Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Matthew couldn’t focus. He walked around that morning in a sort of daze, greeting guests and speaking as knightly as possible, but his heart wasn’t in it. Not when every single turn he took, every single object he looked at, every single thing he heard was a glaring reminder of Winnie’s hand in his life.
Somehow, he and his staff and family had managed to get the festival off on the right foot with the guests happy and cared for, but not even that could help the sorrow deep within Matthew’s chest, nor his desire to be with Winnie again.
All he wanted to do was see her bright smile. All he wanted to hear was her teasing about his worthless car. All he wanted to do was be by her side to tell her how her work on the festival had changed his life forever—and how her leaving had altered his hope forever.
But the time for that was gone. She was already on her way to Chicago, ready to meet with the next company she would no doubt help. Did she regret her decision? Or had she already moved on, forgotten about Matthew and Foxwood completely?
A voice spoke on the wind, originating from the speaker near the jousting grounds, and Matthew’s stomach dropped. The tournament would begin soon. Somehow, he was supposed to ride Nightshade along the tilt and joust with all his energy in front of a crowd of onlookers expecting a show that left them speechless. And yet, Matthew couldn’t even find the gumption to put on his helmet.
With that same dazed feeling as before, he wandered through the crowds, trying to remember the guests and his staff who were all relying on his performance.
But he was in over his head. He couldn’t keep this up any longer—the fake smiles, the forced conversations, pretending to feel some fervor in the joust when he wasn’t even sure he could find the desire to raise his lance.
He couldn’t do any of it. Not anymore. Not alone.
“Well, if you aren’t the most wee adorable knight I’ve seen in donkey’s years.”
Matthew spun around at the sound of the Northern Irish accent behind him. “Finn?” he questioned, his brow pulling together.
Sure enough, his friend stood before him in the middle of the crowds.
“What the devil, man?” Matthew exclaimed, his heart instantly lifting. “What are you doing here?”
He moved forward, embracing his mate, though his armor didn’t allow him to do so as fully as he wished.
“What do you think I’m doing here?” Finn asked, his grin broad as he eyed Matthew up and down. “You’ve been talkin’ about how this festival was going to be a craic. I had to come see for meself. And, you know, I came to watch me mate make a fool of himself.”
Matthew’s smile faltered, his friend’s words hitting too close to home.
Finn paused. “Hey, listen. It was only a joke…”
But Matthew shook his head. “No, I know. It’s not that.”
Finn wasn’t often serious, but he’d always been able to read Matthew’s moods, responding accordingly every time. “What’s wrong? Your father?”
Again, Matthew shook his head. “No, I…You just came to the wr ong festival. You’re going to be disappointed.” Just like the guests would be. Like his family would be. Like Dad would be.
Finn looked around him. “What are you on about? It looks incredible.”
“For now.”
Finn eyed him again, awaiting an explanation in silence.
“Winnie left,” Matthew stated. “She found another job to go to, so I’m on my own. Which means the festival has no hope. Just like last time.”
Finn stared for a minute, his face blank. “Catch yourself on, mate.”
Matthew blinked. “What?”
“You aren’t sad about the festival,” Finn continued. “You’re sad about your girl leavin’. So quit your gurnin’, get your act together, and pay attention to your wee event.”
Matthew stared. “Next time you’re going through something, remind me to come support you .”
Finn smiled broadly, then sobered as best as he could. “I am here to support you, mate. You’re not alone, no matter how you feel. And I’m here to help. Just like everyone else.”
His words settled on Matthew’s mind, filling his thoughts with the truth. Finn was right. Matthew wasn’t alone. Finn, himself, had come all that way to prove that fact. And his staff had sacrificed weeks out of their lives to show their support, while his family had been there to encourage him from day one.
So why did he still feel so low?
He didn’t need to wonder long as Winnie’s warm smile appeared in his mind’s eye.
