The Merchant's Daughter (19 page)

His voice had gradually softened with each word he spoke, until it was deep and rich, like the sound of thunder in the distance.

The words themselves were beautiful. The fact that Lord le Wyse knew those particular passages by heart made her think he had taken comfort from them, that he had allowed his pain and sorrow to draw him closer to God in the past.
Father God, may he be reminded of the times that you comforted him.

“It is late,” he declared. “You should be abed.”

Annabel let him take the book from her. Their eyes met for a moment. She bid him good night, and as she went down to the undercroft, she was struck by the thought that, right now, tonight, she did feel at peace.

When Sunday came again, Annabel braced herself for seeing Sir Matefrid. Even so, she walked to the church with a light step, humming a lively tune she’d heard her father sing many times. Sir Matefrid’s words of doom and indecency and sin would hold no horrors for her today.

She knew what the Holy Writ said, and it was full of joyful words. While she knelt to pray, she meditated on the passages she and Lord le Wyse had been reading. Some whole sentences came to her, and she couldn’t help smiling. When she glanced up, she saw Maud and Beatrice staring at her suspiciously.

Perhaps it was irreverent to smile in church. She wasn’t sure, although she had a strong inclination to believe that God wouldn’t mind at all. After all, it was rather difficult to rejoice without smiling.

When the singing began, Annabel felt as though she were hearing the songs for the first time, or at least in a whole new way.

O come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here;
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
And death’s dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

Her spirit seemed to leap within her, her breath expanding her chest, making her feel as though she could rejoice forever.
Yes, God, I do rejoice.
He had given her so many wondrous gifts. How could she not rejoice? He had given her a Bible. Yes, it belonged to Lord le Wyse, but he allowed her to read it.

If only everyone could know this joy she felt.

Her state of joy and communion with God continued through the Holy Eucharist and Sir Matefrid’s sermon, which she hardly seemed to hear and of which she remembered nothing. As the villagers wandered out of the church, Annabel joined them, emerging into the sunshine of late summer.

Maud was straining her neck, staring. “What’s the matter with you? Your face is too … happy. Like a dog with a fresh bone.”

“I am happy.”

Maud narrowed her eyes as she stared even harder at her. “Why? You have little reason to be happy, let alone smile. You’re a servant and your family doesn’t care about you.”

She tried not to let Maud’s words wound her. “It’s true that I may seem not to have any reason to be happy, but I’ve been reading the Holy Scriptures and I’ve learned much about God’s faithfulness.” Annabel’s breath came fast, even though she and Maud were walking slowly, far behind the other maids. She couldn’t contain the smile on her face, even when Maud’s scowl deepened, her eyebrows low and threatening.

“Is that what you do in the upper hall for an hour every night, just you and Lord le Wyse? I knew you were different, strange and all that, but you sound mad. What makes you think you can read the Bible? Don’t you know you’re not supposed to be thinking … I don’t know … that you know something about God?” She said
God
as though He were a fairy tale or an unwanted relative. “Nobody wants to hear that kind of talk, Annabel Chapman.” She stuck her finger into Annabel’s chest. “You’re just a woman. You’re no priest, and you don’t know God, so just shut your mouth.”

Maud stalked away, leaving Annabel staring after her.

She walked slowly, following far behind Maud’s stiff figure. Then she saw Stephen up ahead by the side of the road, apparently waiting for her.

“Hello, Stephen! How are you faring?”

“Lord le Wyse has been very pleased with the furniture I’m working on, and I’ve already finished the front door.”

“That is good news.” Should she tell him about reading Lord le Wyse’s Bible and of all the wonderful things she was learning? Or would he disapprove just as Maud had?

“Stephen, what would you say if I were reading the Holy Writ?” she asked.

Stephen stopped and smiled. “I’d be very happy for you, Annabel. That was always your dream, to read the Bible.”

Excitement bubbled inside her again. “Lord le Wyse has me read it to him. It’s wonderful to see the words of God.” She paused, thinking of Maud. “I think everybody in this village believes God only wants to punish us with plagues and curses and droughts. Don’t you think that’s sad?”

Stephen looked over at her. “Perhaps you could read the Scriptures to me sometime? I know it’s in Latin, but — “

“But I could interpret it for you! Oh, Stephen, would you want me to?”

“Yes, very much. You know what people will say, though, about a woman reading anything, and especially the Holy Writ.”

“Not everyone is so backward, Stephen. Lord le Wyse doesn’t mind at all. It’s good to read the Scriptures.”

Stephen shook his head. “I don’t suppose you can get in any trouble for it, as long as Lord le Wyse is asking you to do it.”

She wanted to tell him how much she enjoyed the conversations she had with Lord le Wyse when they read together, but she decided it was best not to mention that, even to Stephen.

Later that day Annabel and Mistress Eustacia sat resting with the sheep, who were grazing in the courtyard. Mistress Eustacia had brought a stool to sit on while she did some sewing in the daylight, but Annabel was content to sit on the grass and stare at the courtyard before her and the sky above her, letting her thoughts wander. The sun stayed hidden behind the clouds, but the birds chirped cheerfully and a slight breeze puffed at them occasionally. Annabel stroked one particularly friendly ewe lamb, who sighed as she munched her grass.

