What would life be like in her new home, married to the Duke of Wolfberg?
Magdalen’s cart jolted as they hit another hole in the road, knocking her nearly into the wooden side rail. She had begged her mother to let her ride her horse, but Mother said riding a horse all the way on a three-day journey was not appropriate for a lady. Did she think it was ladylike to ride in a cart for twelve hours a day, rattling her teeth every time a wheel found a dip in the road?
But no one argued with the Baroness of Mallin.
Erlich, who had served Magdalen’s family for years, rode his horse while his daughter, Agnes, walked. And Lenhart made up the fourth member of their group as he walked beside the mules who pulled Magdalen’s cart.
Wolfberg Castle stood on a hill overlooking the sea. She’d never beheld the sea. What would it be like to hear the waves crashing against the shore? What kind of rocks might she find there?
“Rosings Abbey is just ahead.” Erlich pointed to the lane off to the right.
Darkness closed in on them. Erlich reined in his horse as he waited for Lenhart to turn the mules, drawing Magdalen’s cart into the lane that would carry them to the abbey. The tall convent buildings, with their steep roofs, were visible above the rows of trees.
At the abbey a young nun greeted them with a bow. She led Magdalen and Agnes to a long, low building, then to an austere room with two small cots. Magdalen’s legs were like jelly after using them all day to brace herself as she rode in the jarring cart.
Agnes set her bundle on the floor. She turned one way then the other, her tight blonde braid swaying as she stretched her back. “I shall go and speak with my father and return soon.” Agnes did not ask permission but simply walked out before Magdalen could reply.
Gretha, who had been her constant companion since Hegatha had died of a sudden apoplexy, had been all set to come to Wolfberg with her. The day before they were to leave, Gretha told Magdalen she would not be going with her, but Agnes would be taking her place.
Not wanting to hurt Agnes’s feelings, Magdalen had agreed.
Now as Magdalen prepared to lie down and sleep before the third and final day of their journey, she wished she had inquired more particularly about how this change had come to pass. Every day Agnes had done something—given Magdalen a shrewd look or spoken more sharply to her than any servant should—to make Magdalen regret allowing her to accompany her.
And now, instead of asking her mistress if she needed anything, Agnes had left Magdalen to struggle alone to take off her heavy overdress.
Magdalen didn’t want to embarrass Agnes in front of her father, but as soon as they arrived in Wolfberg, she would have a stern talk with Agnes about her duties as a lady’s maidservant. And if her attitude did not improve, she would replace her with someone from Wolfberg.
Magdalen lay on the narrow cot, covered with a thin blanket since it was still late summer and warm, and thought of her future husband.
Good sense told her it was strange that the Duke of Wolfberg would ask to marry her when Magdalen was only the daughter of a poor widowed baroness. He had seemed sensible when she met him and a man of integrity as well. Every time she closed her eyes and recalled his face, his smile, the kindness in his eyes, her heart fluttered.
But truly, she knew very little about him. She had talked to him, all total, for only two or three hours.
Agnes opened the door, then shut it behind herself, interrupting Magdalen’s musings.
“When you are ready for bed, you may blow out the candle,” Magdalen told her.
“I will.” A snide tone infused her cheerful voice.
Magdalen said a prayer to quell her uneasiness and closed her eyes.
The next morning when Magdalen awoke, Agnes was gone. Magdalen gathered her things, dressed herself, and was ready to go when Agnes came back in.
“Here is your breakfast, Lady Magdalen.” With bold eyes she handed Magdalen a warm bundle. Inside was a bun stuffed with meat and cheese. “I also snagged us some apple pasties. Are you ready to go?”
Soon they met Erlich and Lenhart with the cart, mules, and horse and set out on the road to Wolfberg.
When they halted for their midday meal, Magdalen climbed down from the cart and took a drink from the small spring nearby. She splashed some of the cold water on her face, then wiped her cheeks and forehead with a cloth.
When they had finished eating, Agnes and her father kept glancing at each other. A nervous flutter in the pit of Magdalen’s stomach caused her to watch them closely. Agnes clutched a small bag to her midsection as she turned to face Magdalen.
“This is how things are.” Agnes’s eyes were hard and dark as she stood five paces away. “I want to be married to a duke, to be rich, and you are going to change places with me.” Agnes pulled her hand out of the bag withdrawing a knife. Her father stepped behind her.
A cold tingling crept into Magdalen’s face and spread to her fingertips. Her gaze flitted from Agnes’s knife to her father. “Erlich?”
“Do as she says, if you wish to live.” He skewered her with a dark, hard look.
Agnes held the knife higher, at the level of Magdalen’s chest.
Just then, Lenhart came out of the trees after relieving himself and gasped. He halted and stared.
