The Dark Lady (44 page)

Grant slapped Peter on the back laughing. “You remember that boy, standing up to the doctor. He had seemed so noble. From what I hear, he had quite the reputation with the ladies.”

Van slouched, trying to avoid anyone’s attention. All she wanted was to escape from this room. No, she thought sadly—all she wanted was to join in as the Dark Knight.

From the side table Devon put his word in as well. “He had so many mistresses I think that was the only reason we did the tournaments, to get money to send to the ladies.” This brought rank laughter and yells from the entire room.

Van smiled. She missed the way the men were together. Even here, in her presence, they were restrained, as if she were a delicate thing that would be damaged if the wrong words were said. She hated it.

They were not like that with the maids. No, with them they were rough and loud, like she had been when she was around the maids. Hitting their rear ends and acting just as lewd as the other men. She missed it. The stories of Van the knight were rolling around, until she could take it no more.

How was she so far away from who she was supposed to be? Could she not just be the person she was happiest being?

She wondered as she kissed Peter’s cheek and mounted the stairs who that was. She thought she was a knight. That was who life had made her because there were no options. But what if her mom was wrong? What if she had lied?

Even as Peter came in the room a few moments later, she was still in an upheaval about her identity.

Soon he had her thoughts on nothing but the pleasures of him.

Falling asleep sometime later, well sated, she wondered if her father could answer any questions or if he would just add more confusion to her already weary mind.

CHAPTER 20

Van walked toward the carriage with the small army bag she had carried since she had first became a squire hanging limply from her left hand. She slid her right hand through the arm of her husband.

Peter looked questioningly at the small bag, but said nothing. The bag carried what little clothes she believed were needed for a couple of days. Van glanced over at Peter, down to the bag, and then back to the awaiting carriage. She was not about to divulge anything without being questioned. If he asked, she would say it was a gift, which was not a lie. Richard had given it to her when she became his squire.

She nodded to the driver as he opened the door and stepped back. Peter took her elbow and pulled her around to face him, causing her to gasp softly.

Looking up into his face, she was surprised to see the concern and worry etched into his handsome features. His brow was tightly knitted with lines and his jaw was tight. He tried a smile that must have felt as awkward as it looked because he let it fall quickly away.

She turned long enough to lay her bag on the hard seat and then she allowed him to pull her into his arms. The hug was quick, but he had held her tightly. His arms gripped her almost painfully and she could feel him trembling.

She wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she could not seem to make the words come out. She wanted to know why he looked worried. She was only going to see her father.

The horses snorted loudly and pawed at the dusty ground, making the buckles of the harnesses jingle. Van noticed that the driver had disappeared, probably to give the two newlyweds a moment alone.

She smiled up at Peter and kissed him gently. He helped her into the carriage, shut the door almost reluctantly, and hit it to signal to the driver they were ready.

The carriage lurched forward and the horses whinnied anxiously. She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Her decision to go had not been an easy one. Knowing she owed Matthew the courtesy of at least hearing him out, and wanting to give him the opportunity, were not the same thing.

She wanted to keep believing what she had known all her life, but as a leader and a knight she was obligated to consider all sides of an argument before making the final decisions.

She shuddered and realized she was frightened, scared of what knowledge he might bring to her. As confused as she was, now she knew it could get worse.

If she believed her mother, then there was a valid reason she had ended up as a knight. But if her mother lied, then all of it was for nothing. Van did not want to think that her life was for nothing.

As much as she was scared, she was also curious. Curious about Matthew, a man who might not be as he was portrayed, and surprisingly, about her mother as well. She had never stopped to think of it before, but she realized she did not know her mother very well.

Van had been sent to Grayweist when she was only ten to live and train. Her mother had refused to come see her at the castle and Van had not seen her again until she was seventeen and a knight. By then Van had been able to come and go as she pleased.

At least she now understood why her mother had been unwilling to see her at the castle. With Van’s father living right down the road, her mother would have been recognized.

The carriage jolted as Van slipped into the past and she could see her mother, vibrant and alive striding around the small home in Junket.

***

“
Remember, it is very important no one finds out you are a girl.” Patricia’s voice was strained and ragged. “Your father is searching for you and his men were close to finding you. They were in the village yesterday.” She looked panicked, packing Van’s things into a small case in jerky motions.

“
Aye, Mother, I understand.” And she did. She had been drilled on it daily as she grew. Now ten years of age, she was well aware of the dangers she faced. “What I don’t understand is why I have to leave. Why I have to become a page.”

“
You have the potential. It has been remarked upon by many of the men that I should have already sent you to page training. They have seen you with the other boys.” Patricia pulled open a drawer and pulled several shirts from it. She tossed them into the small satchel.

Van watched her mother’s rapid actions with worry eating at her innards. Her stomach clenched and she sent up a prayer that she could handle the new challenge. She clenched her fists behind her back to keep herself from grasping her mother’s hands and begging her to stop.

Her mother turned back toward the dresser and pulled open another drawer. “Thompson has even commented that you are already better than the others, faster and stronger, and although as the son of a surgeon you will not be eligible for knighthood, you will still enjoy being a squire.” She glanced at her with a nervous smile. “I just know you will.”

