The Healers Apprentice (30 page)

“The same. Please keep praying.”

“Isn’t there anything else I can do?”

“Thank you, but no. I’ll send for you if she gets worse.” Tears welled up in her eyes and she closed the door.

“God, save her.” He pressed his fist against the door. “Don’t let her die.”

Rose awoke and opened her eyes. Now the sun shone much brighter through the window. She tried to swallow, but her throat was dry. “Frau Geruscha,” she rasped.

In a moment her mistress was by her side. “What is it, child?”

“May I have some water?”

“Of course.” She went away and came back with a cup. She held Rose up with her arm.

Rose drank two gulps and lay back. Her head was spinning and she wondered if the water was about to come back up.

“Are you feeling better?”

“A little.” She tried to stay awake, but already her hold on reality was slipping away.

“Rose?”

She tried to respond, but her mouth wouldn’t obey her. Her heavy eyelids closed and she saw and heard no more.

How much time had passed while she slept? She looked around the room. Frau Geruscha was putting another log on the fire. Rose sighed, feeling a bit less feverish, hoping the worst of her sickness was gone. She studied the sunlight coming through the window. What time of day was it?

“Rose?” Frau Geruscha turned. “You’re awake, child.” She hurried to her with a cup of water. “Drink.”

Rose propped herself up on her elbow and drank the water. She lay back down, feeling exhausted merely from that slight exertion. Again she tried to remember something about how she had gotten back to Frau Geruscha’s chambers. She had a faint memory of being on a horse.

“Rose? How do you feel?” Frau Geruscha laid her hand on her forehead. “Oh, thank God! The Lord of heaven be praised, you feel much cooler.”

“I think I’m better. I feel better.” Rose closed her eyes, wanting to pursue the memory of what had happened to her the first day of her sickness. Slipping back to the darkness and pain of that evening, she smelled a familiar, masculine scent with a hint of leather—Lord Hamlin.

She was on the floor of her father’s old cottage. Lord Hamlin held a cup of water to her lips. She felt his arms around her, lifting her up, holding her against his chest. His velvet doublet was soft against her cheek, and his voice was soothing and low. “I’m here. I’m taking you home.” He held her on his horse all the way here, then carried her in and laid her on the bed.

Her heart began to beat faster, compounding her lightheadedness. Had that truly happened? Or was it a product of her sickness, along with the other hazy, delirious thoughts she’d been having?

“Frau Geruscha, how did I get back here?”

Frau Geruscha simply smiled.

“Did Lord Hamlin bring me back?”

“I told him you were missing. You were gone all day. He went looking for you and brought you home.” Frau Geruscha averted her eyes.

Rose suddenly remembered something that made her cheeks burn. She swallowed. “I didn’t—I mean, did I…say something embarrassing to Lord Hamlin?”

“Embarrassing?”

Rose couldn’t bring herself to repeat the words. “Did I say anything after he brought me in?”

“Oh, well, you may have said something. You were sick, out of your head.” Frau Geruscha smiled and turned away again, as though trying to hide her amusement.

Rose closed her eyes in mortification.
What must he think of me?

Frau Geruscha kept her back to Rose, tending the fire.

Even through the horror of her realization, Rose was baffled that Frau Geruscha had smiled. Would she smile about Rose saying she loved Lord Rupert? No, she would scowl and scold. It was probably because Frau Geruscha believed Lord Hamlin incapable of improper behavior toward her. Wouldn’t she be shocked if she had seen the way Lord Hamlin had kissed her hand the night he brought her through the tunnel.

Oh
,
how could I have said I loved him? I’m forever humiliating myself.
She covered her face with her hands.

“Now don’t be upsetting yourself. You need to rest and get well. I’ll be back.” Frau Geruscha took down her cloak from a hook beside the door.

“Where are you going?”

“I want to let Lord Hamlin know you’re better. He was anxious for you.”

A rush of cold air blew in before she closed the door behind her.

He was anxious for her. Exhausted, Rose closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. But she couldn’t help wondering what the repercussions would be to her stupidly declaring her love for a betrothed man.

Someone knocked at the door. After two days of improvement, Frau Geruscha had just sent word to Lord Hamlin that he could come and visit. But Rose hadn’t expected him to come so…immediately.

