“But you know as well as I do that women are often coerced to agree, especially in situations such as this. She is the king’s ward. She is obligated to do whatever the king asks of her. People of her birth do not have a choice whom they marry. They agree because they know it is their duty.”
“Are you saying that it is right? That she should do her duty and marry a man who will beat and mistreat her?”
“No, but—”
“Evangeline will never agree to marry Lord Shiveley. You should have seen her, Father. She was crying and saying she would run away again if I tried to send her back to Berkhamsted.”
“We do not want it on our consciences that we forced a maiden, no matter who she is, to marry someone she is determined not to.” Father sighed again. “If nothing else, we can help her find refuge at Rosings Abbey.”
“Perhaps she could hide here until the king and Shiveley forget about her.”
“I suppose it is possible, but sooner or later it’s likely the king’s men, or Shiveley’s, will find her. After all, if those men had asked almost any other person in Glynval besides you, they would have known the men were looking for Eva, and they would have said so. But let us hope they do not return.”
“If the king believes we are knowingly hiding his ward from him and from the man he wants her to marry, we could lose everything, could we not?”
“Yes.” Father looked thoughtful but not afraid. “Losing everything is sometimes the price one must pay for doing the right thing. I could not save my cousin, but perhaps . . . perhaps we can save the king’s. And if it comes down to it, we will seek an audience with King Richard and tell him what we know about Shiveley. He isn’t likely to believe us over one of his advisors, but we can try.”
Westley imagined the king taking away their home, their lands, everything. They might be forced to move back to Father’s place of birth in Lincolnshire. But they would lose even those holdings if the king had a political friend he wanted to reward. People out of favor with the king often found themselves destitute—or exiled from the country.
“How can I ask you and Mother to risk your home?”
“I don’t see it as you asking us to risk it. I am willing to risk it for the sake of mercy and righteousness.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“But, son, I can also see that you are in danger of letting your heart become attached to this woman. Don’t be guided by your emotions, Westley. Be wise and guard your heart. You hardly know anything of this woman’s character, and she has deceived us once already.”
“She says she saved my life when John pushed me in the river.”
“But are you certain she is telling the truth? It has not been proven.”
Westley said quietly, “I shall be careful, Father.”
Would he and his family have to face the king’s wrath for Evangeline to be free from marrying Shiveley? Only time would reveal her destiny. And his. But for now, it seemed wise to rein himself in where the king’s ward was concerned. He was too eager to forget that he had only known her for a short time.
As his father and mother had quoted to him on numerous occasions, “The heart is deceitful above all things.”
Chapter Twenty
Evangeline was sitting on a cushion on the ground in the little reading alcove when Westley came and held out a wooden bowl to her.
“What is it?”
“Apples and cream.” Westley sat beside her with a second bowl.
She held the bowl up to her face and breathed in the aroma of cooked apples, cinnamon, and cloves. “Mmm.” Her mouth watered.
Westley handed her a spoon. The adorable smile on his face made her forget the apples, but when he started eating from his own bowl, she dipped her spoon in.
“Did you eat apples and cream at Berkhamsted Castle?” he asked between bites.
“Yes. But our cook was not very generous with her cloves and sugar. It didn’t taste as good as this.” When she glanced up at him, he was grinning.
“I’m glad you like it. A king’s ward should have good things to eat.”
Evangeline lowered the bowl even as her stomach sank.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I should not have brought up . . . that. I won’t speak of it again, if you wish me not to.”
“I suppose I cannot change it. I’m glad you know the truth. It was a relief to finally tell you.”
He was quiet for several moments. “What is it like being a king’s ward?”
“It is very lonely. I used to dream of being a peasant. You must think that was foolish.”
“No, but I think any peasant would be astonished.”
“And would think me foolish?”
“Yes. But they don’t know what you have experienced.”
“People probably think my life has been blessed and favored.” Evangeline stared down into her bowl, unable to look him in the eye. “It is true that I have never had to worry about food or clothing or shelter. But one of my earliest memories is of my nursemaid pinching my leg so hard it left a red-and-purple mark. I had done something she didn’t like, I suppose. I don’t remember much else about that time. When I was seven, Mildred—her real name is Muriel—became my personal servant. She has been taking care of me ever since, but she is more of a companion now than a servant. I came to Berkhamsted Castle ten years ago when King Edward, Richard’s father, was still king. He ordered that I had to stay in the castle and could only go outside when at least three guards were with me. He was afraid one of his enemies might kidnap me and hold me for ransom, or force me into marriage.”
She finally got up enough courage to look across at Westley. He had set his bowl aside and was leaning toward her. His eyes peered directly into hers.
“And now we are forcing you to stay in our castle.”
