Chapter 21
Margaretha
Belinda stood inside the cool of the castle, taking shelter by the great front doors when I walked in. “Your father is in the library,” she said and turned to lead the way.
“Wait,” I called out, halting her step. “Should I not go before you? It was me Father summoned.” I marched past her, doing my best to keep my stride long and quick enough that she had to trot to keep up.
“Margaretha, you walk too fast,” she panted behind me. “Slow your pace.”
I reeled on her, and she nearly plunged into me. “Am I to be mindful of your needs now, when you took no consideration for mine?”
She blinked and stepped back. “Whatever do you mean?”
“What happened to ‘keeping the dog on his leash’? You didn’t give a fig for Carrera’s grasping or insinuations.”
“I didn’t see anything untoward.”
I lifted my skirts to show just how high his bloodied hand had traveled. “I hope whatever stole your attention was worth leaving your friend in the mud.” I shook my gown to straighten it, then turned toward the library, Belinda following as we coursed the path without another word.
I could hear Father’s pacing before we’d even entered.
He waved us inside. “Come in quickly and close the door behind you.”
“What is it?” I pulled the door shut with a click.
His eyes gleamed when he answered. “Dalwigk just learned that not only is the kaiser en route to Brussels as we speak, but he is traveling with prisoners in tow. He will arrive in a matter of weeks, at which time I’m hoping you, Margaretha, will be there to greet him.
” He crossed the room and took my hands in his.
“Now is the time for action. Are you ready to do all you can to bring my boy home?”
The chance to finally do something to save my brother ought to have filled me with joy instead of sitting like a boulder on my chest, squeezing the very breath from my lungs.
“Lady Margaretha is more prepared than she gives herself credit for,” Belinda answered behind me.
“Is that so?” he asked her, then he looked back at me. “Then you will do it? You will go now?” His eyes bored into mine as he awaited my answer.
It should have come easily. This was precisely what Belinda and I had been preparing for these last few months, but of a sudden, my throat seized, and I couldn’t respond.
What was holding me back? What was this sinking sense of dread now overcoming me?
I tried clearing my throat, but in the end, the only answer I could muster was a halting nod.
Father pulled me into a tight embrace, kissing my forehead. “You’re too good,” he muttered against my brow. He didn’t know the truth.
Releasing me, he sat down at his desk, pulling out a paper and dipping his quill. “I shall write to Queen Mary immediately, telling her you will arrive within a fortnight.”
A fortnight? Accounting for the time to travel, that meant I had a little under a week before we left. The familiar, comfortable routine of my life in Wildungen would end.
“You are dismissed.” Father’s quill danced over his paper, the cloud of melancholy that had hovered over him the last few months now completely evaporated. His excitement to finally be aiding his son was almost palpable.
Belinda and I dipped our bows, and we were moving to the door when Father called out, “Mistress Hatzfeld, I should like you to stay a moment, if you please.”
I gave her a look of wonder, but she ducked her eyes, a blush creeping over her cheeks as I opened the door and stepped out of the room. Father followed me to the door and closed it behind me, cloistering himself and Belinda in the library.
As curious as I was about this strange, private meeting, I knew I had very little time before Belinda joined me again, and there was something I needed to do. Hurrying to my tutor’s room, I riffled through his papers until I found a blank one, then scratched out a quick message to Friedrich.
Must speak with you. Meet me in the apothecary tomorrow after dinner.
—Margaretha
***
“You seem nervous,” Belinda whispered, casting a careful glance at my tutor’s nodding head. In a few moments, his chin would drop to his chest, his breath coming slow and deep, and I’d be running to the apothecary to meet Friedrich.
“My stomach aches,” I lied. “Perhaps you could fetch me a glass of wine.”
Belinda stood, setting down her needlework.
“More still”—I grabbed her hand—“some buttered bread?”
“We just finished dinner,” she whispered, but I put my hand to my belly, and she rolled her eyes, then crept out of the room.
