5
After spending a day together with Catherine, Sarah was tired out. Catherine was a lovely companion, but it was clear she had spent most of her life alone as she seemed to want to make up for it all in one day. She never seemed to run out of things to talk about, which was a blessing in a way, as it meant that Sarah could simply remain quiet and listen rather than say anything that would blow her cover. The more she spent time with Catherine, the more Sarah learned how to act. She quickly realized that Rosemary was far different than this noble's daughter. Rosemary had always been self-sufficient, headstrong, willing to take her own fate in her hands. Catherine was quite the opposite. She seemed to have no real purpose of her own, and acted as though all the decisions of her life had been made for her already. It was a sad state of affairs, and Sarah understood better what she and Rosemary had been talking about.
There was a moment when Sarah had looked at some of the servants walking by and told Catherine that she envied them, echoing what Rosemary had told her as they had left her home.
“Envy them! Why would you envy them?” Catherine asked incredulously.
“Because they are free to make their own decisions. They do not bear any responsibility for the future. They can choose who they marry.”
Catherine merely laughed, and looked at her with as much confusion as Sarah had initially looked at Rosemary with.
“And yet their lives are meaningless without us. They are condemned to live in the lower classes, without a way to ever be better than they are. No, for all the faults in our lives I would not trade my place for an instant. All that hard work would not agree with me,” she said.
“No, I suppose it wouldn't,” Sarah said, and realized how much she missed her old life. When she had first left with Rosemary, Sarah had been deeply envious, and almost resentful of Rosemary. Rosemary never seemed like she appreciated what she had, and at that point Sarah would have given anything to take her place. Well, Sarah had indeed got what she had wished for, and it was not as simple as her old life had been. She would have given anything to be washing clothes or scrubbing dishes rather than having to continue with this subterfuge.
As soon as she returned to her chambers she was relieved to see that the housekeeper had left some implements for writing. Thankfully, Sarah and Rosemary had been so close as children that Rosemary had insisted Sarah join her in her classes, so although Sarah did not know as much as most nobles, she had still developed some skills that went beyond those of a mere handmaiden.
Sitting at her desk, she drew out a quill and smoothed her palm across the paper. She dipped the nib in the ink and thought about what she would write. Sarah had to focus on keeping her hand steady, as the nerves were making her shake. Revealing the truth to Lord Brambly was a risk, but it was better that he know of it sooner rather than later. The last thing she needed was for him to attend the wedding and exclaim with surprise that she was not his daughter. There would surely be no escape for her then.
Dearest Lord Brambly,
It is with great regret that I write to you. You may be told that this letter is from your loving daughter, but actually it is Sarah who is writing this. There has been a terrible misunderstanding. While we were traveling through the forest we encountered a wagon filled with prisoners. Rosemary wanted to investigate, fearing that something strange was occurring. I tried to dissuade her, but she was set on her course of action and she disappeared into the night. I do not know what happened to her then. I have heard a rumor that she was seen with a Highlander, being carried away to the north, and I fear for her safety. But to protect us from the soldiers who were guarding the prisoners George told them that I was Rosemary. We were escorted here and since then I have had to remain true to the lie. I wish that I could speak the truth to Lord Flynn, but I am afraid that he will not take too kindly to this subterfuge, even though it was not a conscious decision on my part. I feel ashamed, guilty, and scared. I do not think there is anyone to whom I can turn aside from you. Please help me, Lord Brambly, you are my only hope.
Yours faithfully,
Sarah
Reading the letter over and over again, Sarah wondered if she should write more, but what more was there to write? Before anyone could come in she blew on the ink to help it dry more quickly, then folded it up and sealed it in an envelope. As she carried it downstairs her heart trembled. If anyone should read this letter it would be the end for her.
She walked so swiftly in fact that she stumbled. The letter tumbled from her hand and slid out of her reach. Her hands slammed against the carpeted floor, as did her knees. She gasped, and reached out for the letter, only to find that somebody had already picked it up. Tilting her head up, she saw that it was Harold.
“Ah, a letter, how intriguing,” he said, turning it over in his hands. Sarah's breath caught in her throat. “What secrets does it hold, I wonder? Did I get a mention? I hope you are not writing to your father in hopes of calling off the wedding,” he said. Sarah couldn't decide if he was joking or not.
“I would never do that. I am so excited for our impending wedding,” she replied. Harold looked down at her as he ran his fingertip along the edge of the envelope. He tapped it, and for a moment Sarah was sure that he was going to tear open the paper and reveal her lie. Surely a man as intelligent and wise as Harold had seen through her lie. It wasn't as though she was a mastermind. Before this she had never told a lie before in her life!
To her relief Harold leaned down and offered her a hand, helping her back to her feet. He handed the letter to her and caressed her cheek gently.
“As you should be,” he said. “Are you sure you are unharmed?” he asked, looking her up and down.
“I believe so. I merely lost track of my thoughts,” she said, offering him an apologetic smile.
“You are just like my sister, always rushing around as though you are running out of time.”
“We are quite a pair,” Sarah agreed.
