The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (29 page)

“I know. I am sorry, Odette. I never imagined . . . that I would . . . I’m sorry.”

“How much money do you owe?” Her voice was hoarse as she held back tears, held back rage and despair at what he had stolen from the children—and from her. “Do you have any shipments or caravans on their way here that you could sell and pay your debt?”

He shook his head. “It is as if heaven conspired against me. I’ve never known such bad fortune. The two ships that were lost were new and very seaworthy. The caravan that was attacked had been well guarded and armed. I cannot understand how it could have happened.” Rutger still was not facing her. “There is only one thing that can save our house.”

Odette’s stomach sank. It must be something truly terrible. Finally she asked, “What is it?”

“If you marry Mathis, he says he will pay all my debts and buy new ships.”

She should have known. Heat seemed to rise into the top of her head like the steam in a covered kettle. She turned and walked out of his office.

Odette walked down the street, her head down, her vision blurred. She bumped into several people, but she didn’t care. The walk home had never seemed so long before. She hadn’t felt this alone since Rutger came for her, all those years ago.

She climbed the stairs to her bed and lay across it, too exhausted to even cry.

Jorgen left Dieter to walk to Peter and Anna’s home. Since Odette said Kathryn was living and working with the servants, and it was just after midday, he hoped to catch her in the kitchen.

Jorgen knocked on the back door of the Vorekens’ kitchen, which was behind the house in a detached stone building. The door opened and Kathryn stood staring at him.

“May I talk to you, Kathryn?”

She opened the door wider. She appeared to be alone in the large one-room kitchen. Jorgen stepped inside.

The heat of the room raised perspiration on his forehead almost immediately. It was a warm summer day, but live coals smoldered in the kitchen hearth as a large piece of meat slowly roasted on the spit and a pot bubbled beside it, hanging from a hook over the red-hot embers.

Kathryn pointed to a stool as she sat on another one, wiping her hands on her apron.

“I wanted to speak with you for a moment. Kathryn . . .” How would he ask her about her time at The Red House when he would not wish to upset her or drive her back there? “I know Peter and Anna are pleased, as we all are, that you are here with them instead of at The Red House. But I need you to tell me something.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you remember ever seeing Rutger at The Red House? Or did Agnes mention his name, ever?”

Kathryn looked aside, staring at the fire in the large hearth. She shook her head. “Rutger has been good to me. He made sure
my little brothers had a good place to live, and he tried to help me. I do not wish to cause him any trouble.”

“Of course not. I understand. But I need to know for Odette’s sake. Please, tell me the truth. It is very important.”

Her jaw clenched, flexing. He waited for her to speak again. Finally she said, “Rutger did come to The Red House, but not through the front door where the other men came in. I remember one of the maids coming to fetch Agnes a few times and saying, ‘Rutger is in the back room.’ Agnes would always go directly to meet him.”

“Do you know why he went there?”

Kathryn shook her head.

“Thank you, Kathryn.”

She just stared at him and he left.

Jorgen walked the short distance down the street to Odette’s house and knocked on the door. A servant let him in, and as he waited for the servant to tell Odette he was there, he stood, trying to prepare himself for her anger and scorn. After all, the last time he’d seen her had been just after she witnessed him kissing another woman. Would she be angry? Would she throw him out?

The servant returned. “I am sorry, Herr Hartman, but Fräulein Odette says she cannot see you now. She is very tired and is sleeping.”

“She said that?” The air went out of him, as if someone had punched him in the gut. “Is she sick?”

“No.”

Jorgen nodded his thanks to the servant and walked out.

Why would she still be asleep if she was not sick? She was avoiding him, but how could he blame her? Perhaps it was best that he not yet mention what he was learning about her beloved uncle, who did not appear to be the man they all thought him to be. It would certainly hurt Odette even more.

When Rutger came home that night, Odette was waiting for him. “Are you responsible for the woman who stole my mask and tricked Jorgen into kissing her?”

He sat at the table, where the servants were beginning to serve the evening meal. He still looked humble, but not as much as when she had confronted him at his storehouse.

“That was not my idea,” he said.

“Then it was Mathis’s.”

He hesitated. “He only did it because he loves you and was desperate to make you forget about Jorgen.”

Odette imagined herself slamming her fist on the table and accusing her uncle of lying. Of course he knew it was Mathis. But she restrained herself. After all, he was her uncle. Even now, he wasn’t demanding she marry Mathis, even though it would solve all his problems, and he would be well within his rights as her guardian to ask that she do so.

The servants brought in the bread and the main dish of fish and eel stew and then left the room. Even though she normally liked the dish, tonight she ignored the food. “Why have you not asked me to marry Mathis? Why allow him to carry out some elaborate scheme to make me dislike Jorgen? You could at least be honest now that I know everything.”

