The Huntress of Thornbeck Forest (14 page)
T
WO DAYS LATER
, Odette was teaching her lesson to the children when Jorgen appeared at the edge of the forest. He stood leaning against a tree while she finished up.
Odette had been unable to refrain from thinking about the margrave, about the rumors that he had killed his own brother so he could claim the title of Margrave of Thornbeck. Anyone who would do such a thing must be evil and capable of any deception and cruelty. It was yet another reason why it was unfortunate that Jorgen was the margrave’s forester.
When the children had all gone home and she and Jorgen were alone, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from asking, “Have you seen any more evidence of poaching?”
Jorgen sighed, staring down at the ground with a morose look. “Sadly, yes.” He glanced up at her as he shifted his feet. “I found an injured deer with the same type arrow as the one I found before.”
“Injured deer?” Her stomach sank, and her heart thudded sickeningly.
“He was dying so I had to finish him.” He stared at the trees several feet away. “I do not like doing that—shooting an animal that is helpless and cannot even flee—but I didn’t want him to suffer anymore.”
“Of course,” Odette whispered. “You did the right thing. I am sure he would have died, and you kept him from further misery.” Even as she said the words, her breath shallowed.
“But you do not want to hear about suffering animals and poachers. We should talk about something more pleasant.” He turned a smile on her that was like the sun breaking out from behind a cloud. But remembering that deer, she wasn’t sure she deserved to see the sun or feel its warmth.
“I am interested in anything that interests you,” she said honestly. Thanks be to God, he did not know she had injured that stag. Her knees trembled at the thought of him finding out.
“Something that interests me is that the margrave is giving a ball at Thornbeck Castle.”
“A ball? He’s been the margrave for almost a year now and he has never given a ball.”
“He’s giving one now. The chancellor advised him to do it, even though the margrave doesn’t dance because of his bad ankle. Nevertheless, he thinks it will be a good opportunity for him to meet all the more prominent people of Thornbeck.”
“Ah.” Who would that include?
“I was surprised I was invited, and of course, you and your uncle. The Burgomeister and his son will be there too.”
“Oh. It sounds like it could be . . . pleasant.”
“I hear it is to be a masquerade ball. That was also the chancellor’s idea.”
“A masquerade.” What would she go as? She had never been to a masquerade. “What will you be dressed as?”
“I suppose I cannot go as a forester.” He said it like a question.
Odette laughed. “You will find something, I am sure. When is the ball?”
“Not for a few weeks. The margrave is inviting some nobles
from other regions and wants to give them enough time to travel here.”
“I shall look forward to dancing with you then.” Memories flooded her, of how much she had enjoyed dancing with him at the Midsummer festival, his hand around hers. A tiny shiver raced across her shoulders. “In the meantime, I will work on my costume.”
“What shall you be?”
Odette thought for a moment. “A swan.” She could start searching for feathers for her mask now. “A white swan. And now you shall know how to find me at the ball.”
He smiled at her. But there was sadness in his eyes. “My father liked swans. There used to be a pair of them that lived in the lake near Thornbeck Castle. He would take me to feed them bread crumbs.”
It was wrenching to see the smile change to anger. He stared down at the ground, his mouth twisting. She had never seen him angry before.
“I am very sorry.”
“I believe this new poacher is the same one who killed my father, and I will not let him get away unpunished.”
Her stomach twisted. What could she say without arousing suspicion? “It could not be the same person. That was years ago.”
“Only four years ago. That poacher shot at my father, then chased him and shot him through the heart. He showed no mercy. And then he disappeared—until now.”
Odette forced herself to breathe, forced her voice to stay steady. “Why do you think it is the same man?”
“The feathers on the arrows were the same.”
She thought for a moment. She had to be careful what she said. “But . . . were the feathers so unusual? Couldn’t more than one person have the same kind of feathers on their arrows?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it, as if considering how to
answer her. “I suppose it might not be the same person. White feathers are common.”
“Of course! White feathers are very common, probably the most common.” Her voice was too loud. She had to calm herself. “Very common,” she said quietly.
“My father was a good man. If it is within my power, I will avenge him.” He said the words without looking at her. “He did not deserve to die that way.”
“Of course not.” If only she could comfort him, put her arms around him or touch his hand. Her heart thumped against her chest, both at the longing inside her, and at the guilty feeling of knowing his painful thoughts at the moment were caused, at least in part, by her. “I wish it had not happened. I am so sorry.”
After a few moments, he nodded, then cleared his throat.
“I want to thank you for giving me the idea of bringing the animals we snared to the children. It is a joy to know they will eat well tonight.” He was looking intently into her eyes. “The world needs more people like you, Odette.”
