Chapter Eighteen #3
Mimsy turned her attention to the tall woman as she lingered by the window that overlooked the area to the north.
All the way over to the tavern, Mimsy had been preparing what to say but now that she was facing the duchess, the words wouldn’t come.
Nothing she had planned to say seemed right.
As she opened her mouth, hesitantly, the duchess spoke.
“What message do you have to give me?” she asked, sounding disinterested. “Hurry and say it.”
Mimsy could see that the woman was being defensive. Her guard was up and rightly so. “Lady Vietta was very concerned with your health, my lady,” she said. “She has sent me to make sure you are well.”
The duchess wouldn’t look at her. “I am well,” she said. “Tell Lady Vietta that I am very sorry I had to leave so quickly. I pray she is not offended.”
“She is not, my lady,” Mimsy assured her. “She hopes that she did not say something to offend you.”
The duchess didn’t reply. She was looking out of the window now, clearly disinterested in the conversation.
Mimsy was receiving the distinct impression that the duchess was in no mood for a conversation or even an apology for that matter.
She sensed that the duchess wanted her to leave.
Sadly, as she did not want to upset the woman, she thought that perhaps it had been a very bad idea for her to come.
She’d seen her child, long gone, and she knew the woman was healthy and wealthy.
There was nothing more she needed to know.
With a faint sigh, she turned for the door.
“Then I thank you for time, my lady,” Mimsy said. “I will tell Lady Vietta that you are well.”
The duchess still didn’t reply but as Mimsy reached the door, expecting the knight to open it, he made no move to do so. Mimsy reached out to lift the latch but a very big hand on the door prevented her from opening it. When she looked at the knight, curiously, his gaze upon her was steady.
“The duchess’ given name is Annavieve,” he said somewhat loudly and deliberately. “She was named for her grandmother and for her great grandmother, a combination of the names Annabelle and Genevieve. Annavieve is a lovely name, is it not?”
Mimsy looked at him, eyes widening, but Annavieve, over at the window, spoke. “Kevin, please,” she begged softly. “Please don’t.”
Kevin pretended not to hear her; he was looking at the old nurse. “The duchess was born at Lioncross Abbey, seat of the House of de Lohr, to a woman named Lady Alys. That is your name, isn’t it? Lady Alys?”
Mimsy, increasingly red in the face, nodded. “It is,” she said, feeling defensive and apprehensive. “How do you know my name?”
Kevin gestured to Annavieve. “The duchess told me,” he said. He went for the obvious question. “Are you the woman who gave birth to the duchess?”
Mimsy stared at the man. Even Annavieve turned away from the window, looking at Mimsy and waited for her reply.
It seemed as if time stopped in that moment, hanging still and heavy in the air, as the world waited for Mimsy to answer the question.
So much hinged on her answer; almost nineteen years of a separation were perhaps about to come to a close.
Still, they waited for a reply. It seemed as if Mimsy was unable, or fearful, to give one.
But finally, the old woman seemed to shrink a bit as the life drained out of her.
There was a chair behind her, part of a table set, and she sat heavily.
She almost missed it and gripped the table to keep from falling.
Her heart, at the moment, was the heaviest thing of all, and it was difficult to get the words out.
The guilt that had consumed her for nearly nineteen years was making a powerful return. She had to force herself to speak.
“There are memories that take up space in our souls, memories that are meant to be kept and caged, never to be released,” she murmured. “This is one of those memories. I have not thought on such things in years but now… now, the lock on the cage is rusty. It is difficult to remove it.”
Kevin was listening intently. “Will you confirm that you are the duchess’ mother?” he asked again. “It will take no difficulty to confirm or deny such a thing.”
Mimsy hung her head; she couldn’t bear to look at Annavieve. So many things were upsetting her world at the moment. She had no idea where to begin. She had to start somewhere, however, so she chose to start from the beginning.
“He had very dark hair, the color of the duchess’,” she finally whispered.
“He was a hostage for a time, locked up in the House of de Lohr on behalf of King Edward, although he was treated like a guest. He ate with the family, as did I, and we came to know one another. We were both so young, so very young… I knew I loved him nearly the moment I met him but there was no chance for us to be together. I was the last of the great house of Marshal and he was the last of the Princes of Powys. We were both starved for affection, fearful of the future. When… when I became with child, the de Lohrs knew what had happened. They knew Rhodri was the father. They informed Edward of the pregnancy and Edward demanded that the child be turned over to him. Therefore, I did indeed turn my firstborn over to the king. But the second born was not turned over.”
Both Kevin and Annavieve looked at the woman in shock. “Second born?” Kevin repeated. “There was another child?”
Mimsy was still looking at the ground. “There were two babies,” she murmured.