“
I am not a boy though, Mother. How am I to do these things?” Standing in the center of the room, she could only watch as her only possessions went into the case. She looked around the small meager room with a pang of sadness. She did not have much, and they were always struggling to make a decent living, but she had never gone without food or shoes.

She did not want to leave her home and her mother. It was not an easy life there in the small village. She’d had to work hard to help out. But she did not want to leave it for something that she was unsure she could even do.

“
You will be fine.”

Unconvinced, Van watched her mother’s frantic packing. Suddenly, Patricia stopped, turning on Van with wide eyes. “You enjoy those things, the sword practice, the horse riding, the daggers?”

Van sucked in a breath. Dagger practice was forbidden to children under twelve by the elders of the village. She tried to give her mother a shocked and innocent look. She was sure it looked as wrong as it felt.

“
Do not look at me like that,” Patricia said. “Everyone knows that you boys do those things, forbidden or not.” Her mother put her hands on her hips and pinned Van with an intense look. “My question is, do you like them?”

“
Aye, Mother. Very much so. I am only scared that I cannot do them. The boys will be better than me. They will not be like the boys around here. They will be well trained and...well, just better.” Van threw her hands up in frustration. She felt unable to express her concerns. “I am only a girl, no matter what you want me to be, just a girl.” She could feel the pressure of tears behind her eyes and she blinked quickly several times to ward off the onslaught of the unwanted emotions.

Her mother relaxed and pulled her into an embrace. Van wrapped her arms around her mother’s waist and clung to her. She knew her life would be changing and she felt unsure of herself.

Her mother’s words were kind and gentle. “You are who you are and no one can change that. It is not what I want you to be, it is what you are. I can tell you to pretend to be a boy, but I cannot make you enjoy it and excel at it.” She pulled away and cradled Van’s face in cold and trembling hands. “You are Van, strong and proud, and you are capable of achieving anything you set your heart to. If you tell me you do not like these things and this is not what you want with your life, we will figure something else out.”

“
I am scared.” Shivers ran through Van. She hated being afraid.

“
There is no shame in being scared. Fear is a good thing. Fear listened to makes you cautious. If you take that fear and overcome it you are its master, not its slave.”

***

The carriage jolted to a rough halt and Van’s head bounced against the back of the seat. Her eyes flew open and she gasped as she was drawn back into the present.

Sighing deeply, she looked at the closed door and took several deep breaths as she waited for the driver to pull it open. She heard the latch click and squinted as the bright sunlight invaded the cool, safe dimness of the coach’s interior.

“
Vanessa, my dear. I am glad you decided to come.” Matthew stood with his hand extended, staring up at her. “Lord Peter did not have a problem with you coming?”

She ignored the offered hand and jumped from the carriage. Turning back, she grasped her small satchel. “Peter has little to say over what I do. I am not in the habit of asking permission before I act.”

She looked past his anxious face to the home she would have grown up in had things been different. There would have been vast differences when compared to the life she had led.

Sleeping in the cold, cramped halls the pages had inhabited, instead of the thick, plush pallets that she knew to be inside the castle, were just the beginnings of the differences.

“
Can I look around?” It was out of her mouth before she could censor it.

“
Of course.” Turning to the young man who had driven her, he smiled. “Take the bags in before you leave.”

“
I do not have any bags, just this.”

Matthew jerked his head around at her, a look of surprise crossing his face before he controlled it.

Van raised the small bag. “I am not accustomed to packing before I go somewhere.”

“
We can drop it off as we look around,” he said carefully and dismissed the driver. He looked closely at the small brown bag, but like Peter he chose not to ask, for which Van was grateful.

She said nothing as she followed him from room to room, dropping off her bag in the chamber she would use for the night, and listening to his commentary about each of the rooms. On the walls of the Great Hall, she saw the portraits of her ancestors. Her heart fluttered with excitement as she saw the resemblance of each of them.

All the men had the same look, the same black eyes and restless image. One side of the hall held just the males and across from them on the opposite wall were their wives.

Before the picture of her great-great grandfather, Van stopped and stared. In his hand was a dagger, beautifully crafted. The long-handled blade shone with a life of its own. Her breath caught in her throat. It took a moment for her to force the air into her tight lungs.

The emeralds and rubies glittered as the artist caught the magnificence of the gems. Van’s breath came in soft ragged gasps as she stared at the family heirloom. It was identical to the one she had strapped around her thigh at that very moment.

Van caressed it through the fabric of her gown as she tried imagining a childhood here. That proved impossible. Every time she tried, the image would shift to her life in Grayweist Manor, the training and abuse she endured.

“
Can we sit down and talk now?” Matthew asked softly, touching her arm.

She looked down at his hand and forced herself not to jerk it away. She glanced up at him and nodded.

Leading her to the library, he motioned her to the chairs by the cold fireplace. Along two walls were more portraits. These were of cousins, aunts, and uncles, as well as all of their wives and husbands. She gazed at them, unsure of what to say and how to begin.

After several moments of silence he said, “I am sure you have questions.”

She looked at him confidently, although she felt “anything but” as she considered this. The truth was, now that she was here, she was uncertain. More and more, she thought her life had been easier as a knight. Battle and death were easier by far than facing her life.

“
Aye, I suppose I do. That is why I am here.” She took a deep, shaky breath and looked around the well lit room. Two walls were filled from floor to ceiling with books of all different sizes and colors. She wondered if he had read them all.