Chapter 17
Friedrich
The excited chatter in the cabin made me regret not bringing fresh game sooner.
While the miners sat around the table stripping the meat off the bones of the hare, I went to Ernst’s bed and sank down beside his feet.
I’d been sitting in exactly that spot not one month ago, watching an entirely different scene play out at the table.
The memory was colored in orange firelight and warmth as I pictured Margaretha’s soft smile and her frequent glances at me. And to think they’d all been lies.
I whisked off my cap and ran my fingers through my hair.
“What troubles ya, Friedrich?” Ernst’s eyes sparkled.
“Your grin tells me you already know.”
He nodded. “Womenfolk can be downright maddenin’.”
“Especially this one. Would that I had never set eyes on her,” I grumbled.
“Ya don’t mean that. Not with the way you two were smilin’ after each other.”
I took a deep breath, pushing down the rising anger. “Don’t rely on that nonsense. She meant nothing by it.”
“Tush, don’t go doubtin’—”
“There are things here you don’t understand, Ernst,” I barked. “Things I can’t explain.”
Ernst went quiet before he softly asked, “Because she’s a countess?”
My eyes met his, and I considered protesting. But I sensed he’d known the truth before Margaretha and I even left the cottage on our last visit. “So you found us out.”
“Her beauty. Yer name slip. It weren’t hard to figure.” Ernst creaked his legs over his bed and scooted himself beside me. “Yer spot might be tougher’n most, but it’s not hopeless.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “That’s exactly the word to describe it, Ernst. Hopeless. If you only knew the things she’s done and the lies she’s told. And all in the name of aiding Count Samuel, as if that could justify anything.”
Ernst tapped a finger against his lips, pondering a moment. “Did I ever tell ya ’bout the accident by Reddighausen? Noblewoman and her children on their way home when the coach broke a wheel?”
I shook my head. This was a large shift in topic.
“I’m not sure if the coach tipped the young boy into the river or he fell in while wandering, but he was drownin’.
Course the mother jumped in after him. She got him up on her back, though she could barely keep her own head above water.
It weren’t a swift river, but it were deep, and the strong current was washin’ ’em both downstream.
The servants ran along the banks, cryin’ out to let the boy go and save herself, but the mother wouldn’t give up on her child.
Even when the water covered her head, she still clung to him. They both drowned.”
I closed my eyes. “Why do you tell me this, Ernst?”
“If that woman didn’t fight fer her child, the regret would gnaw ’n wear at her ’til all she’s eatin’ and breathin’ and carryin’ ’round with her is guilt. People do foolish things, maybe even mad things, to save the ones they love.”
That did sound like the countess, willing to suffer if it meant saving someone she loved.
I could easily imagine she’d have no concern for her own happiness when it came to helping her brother, but she didn’t seem the kind of person who’d readily hurt others along the way.
She was different from her father. Kind. Sympathetic.
Although, the scheme to save her brother hadn’t started with her.
She’d admitted it was Hatzfeld’s doing. Hatzfeld’s manipulative designing—I should have suspected it.
I’d seen the flash of superiority, the cunning in Hatzfeld’s eyes despite her attempts to play the docile maid.
I’d seen how the countess looked to Hatzfeld for answers and approval that what she did or said was right.
Though it was no surprise a young noblewoman would follow the direction of her older, more experienced companion, Margaretha’s faith in Hatzfeld was something different.
She’d followed Hatzfeld even when it went against her very nature.
Why? What hold did the woman have that caused Margaretha to trust her counsel?
Ernst sighed. “No matter what the countess has done, she loves ya, Friedrich.”
I scoffed at his bold statement, picking at my cap and shaking my head.
“It’s plain. The way she watches ya, aligns herself to ya where’er ya are in the room. Whene’er ya talk, she’s lookin’ at ya like a thirsty man to a cup, like she’s dyin’ to know yer every thought. It’s love, a’right.”
I stayed silent, wishing his words didn’t bring a thrill to my heart. Ernst didn’t know of her schemes. Maybe she cared for me, or maybe it was all part of her tricks, contriving perfectly timed smiles to win me over. I’d be a fool to trust any of it.
Except that she never was that skilled when she acted a part.
Now recognizing her attempts to entice me—batting her eyes, finding awkward ways to touch me, her laughable compliments—they were all painfully obvious.
But the frequent flushes of her cheek or her unsteady breath whenever I grew close .
. . were those practiced too? Or did I have the power to affect her as much as she affected me?
“Ya see it now, don’t ya?” Ernst studied my face.
I warmed, realizing he’d been watching me. “Whatever her feelings, it doesn’t matter. What good could come from a countess loving a serving boy?” I beat the dust from my cap.
Ernst put a hand on my knee, and I was struck by the strange bluish hue of it. “You, of all people, should know rank means nothin’ where there’s real fondness.”
“I, of all people, know the consequence of loving outside your station.”
Ernst scoffed. “Their story needn’t be yers.”
“Ernst, leave it be. She travels to Brussels soon to marry some fool-of-a man just because he’s friendly with the kaiser. If she’s determined to throw away her happiness to make sure her brother is safe, why should I stop her?”
“Because ya love her.”
I ground my jaw. This wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. Love would never come with such frustration and anger and—
“And ya know she loves you.”
“I know no such thing,” I protested. “I couldn’t even begin—”
“Cares fer ya, then,” he interrupted. “Enough that she might one day come to love ya?”
I silently picked my thumbnail, not daring to hope.
“Friedrich, if ya want her, you’ll have to get off yer backside and show the girl ya love her. Convince her to stay.”
No.
No!
Excitement shot through me, not heeding my rational thought, betraying all my attempts to rein in this impossible affection. And forcing me to face the truth: as frustrated as I was with Margaretha’s deception, my feelings for her hadn’t changed.
I still cared for her.
I still wanted her to stay.
But Margaretha might not appreciate me trying to talk her out of saving her brother.
Of course, I doubted Count Samuel would appreciate his sister risking her life for him, and shouldn’t his opinion matter too?
He wasn’t a child needing protection. The man was a soldier.
He could easily calculate that there was no tactical advantage in exchanging places with his sister, consigning Margaretha to prison in his stead.
Because that was what a loveless marriage would be.
A lifetime of bondage and subservience to a man she did not care for.
Maybe my selfish interests were twisting reality.
The more I thought on it, though, the more certain I became that her plan would only bring her misery.
Could I convince Margaretha of that? Would it even be right to try?
And if she truly wished to marry for love, could I be that man?
Still, to pursue a girl so far above my station was too big of a risk. Even Ernst had to see that.
I opened my mouth to argue against his plan, but a new perspective dawned on me.
Here I was, already suffering the pain of affection for Margaretha with no hope of a future with her.
But if I followed Ernst’s counsel and opened my heart to her, what harm could come of it?
That she’d reject me? I’d be no worse off than I was now, pining without hope.
Maybe it would even be better, knowing her feelings for certain instead of this wondering and fretting.
And if she admitted to never caring for me, it would definitely fuel my determination to banish every gentle thought of her . . .
The longer I thought on it, the more the idea captivated me until I was filled with a foolhardy determination to do precisely as Ernst said. I would show Margaretha I cared for her. I would attempt to convince her to stay.