How could this adventure end well for either of them?
Something caught her eye. By her foot a small frog crawled forward, then leapt away. An ant walked up a nearby tree trunk. And in the water below her, unseen, swam fish and eels, countless water beings full of life. What was it they wanted? What did Evangeline want?
The memory rushed in, of Lord and Lady le Wyse the previous night, how they had hurried to touch each other, to speak to each other. After all the years they had been together, all their children birthed and nurtured, they still looked at each other with love in their eyes.
“That is what I want,” Evangeline whispered.
Her own parents had not been able to enjoy each other like that. Her mother died shortly after she was born, and her father soon after that. She was supposedly born outside of marriage, but she liked to think her parents did end up marrying secretly before she was born. Perhaps they intended to make their union known but died before it was possible.
She had never been privy to a married couple and their relationship. But she very much suspected that true married love looked similar to what she saw between Lord and Lady le Wyse. She closed her eyes, crossed herself, and clasped her hands. Please give me a love like that, God.
A sound caught her attention. Not wishing any of the other servants to see her doing nothing, she made her way off the path and hid in the trees and bushes, staring out through the leaves.
Two men walked past. One was carrying a short but heavy-looking block of wood. He was blond and dressed in a fine linen shirt with a finely worked leather sleeveless tunic—much too fine for a servant. She caught a bare glimpse of the other man, noting his dark hair.
Evangeline left her hiding place and followed them from a distance. Ahead, she heard them talking, gradually realizing they were speaking with a third man. As she drew closer, she saw that the third man was Westley.
Suddenly the blond man raised the block of wood and struck Westley in the head, then pushed him off the bank into the river.
Frozen, unable to breathe, Evangeline watched as the two strange men ran in the other direction.
Westley.
She ran as fast as she could, stumbling over her skirt before jerking it up to her knees.
She scrambled down the side of the bank. He was lying facedown in the water a little farther downstream, his body caught on a tree whose roots extended into the river.
Evangeline jumped into the river feet first, water splashing on her face. The water pushed her skirt up to her waist, but she had to get to Westley. He would surely drown. O God, help me! Please, please.
Walking through the chest-high water was slow, no matter how hard she pushed her legs to move faster. Her eyes were locked on Westley’s body. Every moment his face was under water brought him closer to death.
She finally reached him, grabbed him under his arm, and used her other hand to pull his head up.
He was heavier than she imagined. Using all her strength, she put his arm around her shoulders and held his head out of the water. His eyes were closed, his face pale. A trickle of blood ran down his temple. Was he . . . ?
No. He could not be. She would not believe it.
Stumbling toward the bank, nearly going under herself, she managed to prop his head and shoulders against the side of the steep bank. Her arms under his, climbing up the bank, she pulled as hard as she could. He did not budge. His lower half was still under water.
“Help! Someone, please!” She had to get him out of the water and breathing again. He had to live. Whatever happened to her, she had to save Westley.
She wedged her body underneath his and pushed. She only managed to move him an inch.
“Help! Westley is hurt!” She brushed the trickle of blood away from his closed eye as a sob shook her.
A voice called, indistinguishable in the distance.
“Help! Someone help!” Evangeline screamed.
“Who is that?” the voice called, getting closer.
“Westley is hurt! Please help me!”
Finally, Sabina’s face appeared above her.
“Eva!” Her mouth fell open. “You spoke. Is that Westley?”
“Yes, help me, please. He’s nearly drowned.”
“Maybe I should go get help.”
“Just help me drag him to the top of the bank.”
Sabina eased herself halfway down the bank. She took one of his arms and Evangeline took the other, and together they managed to pull him to the top as Evangeline dug her toes into the muddy bank and climbed out beside him.
Instinctively Evangeline turned him onto his stomach, holding one shoulder up so his face was not in the dirt, and pounded on his back.
Suddenly he vomited. Thank You, God, he is alive!
Sabina screamed. Evangeline kept hold of his shoulder so he was lying on his side and slightly forward.
“I’ll get help!” Sabina ran away down the path.
He stopped heaving and lay still. She studied his face. He was pale, but perhaps not as pale as when she first pulled him out of the river. She wished she had a dry cloth to wipe the blood from his temple and the side of his face.
The bandages he had put on her hands were dripping water. She yanked them off and threw them on the ground.
He groaned, then started coughing. Again, he lay still.
“Westley? Are you all right? Please don’t die. You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
His eyelids eased up, as though it hurt to open them. He gazed at her for a moment, a dazed look in his eyes. Then his eyes closed again.
“He’s unconscious. But he’s alive,” she assured herself. “He’ll wake up again.”
Was he breathing? She laid her cheek over his nose and mouth. She waited, then felt the slight brush of air against her cheek.
The leather bag he often carried with him lay on the ground nearby. Evangeline ran to it and found nothing more helpful than a dry cloth. She carried it back to him.