“I bore twins. The firstborn, Annavieve Rosamund, was given over to the king as promised. But the second born… there had never been any demands for a second child. The de Lohrs took her and raised her as their own to hide her from Edward, appointing me her nurse so that I could always be near my child. I raised my second born as a de Lohr. Vietta Eloise does not know she is not a true de Lohr. She has always believed that Lord Myles and Lady Agnes are her true parents. She has never known her true heritage nor her true mother.”
The shocking silence in the room after that explosive statement was nearly deafening.
Annavieve, still standing near the window, was in such shock that she fell back against the wall, sliding down it until she ended up sitting on her buttocks.
Her hands, both of them, were clamped over her mouth in pure, unadulterated astonishment.
“Vietta… she is my sister?” Annavieve gasped through her fingers. “I have a sister?”
Mimsy nodded, her old eyes filling with tears.
“She does not know,” she repeated. “The only people who know are Lord and Lady de Lohr, and me. Edward must never know that a royal Welsh offspring is alive and well, otherwise, he would throw her into a convent just as he did to you. I apologize deeply that you had to be the sacrificial lamb, my lady. You just happened to be born first. But that does not mean I loved you any less. I have loved you since the day you were born, more deeply than all the stars in the sky.”
It was too much for Annavieve to take; folding her arms on her bent-up knees, she buried her face in them, struggling to process what she had just been told. I have a sister! She thought. Dear God, will the dramatics of this day never end?
“That is why you denied knowing the duchess in front of Lady Vietta,” Kevin said.
He was astonished, that was true, but he was not beyond rational thought as Annavieve was.
He could think quite clearly. “That is why you have come, now, to explain things to her. You wanted her to know that you remembered her.”
Mimsy nodded, a single tear trickling from her left eye.
She quickly wiped it away. “I came to tell her she was loved,” she said tightly.
“I did not want her leaving this place thinking she was unloved. I did not turn her over to Edward because I wanted to. She was a strong, beautiful baby. Vietta was rather sickly. We thought we would lose her. I had to make a choice… it was a very difficult one.”
Annavieve lifted her head, tears flowing from her eyes. She’d done more crying today than she’d done in her entire lifetime.
“If Vietta was sickly,” she said hoarsely, “then why did you send the healthy child to Edward? I do not understand. Why not send him the sickly one who would die, anyway? Do you know how many time I wished for death to release me from my convent prison? Too many times to count. At least if you had sent the sickly child, she might have died and known a measure of peace where I never did.”
Mimsy didn’t have an easy answer for her.
“I could not stomach the thought of the infant dying, alone and unloved, in the arms of a messenger,” she said.
“You, however, were entirely healthy and bright. So I chose to keep the sickly child so she could at least die in the comfort of my arms. As you can see, she did not die.”
Annavieve wasn’t softened or convinced by the words; if anything, they seemed to make her angry. “Yet you condemned me to a confined hell,” she said heatedly. “You kept Vietta but you sacrificed me.”
Mimsy nodded faintly, with sorrow. “As I said, a choice had to be made,” she said. “I am not sure in that situation that there is any correct choice to make, but I did what I thought best. I can only pray you will forgive me for it.”
Annavieve fell silent. She seemed caught up in the turmoil of the situation, struggling between resentment and understanding. Everything she was feeling was visible on her face.
“I do not know if I can,” she said after a moment.
“I have not longed to meet you my entire life. When I was younger, of course, I was curious, but as the years went by, I no longer had the desire to meet you. It would have seemed I should have stayed away from you because now, I cannot say I understand what you did. I cannot say I will forgive you your choice because in keeping Vietta, you condemned me to a soulless existence.”
Mimsy hung her head again. “I can only say that I am sorry,” she said quietly. “I pray that, in time, mayhap, when you have your own children, you will at least understand my predicament even if you do not forgive me for it.”
Annavieve buried her face again and her silence filled the air.
There was nothing left to say. Unexpected bitterness had come from this meeting and Mimsy rose from her seat, stiffly, and made her way to the door.
She lifted the latch but paused before quitting the chamber entirely. Longingly, she looked to Annavieve.
“I want you to know how proud I am of you,” she said softly.
“My daughter is a great duchess of a prominent house. But please… even if you are bitter towards me, do not tell Vietta what you know. One of you deserves to be emotionally spared from this situation so I ask that you be unselfish and let her live in blissful ignorance.”
Annavieve didn’t answer. Mimsy didn’t expect her to. Without another word, Mimsy quit the chamber and closed the door softly behind her. She left a cloud of confusion and devastation in her wake.
When she was gone, Kevin looked at Annavieve, all folded up against the wall, and wondered if there was anything he could say that would ease her heartache.
Meeting her birth mother had not gone as planned and Kevin could see, much as Annavieve could, that Vietta was the favored child.
Mimsy had raised her and loved her. Although she loved Annavieve, the woman was still virtually a stranger to her.
Mimsy asked for Annavieve to protect Vietta.
Kevin couldn’t decide if he understood that request or was disgusted by it.
Soft weeping from Annavieve told him exactly how she felt about it. He didn’t even have to ask.
He knew.