Rutger only met her gaze for a moment before looking down at his food. “As I said, that was Mathis’s idea. I had hoped you would see that he could solve all our problems and give you what you wanted—food for the children.”

“I thought
I
was providing food for the children.” The undercurrent of bitterness was in her voice again. “Besides that, Mathis cannot give me what I want.”
Because I don’t love him
.

“Do you think the forester can give you beautiful clothes and tutors and books? Mathis can. I understand Jorgen Hartman is a well-built, handsome man, but do not allow lust to rule your thinking.”

“Lust? You accuse me of lust?” Odette hoped he could see the revulsion on her face. “You may accuse me of many things rightfully—I am sometimes reckless and unthinking, and I am a lawbreaker, as you well know—but do you dare call me lustful?”

“Perhaps I overstated. But you fancy you are in love with him, do you not? For a man, it would be lust. For an inexperienced young woman like you, Odette, it is only infatuation. But please, for your sake, take care that you do not allow your infatuation and supposed love for this man to overcome your good sense. He is only a forester, after all, and he did kiss another girl. Whether he believed she was you or was only doing what men naturally do, I do not know, and neither do you.”

Odette felt her breath coming fast and heat rising into her cheeks. “After what you have done, do you dare try to cast Jorgen in a bad light?”

“I am only trying to help you see everything more objectively. Think of what is best for you
and
the children, Odette. Think of how you would feel if you threw yourself away on a man of low stature and then found out he was not the man you had thought he was.”

Odette kept her lips tightly sealed.

Rutger lifted his hands toward her, palms up. “I know you are angry. And I have probably lost all credibility with you, after what I did by taking the meat and selling it. You were right. It was and is despicable. But as your uncle, I have always cared about you and tried to take care of you. If you cannot bring yourself to marry Mathis, even though he is quite in love with you and is capable of
giving you everything you could desire, I will try to understand. And if you truly have considered the cost of marrying Jorgen and still want to marry him, then I will not stop you.”

The cost of marrying Jorgen. He meant that the children would go hungry—as they had been for the last six months, thanks to him. And that Rutger would lose everything and be destitute. And that Odette would suddenly have a lifestyle far below what she had known for the past twelve years.

Odette stood up from the table. “I am not hungry. I think I will go up to my room now.”

Rutger’s face looked downcast. “Of course, my dear. Will you go out hunting tonight?”

“Yes. And I will deliver any meat I kill myself.”

There would be a full moon tonight, which would make her more visible to Jorgen if he was out looking for the poacher.

As she made her way up the steps, her mind flashed back to the dream she’d had the night before, of the angry stag wanting to rip her apart, no doubt for all the suffering she had caused him and the other deer in the forest.

She had to remember who she was hunting for. She must not be squeamish, must not allow herself to become weak now. She would not let them down.

The person she had depended on for twelve years had betrayed her. And yet, after all he had done for her, she couldn’t hate him. And now he needed her to marry Mathis.

Marrying Mathis made sense. It would solve all their problems. Except her problem of wanting Jorgen.

But it hurt too much to think about that.

Odette stalked through the trees, her arrow nocked and ready. With every step she took she reminded herself that for the last six months, the poor children had not gotten the meat she had hunted and killed for them. They had gone hungry. But tonight she would find and kill a deer for them. And she would take it to them herself. Tomorrow at least some of them would eat well.

She had no patience to sit and wait at a clearing tonight. With the full moon shining overhead, she would find a trail, she would stalk her prey, and she would not fail to bring down a deer.

She thought she heard a sound, a slight rustling. She studied the leaves to her right. All seemed peaceful and still. There. Something shook the leaves, a bit of movement. Odette stared harder. Was it her imagination? No, there it was again. Silently, she turned her body to face that direction, lifting her bow and arrow. Another movement, the flash of an eye through the leaves, and there was the partial outline of the deer’s head. Odette aimed and let the arrow fly.

The deer jumped, but the arrow had found its mark. The animal made two quick leaps, then moved to the side and fell.

The boys ran forward to finish it off and dress it. Odette no longer trusted them, however. She knelt beside them and helped them cut up the venison for easier travel. When they had slung the pieces over their shoulders, Odette led them out of the woods to the small area just outside the town gate where the poor had built their makeshift houses. Odette knocked on doors, or what passed for doors, on four different shacks, waking the occupants and giving them a portion of the meat. Then she and her men went back into the forest for more.

Before the night was over, Odette had shot three deer, helped dress them, and delivered them.

By the time she got home, she could barely put one foot in front of the other. She practically crawled up the stairs to her room. Peeling off the bloodstained leather leggings and tunic, she collapsed in bed and fell asleep.