She smiled to lighten the mood. “And you, Jorgen Hartman.”
“I should get back to my job now.” He took another step toward the forest.
“Will you come next week?”
“I have to meet with the margrave on Wednesday, but I shall see you on Friday, perhaps.”
Odette only hoped he would not have found more evidence of her poaching by then.
Rutger and Odette sat alone at the table, eating the main dish of roasted pheasant and stewed fruit.
“How was your lesson today with the children?” he asked, just after she had put a bite of meat in her mouth. “Did you see the forester?”
She took a few moments to chew her food. She stared down at her plate and finally swallowed. “
Ja
, he was there.”
“Did you ask him what he knows about the poacher?”
“He knows there is a poacher.” She forced herself not to squirm in her seat. Not wanting to confess her failure, she avoided looking him in the eye.
“What is it, my dear?”
“He found another arrow.”
“Another arrow?”
“I . . . I injured a stag and he got away with the arrow.”
“I see.”
Although her uncle normally was the picture of contentment and nothing ever seemed to bother him, now she saw concern, even worry, flicker across his face.
“Jorgen was angry about the poaching. He thinks this new poacher is the same one who killed his father four years ago.”
Rutger frowned. “That is not good.”
“I know.” Just hearing Rutger’s concern made her heart beat faster and a heaviness fill her chest. “We need to change the color of the feathers on my arrows. Perhaps we could dye them different colors. Then maybe he would think there was more than one poacher.”
“My dear, you must not become so upset. Breathe.” He demonstrated by taking in a big breath, then letting it out slowly. “Do it with me.”
She took in a deep breath . . . Then she saw by the glint in his eye and the upturn of his mouth that he was already seeing the humor in the situation. “This is not a matter to laugh about.”
“I will take care of it.” His half-amused expression softened. “I will make sure the boys make some new arrows with colorful feathers—perhaps green and brown ones that will not be so easily seen—and change the fletching on your old ones.”
“Thank you, but I have already asked them to do that.”
“Very well. The problem is solved.”
“I would not say it is solved.” Jorgen was very upset. But perhaps she had persuaded him to think it was not necessarily the same poacher who killed his father. “He brought two sacks full of hares that he and the gamekeepers had snared, and he gave them all to the children.”
“Does the margrave know?”
“He gave him permission.”
“So Jorgen is trying to impress you by showing charity to the children. Did he impress you?” He took a sip of wine from his goblet as he studied her over the rim.
She let her lips twist into a frown. “Jorgen is a good sort of man, even if he is the forester. I would not say he did it to impress me.”
“Oh, I think he must have. But why does he want you to think well of him? I very much fear he is in love with you, Odette.”
“Oh no. He is not the sort of man to fall in love with a woman he hardly knows.” She shook her head, blushing and raising her goblet to her lips. After she had taken a sip and swallowed, she said, “We are only friends.”
“Are you certain of that? Perhaps you do not know the forester’s heart . . . or your own.”
She frowned, wrinkling her forehead. “Why are you saying this?”
Heinke came in to refill his goblet, and he waited until she left. “My dear, I do not think you realize the effect you have on
men. The fact that you are one and twenty and yet unmarried is a testament to my deference to your wishes and my ability to protect you. You are very beautiful, so beautiful that I have heard rumors around town that I have not found you a husband yet because I want you for myself.”
“That is vile and disgusting!” Odette set down her goblet and tried to control her breathing. “That is not true. Surely no one believes that.”
“My point is that Jorgen would have to be blind and insensible not to feel some attraction to you. And you should be careful not to fall in love with him. You could have any unmarried man in Thornbeck, and marriage is made more difficult when you are poor. I am simply trying to look out for what is best for you.”
Odette nodded and stared down at the table. She wanted love, but if she kept poaching, sooner or later Jorgen would find out. Could he love her then?
Perhaps she should do what Rutger wished and marry someone wealthy, like Mathis. It would certainly make her life easier.
O
DETTE AWOKE WITH
a start. A pale light was streaming in her window. Was that twilight—or dawn?
She sat up, blinking. That light was definitely morning, not night. What had happened? She did not remember hunting the night before. She had gone to take a nap but must have slept all night.
She had missed the hunt.
Jumping out of bed, she grabbed her clothes and began to get dressed. But she had nowhere to go.
Odette fell back onto the bed, then curled onto her side. Would the children go hungry today because she had not gone hunting last night? They would have the hares that Jorgen had brought to them. “Thank You, God, for providing the hares,” she whispered.
Her mind went to Jorgen, then to the conversation she’d had with Rutger the night before. He believed Jorgen was attracted to her, and she didn’t really doubt it was so. But if she was also falling in love with him . . . That was very unwise.