“Just be careful. I would not want to see anything harm your appearance. I want everyone in attendance to see your beauty.”
Sarah bowed her head, although that was a lot of pressure. She was a simple handmaiden. This wasn't her place.
“Now, are you not going to ask me about my hunt?”
“Of course, I apologize. The fall shook my wits from me. How was your hunt, Harold?”
“It was successful, thank you for asking. I am going to freshen up. I am looking forward to dinner tonight. I shall regale you with the tale of the great hunt.”
“I look forward to it, my lord.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Harold's mouth. He nodded, then spun on his heels and walked away. Sarah breathed a sigh of relief, pressing the letter into her bosom. Little did Harold know that he had just been holding the most valuable secret that Sarah had. She had to escape soon. The longer she remained in the palace the more likely it was that the truth would be revealed. If she ever got to the wedding she just might faint with anxiety.
Sarah walked more carefully for fear of tripping up again. The sooner the letter was on its way the better. She went to the traveling merchant and handed her letter over to him. He was a young man, with a yellow beard, and he looked at Sarah in a strange way. He gave her a toothy smile, but did not say anything, and slipped the letter into his cloak.
The letter was out of her hands now. She merely hoped that Lord Brambly would read it and come to her rescue. It would be easy for him to break off the wedding, then she could return home and they could focus on trying to discover what happened to Rosemary. Although Sarah shuddered at the thought of what she must have endured, being dragged off to the north by a Highlander. Sarah had bad memories of what the Highlanders did to their prisoners, and she was afraid that Rosemary wasn't even alive anymore.
With only a few hours until dinner remaining, Sarah tried to read, but found it most difficult to keep her mind focused on the words in front of her. She kept thinking about the traveling merchant and if he would reach Lord Brambly safely, and then if Lord Charles would actually be willing to come to her aid. Most of all she dreaded dinner. Every time she was around Lord Flynn she was afraid that she would say something that would betray her own secret. The more time she spent with him the more she was sure he would realize something was strange about her, but there was nothing she could do to avoid dinner. If she said she was ill he would most likely dote on her, or be frustrated that she was weak and frail.
The time for dinner arrived. Sarah wore a dress she considered far too nice for her. She didn't think she would ever become comfortable in the noble attire. It was all too luxurious and soft for her. Catherine and Harold were already seated, as per usual. The table was filled with all manner of delectable food. Huge slices of meat were laid upon plates, bowls of vegetables were situated in between them, and broth was being ladled into other bowls by the servants. One of them, startled by Sarah's arrival, dropped his ladle on the floor. It clattered down and the broth spilled over the floor. Sarah bent down to help him, but Lord Flynn was furious.
“What are you still doing here, you cretin? Begone from my sight! You threaten to ruin this dinner, and I will not stand for it. Go and find a new line of work. If I ever see you around here again I will flog you until your blood is as thick as that broth,” he said viciously. The servant glanced at Sarah, meeting her eyes for an instant. In them, Sarah saw sheer terror, and then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows. Lord Flynn's face was as dark as thunder.
“One would think that anyone could do something as simple as ladling broth into a bowl. Sometimes I do worry about the future of this country. The peasants don't seem to be able to do even the simplest of tasks. And Rosemary, please don't try and help them. They'll never learn otherwise,” he said. Sarah bowed her head in obedience and took her seat. Harold clapped his hands as she sat down and rubbed them together eagerly.
“Now then, let me tell you about the hunt today,” he began, relishing the telling of the tale. “It was a glorious day and the fates were with us. First we saw a fat pheasant and I thought to myself it would make a lovely addition to the dinner table. I drew my bow, took my aim, and the arrow flew true. It struck the bird directly in the heart, and it fell to the ground with its last breath. After this we galloped through the forest until we came to a deer. I tried to be quiet, but one of my men exclaimed in shock. It was the biggest deer any of us had ever seen, but still, there needs to be some decorum. I had him taken back. He won't be going on a hunt with me ever again. Still, the chase was on and I was not going to let this deer get away. We spread out, chasing the deer. The horses' hooves thundered across the ground, our hearts beat fiercely. It was glorious. It's a shame that you women will never be able to experience the glory of the hunt-”
“You could always take us with you one day, brother,” Catherine said. Harold gave her a withering look, then continued with his story, not regarding her words as worthy of comment.
“As I was saying, the deer had a head start and was a strong, powerful beast. It was so fast we lost sight of it more than once, but we always managed to find its trail again. Although there were others with me I felt a strange sensation wash over me. It was as though I was the only one on the hunt, as though this deer was fated for me. I knew that I could catch it and kill it, that it would only be me. I encouraged my horse and broke away from the rest of the hunting party. I kept my eyes peeled, searching the forest for any sign of this great beast. For a time I thought I had lost him completely, and then I heard the crack of a branch. I twisted around and saw the deer fleeing again. I chased him, for how long I do not know because time lost all meaning to me. Then, I finally came upon it. I drew my bow and my arrow flew true once again, lodging itself in the beast's neck. It carried on lumbering forward for a time, but eventually stumbled and sank to its knees. I alighted from my horse and finished him with my blade. He was worthy prey, and I am sure that his meat will taste good,” he said, beaming widely.