Gently, she wiped at the blood. She brushed his hair back until she saw the source—a cut at his hairline. She pressed the cloth against the spot while staring down into his face, his perfect features and masculine chin and jaw. But if he never woke up, the heart and mind were what would be missed the most. How could Glynval ever be the same without him?
Who did this to him? Who would want to hurt such a kind and gentle young man?
She heard voices in the distance. Then Sabina’s rose above the rest. “He’s over here.”
Several men appeared, with Sabina leading them. When they saw her kneeling beside Westley on the ground, they ran past Sabina and nudged Evangeline out of the way. They pelted her with questions.
“What happened?”
“Is he alive?”
“Is he breathing?”
Evangeline nodded.
Four of them lifted him and carried him slowly down the path.
Evangeline stood, watching them go, suddenly aware that she was dripping wet from the neck down. Her hands showed smears of blood—Westley’s blood—and they were shaking.
God, please let him live.
Chapter Ten
As Muriel left the privy behind the manor house, Evangeline caught her eye and motioned to her. She led her behind some trees and bushes.
“Is Westley well?” Evangeline whispered.
“He has been awake and talking.”
“Oh, thank You, God.” She let out the breath she was holding. “Will he be all right? Is he in his right mind?”
“I think so. I have not seen him, though. Sabina is crowing to everyone who will listen that she was the one who pulled him out of the river and saved his life.”
“What else did she say? Did she tell everyone that I can speak?”
“What do you mean?”
“I was the one who saw the man hit him in the head and throw him in the water. I jumped in and pulled his face out of the water, but I couldn’t get him all the way out, so I screamed for help. Sabina came. She hear
d me talk.”
“Be wary of that one,” Muriel said softly. “And what do you mean, you saw a man hit him in the head?”
“Doesn’t he remember?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps you should try to see him yourself.”
Would they let her in to see him? “I will try.”
Evangeline parted from Muriel and hurried toward the castle. When she was nearly to the front door, someone called her name.
Sabina stood nearby smirking at her, arms crossed in front of her. “You lied about not being able to speak.”
“And you lied about saving Westley from the river.” Evangeline made her expression emotionless as she stared down at the shorter girl, but inside, her heart was pounding.
Sabina uncrossed her arms and planted her fists on her hips. “Westley is mine. And if you dare to tell him that you were the one who saved him, then I will tell him what a liar you and your friend Mildred are, telling everyone you are mute.”
Evangeline’s chest rose and fell rapidly. “Westley is a human being. He does not belong to you.”
“You stay away from him or I will tell him your secret.”
They stared at each other. When a house servant opened the door to throw out a bucket of water, Evangeline darted inside. Sabina made a startled noise and followed on her heels.
Westley’s sister Cate stepped into the corridor. “Eva. Did you want to see Westley?”
Evangeline nodded.
“Sabina!” Mistress Alice called. “I need you to give your mother a message . . .” Her voice trailed off as Evangeline hurried after Cate.
Cate turned down one corridor and then another and finally stopped in a doorway.
Inside, Westley was sitting up in a bed propped up with pillows. She drank him in—the healthy color in his face, the blue of his eyes, the movement of his hand as he signaled to her.
“Eva, please come in. I was hoping to see you.”
As she drew near to him, he looked almost back to normal, except that his hair was mussed and sticking up over his cut. He also had shadows under his eyes.
“The men told me you were there with me when they arrived. Sabina said you waited with me while she went to get help.” He held out a wax tablet to her. He must not know she could talk. She scratched her answer, feeling guiltier than usual at her deception. “I did. I pressed a cloth against your head wound.”
He pointed to his head and winced. “My mother insisted on stitching it up.”
Evangeline grimaced back.
“I am glad you came. I wanted to thank you for waiting with me.”
She had no real reason to tell him she was actually the one who saved him from drowning. If Sabina would keep her secret, Evangeline might as well let her get the credit for saving him.
“I am grateful you are alive. Do you know who hit you?”
“No one hit me. Sabina said I hit my head when I fell in the river.”
“Don’t you remember what happened?”
“No. That’s the strange thing. All I remember is getting my fishing gear and walking to my favorite fishing spot. And I’m not even sure I’m remembering that from this morning or from another day, since I go fishing so often. All the memories seem jumbled. I don’t remember falling in the river at all. I think the head injury has addled my thoughts.”
She should tell him the truth, even though Sabina would tell everyone she lied about being mute. But the dangerous man who tried to murder Westley would surely hear that he was not dead after all and would try again to kill him.
But if Westley discovered her lie, he wouldn’t trust her. Besides, she did not know who the men were who attacked him and couldn’t even describe them very well.
“Perhaps someone pushed you. It seems unlikely that you would fall.”
Westley raised his brows. “It does seem strange. I should probably question Sabina a bit more closely.”
