Chapter Twelve
The Wix
She felt caged.
It wasn’t as if Lyssa hadn’t been kept hidden away since her arrival into the Duke of Colchester’s house – shut up in small rooms, not allowed to participate with the other women – but this time, it was different.
Since her encounter with the duke yesterday, her isolation was starting to feel more like a prison sentence.
As if she was being punished because the man had attacked her.
It was difficult not to feel persecuted because of it.
The good news was that she had emerged from the incident well enough.
Other than a few scratches, she was completely normal.
The welt on her cheek had faded and, as Garret had promised, there was no mark.
The only reminder she had were a few healing cuts on her arms and a couple on her back, but those would soon fade.
Yet the terror of it wouldn’t.
Even though she was feeling sequestered, Lyssa was glad for the safety of the tower room.
There were two heavy doors that Colchester would have to go through in order to get to her, and both of those doors were bolted from the inside.
She had sewing to keep her occupied and a wide view of the bailey, so she could see everything going on down below. It wasn’t as bad as it could be.
Sitting by the window on the morning after the attack, she had seen Rickard down below as he’d left the complex in the early morning and then returned not an hour later.
She didn’t know where he’d gone but he’d left alone and returned alone.
She’d rather been hoping that he would have returned with his brother, who had promised to visit her today.
Truly, that was all she could think about.
He’d promised to come today. Lyssa was, therefore, counting the seconds as they passed along, so slowly it seemed, because Garret still hadn’t made an appearance by mid-morning and the seconds were dragging by, the most recent one dragging more slowly than the previous.
Lyssa was working on the skirt of a gown for the duchess, a beautiful purple silk that required concentration, but she had difficulty giving it the focus that it needed.
Twice, she’d had to pull out stitches that had been put in the wrong place because she hadn’t been paying attention.
Her mind simply wasn’t on her task and the wait for Garret was more than she could bear.
Her tall, handsome knight had yet to show, and his gentle voice and soothing manner were taking her focus away from her sewing.
Near noon, however, the wait was interrupted.
A knock on the first of the two barred doors startled her, causing her to stab herself in the finger.
Licking away the blood, Lyssa set her sewing aside and stood up, going to the barred door of her chamber and listening against it, trying to hear into the room beyond and the door to that chamber that someone had knocked on.
As she listened, apprehensive, there was another series of knocks, but they weren’t forceful.
They were rather quiet, in fact, so quiet that she unbolted the tower room door and made her way to the other door with caution.
Putting her ear against it, she listened for a hint of whoever was on the other side.
“Lyssa!”
It was a woman. Juliana, she thought, so Lyssa quickly unbolted the door and yanked it open. Juliana was, indeed, standing on the other side but so was Tristiana. Hastily, they entered, and Lyssa shut the door behind them and bolted it.
“I-I am so glad to see a friendly face,” Lyssa said. “I-It has been quiet and lonely this morning. W-What is happening on the outside?”
Tristiana took her by the hand and pulled her into the tower room. Juliana brought up the rear and closed the door behind them. Only then did Tristiana speak.
“I heard of your misfortune, sweetheart,” she said, hugging Lyssa with her big belly between them. “How do you fare this morning?”
Lyssa smiled at her friend. “I-I am fine,” she assured her. “J-Just a few scratches, but nothing that will not quickly heal. H-How is Rickard’s son this morning?”
She put her hand on Tristiana’s stomach, giggling, as Tristiana made a face; Rickard went around telling everyone that the baby was his child, as if his wife had nothing to do with it.
“He is busy kicking me to death,” Tristiana said. “But I do not wish to speak of the child. I wish to speak of you; is it true, Lyssie? Did Colchester really attack you?”
Lyssa lost her good humor although she knew Tristiana was only asking out of concern. Tristiana was older than most of the ladies, save Rose, and she was very motherly and nurturing. She removed her hand from the woman’s pregnant belly.
“H-He did,” Lyssa said, trying not to become distressed as she spoke on something she was trying to forget.
