Chapter 11
“You’re up and about rather early, Sister,” Anne said when Fay entered her chamber with a tray of food.
“Just hungry is all,” she said, keeping her eyes down. “I guess you heard about Sir Tristan leaving in a hurry?”
“Yes, of course,” Anne said. She had a knowing look in her eye. “How did you come to find out about it?”
Fay wanted to huff at that. Anne was still in her nightgown and she knew, but Fay was under suspicion. She was the one who’d gotten up early and actually talked to people in the castle. That was how she found out. Her frustration was at its highest level. She was sure going to the kitchen and wrangling with the cook to let her take breakfast up to Anne would have worked some of it out, but the man had been surprisingly cheerful and agreeable that morning.
He was probably glad to have a break from cooking for so many people for a while. She’d asked him if he knew about Lord Drayton’s visit and he’d given her a look of pity, then put a few more pieces of fish on her platter. She was getting sick and tired of everyone thinking she was an idiot. She actually was, she knew that, but it wasn’t her fault. It felt so unfair that she couldn’t explain why she was ignorant.
It might be time to refer back to the depressing book, hopefully get some answers. She was positive what she’d read of it before had no mention of any Lord Drayton. There had been no mention of Tristan either, though Brom had been in there, oddly enough. Thinking about the book spoiled her appetite and she pushed aside her plate.
Anne reached over the small round table they sat at and patted her hand. “Batty told me,” she said. “I know you were to meet Sir Tristan this morning.” Instead of looking censorious, she looked sorry for Fay. “You liked him?”
Fay was shocked Batty had known at all, and angry that she’d squealed to Anne. There were zero secrets in this castle. “I don’t know,” she wailed. “I wanted to get to know him, but now those marauders stole him away before I could get the chance. And the whole time he was here I—”
“Yes, you were caring for me,” she said.
Fay felt guilty, adding another crappy emotion to the already overburdened pile of negativity she was under that morning. But she couldn’t explain that it was only a convenient excuse. If she hadn’t been so afraid of meeting Sir Tristan after the hellacious bathing incident, she would have found time to get outside to see him. That made her feel worse, almost like she was suffocating. If she hadn’t been such a coward, hadn’t stewed so long in her own outrage, Tristan might have apologized earlier and they would have had much more time together.
“I would always choose caring for you over anything else,” she said dutifully. She meant it but, because of her bad mood, it didn’t sound very sincere. More guilt squeezed its way onto the pile. “Do you know of Lord Drayton’s visit?” she asked, happy to change the subject from her utterly failed attempt at romance with Sir Tristan.
Fay stuck out her tongue as if she’d tasted something bad, but didn’t have any food in her mouth. That didn’t bode well. “Yes, and so do you, Fay. Although, I don’t blame you for forgetting, with all the excitement of Sir Tristan and his men and, of course, my illness.”
Anne said it mildly enough, barely a rebuke for her supposed usual daftness, but it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Back in her own time, she was a fairly capable person. She’d worked up from lowly salesgirl at a massive department store to being manager of accounts for shoes and handbags. People actually asked her questions and she always had an answer. She didn’t forget things. No, she wasn’t a genius by any stretch, but being treated like a forgetful buffoon for the last week, pitied even, made her lash out at last.
“I didn’t forget,” she said, tears burning at her eyes. “I never knew. I’m not your sister. I’m from hundreds of years in the future and I came here because of a damned curse. Your whole castle is under a curse and it’s up to me to save your asses. Which I’m happy to try and do, but it’s hard!”
She regretted it instantly. Expected Anne to call for the physician, maybe scurry out of the room and away from the madwoman. She tried to think of a way to make it right, but shouting “only jesting!” seemed inadequate. What would happen now? Had she spoiled everything? Did this count as a failure and now she would die? She waited to feel a searing pain in her chest. In fact, she did feel a searing pain in her chest. She’d been so contemptuous of the ones who came before her and she’d already broken.
Anne blinked at her and took a bite of dried fish with a bit of bread. “That’s a lovely song, Fay. I’ve never heard it before, did you make it up?” She smiled sweetly, eyes full of pride. “You’re so talented. You should really sing at a gathering one of these days.”
Fay stood up and hurried to the window, clutching the sill and looking out. A few of the boys were out there going through their paces, but it was a sorry sight without Tristan and his crew. After taking a few gulping breaths and stopping her hands from shaking, she turned and looked at Anne again. She still sat at the table, daintily picking at some bones, humming quietly under her breath. Was she humming the song Fay had supposedly just sung?
“I need to fall in love with someone to break the curse,” she said forcefully. She stormed back over to the table. “If I don’t, I’ll die and someone will replace me. Who knows how long this has been going on, but a long time I think. There were at least three before me. Don’t you remember any of them?”