“But it is not the same. You must not think it is. I am around people such as you and your mother. Your mother speaks kindly to me, and she did so when she thought I was only a peasant. Your father is kind, too, in a different way. And you.” Her stomach turned a somersault as she looked into his eyes. “I saw you save that little girl while I was standing at my window, and I knew you were a good person.” She put her bowl aside as he had done.
He shifted so his body was facing her. “I remember seeing you. I heard you singing.”
“I liked to sing every morning, standing at my window.” Her cheeks warmed. “I started doing that when I was a little girl. I tried to stop a few years ago, but the servants complained, so I kept singing, at least one song every morning.”
“You have a beautiful voice. My men and I talked about the voice from the castle for days. I . . . I even dreamed about meeting the person behind the voice.”
“Were they pleasant dreams?”
“Very pleasant dreams.”
She cleared her throat. “You were so courteous to me on our way here. You have always been . . . very courteous.”
“Not so very courteous. I forgot to check your hands again.” He reached out and took her hands from her lap and turned them over. She cringed, knowing they were still far from healed. In fact, they still looked a mess.
“Eva.” His voice was soft and deep. “You must keep these hands wrapped.” He raised one of her hands so close to his face, her insides trembled. Would he kiss her hand?
He closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. His breath fanned her wrist, making her skin tingle.
She shouldn’t long for his kiss. She did not know what the future held for her. But she did long for it. Her heart ached with longing.
He lowered her hands and stared at them. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally, he said, “What would your guardian say if he could see these hands?” He seemed to try to make his voice lighthearted, but he was failing.
“I’m sure the king is quite angry with me right now. He thinks I deserve this and worse.” Her stomach twisted at the truth of that. “Even Muriel thought I was foolish. She thought I would go back to Berkhamsted and a
gree to marry Lord Shiveley after spending a few days as a servant.”
“She underestimated your will.” Westley looked at her, still holding her hands in his.
“I do have a strong will, I suppose, although I am usually quiet about it.” She smiled at a memory. “Maudie, one of my nursemaids—not the one who pinched me—once said, ‘She will smile like a cherub and say, “Yes, Maudie,” but then she will run away when your back is turned.’ ”
“That sounds like a normal, healthy child’s will to me.” Westley was smiling now. He finally let go of her hands.
“For my place in life Muriel would say I have an unnatural will. I do not acquiesce to the king’s requests as a king’s ward ought to do.”
“And I am very grateful that you do not.”
Her heart took a tumble at his words. Did he mean that he was grateful she had not obediently married Lord Shiveley because he . . . wished to marry her? Oh please, God, let him mean that.
“If you had not run away, I would have drowned.”
The breath rushed out of her. Of course he had not meant he wanted to marry her. “Oh. Yes. I thought you were dead for a moment.” She averted her eyes while she recovered from her foolish disappointment.
He must keep his head.
Westley forced himself to remember that he had only known her for two short weeks. He let go of her hands so he would not be as tempted to kiss her soft skin.
She was telling him about when he almost drowned.
“Did I open my eyes at all?”
“No, you looked very much dead. Your skin was pale, blood was trickling from your head, and you did not seem as if you were breathing. I was glad when I turned you onto your side and you vomited. Sabina screamed and ran.”
“How very romantic. The minstrels will no doubt be singing of this story for years to come.”
She actually laughed, a lovely sound. She covered her mouth.
“It is very well. You may laugh. If I had died, though, you would be sorry for laughing.”
“But you did not die.”
How could he not sacrifice everything for a woman who saved his life? Had quite possibly saved his life twice, since she warned him about John Underhill?
“You have been a blessing from God to me. And I have not treated you nearly so well.”
“I think you have treated me well. You bandaged my hands. You told Lord Shiveley’s men that I was not here. You allowed me to travel with you and your men. You brought me apples and cream.”
“Speaking of your hands, stay here.” He got up and went into the house, grabbed the jar of his mother’s healing salve and some bandages, and hurried back outside. He sat in front of her.
She trustingly gave him her hand. She had such an innocence about her. She had lived in a sheltered world all her life, which had given her the childlike wonder he had seen when she had gasped over every butterfly and flower on the road to Glynval. She had chased pigs and fallen in the mud like she had no care for her appearance. She had pulled him from the river and had not run away screaming when he threw up, half drowned and bleeding.
He needed to talk about something to distract himself from how soft her hand felt.
“You are still planning to sing for us at the Harvest Festival, are you not?”
“I don’t think it would be a good idea.”
“King Richard is unlikely to attend the Glynval Harvest Festival.” He gave the words a wry tone. “And I will look out for you.”
She gazed up at him. “Perhaps I do not sing as well as you think.”
“You can practice on me and my family tonight.”
She frowned. “You are very persistent.”
“Yes, I am.” He smeared the salve over her open blisters. “Besides, I know you sing beautifully. I’ve heard you sing twice now.”
“Ah yes, you did. What is in this salve? It smells like honey and herbs.”
