Glynval.”
“Perhaps not all of Glynval.” Westley rubbed his jaw. “I don’t want you to say anything to anyone else. Let these men move on to the next village. With God’s good favor, perhaps they won’t come back through here.”
It was a shaky hope at best, but it was the only hope Eva had.
The man said she was Lord Shiveley’s betrothed. Had she lied to him again?
Chapter Nineteen
Evangeline was always in the castle now. She even slept in the same small room with Lady le Wyse’s closest maidservant above Lord and Lady le Wyse’s own bedchamber.
As she was sweeping the hearth in the library, a voice behind her said, “Eva?”
She stopped sweeping and turned to face Westley.
“You have not come to read with me the last two days.”
“Oh.” She stared down at her broom. “I have been busy cleaning. And Reeve Folsham keeps thinking of new things to teach me. He taught me how to throw a grown man over my shoulder and onto the ground on his back.” She put down the short straw broom, propping it against the wall. She smiled into Westley’s bright-blue eyes as she remembered it. “Could you eve
r imagine me doing that? I never knew it could be so thrilling to exert my own strength. You men must often feel that.”
“Oh yes, I am so strong, I entertain myself with seeing how far I can toss men of various sizes.”
“You are laughing, but it is something new for me. I’ve never been allowed to—” She stopped abruptly as she realized what she had been about to say. As smoothly as she could, she went on. “—learn how to use a weapon or defend myself. Reeve Folsham is the first man I’ve ever met who thought defending oneself from attack was important for a woman to learn.”
“Did he tell you he has taught my sisters?”
“Lord le Wyse allowed him to teach his daughters?”
“My father asked him to teach them so if they ever needed to, they could fight off someone trying to hurt them. My mother was once attacked when she was still a young maiden and got away by fighting back.”
“Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hand at the thought of someone attacking Lady le Wyse. How wonderful that men like Reeve Folsham and Lord le Wyse would provide ways for women to defend themselves.
“One reason I was hoping you would come to read with me is because I have something particular to tell you.”
“Yes?” Already the buoyant feeling was fading.
“Eva, some men rode into Glynval two days ago and asked me if I’d seen a young woman with red hair, seventeen years old, who had run away from Berkhamsted Castle two weeks ago.”
Eva felt the warmth drain from her face. Her vision began to spin.
Westley grabbed her by her arms. “Are you going to faint?”
“No,” she whispered, even though the room was still spinning.
He still held her upper arms and stared into her eyes, his face only inches from hers. “Why is Lord Shiveley, and even King Richard, searching for you? Are you betrothed to the Earl of Shiveley?”
“Please.” Tears pricked her eyelids. “You did not tell them I was here, did you?”
“I pretended I didn’t know who they were speaking of and told them you were not here. But you need to tell me the truth. Shiveley’s men said you were his betrothed. Did you lie to me, Eva? Did you deceive me again?”
Her stomach twisted at the pain in his eyes. “Please, Westley. Please understand. I can’t marry Shiveley. It would kill me. Please forgive me.” It was impossible to look away from his eyes. If only . . . But she would not ask for his love. Only his mercy.
“I want to understand, but you won’t tell me the truth. You haven’t even answered my question.”
“I am not betrothed to him. That is, it is not official or sanctioned by the Church. But King Richard came to Berkhamsted Castle—you were there—and immediately called me into his presence and told me I must marry Lord Shiveley.” Westley was still holding her arms. She grabbed his shirtfront. “I begged the king not to force me to marry that man.” Tears burned their way down her cheeks.
“Eva, who are you?” he asked quietly. His breath brushed her forehead as he leaned even closer.
“Evangeline, the illegitimate daughter of the king’s uncle, Lionel of Antwerp.”
“I suppose I should have guessed,” he said, his voice even softer. “You are the king’s ward, as well as his cousin. It is your duty . . .” His voice trailed off.
“It is my duty to marry whomever the king wishes me to marry. I know it is, but I cannot . . . cannot bear it.” Tears streamed down her cheeks now, but she didn’t even attempt to wipe them away. Something drove her to keep speaking, to make him understand.
“If I were to marry that man, it would mean—” Tears choked off her voice, but she swallowed and pushed on. “It would mean that I am not worthy of being loved, that I am just a pawn, that my feelings do not matter. Don’t you see? My father didn’t even love me enough to marry my mother. I grew up with only servants to take care of me. Some of them treated me well, others did not, but never, never did I feel like any of them actually loved me. I thought if only I could be free, if I could live like a servant, I could find someone—”
The pain, like broken knives inside her, wrenched the breath from her chest, forcing her to stop. She forced in another breath. “If I could find someone who would love me and marry me, then maybe I am not unworthy after all. Perhaps I am not just a pawn in someone’s game. I want to be a human person with feelings, someone who can inspire love in another.”