Anne pushed her plate away and sighed. “So very lovely. I really love the reference to the birds.” She sighed again. “I’ll be glad when spring is here at last. I’m grateful this has been a mild winter, but I long to see the birds again.”
“Me too,” Fay said, gobsmacked.
She sat down, head spinning. She recalled the night she’d let something slip to Batty and she’d heard it as a request for a snack. If she said something pertaining to the curse, they heard it as something else. A perfect failsafe to protect the damn thing. She wondered if anyone before her had found it out. It had only taken her a week and she’d cracked like an egg. Surely someone else must have let loose with something.
“Why did you make a face when I asked about Lord Drayton?” she asked, getting back to business, though her heart still hadn’t settled down to its normal rate.
Anne made yet another face. “It isn’t anything against him,” she said. “I’ve only heard good things about him and, of course, Father was impressed by him when he went to Lord Drayton’s home.” Still, the sour face held as she continued. “His holdings are vast and he has favor with the King.”
“He sounds great,” Fay said, getting a bit excited about this new prospect. Sir Tristan’s beautiful blue eyes flashed rebukingly across her mind, but she pushed them away. Maybe you shouldn’t let your land get besieged, she thought meanly.
“Sounds great,” Anne repeated dully.
Fay started to worry her face would stay like that. It was getting worse and worse as the conversation went on. Perhaps he was ancient or hideously ugly. Which shouldn’t matter, she reminded herself firmly.
“Then what’s the problem? Why are you so determined to give yourself wrinkles while you talk about him?”
Anne burst out laughing and relaxed her face. “It’s only that I think Father has it in mind to propose an alliance between our families. I don’t want to lose you.”
That was so sweet, Fay got teary eyed again. “I’d demand to keep living here, no matter what,” she said, making Anne laugh again. “But what about you? You’re the oldest, so shouldn’t you marry first? Do you not want to marry at all, ever?”
Anne tilted her head to the side, the slight pitying look on her face again. This time, it was her eyes that welled up. “Dear Fay,” she sighed. “I know you have such hope, but I don’t think it’s in God’s plan for me.”
That was about the dumbest thing Fay had ever heard, but it reminded her of what Catherine had said. “Do you feel up to going to chapel again?” she asked. “I met Mrs. Merrick and she said she’d be praying for Sir Tristan and his men, and wondered if we’d be down today.”
“I do like Mrs. Merrick,” Anne said.
“Her given name’s Catherine. She likes to be called that.”
Anne nodded. “I wouldn’t like to give up my name either if I were to marry,” she said. “I shall ask her if I may call her that as well. I do admit I cannot wait for those babies to arrive.”
“Babies?” she asked incredulously. “You think it’s twins?”
“Either that or she’s been unfaithful with a giant. But don’t speak of it to her. I can tell she’s fearful enough about having only one.”
Fay grew serious, knowing that in this time it could be deadly and that Catherine wasn’t wrong to be fearful. She made up her mind that the next time she saw Sir Walter, she’d ask if the midwife could stay in the castle until the birth. Her appetite had never returned after the disappointing morning, so she pushed away from the table.
“Find me when you want to visit the chapel,” she said, moving toward the door.
She was interested to see it as something other than a crumbling pile of rocks. Every time she found her way into an area she hadn’t been to yet, she tried to recall if she’d seen it in her own time, when everything was mostly a ruin. She was beginning to get attached to the castle, with all its halls and hiding places.
“I will,” Anne said. “And I am sorry you didn’t get to have your rendezvous with Sir Tristan before he left. I do believe he had eyes for you.”
Fay blushed and shook her head. “Hopefully, he’ll return,” she said.
“He’ll have to eventually,” Anne told her. “He’s Father’s tenant, remember. And it would be an advantageous match for him. Keep that in mind, dear.”
That put her low mood one step lower, something she didn’t think possible. The attraction between them had seemed real enough, but both men and women throughout the ages had been known to fake it for money or power or both. It was all too confusing. She only wanted to sit in the weak winter sunshine and not think about any of it for a while.
On her way back down to the courtyard, where she could finally watch the youngsters train out in the open, she ran into Batty. Or rather, Batty ran into her. The girl really never moved slowly.
“Lady Fay,” she said, taking her arm and pulling her along conspiratorially.
It was the opposite direction of where Fay wanted to end up, but she let the whirlwind Batty drag her along. “What are you up to?” she asked, a hint of complaint in her voice. “I want to go outside while there’s still a moment of daylight.”
“You’ll get your daylight,” Batty said, still tugging her down the hall. “But first I thought you might want to look through Sir Tristan’s room before I set the boys to cleaning it.”
Fay’s stomach dropped as she realized they were outside the door of the chamber he’d been staying in. Did she want to go in there and possibly be assailed with all those both good and bad memories? Be confronted with the most embarrassing event of her life?
“Why would I want to do that?” she asked.
