The Beautiful Pretender (A Medieval Fairy Tale #2)(12)

As Avelina and Magdalen ate, Magdalen spoke of her younger sisters and brother with warmth and affection. “I wish they could have come with me, but the invitation was only for myself.” She talked about her mother and siblings a bit more, then spoke of how poor the villagers of Mallin were. “The copper mines have been Mallin’s main source of wealth. But about ten years ago the copper suddenly ran out. My father died soon after.” She sighed. “Our land does not grow much food, as the soil is very rocky. It would be good for raising sheep and other livestock, but the people don’t have money for buying livestock. It is why my mother wants to marry me to a wealthy nobleman, hoping he will help our people.”

Avelina nodded. “Plimmwald is not very wealthy either. Most of our people are farmers or woodcutters . . . peasants.” That was what Lady Dorothea called all the people of Plimmwald.

“My father always emphasized to me that as the noble family of Mallin, we were ultimately responsible for our people. I feel guilty sometimes living in a house made of stone, with silk dresses and plenty of food, when so many in our villages are going hungry.”

Avelina knew that guilty feeling too, but it was because she often slept and ate at Plimmwald Castle, while her little sister and brother had to fend for themselves in their little dirt-floor, wattle-and-daub hovel they shared with their father, who was dependent on the neighbors to help him get from his chair to his bed.

“But what can we do to help them?” Avelina wondered aloud.

“There is only one thing a woman might do, and that is to marry someone wealthy—and generous.”

Avelina started tapping her chin, then stopped herself as she realized it did not look very regal or ladylike.

“My maidservant said the margrave would want to ask me some questions. Did he already talk with you?”

Magdalen nodded, her mouth full of pheasant.

“What did he ask you? Will I be too frightened to even be able to speak?” She asked the latter question more to herself than to Magdalen.

“It was not frightening, although I do think the margrave himself is a little gruff and frightening. His questions were not what I might have expected, but they were respectful and nothing was difficult to answer. Do not worry. You will answer him well.”

“It hardly matters. I do not wish to marry the margrave in any case,” she confided.

“Do you not?”

Avelina shook her head.

“Is there someone else you wish to marry?”

“No, not at all.” She should not have said that. How would she explain? “As you said, he is a little frightening, that severe look on his face, as if he is always angry. I should like to marry someone with more of a gentle, romantic expression, a man of poetry and learning.” That was true, at least, however unlikely it was.

“How do you know Lord Thornbeck is not a man of poetry and learning?”

“He used to be a knight.” Avelina shrugged, trying to think what Dorothea might say. “Most knights I know are rough and like to fight.”

Magdalen smiled. “I might feel the same, except I know my mother is hoping the margrave will choose me. It would solve so many problems for my people and ensure them the protection they need.”

Avelina decided immediately: If the margrave seemed to be a good person, she would try to turn his attention toward Magdalen and convince him to choose her. Magdalen was a deserving person, and it would make her happy to be able to help her people. And anyone he married who was not Fronicka would benefit Avelina. Yes, the margrave should marry Magdalen.

As soon as the midday meal was over, the beautiful blonde wife of the margrave’s chancellor approached Avelina.

“Lord Thornbeck is ready to speak with you now, Lady Dorothea.”

Avelina nodded. Somehow, after deciding to champion Magdalen, she felt much less afraid of the margrave. She had a plan.

She followed the servant through the Great Hall—accompanied by the stares of the other guests. Fronicka was smirking at her.

Avelina smiled back at her and winked. Perhaps it was not a wise thing to do, but she was looking forward to the margrave choosing Lady Magdalen and erasing the annoying smirk off Fronicka’s face.





5



REINHART WAITED IN his library for the last of the ten ladies to come so he might ask her questions.

Odette’s quiet steps alerted him to their arrival only a moment before his chancellor’s wife appeared in the doorway, followed closely by the last of the noble maidens who had come to his party.

“Lord Thornbeck.” Odette Hartman curtsied. “Lady Dorothea, daughter of the Earl of Plimmwald.”

Reinhart nodded to her.

Odette sat near Jorgen and smiled at the young lady.

He forced himself to say politely, “Lady Dorothea, it is my pleasure to welcome you to Thornbeck Castle. Frau Hartman, who brought you here, will stay in the room so you might feel more comfortable, while my chancellor, Jorgen Hartman, will record our conversation. You may sit.”

He hated formality and pretense. People should say what they wanted instead of hiding behind hypocrisy. He had allowed Jorgen and his wife to teach him a few of the niceties that others of the aristocracy would expect of him. But the woman he married must realize that he could not abide insincerity, and he would always be forthright himself.

He might as well get these questions over with. At least she was the last one. “Lady Dorothea, in your opinion, what is a lady’s most important task?”