Frau Geruscha hurried to open the door, and Lord Hamlin stepped in.

How could she look him in the eye after what she had said? Rose blushed and glanced down at the blanket covering her.

She couldn’t help but take a peek. He was so handsome, with his unruly black hair curling against his neck and over his forehead. The memory of him holding her in his arms a few days ago had become more vivid as the sickness continued to subside. She could still feel his rock-hard arms, his broad chest, remember him comforting and assuring her that he would take care of her. Her heart skipped around like a scared rabbit.

O God
,
please let me not act like a lovesick fool.

Lord Hamlin looked serious as he pulled a chair up beside her. “I’m so happy you’re getting well.”

“Thank you. Frau Geruscha said you brought me back from my ill-fated walk.”
Maybe if I pretend I don’t remember anything
…“I am grateful to you.”

“I’m thankful to God that he led me to you.” His voice was low and thick. “I don’t believe you would have survived the night in the cold.”

Rose fidgeted with the edge of her blanket, rolling it between her fingers.
Where is Frau Geruscha?
Lord Rupert comes and she hovers. Lord Hamlin comes and she disappears.

A muscle in Lord Hamlin’s jaw jumped, and he looked away. He stood and walked to the window and stared out, rubbing his palms on his thighs. Then he came back and sat down beside her.

Why did he seem so agitated? Rose thought of her declaration and felt her cheeks flush again.

“I suppose you’ll be fully recovered in a few days.”

“Yes, if God wills it.”

“I should go. But I’m happy to see you’re better.”

“Thank you.”

He turned and put his cloak back on, nodding to her as he left.

He’d had so little to say, yet he’d been so anxious to see her. Such odd behavior, as if he was as nervous about seeing her again as she was about seeing him.

A week later, Frau Geruscha was summoned to Duke Nicolaus’s bedchamber. He was sick with fever and a bad cough. Rose was glad Frau Geruscha didn’t ask her to go. The duke could pierce a person through with one look from underneath his bushy black eyebrows, as she well knew. But Frau Geruscha had insisted more than once that he was a good man.

Frau Geruscha gave him herbs for his cough and fever, but by the next day he was worse. He was having chest pain and chills and couldn’t seem to catch his breath. Frau Geruscha came back from her visit to him with worry lines creasing her forehead.

Wilhelm prayed, attending the chapel prayers every three hours, but still his father worsened. He knelt before the altar as the howling winter wind rattled the windows. Winter was a cursed time of sickness
and death. Every year at least one household servant, or someone who worked within the confines of the castle courtyard, died because of the unyielding breath of winter.

God
,
unless you give us a miracle
,
my father will die. Please save him.
But perhaps he had no right to ask God to save his father too, after He had saved Rose.

He stood, bowed, and crossed himself, then left the chapel to visit his father.

When he reached the duke’s chamber, his mother was standing beside his bed crying. She looked up and said, “Run fetch the priest. Make haste.”

Wilhelm ran out into the hall. He found Georg and Christoff and sent them to get the priest. He sent a servant to summon Osanna and Rupert then waited with his mother. They watched helplessly as his father drew one weak, shuddering breath after another, obviously unconscious. The chapel priest arrived, with Osanna and Rupert on his heels. As soon as last rites were recited, his father breathed his last, one week after he had taken ill.

Wilhelm numbly put his arms around his mother and sister while they cried on his shoulders.

He was now the duke and ruling prince of Hagenheim.

Rose stood beside Frau Geruscha and
watched the coffin pass through the castle courtyard. The cart carrying Duke Nicolaus’s body was flanked by six knights as it made its way to the Hagenheim cathedral for the funeral. Following behind on foot came Duchess Katheryn, Lady Osanna, Lord Rupert, and Lord Hamlin, although he was no longer Lord Hamlin. Now she would have to call him “Your Grace.” If she ever had occasion to speak to him again.

A veil covered the duchess’s face, but Rose could still see her expression, stoic but drawn and sad.

Lady Osanna slipped her hand underneath her veil and wiped her eyes. Lord Rupert looked meek and quiet for once, his hands clasped in front of him. But Rose only had a glance for them. Her focus was on Lord Hamlin—or Duke Wilhelm, as he would now be known, the region’s new leader.