“H-He found me in the garden when I was alone and he commanded that I break my fast with him. W-When I refused, because I was doing as the duchess had instructed, he told me that I would do as he commanded. H-He… he touched my breast and when I pushed his hand away, he slapped me. I-I fell backwards into the roses.”
Tristiana was greatly distressed. “Beast,” she hissed. “The man is a beast. He did the same thing to Eleanor and Rosalie, last year before you came to us. The duchess sent both of them away, but now you… oh, Lyssie, she will send you away, too. I know it.”
Lyssa nodded. “I-I hope so,” she said. “I-I cannot remain here.”
Tristiana knew that but she was still saddened by it.
Reaching out, she grasped the woman by the hand.
“I know you have been kept in this room for your own safety, but we have come to tell you that Colchester rode from The Wix very early this morning,” she said.
“He is not even here. Come outside and enjoy a bit of freedom until he returns.”
It was tempting but Lyssa was uncertain. “A-Are you certain?” she asked. “I-I have been sitting by the window overlooking the bailey all morning and I did not see him leave.”
Tristiana nodded. “Many of his men saw him leave, right at dawn. He is not here. You can come out until he returns.”
Lyssa was feeling more comfortable now. “I-If Rose approves, I will.”
“It is Rose who sent us to fetch you,” Juliana put in. “Come outside, Lyss. We are working in the garden today.”
Lyssa wanted to but there was still some hesitation. “D-Does everyone know what… well, what has happened?”
Tristiana was pulling her from the room. “Mostly,” she said truthfully. “Servants saw what happened and they told what they saw. Everyone feels very badly for you.”
Now, Lyssa was embarrassed. “G-God’s Bones,” she hissed. “I-I do not want to be pitied.”
Juliana was behind her, pushing as Tristiana tugged. “Would you rather hide in here for today?” she said. “Of course you would not. Come outside.”
Between the tugging and the pulling, Lyssa had little choice.
They made a stop at the chamber she shared with Juliana to change into a garment that was better suited for the sticky heat.
She ended up in a woolen gown, short of sleeve, and made of very thin fabric that was dyed the color of lavender.
It was a beautiful fit to her curvy figure.
Juliana helped her braid her hair and, before they went out into the garden, they found another wicker bonnet for her to wear since Colchester had damaged hers.
It was life back to normal, at least for the moment.
Lyssa was feeling better and better, more light of heart.
With Colchester away from The Wix, the entire manse had a feeling of lightness, free from the oppression that Jago seemed to bring down over it.
When the man was in residence, it was a dark place where the inhabitants were tense.
When he was gone, it was bright and cheerful, and The Wix was a truly beautiful place.
It was astonishing how one man’s gloom could weigh so heavily on the place.
How one man’s evil could cloud everything.
But he was gone and Lyssa found herself out in the garden with the other ladies, back to picking violets as she had been the day before.
The servants had been instructed to watch for the lord’s return and notify the ladies as soon as he was sighted, so she went back to work in relative peace.
Soon, she was laughing with Juliana as the other ladies tried to keep Tristiana from working too hard.
Tristiana shrugged them off, insisting she could work circles around anyone else.
But when someone threatened to tell Rickard, Tristiana found herself sitting in the shade under a tree, sorting through the flowers in dejected silence.
So much for working.
Rose, of course, had been supervising everything.
All of the duchess’ women, all seven of them, were in the garden while Grace remained in her private solar.
She wasn’t one for the outdoors, or warm temperatures, and when Rose had last seen the duchess, the woman had been writing a missive to her father, Odo FitzHerbert.
She seemed very distracted by it so Rose left her alone as she came out into the garden with the rest of the women, including her niece.
Rose was glad to see that Tristiana and Juliana had managed to bring Lyssa out of hiding and into the sun.
Not that she had any doubts, but she knew Lyssa might find it unnerving to be out in the same garden where only the day before she’d been attacked.
But Lyssa seemed to be happy enough, like a beautiful angel in her lavender-colored dress and pink cheeks.
Truly, Rose was proud of the woman every time she saw her.
But looking into that lovely face, she was inevitably reminded of the sister she’d lost.