Chapter Sixteen
As Alden predicted, Devlin and Rosalind arrived at Windsor Castle at midnight. The air was now frigid, and despite her anxiety over what lay ahead the next few days, Rosalind was glad their journey was over.
Their arrival was expected, and Devlin was well-known to the castle guard.
They passed through the gate and dismounted.
Stable hands appeared and took their horses, and two servants rushed out to collect their bags.
Rosalind inched closer to Devlin amid the strangers but then felt relieved to see a familiar face join them outside.
It was Mr. Kelley, dressed in a green velvet doublet, breeches, and shoes. The smudge of ink on his cheek revealed he was still working at this late hour. He gave Rosalind a quick bow and immediately barked out instructions to several servants as he led them inside the castle.
Rosalind took a tentative step forward and looked up at the grand royal residence that she’d never had the opportunity to visit before. Her father’s descriptions paled in the reality of what was before her.
Torches lined the road and fires burned in the two watchtowers that faced the direction they’d traveled.
Through the dark, sprawling stone walls and multiple turrets were lined with wisps of fog.
The castle was an imposing presence atop a hill.
As she was ushered inside, she looked behind her as she crossed over the threshold.
She could see the moon’s reflection on the River Thames in the distance.
While the exterior of the palace stood as a commanding presence and announced the power of the monarchy, the interior was warm, luxurious, and welcoming.
Her mouth dropped open as she viewed the grand hall she’d entered.
The upper panels of the walls were lined with large tapestries depicting battles and several ancient emblems and banners of ancestors past. Closer to eye level, portraits of the English countryside and prized fox hounds hung at regular intervals on the vast walls.
The floors in the entry were polished stone, perhaps marble, and everything glistened and shined.
Rosalind barely had time to take in the splendor as Mr. Kelley walked and spoke fast.
“The king will appreciate your promptness as he has grown most impatient with this matter. Tonight, you’ll be taken to your rooms. There, you can wash up and sleep.
Come morning, you will break your fast in your chamber and then be brought before the king when he summons you.
Because this is a delicate matter, you will not be allowed to confer with each other, or have any visitors.
The king wants you to only speak to him while you are here. Is that clear?”
Devlin nodded, and Rosalind replied, “Yes, Mr. Kelley. I understand.”
“Good. You will be escorted now to your rooms by Reginald and Mistress Agnes.”
Devlin and Rosalind dutifully followed them up the left side of a double staircase.
“And Lady Rosalind, I have one question for you.”
Rosalind turned around.
“Did young Luella report any more ghostly happenings at Capell Manor?”
The tension broke and Rosalind smiled. Mr. Kelley chuckled, winked, and left.
As she and Devlin ascended the broad, spiraling staircase, the glow from a large iron chandelier that held at least fifty candles illuminated the faces of the monarchy eternally housed in grand oil paintings.
At the top of the stairs, Devin and Rosalind followed the servants down a smaller hall to the left of the landing.
Her heart slowed somewhat when she realized that their rooms were directly across from each other, but her relief was short-lived.
A guard stood tall and still at her chamber door.
Devlin must have seen the panic on her face and quickly commented, “He’s here for your safety as much as the king’s, Rosalind. The king has enemies, and if they think you’re going to implicate or expose them, you could be in danger.”
Rosalind hadn’t thought of the situation in those terms.
But then again, the king thinks I support those who wish to see him dead.
“I’m right across the hall. I will hear you if you call for me,” Devlin promised.
With his assurance, Mistress Agnes led her inside and shut the door.
“Hot water has been brought up, milady. And there are refreshments on the table.”
To her left, a tray of fruit and cheese sat on the top of a dresser, along with a pitcher of water.
By the fire and on the opposite side of the room, steam rose from a substantial bowl of water that sat on the dressing table.
Rosalind was too nervous to eat, but the hot water would wash the grit and dirt from her body.
Agnes looked at her, but unaccustomed to having a maid tend to her needs, Rosalind was left temporarily speechless. She finally managed a reply that she hoped was appropriate.
“Thank you, Agnes. That is all I require for now.”
Agnes curtsied and exited. Rosalind took a deep breath and surveyed the room.