“Winnie did so much for the festival,” Matthew explained. “I don’t even have the desire to joust anymore with her gone. I just…” He looked up at his friend, his voice lowering as they stood near the busy booths of the festival. “I liked her, Finn. I liked her a lot.”
Finn nodded, taking on a serious look. “I’m sorry for how things turned out. I really am. But, mate, you can’t give up on somethin’ you’ve loved doin’ for years. You just need to grasp the nettle and move on, least for the evenin’. After that, the two of us can commiserate together the proper way—over a couple o’ pints. Of ice cream, mind. Just like the women do.”
Matthew gave a short laugh. “I might need something more effective than ice cream.”
“All right. Gelato. But that’s as far as I’ll take it.”
Matthew smiled again, his mood picking up just enough to give him a nudge forward. “Thanks, Finn. For coming and for chatting.”
“Ah, no bother. Now tell me what I can do to help.” He rubbed his hands together, motioning to Matthew’s armor. “Maybe I can get into one o’ these wee suits. Imagine the ladies ’round me then.”
But Matthew shook his head. “Naw. You’ve got to earn the right to wear one of these. You’ll start as my esquire.”
“And what do they do?”
Matthew motioned to the jousting area, leading the way forward for them both. “Clean up the dung from my horse.”
Finn’s smile faded. “Grand.”
The two of them made their way through the crowds, Matthew feeling considerably better than he had moments before.
He still didn’t know what the future held, nor how the festival would turn out that afternoon or in the weeks to come.
But right now, he would do his best to see its success, and that would be enough. Because all of them—himself and Winnie included—had put too much into this festival to see it come to ruin again.
Winnie arrived at Foxwood and parked her car—this time, she was definitely not driving an Aston Martin—on the pea gravel drive. Her heart raced at the idea of seeing Matthew again. What would he say? Would he be happy to see her? Or would he tell her to leave, that she’d lost her chance to be with him for good?
She didn’t have time to think about it for long. Just as soon as she pulled her suitcase out from the trunk, Char came running up to meet her.
“Winnie!” she greeted with a tight embrace. “What are you doing here?” She pulled back, taking Winnie’s arms in her hands. “You’d best not have just forgotten something.”
Winnie grinned. “No, I’m back. Back , back.”
“Really?” Char said, her brow raised. “Please tell me you came back for my brother.”
Winnie hesitated. “Well, I mean, I told my dad it wasn’t because of Matthew, but let’s be honest…it was.”
Char squealed, reaching in for another embrace. “I knew it. I knew you’d come back. Just ask my mum. I told her you’d be back before long, and now you’re here!”
Winnie’s heart practically ached with joy. She’d made the right choice. “I’m so sorry for putting you all through that. Especially your brother. I just hope he’ll forgive me.”
“Oh, please. Of course he will.”
“Is he still jousting?” Winnie asked.
“Yeah, the second half of the tournament is just about to start,” Char explained. Then she paused. “Wait, did you not message Matthew to tell him you were coming back?”
Winnie smiled sheepishly. “No. I was kinda hoping to surprise him in person.” She eyed the thick trees separating them from the view of the festival. “Although on second thought, maybe that wasn’t a good idea.”
Char’s eyes brightened, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh, I have the perfect idea.”
Winnie’s heart jumped. “What?”
“Just follow me.”
A short thirty minutes later, Winnie stared at her reflection in the mirror in Char’s room, shaking her head vigorously.
“Nope,” Winnie said. “No, absolutely not. I can’t believe I even let you talk me into putting this ridiculous dress on. There is no way I’m appearing in public like this—let alone in front of Matthew.”
“Oh, come on, Winnie,” Char said, straightening Winnie’s headpiece. “He’s going to die when he sees you.”
“Die of second-hand humiliation,” Winnie retorted.
She looked again at the reflection of her dark hair hanging past her shoulders, then peered down at the long, dark red dress Char had somehow encouraged her to put on. Apparently, Jess, their damsel, had left for home sick that afternoon after the first joust.
Char had been scheduled to take her place, but not anymore. Winnie would be the damsel instead.