“Perhaps the king believes Lord Shiveley loves you.”
She shook her head. “The king . . . He is deceived in Lord Shiveley’s character. Believe me when I say the earl doesn’t love me. You didn’t hear what he said to me, how he . . . he just wants to control me, and to be able to boast that he is married to royalty—one king’s granddaughter and another king’s cousin.”
Did Westley think, as Muriel did, that she should do her duty and obey the king? “I will not go back. You cannot force me. I will not marry that man. I’ll run away again where you’ll never find me.” A sob escaped her throat, and she struggled to control herself and not weep aloud.
The violent feelings suddenly drained out of her. She should not be this close to Westley, should not be clutching his shirt. He would think she was like Sabina, trying to trap him into marrying her. Her hands went limp.
“Let me go,” she said softly, uncurling her fingers and pushing gently away. Unable to lift her eyes to meet his, she stared at his chest and wiped her cheeks with her hands.
But instead of letting her go, Westley pulled her closer, his hands slipping from her arms to embrace her.
Her cheek was pressed against his chest, against his soft linen shirt, as his hand caressed the back of her head.
“Do not cry anymore.” His deep voice was warm in her ear. “Lord Shiveley will not harm you. I will not allow it.”
Could this be happening? His embrace felt so good, so safe and warm and lovely. If only Westley loved her. How brave she could feel with his arms, and his love, to surround her. If only he loved her as much as she loved him. She would imagine that he did, just for a moment, as she closed her eyes and breathed in his freshly laundered shirt and masculine scent.
Her heart ached, but it was a lovely ache. She would remember this moment for the rest of her life, just like the moment after she saved him from drowning, the moment she realized he was alive and she had saved him.
She stood very still, afraid if she moved he would break the closeness. But he continued to hold her until they heard footsteps in the corridor outside.
Evangeline pushed away, breaking free from his arms, keeping her face turned away from him.
She walked over to where she had left her broom. “I should get back to work.” She reached for the broom, rubbing away the tears from her cheeks with her other hand, but Westley touched her shoulder.
“Don’t look at me.” She lifted her apron to wipe her nose. “I must look like a red, blotchy mess after all that crying.”
“I just want you to know,” he said, his hand still warm on her shoulder, “that I think you are very brave and that I understand. I will speak with my father, and we shall find a way out for you, out of this unwanted marriage.”
“You won’t tell the king I am here, will you?” She gazed up at him before remembering her tear-streaked face.
He caught her hand in his. A strand of hair fell over her eye. Just as she was about to push it out of the way, Westley brushed it back, his hand grazing her forehead. The breath stilled in her throat.
“I think you are lovely, even after all that crying.” A tiny smile raised the corners of his lips.
Her heart flipped inside her.
“I will do everything I can to keep you safe.” He hurried out of the room, leaving her staring after him.
Westley rushed out of the library, his heart pounding, before he completely lost his mind.
Eva—Evangeline—had finally broken down the wall he had always felt with her, had opened her heart and told him the truth. She had looked so vulnerable, so desperate and determined
. . . and so beautiful. Her lips were plump and red and her eyes sparkling and bright green from the tears swimming in them. Holding her made him feel completely alive. He’d never wanted anything so much in his life as to kiss her.
He could not be thinking this way. His mind was churning even faster than his heart was beating.
He practically ran through the house. His father was walking down the staircase.
“Father, I need to speak to you.”
“Let’s go into the library.”
Eva—Evangeline—was in there. “No, let’s go . . . in here.” Westley led his father into a small empty bedroom.
“What is it, son? Did you see John Underhill again?”
“No, Father, but I did see the Earl of Shiveley’s men. They came here looking for a red-haired maiden who ran away from Berkhamsted Castle two weeks ago.”
He rubbed his cheek beneath his black eye patch. “Your mother told me you suspect Eva is Evangeline, the king’s cousin and ward.”
“I just spoke to Eva and she confessed it, without me even asking her.”
“She is the girl they were seeking.”
“Yes. It seems the king wants her to marry Lord Shiveley.”
“And she does not wish to?”
“Exactly.”
Father took a deep breath and sighed. “What did you promise her, Westley?”
His face grew warm. “I said what anyone with any kindness and mercy would have said. I told her I would do whatever I could to keep her safe. I don’t think she even knows that Shiveley probably murdered his first wife.”
Father was already shaking his head.
“Do not make me out to be a child who does not know anything of the world, Father.” Westley’s ire rose. “The Church says a woman cannot be forced to marry someone she does not wish to.”