Page 21 of Castle of Refuge

“It is a good thing Philip found her.” And a good thing Edwin and Mistress Wattlesbrook weren’t as afraid of her scars as Philip was, as the man might have left her there if he’d seen her scars first.

“She is a pretty thing,” Mistress Wattlesbrook said, taking a deep breath and letting it out, staring out the window at the rain. “I shall be curious to hear her speak when she awakens.”

“Will you tell me when she does?”

“Of course.” Mistress Wattlesbrook smiled, but the crinkle-eyes expression was a look he knew well.

Along with her husband, who had died a few years ago, she’d served in his household since before Edwin was born. He knew she was thinking that he was showing a lot of concern for a girl who could be anyone—a runaway servant, a married woman escaping her husband, anyone.

But Edwin was not interested in the young woman in that way. Mistress Wattlesbrook knew he was pledged to marry Lady Ophelia, though she had never met the lady, and for Mistress Wattlesbrook, out of sight was out of mind. Or perhaps she had taken note of the fact that Edwin had had no communication from the lady in almost a year.

Edwin did feel compassion for this young woman, but he was only concerned that she was well taken care of and looked after as long as she was under his roof.

If he was honest, however, it was more than that. Philip’s reaction at seeing her scars had reminded him how it felt when people noticed his missing arm and stared in horror... or even fear. This girl probably understood better than anyone how he felt about being stared at. But in spite of her scars, her features were delicate, and she was quite fair of face and form. It was unjust for her to be treated as an object of horror. He would not allow it.

Edwin’s heart burned to right wrongs and stop injustice in whatever form he saw it, whether the victim of the injustice was a poor villein, a peasant, or a princess. This was his goal for himself, his self-imposed purpose in life. And if Lady Ophelia did not want to marry him now that he had lost his arm, then he would leave marriage and children to his brothers and sister, and he would relinquish the duty of carrying on their family name to them. Upon his death his title and Dericott Castle would go to his nearest brother, Gerard.

Which reminded him... He still needed to pay a visit to Lady Ophelia.

Was he wronging her to think she would not want to marry him? Perhaps she would prove loyal to her promise, although he didn’t want her to marry him and then be disgusted by him. Either way, they were still pledged to marry and he would not be disloyal to her, however she might feel.

Five

Audrey felt herself being lifted by gentle hands. Where was she?

She shivered, her body cold and wet. People surrounded her. She could hear their voices, but she couldn’t open her eyes. She hurt all over, especially her head and her chest. Was she dying?

She was warmer now. Someone was pouring warm liquid into her mouth. She swallowed it obediently. She was thirsty, but her throat hurt so badly. Was she in Derbyshire? She didn’t remember arriving. Was this her aunt, the woman who was tending her?

Audrey tried to talk and managed to ask if she was in Derbyshire. The woman told her no but said she was safe. The woman asked her questions, but Audrey couldn’t quite muster enough strength to answer. The woman’s voice was gentle, as were her hands when she lifted Audrey’s head and helped her drink.

She fell back asleep, then awoke, this time realizing she was in a bed with a canopy overhead and curtains drawn on threesides. The fourth side revealed a room with a tall narrow window. There were tapestries on the wall, and a woman sat nearby, sewing.

“Pardon me.” Audrey’s voice sounded like a frog croaking.

The woman looked up and hurried over to her. “You are awake. I shall tell Mistress Wattlesbrook.”

The girl hurried away before Audrey could ask her any questions.

She must have fallen asleep again, because a woman was suddenly standing beside her bed.

“How are you feeling? Are you in pain anywhere?” The woman’s eyes were wide as she leaned closer.

“My throat.” It hurt so much to talk. “May I have some water?”

“Of course you may.”

The woman turned to the table behind her and produced a cup of water. She helped Audrey sit up and held the cup to her lips. Audrey drank several gulps before she started coughing.

The pain was so sharp when she coughed, it made her close her eyes and clutch at her chest.

“There, there, we will go slowly,” the woman said.

She was still weak, her head as heavy as a boulder, and she could not even grasp the cup the woman was holding to her lips. She was almost as weak as when she’d lain down on the ground with the rain pouring over her. Which made her wonder...

“Where am I?”

“In a safe place, with good people.” The woman patted her arm. “And I know all about healing herbs from some very wise nuns, so you have nothing to fear.”