Winnie . The damsel in distress. After all this time protesting the part in the festival, complaining about it being a twenty-first century faire, and now this.
What was she even doing right now? She looked like an elf from Lord of the Rings , with these long, drooping sleeves and low waistline. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t entirely mind the look. It was almost kind of fun. But she couldn’t even stomach the thought of Matthew possibly rejecting her while she wore such clothes.
“Do you even know Matthew?” Char asked, smoothing out one of Winnie’s sleeves. “He’s going to jump on you when he sees you.”
“Char!” Winnie said with a laugh. “I hardly think that’ll be his reaction.” She shook her head, looking down at the dress once more. “I can’t. It’s too much.”
“No, you can ,” Char said. “He’s going to love it. Trust me.” She stood back and looked at her handiwork. “You can pull off this style, Winnie. You should become a regular at the festival.”
As if Winnie would agree to such a thing. Then again, wasn’t she a real-life damsel in distress right now? She was, after all, a young, unmarried woman who was suffering. Her dad was clearly upset with her, she didn’t know if she still had a job at Foxwood, and she was about to appear before the love of her life and beg him to love her in return—all while in front of a huge audience.
If that didn’t speak damsel in distress, she didn’t know what did.
“So…are you ready to do this?” Char asked, still smiling at her.
Winnie’s head swirled, but she nodded, nonetheless. “Yes. I’m ready. Let’s go catch myself a knight.”
Matthew charged toward Hubert for their next round of jousting, Nightshade’s hoofbeats pounding against the ground, the crowd cheering around him until his lance met contact with his friend and mentor’s shoulder, the tip splintering across the grass.
The cheers grew louder, and the announcer’s voice echoed around the area. “That is three points for Sir Matthew for splinterin’ the tip of his lance. Did you see the speed they have runnin’ down the tilt in the list? The list is what we call the field, my lords and ladies, and the tilt is the barrier between the horses.”
Matthew couldn’t believe the difference a good announcer made to the crowd. Funnily enough, Mr. Fogg—who had been more than happy to stand down as solely the score keeper—had told them all about his brother-in-law, Mr. Aiken, who was “far more enthusiastic” than himself. The change in the atmosphere was remarkable, and once again, it was thanks to Winnie for pushing a change in the first place.
Matthew rode his horse back toward his side of the tilt, trying to wipe the image of her from his mind again, but it was of no use. He couldn’t help himself. He’d been seeing her throughout the day, too—or rather, imaginings of her. He just kept on hoping she’d show up around the tents or beneath a tree. At this point, he’d even take her in her pencil skirt, scribbling away on her tablet all the ways his festival had been terrible before she came along.
“Now Sir Matthew and Sir Hubert will be facin’ each other again,” Mr. Aiken continued. “Remember, where once the goal was to unseat the opponent, here, these knights must merely break their lance on the opposin’ knight’s body or shield.”
Matthew faced Mr. Birdwhistle again, drawing in a deep breath. He needed to focus. While he no longer cared about winning the match, he still had to pay attention. The last thing he wanted to do was injure Mr. Birdwhistle or either of their horses accidentally.
“Oh, we have trouble a-brewin’ on’t other side of the tilt,” Ed continued. “Who is that? Oh! Oh, no, it’s the dreaded sorceress, Endora!”
Matthew waited at his side of the arena, listening to the script Ed had memorized—another imagining from Winnie—and recited from heart.
“Let’s watch and see what she does,” he whispered into the mic.
Just as they’d all rehearsed, Endora—or rather, Mrs. Birdwhistle who had set aside her fortune telling outfit for a long, gray wig and black robes—cackled at the end of the tournament area, appearing in a cloud of smoke.
She snuck toward the group of damsels—all actors hired and dressed up in their finest medieval ware—who remained unaware until one of them dressed in red was snatched by the sorceress.
He recalled Jess being assigned the role of damsel that afternoon, but he couldn’t be certain, as Char had agreed to take charge over that part of the festival. Either way, due to his distance and his visor being down, Matthew couldn’t see much of what was going on.
