Chapter 22
Friedrich
I hadn’t managed to catch Margaretha’s attention all night, even when she stood with blush-brightened cheeks while her father raised his cup in her honor.
And with Mistress Hatzfeld browbeating poor Bernhold into assigning me more work all week, tonight’s banquet was the first time I’d seen Margaretha since our apothecary meeting.
Going an entire week without so much as a glimpse of her had turned me sullen, particularly because of Hatzfeld’s annoying interruption just as Margaretha was on the verge of admitting something vital.
I felt almost sure she was about to confess her feelings for me, but with her party leaving tomorrow for Brussels, now I might never know the truth.
“Don’t think I don’t see right through you.” Ilsa’s voice intruded into my thoughts, and I turned forward at the table to face her.
“Staring up at the dais with all but drool drippin’ from your chin. You’ve a fire burning for the countess, don’t you?”
I gave her a bored stare and picked up my spoon, taking a loud slurp of my soup.
“And I’ve seen the way you watch her at church, your eyes always flickin’ up to the balcony.
It’s too obvious to ask why you’ve come to care for her—certainly she’s comely—but I thought you were a great deal smarter.
” She fished through the breadbasket for a roll, then picked off the black seeds.
“Ah, poor Friedrich. You’re just a servant; did you really believe she cared for you as anythin’ more than a bit of fun? ”
I clenched my spoon so hard my knuckles turned white. Ilsa had managed to hit on the one fear I couldn’t easily dismiss. The difference in our stations put the countess far beyond my reach.
“I’ve lost my appetite.” I gave Ilsa a pointed look and pushed away from the table, pacing toward the great hall doors.
Instinctively glancing at Margaretha, I was surprised to find her watching me, her eyes meeting mine for the first time tonight.
But I didn’t even have a moment to give her a quick smile before Carrera spoke to her, stealing her attention away.
I needed to find a way to meet with her before tomorrow.
There was still so much left unsaid between us.
How could I let her leave without learning the truth of what she was about to confess in the apothecary?
Without making a confession of my own? I didn’t need to worry about station and class, thinking so far into the future when all I had left was this one night.
One night to convince her to stay. One night to admit my feelings for her.
***
Margaretha
I could still feel Friedrich’s gaze locked on me, his eyes speaking words I didn’t want to hear, even after the musicians’ melody petered out and Father rose to his feet with a nervous smile.
“Friends”—Father leaned his splayed fingers against the banquet table—“you well bore a father’s long and affectionate ramblings for his beloved daughter, but I beg your patience once again, as I have a little more to say now at the close of our meal.
Lady Margaretha was but a child when she lost her mother, and though she might have suffered much from such an early separation, she was blessed with the affection and care of so many in this house.
Chief among them, she had the good fortune to be guided by one young in years but wise beyond her age. Baroness von Hatzfeld.”
As applause echoed in the hall, I shot Belinda a look of surprise, wondering at this unusual distinction, but she did not seem to notice. She stood, offering the room a timid smile.
“Margaretha, you have always loved Mistress Hatzfeld as a friend.” Father stepped behind me, moving to Belinda’s side and holding out an open hand to her. “Now I hope you will love her as a mother.”
Mother? The word was lead in my brain. I couldn’t swallow, couldn’t blink as Belinda lifted her hand and placed it in Father’s.
A ringing started in my ears, growing louder when Father pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
It drowned out the cheers of the servants, consuming all sound.
Even the flames flickering in the candelabras went dim, draining the room of color until it turned a flat gray.
“Nothing will give me greater honor than to call myself your wife,” Belinda said to Father, with her head demurely bowed.
What was this? Though she’d never confessed it, I thought her in love with Samuel.
And now she was marrying Father? Her shifts for power had been a mild annoyance in a lovable friend, but this was too much.
When had she managed to win over Father?
How? With the very same tactics she’d been teaching me?
Father raised her chin with his finger and set his arm around her waist, facing her toward the string of servants approaching the table to offer congratulations and deep bows to their master and future mistress.
I hardly noticed who passed or whose hand I took as, one by one, the household filed through to offer me congratulations.
My gaze remained there on my father’s arm wrapped tightly around my lady-in-waiting. My future mother.
I couldn’t stay in the room.
As I pushed forward to leave, Carrera suddenly took my hand, holding me fast. “Felicidades, Countess. What a blessed event.”
“Yes, thank you.” I twisted out of his grasp and found my way to Belinda.
“This is quite a surprise,” I said. “I offer my congratulations.” My words felt as rigid as the hand I held out toward her.
She ignored my hand and pulled me into an embrace, but I kept my arms stiff at my sides.
“Thank you, Margaretha. I wish I could have told you earlier. It was never . . . I didn’t want . . .” She sighed and finished with, “I will do my best to be a good and loving mother to you.”
Was that all? The only explanation I was to be given?
Wriggling free of her, I moved to Father and wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Sincerest wishes for your joy and happiness, Father,” I whispered, swallowing back the hitch in my voice.
An idle tear slipped from my eye, and I rubbed it out against his velvet doublet, breathing in the sweet scent of his pomander and letting myself lean into his strength one last time before pulling away.
“I am fatigued and must rest before my journey. Please excuse me.”
“Of course.” He placed a kiss on my head, and I mustered a smile before turning and fleeing.
Friedrich intercepted me by the doors, concern painted plainly on his face. Unable to trust myself to speak with my emotions so close, I tried stepping past him, but he moved in front of me, blocking my way.
“Margaretha, how are you faring?”
I turned away, concealing the unshed tears gathering in my eyes as I rubbed the irritating itch of my nose. “Fine.” My hand paused when I caught the dark smile on Carrera’s face from across the room, his eyes watching Friedrich with frightening diligence.
“I must speak with you, please,” Friedrich begged. “Tonight. Alone.”
“How would I manage that?” I shifted to face him.
“Meet me in the courtyard when the house is still.”
I shook my head. “Friedrich, that’s unwise. I doubt I could even get away. It’s my last night with Belinda, and I’m certain she’ll wish . . .” My voice trailed when I glanced up to the dais to see her standing there, all smiles, beside my father. Anger surged inside me. I owed her nothing.
“Yes.” I turned back to Friedrich. “Yes, I’ll be there.”