The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(34)

“That won’t be easy. He was very disappointed to find that we had lied to him.”

Her stomach twisted.

“But that is also a good sign, a sign that he has some feelings for you. If he did not care, he would not have been so disappointed.”

“I hate to think of him feeling disappointed in me.”

She should never have deceived him, even if she did have a good reason.



That evening Westley wandered out into the garden behind his family’s home.

Would Evangeline come for their Bible reading now that her secret was discovered, now that he knew she had lied and deceived him?

He shouldn’t even allow her near his family’s Bible. If she came thinking he did not care that she had lied to him, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to control his temper.

He kept glancing behind him at the back of the house. Then he walked along the row of trees at the edge of the garden. He still had a clear view of the house.

He had talked to her like a friend, had helped her and been kind to her, had told her all about the worst time in his life, the Peasants’ Uprising, and all along she had been pretending she couldn’t speak. He even got the wax tablets just so she could communicate with him, and it had all been fake. She must have been laughing at him, at so easily making a fool of the lord’s son. So why was he looking for her, half disappointed not to see her there?

The sun had just sunk behind the trees, spreading its last fingers of light through the sky. Westley trudged back to the house.

“Good evening.”

Eva stood in the shadowy area near the back door. Her voice was smooth and feminine and more sophisticated than the village maidens of Glynval—and he hated himself for noticing.

“I wanted to say again that I’m sorry we deceived you about my being able to speak.”

At one time he would have praised God at hearing her speak. But now . . .

“I thought you were someone who could be trusted.” He tried to look her in the eye, to see if she was ashamed of her sin, but it was too dark to see her expression. “I am not accustomed to being deceived for no good reason.”

“Perhaps I did have a good reason.”

He snorted. “What reason?”

“I will tell you, but I beg you not to tell anyone else.”

He did not answer for a few moments. “Very well. What reason could you possibly have for pretending to be mute?”

“As I told you, I was trying to get away from someone. It was the only way I could think of to disguise myself.”

“Why?” The word exploded from him. “If you had told me you were in danger, I would have protected you.” He never shouted, and he hadn’t planned to shout at her, but the heat inside him forced its way out. “You did not have to make a fool of me, making me think you had been beaten until you lost your voice. I felt sorry for you.” His insides twisted and he rubbed a hand across his eyes, unable to even look at her.

His mind flashed back to a few years before, when he was going fishing with John Underhill. A young woman had approached them and asked to go fishing with them.

“My family is hungry,” the maiden said, “and needs me to catch some fish, for we have no other food and have not eaten for two days.”

John had laughed and told her, “Go away. Westley is too virtuous for you.”

“Why did you do that?” Westley asked. “Perhaps she really was hungry.”

John laughed again. “You are never suspicious of anyone, and you believe everything anyone tells you.”

Westley had inquired about the maiden later and discovered that she had not been going without food. She had admitted to his sister that she simply wanted to get close to him and John because they were the wealthiest young men in the two villages.

Another time a maiden stumbled and landed in his arms. Or at least Westley thought she had stumbled. John told him he was naive.

“Foolish,” John had said. “To feel compassion for the villeins or servants.” More than once he had said, with that contemptuous tone, “Westley, you’re too trusting. Do you think every last one of your villeins wouldn’t slit your throat to trade places with you? You think they care about you, but they don’t.”

Westley’s face had grown hot as he told his friend, “You are wrong. It is not foolish to feel compassion, and I pity you that you think so cynically.”

But that old humiliation that had made his face grow hot at John’s words now rose up inside him again. Eva had done what those other maidens had tried to do—made him feel sorry for her by lying to him.

Eva hung her head, staring down at her hands.

“I felt sorry for you, Eva, if that is even your name. But you were lying to me. How can I believe anything you say?”

“I understand why you would be angry. But I had to leave suddenly.”

“Why? Why did you make a fool of us?” Of me? He shouldn’t care. Besides, she could be lying again.

“Someone wanted to marry me, and I did not want to marry him. So I ran away. I had nowhere to go, and we were very grateful you let us come along with you and your men.”

Westley remembered the king’s guards, along with Lord Shiveley’s, seeking someone the day after they left Berkhamsted Castle. They had been searching for two women, one who was tall and had red hair. They must have been looking for Eva and Mildred, but why would the king send his men after two servants?