The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(41)

“Where do you hurt, my dear? The leg? Or ankle? I saw you limping.”

“My ankle, but it is not badly injured.”

Westley came closer as Lady le Wyse lifted Evangeline’s foot and examined her ankle. She pressed her fingers all around. “Does this hurt?”

“Not very much. I’m sure it will be better in a few days.”

“Nevertheless, I want you to rest it for at least tomorrow. What else did they do to you?”

“Nothing. I am not hurt.” Evangeline had managed to hold back the tears that had started to fall earlier, but Lady le Wyse’s kind attention and sympathetic looks were beginning to undo her efforts. She blinked several times to drive away the moisture flooding her eyes.

“I am so sorry, Eva. It isn’t like Glynval’s people to become so angry and violent. Let me see your arms.”

Evangeline wore her work dress with the floppy sleeves that hung to just below her elbows. She pushed up one, and Lady le Wyse covered her mouth and shook her head.

“You poor dear.” She pushed up her other sleeve and found more of the same little round fingerprints of purple and dark blue.

Westley leaned closer to see.

Evangeline suppressed the urge to slap his face and order him to get away from her. How dare he let those men grab her and drag her and threaten to beat her? Tears suddenly overflowed her eyes and ran down her face.

“Westley, fetch some cold water in a basin and some water in a cup for Eva.”

More tears slipped down her cheeks, and she hoped Westley had not seen them as he hurried out.

Lady le Wyse dabbed Evangeline’s cheeks with a cloth. “My dear, are you in pain somewhere you haven’t told me about?”

She shook her head.

“Only in your heart?”

Evangeline shrugged and nodded. Lady le Wyse let her take the cloth and wipe her eyes and nose. She had to control herself before Westley returned.

“I will not let anyone hurt you again,” Lady le Wyse said stoutly. “And from now on you will work only here in the house with me, where I can keep a close eye on you.”

“I do not want you to go to any trouble for me, my lady. I am—”

“It is no trouble. I am outraged on your behalf, and I want to make up to you the feeling of safety you have lost over this.”

She said the words so gently, warmth spread through Evangeline’s middle. Was this what it was like to have a mother? To have someone care what happened to you and concern herself about your feelings?

The warmth inside was replaced by an ache, a hollowness that hurt. Her mother had died in childbirth. Westley had a kind mother who loved him, but Evangeline would never know what that was like.

“Here is your water.” Westley entered the room, balancing a basin in one hand and holding a cup in the other. He handed the cup to Evangeline.

The hands that reached for the cup shook. She bit her lip at not being able to hide the weakness. Evangeline sipped the cold water and closed her eyes, again willing the tears away, trying to push down the memory of the pitying looks on Westley’s and his mother’s faces.

“I will wrap this ankle and make it snug so you won’t twist it or turn it walking back to the undercroft. And tomorrow, if you feel like walking, you can come back here and let me make sure it isn’t too swollen. Westley told me you enjoy reading our Latin Bible.” A smile graced Lady le Wyse’s lips. She was indeed a beautiful woman, even at her age. Westley resembled her quite a bit, but his hair was darker, and he had his father’s chin and jawline.

“Yes, I do. I did not have a Bible at . . . where I lived before.”

“We are pleased to let you read it”—she continued to wrap Evangeline’s ankle—“especially tomorrow since I do not wish for you to work.”

“I thank you, Lady le Wyse.”

Evangeline gave her back the cup, and Lady le Wyse stared as if something had caught her eye. Then she grabbed Evangeline’s hand, twisted it palm up, and gasped. She grabbed her other hand and did the same. “Eva! What happened to your hands?”

“Only blisters.” Evangeline’s cheeks burned, and she wished she could hide as Westley bent and stared down at her hands as well.

“Those look worse than ever,” he said.

“Get me my healing salve,” Lady le Wyse said, still studying her hands with a troubled downturn of her brows. “And some bandages. My dear, I’m so sorry.”

“It is only because my hands were too soft. I should have kept my hands wrapped after . . . after Westley put some salve on them two days ago. They will toughen up soon and be like the other servants’ hands.”

Lady le Wyse made a clicking sound with her tongue against her teeth. “You should have told someone. Westley should have told me. You don’t have to suffer wounds like this untreated. It is dangerous, besides. Open sores like these could become septic.”

Her hands were quite bloody and raw. “I am sorry. Forgive me.”

“Child, it is not your fault. There is nothing to forgive.” She took the pot of salve from Westley and smeared it on Evangeline’s palms.

“Mother!” Cate’s voice called from another part of the castle. “Mother, we need you! The little ones won’t stay in bed.”

Lady le Wyse wiped her hands on a cloth. “I’d better go see what is amiss with my children.” She smiled apologetically. “Westley, you can finish this task. You know what to do. He is very gentle.” She patted her son’s cheek and then hurried out.