Catherine yawned. Sarah pretended that she was in awe of his prowess.
“You are such a wonderful hunter,” she said.
“Thank you, yes, well, it is a skill I inherited from Father really,” Lord Flynn said without a hint of modesty. “Some men are simply born to be great warriors. I only hope I get the chance to prove myself one of these days. I imagine that hunting the Highlanders would be much like hunting this deer. They are but animals themselves of course, with little intelligence other than to feed and mate. In fact the deer would probably pose more of a challenge,” he said, throwing back his head with a loud laugh.
Sarah smiled as well, laughing softly. There was something else she wanted to ask Lord Flynn, although it could prove to be risky. Meekly, she turned to him.
“Speaking of the Highlanders, Harold, I was wondering if it would be possible to send a rescue party to try and see what happened to my handmaid? If she was carried off by a Highlander I would like to know what happened to her.”
“Isn't she wonderful?” Harold said, smiling widely towards Catherine. “That you would care so deeply for a mere servant. Unfortunately, my dear, I am sure that we all know her fate, even if we would not like to think of it. The Highlanders show no mercy when it comes to these matters. I do not believe there would be anything of her left to find even if we ventured into their territory. Besides, I do not think a mere servant is worth going to war over. No, there will be another cause, of that I am sure.”
“But she was close to me. I knew her all my life. It would please me greatly if something could be done,” Sarah said beseechingly.
The smile faded from Lord Harold's face.
“Do not press me, woman. I have already told you my decision. I appreciate your kindness and compassion, but do not forget they are just servants. They do not matter in the grand scheme of things. I would not send men into dangerous territory to search for a handmaiden, especially not when the likelihood is that she is dead.”
His words were bitter and they shot at her like daggers. Sarah stifled a sob and focused on eating her meal.
“Now my mood has been soured. Bring me meat! I wish to dine on my quarry,” Harold said. Catherine and Sarah remained quiet. Sarah averted her eyes from his gaze, not wanting to provoke his wrath again. A servant came over and put a slice of meat on Harold's plate. He took a bite and murmured his delight, then gestured for meat to be placed on the women's plates.
Sarah wanted to pass for her appetite had disappeared, but she knew that doing so would only make him angrier at her. A huge slab of meat was placed on her plate. It was daunting, and the sight of it almost made her nauseous. Harold seemed to be delighting in the taste. Sarah cut off a small morsel and placed it in her mouth, and she had to hide her disgust. The meat was tough and flavorless. Sarah coughed, and sipped some water.
“Well, what do you think?” he asked. Sarah and Catherine glanced at each other, both getting the impression that they had the same opinion of the meat.
“It is incredibly tasty,” Sarah lied, “but I am afraid I ate too much bread with my broth.
I am not sure I will be able to eat any more,” she said. Harold's face fell, and he gripped his fork tightly.
“You wouldn't be lying to me now, would you?” he said in a low, harsh voice.
“Of course not, my lord.”
“Because you know that lying is the greatest sin. A husband must have loyalty from his wife. There can be no secrets between us. If I am unable to trust you...” he said, standing up, pacing around the table towards her. Sarah suddenly felt vulnerable. She looked towards Catherine, but found no help from her.
“I poured my heart and soul into that hunt. I chased that deer through the forest, endangering myself and my horse. I was out there bringing home this food for you, and you dare to tell me that you won't put in the effort to eat it because you've filled up on bread? Now that is no way for a wife to treat her husband. I require you to appreciate the things I do, which means that you must eat this meat,” he said.
Sarah pressed her lips together, wondering how she was going to get through this. The thought of having another mouthful of meat filled her with nausea. She had only just managed to force the first piece down, and the meat was as big as the plate. In fact she had never seen a slab of meat as big as this one.
“I...I will try,” she said.
“That is not good enough,” Harold said. “You must enjoy the fruits of my labor!” he snarled, snatching the cutlery from her hands and cutting up her meat for her. He skewered a piece on the end of the fork and proceeded to force it into her mouth. Sarah felt the meat being pushed inside her and almost gagged at the sensation of having it thrust inside her.
“Now eat it and enjoy it!” he barked. Sarah chewed dutifully, hating every minute of it. Tears welled up in her eyes and she coughed, choking on the heavy, dry meat. Harold stood there with another chunk of meat poised on the end of the fork, ready to be given to Sarah again. The thought of having yet another piece of meat inside her was abhorrent and her stomach began to groan.
“Harold, I hate to say this, but the meat is rather tough,” Catherine said. Harold glared at her. The fork dropped from his hand and clattered against the plate. Harold began to move around the table, when Sarah felt a hacking cough rise through her. Sarah's entire body trembled and convulsed, trying to keep her lips tight together, but she expelled the chewed chunk of meat onto the plate. Harold glared at her, aghast that she would dare to spit out some of the meat he had hunted, but it was so dry and unpalatable that she could not even fake enjoyment of the food. Embarrassed, she fled with red cheeks out of the dining hall, humiliated, with tears streaming down her face.