Annabel’s Sunday was not progressing quite as joyfully as it had begun. Maud’s reactions that morning made her feel like a warm fire that someone dumped a bucket of water on. Even Stephen had cautioned her that others might not approve of her reading the Bible.

Though Lord le Wyse obviously approved. And dwelling on his approval restored her warm, happy feeling.

Annabel affectionately rubbed the sheep’s head. Was anyone at home taking care of her goat, Dilly? The poor animal could mostly fend for herself, she reasoned, but if her lazy brothers didn’t milk Dilly, her supply would run dry.
If my family didn’t need the goat so much, I would ask Lord le Wyse if Dilly could stay at the manor.

Before she could examine the thought further, movement and Beatrice’s high-pitched voice drew her attention to the manor steps. Lord le Wyse was a few steps behind Beatrice, who tripped and fell back into him. He caught her and set her up on her feet.

“Oh, my lord!” she said, louder than necessary. “My ankle. I don’t think I can walk. I must have injured it.”

Even from across the courtyard Annabel could see Beatrice’s face scrunched up in pain. Lord le Wyse put his good arm around her and helped her down the steps. Beatrice limped and leaned heavily on him.

Was Beatrice hurt? Or did she only want to be close to Lord le Wyse?

Beatrice was smiling now, looking up into Lord le Wyse’s face and thanking him profusely, insisting that she couldn’t make it to her bed in the undercroft without his help. Lord le Wyse called out to Gilbert Carpenter as he was passing nearby, and Annabel watched Beatrice’s smile shift direction. Lord le Wyse turned the limping girl over to Gilbert and then hurried up the manor steps. Gilbert in turn disappeared into the undercroft with Beatrice hanging on to him.

Whether Beatrice was hurt or not, she’d managed to claim the attention of both Lord le Wyse and Gilbert Carpenter, at
least for a few moments. But Annabel was surprised at how much the sight of her in Lord le Wyse’s arms, then hanging on to him as he helped her down the steps, had made her want to slap Beatrice silly. The dairymaid was obviously only pretending.

A rustle in the grass near her foot made her look up. Gilbert Carpenter stood gazing down at her. He nodded politely.

“Miss Annabel. Would you take a walk with me?”

He’d certainly rid himself of Beatrice quickly.

Annabel sought an excuse not to go with him, but she could think of nothing. She turned to Mistress Eustacia, but her mistress kept her eyes on her needlework and refused to look up. Finally, she made an effort to keep the reluctance out her voice — without sounding eager, either. “Of course.”

She pretended not to see the hand he offered as she got to her feet. She glanced around for Adam. He was nowhere to be seen, and she turned to follow the master mason.

Again she asked herself if she could imagine being married to this man. Would she be able to put aside her squeamishness and let him touch her? Somehow the thought remained repugnant. Perhaps she should tell him she had no interest in him, so he could give up on her and hunt for a wife elsewhere. After all, Adam wasn’t around to hear.

Gilbert glanced at her shyly from the corner of his eye. He seemed nice enough, and he was rather handsome, after all. Why couldn’t she feel for him what the other girls in the undercroft seemed to think she
should
feel for him? She should be grateful he wanted to marry her and make her a free woman again.

They walked in silence around the outer edge of the courtyard, turning toward the trees that led to the site of Lord le Wyse’s new home.

Finally, Gilbert spoke. “So you like animals?”

“Yes.”

“I saw you petting that ewe lamb. I like animals too. I generally don’t have much time to spend with them, with my work.”

“Me, neither.”

“If you like animals, I would buy you as many as you want — sheep, goats, chickens, geese …”

Annabel felt her cheeks heat. How could she tell him she had no interest in what he could give her? It made her feel mean and awkward, but somehow, she had to tell him. “I should tell you that although I love Adam and think you will make someone a good husband, I’m hoping to enter a convent some day.” Of course, she had no idea if that would ever happen, but she was still hoping, wasn’t she?

“I see.”

They entered the cover of the trees, ambling slowly now down the lane to the river.

She wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation after she’d so thoroughly sabotaged it. They walked along in silence. Finally, she worked up the courage to say, “I know Adam had a notion that he’d like to see us marry, but there are a lot of young maidens who — “

“I see you don’t think of me as a husband, Miss Annabel, but if it’s all right with you, I’d still like to try to change your mind.” He turned to face her, and before she knew what he was about to do, he took her hand in his and stared into her eyes. “I don’t mind waiting until you are ready.” He lowered his head and scuffed the ground with his foot. “I promise to try not to make you uncomfortable, but … I still hope you will change your mind … about me.”

His fingers felt clammy and cool. When he let go, she shuddered in relief. Holding his hand made her feel like running away.

He looked so humble and harmless, she nodded. “Very well.”

Gilbert Carpenter wasn’t ugly or frightening, and she was fond of Adam. The thought of someone caring for her above all others, bound to protect her and keep her safe and provided for, was not an abhorrent thought. She just couldn’t imagine that person being Gilbert Carpenter.