I strained to hear her fading footfalls, counting each step and holding my breath until I was sure enough time had passed.
Tiptoeing to the door, I slipped through it, then closed it behind me before taking off in a near-sprint toward the south wing.
The stairs winding up to the apothecary were steep, and when I arrived, I had to pause just outside, pressing a hand to my burning lungs until my breath steadied.
I pushed into the room to find Friedrich wearing a trail into the floor as he paced by the table.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, crossing the room to meet me.
I signaled him to be quiet, peeking into the hallway once more before I closed the door behind me. “Father spoke with an informant yesterday. He learned the kaiser is on his way to Brussels. Father’s determined to send me there within the fortnight.”
Friedrich hissed. “So soon?” He rubbed a hand over his jaw and paced again but abruptly halted, his gaze settling on me. “But why did you call me here to tell me this when a note would have done as well?”
I hadn’t even considered that, hadn’t let myself think through the reason I so urgently needed to see him, and now with his eyes probing mine, I suddenly felt foolish. “You’re right. I suppose that would have sufficed.”
I stepped toward the door, and his eyes widened.
“No, that isn’t what I . . . I didn’t mean . . .” He tossed his cap on the table, scattering the pile of chamomile petals I’d crushed the day before. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “Was there something else? Something more you wanted to tell me?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Nothing more.”
“Very well. I have something I’d like to say.”
My stomach tightened, but I gave him a hesitant nod.
“I know I’ve no right to an opinion on this”—he picked up the pestle, absently tapping it inside the mortar—“but you should forget your schemes in Brussels.”
“Friedrich . . .” I sighed. “You know that’s impossible. I must help Samuel.”
“And sacrifice yourself in the process? Is that how wars are fought now, exchanging the lives of maidens for soldiers?” His tone was reproving.
“I know the risk I take,” I snapped back but, recalling myself, answered more gently, “My brother would do as much for me.”
“But what would he want for you? Shouldn’t his wishes matter too?
All these games, these deceptions . . .” He shook his head and went back to grinding the pestle into the mortar.
“They will only bring you misery. If it’s discovered you’re trying to free your brother, you’ll be given his same fate.
Imprisonment, maybe even death. If not, you enter a loveless marriage simply for advantage, and you’ll have to live a lifetime with that decision.
” He released the pestle with a clatter.
“That’s its own kind of prison, Margaretha.
And consider that if you do nothing, he might still be freed! Too much is unknown.”
We stared at each other in a silent stalemate.
This was nothing like how I’d imagined the conversation going. But despite wanting to stay, to make peace with Friedrich somehow, the seconds were dripping down on me like cold water, their collective weight an uncomfortable reminder of how long I’d been gone.
“I have to be going or I’ll be missed.” I gathered the chamomile, stirring its sweet scent into the room as I returned it to a neat pile, then offered Friedrich his cap. Instead of taking it, his hand landed on mine, drawing my eyes up to his.
“Margaretha, I know your brother well enough to guess at how angry he’d be that you’d risk your life and happiness on a plan that might not work.
He would never ask you to trade your life for his.
” Friedrich took a gentle step toward me, his eyes still locked on mine.
“He’d want you to stay. Here. Where you’re safe. ”
I shook my head. Samuel might not want me taking risks for him, but I couldn’t give up. Not on Samuel. And not on my chance for redemption.
Yet, despite my convictions, Friedrich’s words brought hope flaring to life inside me, and I couldn’t seem to stomp it out. He was giving me reasons to stay. Reasons that forced me to acknowledge how much I wanted to.
Pinching my eyes closed, I shut out such selfish desires, but Friedrich’s fingers moved soft and slow across my skin until my eyes fluttered open to meet his.
“What do you want, Margaretha? Can you think of any reason to stay?” He stepped so close I had to tip my head back to meet his gaze. His eyes flicked back and forth between mine, begging me, willing me to find that reason.