But before he did, Evangeline needed to tell her what had actually happened. She had to convince Sabina that Westley was in danger so she could warn him. If only Sabina had seen who hit him, she might have recognized his attackers. They were strangers to Evangeline.
“Is there someone who might be angry enough to want to kill you?”
“There was a man attacking his wife in the woods just after I helped you get the pigs back in their pen. I heard her scream and helped pull the man away from her. He was very angry. He is the only person I can think of who might have done such a thing.”
“Yes, perhaps it was that man. Or a worker who is still dwelling on the Peasants’ Uprising?”
“That is possible, I suppose.” He looked so troubled. “I told you a little about the uprising.”
She nodded.
“My father had experienced something similar years ago, when his villeins had risen up against him and even threatened to kill him, before he and Mother married. Everything quickly settled down and nothing bad happened. But three years ago, some villeins from my friend John Underhill’s lands murdered John’s father, then came and stirred up our people. My father’s villeins started stealing the livestock and tried to set fire to the castle. My father went out and calmed them down, but there was a lot of fear and tension for a while. My father saw the importance of raising the people’s wages—as many other landowners around England were doing—and trying to be more fair and generous about how many days’ work they owed. In fact, my father was more lenient and generous than any of the other landowners around, including John Underhill, who was the oldest son and had to take over after his father was killed.”
Westley gave a slight shake of his head. “John was furious with us.”
Her heart clenched to see the pain in his expression and hear it in his voice. No one had ever expressed such feelings so openly with her before. Her heart beat faster. How she wanted this man to think well of her, to see her heart as she was seeing his. But would he see how selfish she was and be disgusted by her? How could he love her if he knew what was in her heart—deception and selfishness?
“But all seems better now.” His brows lifted, as did the corners of his mouth. “The anger and bitterness seem to have mostly gone from the people, and I am thankful for that—although I am not so sure about John.”
He was almost too good to be real, and yet, here he was, very real and close and with the most beautiful blue eyes.
“What happened to you during that time? Were there any riots where you lived?”
“No, not where I lived,” she wrote, which was true. She had thought of the Peasants’ Uprising as something that happened a long way away.
“You probably don’t want to talk about all those things that happened in the past. It is time for us to read. My mother has ordered me to stay in bed for the rest of the day, so you can keep me company.”
“I came because I wanted to know if you were well.”
“And I am. Just a small headache.” He smiled and her stomach fluttered. “How are your hands? Let me see.”
She held them out, palms up. The blisters were still raw but no blood or oozing. She’d cleaned and dried them after her jump into the river.
She picked up the wax tablet again. “Much better now, as you see.”
“That is very good.” He pointed behind her. “I had them bring the Bible in here for you.”
Evangeline took the book from the shelf behind her.
She allowed herself to stare at him, at how good it was to see him alive and looking well. Truly, she thanked God she had been able to save him from the river. If she had not followed those two men . . . if she had not been able to pull his head out of the water in time . . . if his body had been carried away by the current . . . A world without a kind young man who wished to help a servant girl read the Bible, who smiled often, and who bandaged a servant’s blistered hands would have been a sadder world.
But she put the heavy book down and wrote on the wax tablet, “I will be back. I must do something first.”
He looked surprised as Evangeline
hurried out of the room, out of the house, and into the grassy area behind it. The other servants were folding linens in the bright sunshine, and Evangeline spotted Sabina standing among them, talking and laughing. Evangeline walked past the other servants to Sabina.
“I need to talk to you.” Evangeline kept her voice low, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one else was listening.
Sabina walked a few feet away from the others, then turned and pointed her finger in Evangeline’s face. “And I told you to stay away from Westley.”
“If you care about Westley, you need to tell him that you think two men were trying to kill him.”
“Why? What do you mean?”
“I saw a man strike Westley with a block of wood and push him into the river. You have to warn him, so his men can keep him safe.”
Sabina stared at her for a moment. “Who? Who struck Westley?”
“I don’t know. A man with blond hair. I only saw his face from the side, but I did not know him.”
Sabina gave a slow nod. “Very well. I shall tell him.” She narrowed her eyes at Evangeline. “Why do you pretend to be mute? Why did you and Mildred lie to everyone?”
“It was a foolish thing to do. But I thank you for not telling anyone.” Sensing Sabina was about to say something more, Evangeline fled back to the castle, and back to Westley and the Bible.
That night Evangeline and Muriel kept to the edge of the trees as they made their way to the small glade in the forest to talk.
“I think I will have to tell everyone soon that I am not mute.”
“What do you mean?” Muriel’s voice was sharp.
“Sabina is likely to tell someone. I don’t trust her at all. And for another thing, I don’t like pretending.” Especially with Westley.
“You listen to me.” Muriel shook her finger in Evangeline’s face. “I am the one who lied. It is more my secret than yours, so if you decide to unburden your conscience, you’ll get us both punished. They might throw us out, and then we’ll be at the mercy of bandits and wild animals.”