“Boy, stay back.” Erlich glanced at Lenhart. “Agnes is your new mistress. From this day on, Magdalen is no better than you are. Do you understand?”
Lenhart continued to stare, his eyes big and round, his mouth hanging open. He shook his head.
Magdalen tried to think of how she might defend herself and Lenhart, but she had no weapon. What could she possibly do?
“Take off your outer dress.” Agnes motioned with the knife. “I will wear yours and you will wear mine. From now on, your name is Agnes and mine is Lady Magdalen of Mallin.”
Lenhart grunted, an angry sound, as he stepped toward Agnes.
“I said stay back, boy.” Erlich faced Lenhart with clenched fists.
Lenhart shook his head at him and grunted again. He lunged at Agnes’s arm. She screamed and Erlich grabbed Lenhart’s shoulder. Erlich drew back his fist and slammed it in Lenhart’s face, knocking him to the ground.
“Stop it!” Magdalen rushed to Lenhart’s side and fell to her knees. “How can you be so cruel?” Blood oozed from a cut over his eye.
“If he tries to interfere again, he’ll get worse than that.” No hint of remorse tempered Erlich’s voice. “Now do as you are told.”
Magdalen pulled a clean cloth from her sleeve. She pressed it against Lenhart’s eyebrow to stanch the bleeding.
“Get up!” Erlich yelled.
Lenhart took the cloth and nudged her away. Fear and compassion shone in his eyes—he was worried they would hurt her.
Magdalen stood to her feet.
Both Erlich and Agnes glared at her out of narrowed eyes and hardened faces. But the knife Agnes thrust at Magdalen’s face was shaking.
“Agnes, you cannot be in earnest.”
“I am. And if you do not make haste to remove your dress, my father will rip it off.”
Erlich stepped around Agnes and stalked toward Magdalen.
“Very well.” Magdalen reached under one arm to untie the laces at the side of her overdress. “But I do not know how you think you will get away with this. The duke knows what I look like. Do you think he will believe an imposter?”
“He will have no choice. I will show up saying I am you. I do not look so different from you. While wearing your clothes, I will be just as good as any baron’s daughter.”
Magdalen could do naught except comply. Underneath her overdress she wore a long-sleeved, ankle-length chemise. She untied the other side of her sleeveless blue overdress.
“And you had best not get any ideas about telling the duke who you are, or I will kill you and the boy. At least we don’t have to worry about him telling anyone.” Erlich alluded to Lenhart’s muteness.
Magdalen’s hands began to tremble. If Agnes and her father killed Lenhart and her, how would anyone know what had happened to them? In fact, Erlich and Agnes might decide they were safer if they did. Should Magdalen try to fight them?
Her friend Avelina knew what to do in a fight, knew how to think and plan and devise a way of escape. But Magdalen had been raised gently, taught little more than how to dance and greet dukes and princes and embroider tapestries. She had no idea how to contend with rebels and fiends.
Erlich snatched the dress as soon as Magdalen pulled it over her head. He held Agnes’s knife pointed at Magdalen’s heart while Agnes took off her own dress and threw it on the ground. Then she donned Magdalen’s blue silk.
Agnes and Erlich still stared at her, so Magdalen picked up Agnes’s brown woolen kirtle and pulled it on, letting the stiff material fall to her ankles, then tied the laces at the top of the bodice.
“Now give me your necklace.” Agnes pointed with her knife at the rock pendant her father had given her. “Do it or I’ll cut it off.”
Magdalen’s hands were steady as she unclasped her precious necklace, which represented the bond she and her father shared, all the times they had gone to the mines together and he had carefully taught her about copper ore and how it was mined, stories about the beautiful countryside around Mallin.
Her blood was ice-cold as she handed the necklace over to Agnes and watched her put it around her own neck. Magdalen would bide her time and watch for an opportunity. She would get her necklace back from the usurper.
Magdalen was a baron’s daughter. She could get help from one of the noblemen and women who knew her mother. But they were headed in the opposite direction of her friends in Thornbeck, and no one who had met Magdalen lived anywhere near here, except the Duke of Wolfberg. His sister, Gertrudt, had been at Lord Thornbeck’s two-week party, but she had married and moved far away.
What if she told the duke she was Lady Magdalen and he didn’t believe her? Agnes had the same pale skin and similar hair coloring, though Magdalen’s was reddish-blonde and Agnes’s was more of a yellow-blonde. Magdalen’s eyes were green and Agnes’s were hazel. But he still might believe Agnes was really her.
“Now I shall ride in the cart the rest of the way to Wolfberg while you walk beside it.” Agnes smirked in a way that made Magdalen clench her teeth.
She would plan a way of escape, just as Avelina would have. Even when she was afraid, Avelina had worked hard to stand up to the evil that had been afoot in Thornbeck Castle. Did Magdalen have that kind of strength and determination?
She was about to find out.