My head was ringing, the alarm sounding afresh, and this time I heeded it. Ducking my eyes to break free of Friedrich’s gaze, I took a step back, forcing down the rising warmth, wrapping myself in the safety of empty numbness before I could explore my feelings further.
Friedrich let out a frustrated sigh. “Margaretha, I have been through war and never found an opponent as challenging as you. You keep an entire army posted around your heart.” He stepped toward me, setting his finger on my chin and tipping my head up to meet his eye.
“Can you not think of any motive strong enough to stay in Wildungen?”
My stomach turned flips inside me as truth battled against the numbness, clamoring to be heard. Of its own volition, my head nodded.
His finger moved from my chin and traced a trail up my jaw, his voice all gentle persuasion. “Can you tell me what it is?”
No. I refused to face it. What good could come of acknowledging these . . . feelings? Feelings that have grown from friendship to something more.
The thought shot bright currents through every vein, each winding its way to my center.
Warmth joined with warmth, filling me with a heat that stirred in my chest, sending the ghost of a pulse beating through my long-dormant heart.
This was why the bells cried their warning.
This was the momentous risk, the shift with Friedrich that could never be undone.
Had my heart not been numb, I would have sensed it sooner.
I would have known that I’d somehow fallen for the soldier.
I opened my mouth to speak just as my name echoed down the corridor and footsteps sounded outside the door, robbing me of my courage.
“Friedrich, I must return,” I whispered, trying to pull my hand from his, but he held it fast.
“You were about to say something.”
I shook my head. “No, we can’t be found here together.”
His eyes brimmed with frustration, but he loosened his grasp, and I slipped my hand away, throwing him a final, apologetic glance before opening the door to find Belinda pacing the hall.
“There you are.” Her words were an accusation. “Seems your stomach is feeling bet—” She knit her brows, looking past me into the room before I could whip the door closed. Her eyes turned icy. “So that’s what you’ve been doing?”
Taking a painful grip of my arm, she half-dragged me down the corridor. “What were you thinking, risking your reputation like that? Anyone who saw you secreting yourself alone with serving boys would think the worst.”
I twisted my arm from her grasp, shocked by her audacity. “It was no different than any of our French lessons.”
She scoffed. “Except then I stood nearby enough to warn you should someone approach. What would your father have done had he seen you?”
I didn’t answer.
“You have exactly one week before your farewell banquet. You’re potentially days away from seeing your brother.” She paced ahead of me. “Don’t let your foolish romantic inclinations get in the way of what we’ve worked so hard to achieve.”
“What if this isn’t the right path?” I asked. “What if Samuel wants something more for me?”
She stopped at the top of the stairs, rounding on me. “You think you’re in love, is that it?”
“No, it’s not—”
“You think someday your father will grant you permission to marry a peasant and be thrilled to let you and Friedrich live here under his charity? Never. And even if there was the slightest chance of your father not throwing Friedrich out as soon as he’d learned of your infatuation, how could Friedrich ever accept you if he knew what you’d done?
How could any man love you if he knew the truth? ”
I sucked in a sharp breath and fell back a step. A physical blow could not have struck harder.
“How dare you!” I straightened my spine. Belinda’s troubled past gave excuse for her shifting moods and dagger tongue, but this was a step too far. “You have no right to speak to me thus. You’re every bit as guilty as I.”
“Precisely,” she snapped. “Which is why I know you could never be happy with Friedrich. Not when your life would be a lie. Not with your brother’s corpse rotting in a grave you could have spared him from.
Forget this nonsense. Don’t hope for a marriage filled with love; seek a marriage to save the brother you love, and that will be enough to give you a lifetime of peace.
That’s worth far more than any temporary fluttering of affection you think you feel. ”
I narrowed my eyes at her, refusing to let her see the impact of her words, how she’d shaken my rising hope to quicksand.
It was only when Belinda turned and descended the stairs, leading us back to my sleeping tutor, that I felt an uncomfortable heat emanating from my hand. The scar on my palm had been rubbed an angry red.