The space was not overly large, but the furnishings were opulent compared to what she was used to.
The large stone hearth boasted a carved mantle depicting a fox hunt, complete with a troop of horses and riders, several hounds, and the wily fox.
A plush chair and a small side table beckoned guests to come, sit and warm themselves before the fire.
To the right of the door, a four-poster bed with thick velvet curtains that could be drawn around the entire bed to hold in the heat looked heavenly.
Her satchel was on the bed. She crossed the room and retrieved her sleeping gown.
She undressed and washed her body quickly.
Covered now in goosebumps, she toweled off quickly, took her gown over to the fire, and dressed.
Still chilled, she grabbed a blanket from the bed, wrapped herself, and sat in the cushioned chair.
Her gaze was fixed on the flames, and she pondered her fate.
Tomorrow, she would go before the king and profess her innocence.
He would believe her, or he would not. Once again, she felt angry that one man held her future and her safety in his hands.
Tears welled in her eyes as she thought of the unfairness of it all.
Rosalind heard a soft knock at the door. “Come in,” she said. She quickly wiped the tears that had escaped from her eyes and sat up straight in her chair.
It was Devlin. He entered, his hair damp, and the black wavy tendrils hung loose about his face. He’d changed clothes as well and wore black trousers and a loose linen tunic open at his collar gave her a generous glimpse of his broad, strong chest.
“I wanted to check on…” Devlin began, but before he could finish his sentence, she stood, dropped the blanket, and a gut-wrenching sob escaped her.
Devlin opened his arms wide, and she didn’t hesitate. She ran to him, wrapped her arms around his body, and held him as tight as she could.
He said nothing as he returned her hug with one as tight as her own. She was crying in earnest now, and nothing could stop the anguish tearing through her body. Devlin picked her up, carried her to the chair, and sat with her on his lap.
He was patient. He rubbed her back and kissed her head as her body finally released the hurt, the rage, and even the fear she’d been feeling for so long. When the crying finally stopped, Rosalind sat up, now embarrassed she was sitting on his lap, and in her sleeping gown, no less!
“I’m, I’m sorry.” She hiccupped.
She placed her hands on his chest and moved to stand up. He held her fast.
She looked into his eyes, and before he could say anything, she blurted out, “Devlin. I realized I may never see the children, or Marta, or Benton again.” Her last words ended with a squeak, and the tears threatened to flow again.
Rosalind pushed harder against him, and he released his grip. She paced the floor, her tears now replaced with rage.
“And here I am again, my fate lying in the hands of one man. A man, a king I have never met. I know nothing of his character. I could be locked in the Tower within hours…or worse. Practically all my life, I have been under the rule of a man who despised me, loathed my presence, and even used funds from my father’s estate to conspire against the very man who ultimately decides my fate.
The irony of it! And I can do nothing, Devlin.
Nothing! Do you know what it feels like to be powerless? ”
Devlin’s mouth opened to reply but she didn’t let him.
“Of course you don’t! You are a man! You are strong, you are favored by the king.
And. You. Have. Nothing. To. Fear.” Rosalind punctuated each word with a poke to his chest. She moved away from him, “You stand there, and you are confident, unafraid because you know that no matter what happens tomorrow, you will leave this place.” She stood in the middle of the floor, shaking.
Devlin was quiet.
“I envy you,” she said.
Devlin approached her carefully, as if she was a small animal ready to flee and he gently lifted her in his arms. He took her to the large bed, climbed into it, and sat her on his lap. Rosalind placed her head upon his shoulder.
He offered no assurances or empty words that promised her everything would be all right. He just held her there in the quiet of the night, the glow of the fire providing warmth and light.
Finally, her trembling subsided, and her breathing calmed. Rosalind’s eyes grew heavy, and though she knew it wasn’t proper, she lifted her head and looked in his eyes. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
Devlin kissed her lightly on her lips, nodded, and drew a blanket over both of them
****
It was nearly dawn, and Devlin hadn’t slept the entire night. The thoughts of Rosalind being jailed, or worse, hanged for Edmund’s treachery infuriated him. Yet beneath the anger, a cold, icy fear gripped his heart: the fear that he was on the verge of losing the woman he had come to love.
Love.