Page 9 of Castle of Refuge

The servants behaved differently toward her—less deferential, no longer jumping when she asked them to do something for her.They treated her more like an equal, which, strangely, did not bother her. She rather liked it. But the people in the village stared very rudely at her, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of her scars.

Audrey was nineteen years old, and the older she got, the more she craved the society of other young women her own age. As her father hardly paid any mind to what she did, she’d made friends with a girl who worked in the candle shop in the village. Her name was Helena, and she was fortunate enough not to have any sisters.

Helena was slow to speak but quick to laugh. She had clear blue eyes that danced when she was happy and sparked when she was angry. She always smiled when Audrey walked into her shop.

After sighing in relief, again, that none of the dreams she’d dreamed were true—her face was still intact and Maris was still away at the convent—Audrey prepared to go for a walk to see Helena. She finished putting on her dress, and as she came around her dressing screen, someone knocked on her chamber door. Sybil came inside.

“You are already dressed,” Sybil said. “I am late, but I have some news for you.” Sybil’s hands were clasped together, and she was avoiding looking Audrey in the eye.

“What is it, Sybil? Is something amiss?”

“Amiss? Not at all. Do you recall your father’s friend Sir Clement of Nottingham?”

“Yes, I know who he is.” A feeling of dread came over her.

Audrey would much rather remember his former squire, Edwin, who became Sir Edwin, and then just recently, the Earl of Dericott.

“Well, Sir Clement’s wife has passed on to heaven and he has taken a notion to marry someone younger this time. As it turns out, he has a lot of wealth and wishes to build his new bride a large manor house. In fact, he has already begun the work. You would like to be mistress of a large new home, would you not?”

Sybil told the news so fast, her voice rushing through it so quickly, it took a moment to sink in.

“The new wife he wants is me.” Audrey’s stomach sank.

Sybil nodded.

“Father wishes it?”

Sybil nodded again.

Audrey’s mind raced as she tried to imagine being married to the paunchy Sir Clement, a man more than twice her age.

“He seems a good sort of man.”

Audrey dropped down on a stool.

“If it weren’t for my scars...” She didn’t finish the thought. They both knew her father had intended to use her beauty as a means to attract wealthy and powerful suitors. Sir Clement was not very wealthy. He had no title other than his knighthood, and he served in the king’s guard part of every year. Had her scars made her unsuitable for anyone better than a knight old enough to be her father? Truly, her father must be anxious to marry her off to almost anyone. Of course. She was damaged now. Just like Maris. Audrey might not be changeable and vengeful, but she was scarred.

“It will not be so bad,” Sybil said. “And you can take a few servants with you—I will be coming with you when you go. There. Isn’t that a happy surprise?”

“Yes.” But Audrey could not stop thinking of the sharp contrast between the old Sir Clement and his young squire, Edwin. Though it had been four years since she’d seen him, and he, also, had fallen into some very painful circumstances—he’d been accused of treason, he and his brothers, and in their escape from the Tower of London, he’d lost his arm, the poor man. But having been proven innocent, he now enjoyed the king’s particular favor. But she was no longer good enough for Edwin, the Earl of Dericott. She was no longer fit for anyone young, handsome, and titled.

Sir Clement had come to Engleford Castle a couple of times lately—she now realized why he had visited so often—but she’d probably never see Edwin again.

“You will be better off there,” Sybil said, her brows starting to draw together as she lowered her voice. “Maris is coming home.”

Audrey’s chest seized up and she couldn’t breathe. She saw Maris’s face from her dream, glowing in the orange-red of her torchlight.

She could have sworn her scars were burning. She pressed one hand to her ear and her other hand to her chest, forcing herself to breathe.

“Do not behave that way. You shall soon be a married woman, with a beautiful home to manage. You will feel like a queen. Besides, your sister will have surely learned to control her destructive impulses while at the convent. She may have become quite saintly in her absence. Four years is a long time.”

Why was Sybil’s voice so calm? How could she say such things?

“She tripped me so I would fall into the fire.”

If Audrey could control her voice, she would have said that Maris ruined her face and her chance to marry Edwin, or someone else of equal rank. Everyone knew this, including Sybil. Did her father not care about her at all? Did no one realize how the very thought of seeing Maris again made her hands shake and brought back the terror as if it had happened yesterday?

“Why is Father letting her come home? Did something happen?” Audrey did her best to keep her voice calm and even.