An Uncertain Choice(62)

She’d left.

A blaze of searing hot pain ripped through my chest, leaving me breathless. Even my hands shook, and I had to take a quick step away from the bars so that the jailer wouldn’t see my reaction and brand me as a weakling.

She hadn’t loved me enough to stay. She’d chosen a life in the convent over a life with me.

“Sure do wish we could have said good-bye to the lady,” the jailer said, moving back to the door.

“Yes,” I replied. She could have at the very least come to me and told me of her decision. I would have expected no less of her.

“I know she would have wanted us to continue treating you kindly, sir.” The jailer paused before the door. “She was clear on that.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your kindness,” I managed, even though my chest was caving in and I could hardly think straight to get the words out.

“I don’t care what Father Abbot’s orders are,” the jailer tossed over his shoulder. “If Lady Rosemarie insisted we feed you and keep you comfortable, that’s what I’m going to do.”

“What do you mean, the abbot’s orders?” I called after him.

The jailer shrugged. “He said he’s the one who’ll be making the rules from now on.”

So I’d been right. The abbot had wanted Lady Rosemarie to enter the convent so he could continue to control her, perhaps gain even more power.

As the door closed and darkness fell around me, I leaned back against the cold wall and sank to the floor. The mug of soup fell to the ground next to me, spilling the precious drops of liquid. But I didn’t care. I didn’t care that it was likely the last bit of food I’d be given. As kind as the jailer had been, I knew no one in the castle would be able to defy the abbot’s orders for long. He wielded a strong power.

I leaned my head back and stared at the black nothingness above me. My heart pulsed in painful spurts, and my chest ached so deeply I felt as if a lance had been thrust through my body.

She’d left.

She hadn’t loved me enough to stay. Maybe she hadn’t ever loved me at all.

My head dropped and my shoulders sagged. I’d lost her.

I closed my eyes and let the last bit of hope seep from me. Without Rosemarie in my life, it no longer mattered what fate befell me.




I rubbed the fog from my eyes and darted up, my hands making contact with a hard bed.

A scratchy wool blanket slipped off and fell onto Trudy, who was sprawled on a pallet on the floor. My nursemaid snorted once in her sleep and then stirred.

From the light coming in a high barred window, I could see that I was in a small, narrow room. The walls were whitewashed and barren, except a wooden cross hanging opposite of the tiny bed where I sat.

There was nothing else in the room, save a chamber pot in one corner.

“Trudy,” I whispered, glancing at the thick planks of the door. “Wake up.”

Where were we?

Trudy rolled over, muttered something under her breath, and went back to snoring.

I slipped my feet over the edge of the bed and smoothed down my crimson gown, which seemed out of place in the unadorned, colorless room.

How long had I been asleep?

My heart jolted at the remembrance of what had happened, of how I’d been waiting for Bartholomew to bring Derrick, of the men sneaking up on Trudy and me, throwing sacks over our heads. Then everything had gone black.

I stood, tiptoed around Trudy, and padded straight to the door. With a silent, desperate plea, I yanked on the handle, only to fall back a step.

It was firmly locked.

I glanced again at the window. It was too high and the bars too narrow to even consider escaping through it.

“Trudy,” I whispered again, louder. “We need to get out of here.”

I rattled the door, studying the lock and praying I could somehow miraculously open it.

“My lady,” Trudy said from behind me, finally sitting up and yawning. “You’re up early this morning.”

Had my eighteenth birthday come and gone? Had I missed my chance to speak with Derrick and discover if we had a chance at happiness?

A strange panic beset my limbs. I lunged at the door, yanking on the handle and pulling against it.

“Derrick!” I cried. I needed to find Derrick.

“My lady,” Trudy said, blinking hard. Her voice rose with a note of anxiety. “Wherever in the world are we?”

“We’ve been kidnapped.” I stood back and appraised the room again.

“Holy Father, Son, and Spirit,” Trudy unfolded her portly form from her pallet and rose to her knees. Her prayer echoed against the barren walls. “Looks to me like we’re at the convent. This room reminds me of one of the chambers they use for the ill.”

The clamoring inside me came to an abrupt halt. “The convent?” I gave a shaky laugh. But as I took in the room, I recognized it too, from the time my parents had sent me to the hilltop monastery to protect me from the Plague. I’d been restless and had wanted to help, so I’d sneaked into the infirmary to assist the monks in caring for the diseased.

“We shall call for the abbot,” I said, drawing in a calming breath. “He’ll be able to get us out of this strange situation in no time.”

Trudy climbed to her feet and pursed her lips together.

I leaned against the door and listened to the sounds in the hallway outside our room. There were distinct steps coming nearer, slow and measured. And when the footsteps finally stopped in front of the door, I stepped back.