Her heart ached with compassion for him. He held his shoulders up and his head high, but Rose saw the weight of responsibility and grief in his eyes. She longed to throw her arms around him and comfort him. But she could never do that, especially now.

He looked up and caught her eye. Rose’s heart went out to him. She did her best to make her eyes convey that she was sorry, sorry for the burden of grief she knew he was carrying. He gave her a lopsided smile as he passed.

Frau Geruscha put her arm around her shoulders as she quietly wept. She was ashamed to realize that she wasn’t only weeping for Wilhelm, his father, or the rest of his family. She was a seventeen-year-old who didn’t belong anywhere, to anyone. In a few weeks she would
lose the man she loved to another woman. And she was a failure at the only job she had ever tried to do.

“Rupert, I need to speak to you alone.” Wilhelm looked at him from beneath lowered eyelids, daring him to refuse.

Rupert’s lip curled. “Whatever you say, Your Grace.”

Wilhelm led the way into the library and shut the door behind them. He turned to face Rupert. “Father had not yet signed the proclamation making you the bishop of Hagenheim. You will not be bishop. I’m bestowing the position on the cathedral priest.” He crossed his arms.

“I see.”

“But I have a proposition for you.” Wilhelm said a quick prayer and let his arms fall to his sides. “I want to marry Rose.”

Rupert blinked.

“I propose that the two of us change places. I will abdicate all my rights as the oldest son to you. You will be duke, and Duke Godehard’s daughter, Lady Salomea, will then be betrothed to you. I will inherit only the land, tenantry, and house that were formerly entailed to you.”

Neither of them spoke while Rupert stared wonderingly at him. He lifted his eyebrows. Then he put his hand to his chin and stared at the wall.

Wilhelm’s face grew hot as he waited for Rupert to speak.

Finally Rupert looked at him and asked, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

“Then I agree.” Rupert’s eyes glittered as he smiled.

“Very well. But I must first make the offer to Rose.”

“Very well.” Rupert’s look was triumphant.

“Listen to what I heard from Margrite, one of the serving maids at the castle.”

Rose sat at Hildy’s kitchen table, having convinced Frau Geruscha to allow her and Wolfie a visit to town. She didn’t feel much interest in the gossip, but she was glad to be with Hildy and away from her own life in the southwest tower.

“Margrite said that Lord Hamlin—I mean, Duke Wilhelm—told Lord Rupert he couldn’t be bishop. His father had not yet made
it official, and Lord Hamlin—the duke—would not go along with it.” Hildy arched her eyebrows. “Furthermore, I heard Lord Rupert was after Lady Anne. They were seen having a private tête-à-tête in the apple orchard several days ago.”

“That sounds like the Lord Rupert I know.”

“But at least you know he preferred you to her.”

“Not exactly. He knew a duke’s daughter would never consent to becoming his mistress, but he believed a woodcutter’s daughter would jump at the chance.” Rose tapped her fingernails on the wooden table. “Don’t worry, Hildy. It doesn’t upset me. I realize that power and wealth mean more to him than love. He only wanted me when he thought he could have it all. And frankly, I’m glad I’m not Lady Anne, because I wouldn’t want to be married to Lord Rupert.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“No. He would only break my heart until I grew to hate him. He’s a selfish, self-centered man.”

Hildy stared.

“I’m sorry, Hildy, but it’s true. I don’t love Lord Rupert, and I don’t think I ever did. Frau Geruscha was right. I should have asked God his will for me. But instead I let my emotions control me, for all the wrong reasons.”

Rose hoped Hildy would understand.

Hildy slowly nodded her head. “Lord Hamlin is the one you love, isn’t he?”

“Oh, let’s not talk any more about it, please, Hildy. I’ve thrown myself on God’s mercy and I’ll just have to see what he does for me.”

It was five weeks before Christmas, three weeks since Lord Hamlin’s father had died, making him His Grace the Duke of Hagenheim, or Duke Wilhelm, as his equals would call him. In three more weeks Duke Wilhelm’s betrothed would be brought out of hiding and presented to him at Hagenheim Castle. A week after that, they would be wed.

Rose didn’t want to think about it, tried to tell herself it didn’t matter to her, and that if God was merciful, she would be leaving town after Christmas anyway.