“Now you are mine!” Mrs. Birdwhistle shouted in a shrill voice.
“Oh, no!” Mr. Aiken exclaimed, narrating the event as Mrs. Birdwhistle grabbed the girl around her forearm and pulled her away from the other damsels. “Endora has taken a lovely lady from the rest. Who will rescue this damsel in distress now?”
The crowd was thoroughly engaged in the spectacle, and Matthew couldn’t blame them. Everything Winnie touched was gold.
He watched as Jess was pulled away, the woman pretending to swoon into the sorceress, then he narrowed his eyes. His mind was playing tricks on him. It had been doing so all day long. And yet…Jess didn’t look like Jess.
His heart flipped, but he pushed it down. He wouldn’t allow himself to hope again. He couldn’t handle the heartache.
But when the damsel in distress made eye contact with him from far down the list, he could no longer help himself. His breath was snatched away from him, and he threw open his visor.
He had been thinking about Winnie too much. There was no way Jess could have just magically turned into the love of his life. But as her eyes lingered on his, and he set aside his denial, he could no longer refuse the truth. That smile, that gorgeous, brown hair, that quintessentially Winnie expression of confidence mixed with uncertainty.
She had come back. Winnie had come back.
And she was dressed as a damsel.
Thoughts sped through his mind. Why had she come back? Was she to stay there for good or had she simply forgotten something?
A brief smile spread across her lips, no doubt from the look of utter shock on his features, but she pulled on an expression of fear and dismay as Mrs. Birdwhistle stole her away.
“We’ve heard rumors of Endora,” Mr. Aiken said, Matthew barely registering the man’s words. “She thieves unsuspectin’ damsels often and turns them into toads for her magic spells. Will that ’appen to this fair lady yonder? Not if our king has anythin’ to say about the matter.”
Matthew continued to stare, unable to peel his eyes from Winnie, even when his dad—who had felt well enough to play the king of the tournament that day—stood at the center platform built to be raised above the rest of the grounds.
“My people!” he said, using another mic from his seated position. “We have witnessed something truly horrific this day. But I will not stand by and allow yet another one of our lovely damsels to be taken to fall prey to the ill will of the evil Endora. I will send our bravest knight to rescue her. Which of you shall go?”
“I will!” Mr. Birdwhistle shouted, raising his lance from the other end of the list.
“Nay, send me!” David—Jess’s husband—cried out.
“I will fight for her!” shouted James.
Then, silence. Blast. Matthew had forgotten his cue.
“I am the bravest knight! I shall rescue the lady!” he shouted.
His words had sounded less convincing than the others, but could he be blamed? He was still too focused on Winnie being dragged away to the outskirts of the event, standing near another platform they’d built beneath a tree—the very tree she’d stood under that first festival so many weeks ago. Her hands were bound behind her back, and Mrs. Birdwhistle was crouched low beside her in a menacing stance.
Winnie’s eyes were still on Matthew.
“So many brave knights,” Mr. Aiken chimed in. “Which will our king choose?”
“Whomever wins the tournament,” Dad said, “will win the right to fight for the lady’s rescue—and her hand.”
Matthew looked back to Winnie, her eyes still on him, and his heart leapt. That look she was giving him…she had to be staying. She had to have changed her mind about leaving. Right?
His mind swirled, his heart beating against his chest. He needed to speak with her. To ask her flat out what had happened between her leaving him the night before—and her returning this very moment.
And he needed to see her closer in that dress.
But he couldn’t very well leave the joust right in the middle of it, not with all those people watching.
Mr. Aiken continued, but Matthew didn’t hear his words until the man shouted, “Let the tournament commence!”
Matthew didn’t take his eyes off Winnie, his chest swelling. There was only one thing left to do. He had to follow through on his word, to win the tournament for the love of his life.
He slammed his visor down and faced forward, gripping his lance with a firm grasp.
Now he had something to fight for.