Batty dug in the little cloth purse she kept tied to her waist and pulled out a smooth pink stone. “Look at this,” she said proudly.
It was only a river stone, albeit a pretty color, and about the size of a modern day pound coin. Fay smirked to herself, trying to remember that this was her modern day, and that maybe the rock was valuable now.
“It’s pretty,” she said. “But what does it have to do with Sir Tristan’s room?”
Batty bobbed up on her toes, clasping the stone in her hand. “I found it where Brom was sleeping,” she said. “I told little Arnie I would take up the pallets this morning and it was there, right under his pillow.”
Fay was horrified and let it show. “How do you know where he slept?” she asked.
Batty turned purple and shook her head vigorously. “Oh, dear. Oh no, it’s nothing like that. I only knew from when I stitched up his arm that first night.” She looked as horrified as Fay had done a moment before and Fay dipped her head in apology. “I’m sure he left it for me,” Batty said, her skin returning to normal. “And that’s when I wondered if Sir Tristan might have left something for you.” She beamed with eagerness and pushed open the door. “Do you care to find out or should I send the lads in to clean it?”
Fay pressed her lips together, determining if her dignity was more important than her curiosity. It took her two seconds to decide it was not, and hurried into the room, Batty giggling and following her.
“You think I should look under the pillow?” she asked, heading straight to the bed.
“Yes, and I’ll check the chest and garderobe.”
“Yuck. I don’t want it if he left it in the garderobe,” Fay said, tearing the bedclothes apart while she looked for a keepsake of some sort.
She had resigned herself to using the bizarre hole in her chamber that acted as a toilet. And she’d gotten over caring that everything just flew through the air to the ditch far below. She hated thinking about the poor sucker who had to deal with that. While the garderobe wasn’t as disgusting as she’d first thought, she didn’t think it was a romantic place to leave a keepsake.
She didn’t want to admit how envious she was of Batty’s stone. She hoped beyond hope Sir Tristan had thought of her, even in the midst of rushing away to defend his land.
“I found something!” Batty exclaimed. “Oh, it’s so lovely.”
Fay was sure she broke a land speed record crossing the large chamber and looked into Batty’s open palm. A small bronze disc, or perhaps an ancient coin rested there. It was pretty badly dinged up, but when Batty flipped it over with her finger, there was a lion engraved into it.
“What do you think it is?” Fay asked, holding out her hand. Batty tipped the coin into her palm and Fay brought it nearly to her nose to inspect it more closely.
“Something meaningful to Sir Tristan, I’m sure,” she said. “There’s nothing else here, so he must have left it for you to think of him by.” She sighed dreamily and looked at her rock again.
As silly as she felt, Fay sighed as well, squeezing the coin tightly in her fist. “Do you believe they really left these things for us?” she asked.
Batty looked at her as if she’d said something heretical, then shrugged. “Yes, because I want to. I’m keeping this stone with me all the time now, until we’re together again.”
“That’s sweet, Batty.” Fay looked at the battered bronze coin some more. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with this. But, at any rate, you can let the boys have at it now. Thanks for helping me find it.”
Batty shook her head and Fay felt sorry for not being as enthusiastic as she should have been. She wished she knew if Tristan cared for her enough to want her to have a keepsake. She wished she knew anything. But all she could do was keep grasping around, completely in the dark.
As soon as Batty left, Fay dug out the book and flipped through it listlessly. As she’d recalled, there wasn’t a single word about Lord Drayton. Unless it was under all the redacted parts. She didn’t understand why they had scribbled out their words so thoroughly that they’d torn through the pages in many spots. But they had all done it, as if they’d made such grave errors they didn’t want any record of it.
“Wasn’t very forward thinking of them,” she said, looking up at the cool stone wall to rest her eyes.
She instantly felt bad thinking so sourly of the dead girls. She turned to the last note, the apology letter from the one who’d come before her and said a half-hearted prayer for her. It was difficult to dredge up too much compassion for her, though. For the hundredth time, Fay reminded herself it wasn’t that person’s fault. Before she could get in an argument with herself over her predecessors’ so-called responsibilities to breaking the curse, she flipped back a few pages, desperate to find something helpful. Something she hadn’t already read.
The day of the first snow is coming. No matter how I brace myself, I don’t think I can go through this again.
Well, that was new. And whiny as ever. She’d never seen a mention of snow before and, of course, it had to be foreboding. And, of course, there was nothing else to explain why she couldn’t go through whatever it was again. Just some tear-stained splotches.
“God, I hate you,” Fay said, slamming the book shut.
She tried to console herself that she didn’t need to know anything about Lord Drayton. It might be better to keep an open mind and heart. The one thing that was clear was that she had to prove true love existed and she meant to do it. No one else would be dragged from their life. No one else would ever have to read those sad, cursed words.