“That is what it is, mostly. Honey and comfrey. My mother has used it on many people. She even gives it to people to eat if they have stomach problems.” Better to talk of disgusting things so he could keep his thoughts in line.
“I have not seen Sabina around here lately.”
“She says she has been sick since she gave you those poison mushrooms. Perhaps she is ashamed to show her face here, or afraid the other servants are angry with her.”
“Most people seem to believe it was an accident, that she did not intend to pick the poison ones.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No. Although I would hate to falsely accuse her, especially since she helped me save you from the river. I suppose it is possible she did not intend to poison everyone or to have me accused of the deed. It is possible.”
He rubbed over a particularly raw-looking spot on her palm and she sucked in a quick breath between her teeth.
“Forgive me.” He dipped his finger in the sticky salve, applied it to both hands, then finished bandaging them.
“You seem to be good at everything, even bandaging servants’ hands.”
He studied her face. Now that he knew she was the granddaughter of a king, he couldn’t help seeing her a bit differently. “I hope the king does not put me in a dungeon for making you work as a servant.”
“I only mean that you seem so good at making everyone like you. All the servants think highly of you. They are not intimidated, but they respect you nevertheless.”
“It is important to me that I earn my people’s trust and loyalty, especially after the Peasants’ Uprising. I don’t want them to see me as a cruel master. And I don’t want to be a cruel master. As Christians, we are all brothers and sisters.”
She looked confused.
“There is a passage in the Bible that says, ‘Masters, provide your slaves with what is right and fair, because you know that you also have a Master in heaven.’ I imagine it works the same with villeins as it does with slaves.”
She was so beautiful when she was thinking and staring at nothing. She creased her forehead in that thoughtful way of hers. “No wonder you are so loved by the people. And so disliked by the other lords.”
Westley rubbed the back of his neck. “I always wanted to be like my father, but the truth is, I’m not like him. He often says wise things, and he is very intense and seems to know when mischief is afoot. If something is amiss, he knows what, why, and how to fix it.” He stopped. Did he truly want Evangeline to know how incompetent he felt?
“Is that why you were so angry when I said John Underhill had tried to kill you?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if he tried to kill you and you thought he was still your friend . . .” Evangeline shrugged.
She understood better than she pretended. “You are reminding me of my father at this moment.” He shook his head. “If I could not even see that my oldest friend hated me so much he wanted to kill me, well, how could I even be worthy of inheriting my father’s lands and responsibilities?”
The confession left him hollow inside, but at the same time, it felt good to admit it.
“I am angry with myself for not seeing how much he has changed, how he hates me enough to murder me.”
“How could you have known? It is nothing to blame yourself for.”
“But how could I be so mistaken?”
“Perhaps it is because you are so kind, you could not imagine your own friend being so evil. You are a good man, Westley.”
She looked intently at his face with those enchanting green eyes.
“Forgive me for not trusting you more. It seems I was mistaken again.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “The fact that you admit your mistakes makes you even more admirable.”
Her words seemed to fill an empty place inside him. How pretty she was—fragile and yet strong. His arms ached to hold her.
His father’s cautionary words came to him. “Be wise and guard your heart. You hardly know anything of this woman.”
But he did feel as if he knew her. Was
his heart being deceptive? How could he know? He turned away from her before he acted on his impulse.
“I suppose we should read a little while before we have to get back to our duties.”
Evangeline let go of his hand as she realized he wasn’t going to put his arms around her. If Westley loved her enough to marry her, she might be safe. King Richard might not be willing to break their marriage vows and force her to marry Shiveley.
Foolish hope. And yet, the more she knew of him, the more she wanted to be close to him, to spend time with him, and the harder it was to imagine herself married to anyone else.
Truly, she was setting herself up for pain.
They read together from the book of Romans until the sun started to set and spread the clouds and sky with bright pink and orange.
Evangeline handed the book back to Westley. “I need to get back inside to help the other servants.”
He was looking up at her with a worried crease in his forehead.
“What is it?”
“It does not seem right for you to work as a servant.”
“You know it is my disguise in case Lord Shiveley’s or the king’s men come around. They would not expect me to be working as a servant. Besides, if I lived in Glynval and did nothing, it would seem suspicious.”
“I know. But it feels wrong.”
She smiled. “Better to work as a servant than to marry someone I do not love.”
“Do not forget you promised to practice your singing with my family tonight. Come to the Great Hall immediately after dinner.”
“It will be my pleasure to sing for your family.” But the thought of singing at the festival gave her an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Westley had said that only the people of the four nearby villages attended. She was being overly cautious, no doubt.
Chapter Twenty-One
Evangeline ate quickly. At every meal, she remained quiet around the other servants, ever since they thought she was trying to poison them and dragged her to the pillory. Though now she ate in a smaller room, with the few house servants who worked only in the castle.