The Silent Songbird (Hagenheim #7)(8)
“It is to be your wedding day.” Lady Pettwood patted Evangeline’s arm. “Do you need me to tell you what to expect? My own daughters are too young yet to need to be told any—”
“No, no, I assure you, I do not need . . . no, though I thank you, Lady Pettwood.”
They arrived at Evangeline’s door first, but then she had to show Lady Pettwood to her room, as she had lost her way in the corridors of the large building.
When Evangeline arrived back at her room, she closed her door behind her and locked it.
Her heart raced as she ran to the trunk where she had stowed her bag. She drew it out and quickly folded her undergowns and stuffed them into the cloth bag. The servants’ clothing she had taken only left enough room for two of her oldest and least fine overgowns if she was to include any books at all. And she simply could not bear the thought of not packing her Psalter and Book of Hours.
She closed the bag and stood staring at the door, her bag clutched to her chest. Should she try to leave now? Or wait until everyone had gone to bed? If she left now, Muriel would surely discover she was gone. Could she trust Muriel not to tell the king?
But she could not wait until morning, as the wedding would take place tomorrow. If she waited, Shiveley and the king would send their guards after her and she would not get far.
Her heart pounding, she went to the window. The castle bailey was deserted except for a servant who was drawing water from the well. But then several men appeared, walking away from the castle and across the bailey toward the gate. They approached the well and refilled their water flasks. They packed away the water on the cart their donkey was pulling and continued toward the gate leading out of the bailey to the road beyond.
The party of travelers was the same group with the kind man who had saved Alma’s little sister.
She had to take off her elaborate silk dress. But the neckline was too small to pull over her head, and the dress buttoned down the back.
She took hold of the neckline and jerked with all her strength. Buttons flew off, pinging against the wall behind her. She pulled it over her head and flung it away. She grabbed one of the gowns she had borrowed from the servants’ quarters, then pulled it over her head and over her long white undergown.
She snatched up her bag and ran out the door.
Chapter Three
As she hurried down the darkened corridor lit only by a few torches, Evangeline pulled the metal circlet from her hair, then took it and the veil attached and stuffed them behind a loose stone in the wall. Her hair fell unencumbered down her back, and she ran her hand through the few small braids that had been woven through her hair, unbraiding them and jerking her fingers loose when they became entangled.
No one else met her in the corridor, but once she reached the back stairs, she could hear voices. The servants would be running around tending to their extra duties due to all the guests in the king’s retinue—all the extra food to be prepared, extra beds to be readied, as well as the care of the extra horses.
She could only hope they would be too busy to notice her.
Evangeline slipped from the bottom step to the door that led outside. Just as her foot touched the ground, someone grabbed her arm from behind.
Evangeline cried out.
“What are you doing?”
“Muriel!” Evangeline clutched her bag closer to her chest.
“Where are you going?”
“Do not try to stop me. If you do, I shall kill myself before morning. I would rather die than marry Lord Shiveley.”
They were whispering as men milled around the inner bailey near where they stood.
“You foolish girl!” Muriel’s voice was bitter and her brows drew together, wrinkling her forehead. “Why can you not accept your fate as any other woman would?”
“Let me go.” A fierceness rose inside her. Evangeline pulled out of Muriel’s grasp.
“I am coming with you, then.”
Her words made Evangeline stop and look back. “No, Muriel. You cannot.”
“I will not let you get killed out in a world you know nothing of. I am coming.”
“You will cause me to be discovered. I can blend in better without you.” Evangeline tried to say whatever would be most likely to deter Muriel. Searching the bailey for the man and his companions, she saw some men just passing through the gate over the first moat.
“I must go now. I cannot wait for you.” She blinked back tears at saying such a thing to her friend, but she was desperate.
Muriel only hesitated for a moment. “Let us go, then.”
Would Muriel alert the guard at the gate that the king’s ward was escaping? Would she get word back to the king where Evangeline was staying? Short of doing bodily harm to her friend and companion, she had little choice.
“Come then. But do not betray me.” Evangeline frightened herself with her passionately whispered words.
Muriel answered in her own harsh whisper, “If I wished to betray you, I would run back into the castle and tell the king what you are doing.”
“Hurry.” Evangeline hastened across the bailey. Her skirt was a bit too short for her tall legs, but that enabled her to move faster. Soon Muriel, with her shorter, heavier frame, was huffing and puffing behind her. Evangeline pushed forward, as the men had already exited the gate.
The main gate on the other side of the double moat was guarded by four men. Would they demand to know their names and what their business was? Servants rarely left the castle, and they certainly should not be leaving now, while the king was there. What would she and Muriel tell them?