While Angels Slept (40 page)

“Nay,” she
muttered, averting her gaze. “I would not lie to my brother, no matter how much
I want to protect him. He should make the decision on what to do with Louisa.”

“Then let us go
and tell him the truth. Louisa has indeed returned.”

Reluctantly, Val
agreed.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Tevin had told
her not to go near the smithy shack, but Cantia wasn’t so sure that she was
inclined to obey him. After he had told her of Gillywiss’ appearance and the
subsequent unveiling of a dying Louisa, Cantia had moved from the realm of
disbelief and shock to one of complete astonishment. She could hardly believe
was she was hearing, torn between bewilderment and jealousy. But that didn’t
compare to what Tevin was feeling.

So she pushed
aside her emotions to comfort Tevin, who seemed truly shaken and bordering on
despondence. It wasn’t so much for himself but for his daughter, and he and
Cantia and Val had spent two solid hours attempting to determine how to tell
the young woman that her mother, on her deathbed, had returned. It was a touchy
and understandably emotional subject, with Tevin feeling quite protective of
his daughter, wanting to shield her from the woman who had hurt her so badly.
But he ultimately decided that he had to, in good conscience, tell her, and Tevin
and Val went to Arabel’s room to inform her of Louisa’s arrival. That was the
last Cantia had seen of them. 

As the afternoon
waned into shades of purple dusk, Cantia stood at the window overlooking the
north portion of Rochester’s bailey, her gaze on the smithy shacks all lined up
against the outerwall.  She knew Louisa was in one of them and, unlike the rest
of the family, had no previous emotional investment in the woman. She was
deeply curious.

Rubbing her
belly as the baby kicked, she turned away from the window and headed down the
steep spiral stairs to see how the evening meal was progressing.  Clad in a
rich, heavy brocade coat of emerald silk and a feather-soft shift the color of
eggshells beneath it, she was warm and richly dressed, looking elegant and
radiant, and every inch an earl’s wife.

Cantia passed
the level that contained Arabel and Hunt’s chambers, pausing to peek into her
son’s room. Hunt was on the floor with the dog lying close by, playing with
little toy soldiers made from sticks of wood. The past several months had been
an adjustment for him with his both his father and grandfather gone, but he had
adapted. 

All Hunt knew of
Charles’ absence was that his grandfather had gone on an extended journey and
he had accepted the explanation as it had been carefully delivered by Tevin,
but the truth was that he really wasn’t particularly lonely. Now he had Arabel
to play with and the two of them were very companionable. Arabel wasn’t with
him today, however, so he played alone. When he caught sight of his mother, he
jumped up and ran to her.

“Mam,” he
grabbed her hand. “I am hungry. Isth it time to eat yet?”

She smiled at
her little boy. “It is,” she said. “Would you like to come with me to the
kitchens?”

He nodded
eagerly, pulling her from the chamber but easing up by the time they hit the
stairs.  He had been repeatedly reminded, and warned, of his mother’s pregnancy
and was properly careful, at least as much as a five year old could be. He
ended up trying to help his mother down the last few steps, being a gentleman,
but the moment she was off the stairs, he was yanking her from the keep.

Cantia fought
off a grin as she allowed her eager son to tow her out into the yard. She found
herself looking about, trying to catch a glimpse of Tevin or Val or even Myles,
but everyone seemed to have vanished. Not particularly concerned, she returned
her attention to Hunt only to catch a glimpse of the smithy shacks off to her
right.  They lingered in a cluster, run down, and somewhat foreboding.  There
was darkness there. Her curiosity had the better of her and she let go of
Hunt’s hand.

“Go into the
kitchen and tell Cook that you would like some bread,” she instructed. “Tell
her I will be there in a moment.”

Hunt cocked his
head curiously. “Where are you going?”

Cantia answered
indirectly. “I will be there shortly. Go, now. Do as I say.”

Hunt watched his
mother head off towards a collection of seldom used stalls, but that was as far
as his curiosity went.  His rumbling belly had him turning for the kitchen and
the alluring smell of fresh baked bread.

Cantia
approached the shelters, her pace slowing. She grew more wary with each passing
step, glancing around to make sure Tevin wasn’t somewhere nearby.  She knew he
would become angry at her for disobeying him, but she felt an inexplicable pull
to see the woman he had married. She understood clearly that the woman was
dying and, in a small way, perhaps Cantia wanted to see for herself. She wanted
to see this woman who had birthed Arabel and then had abandoned her family.
Beyond that, she really wasn’t sure why she wanted to see her, only that she
did.  Something strong and unseen was pulling her in that direction.

Two of the
shacks were empty but she could hear movement in the third.  Cantia paused,
listening to the low hum of conversation, wondering if she should come back
another time. As lady of Rochester, however, she had every right to know who
was within her castle, or at least she told herself that.  She had every right
to be here.  Squaring her shoulders, she opened the rickety old door.

The old physic
was inside along with a serving woman from the kitchens. Cantia recognized her.
Both of them turned to look at the lady of Rochester standing regally in the
door opening.

“My lady,” the
physic greeted. “What are you doing here? You should not be jeopardizing the
child so in the same room as a sick woman.”

Cantia’s eyes
struggled to adjust to the darkness as she stepped into the doorway, her gaze
moving across the dim chamber until she came to rest on a lumpy jumble in the
corner. It smelled old and dank, mingling with the sharp scent of vinegar.

“I heard about
this woman and came to see her,” she said, wondering how much the physic knew
about the identity of his patient. “Is she really dying?”

The physic glanced
over his shoulder at the body in the corner. “She is,” he replied. “A few days
at most, maybe hours.”

“Has she
awakened? I was told she was unconscious.”

The physic
nodded. “She awakened a short time ago and we were able to feed her some
broth,” he replied, returning his attention to Cantia. “Does the earl know you
are here? I cannot imagine he would let you come here and risk your health.”

Cantia tore her
gaze off the supine bundle, her eyes flashing as she looked at the physic.

“You will mind
your own business,” she snapped. “If you tell him I was here, I will make sure
you are thrown out on your ear.”

He physic lifted
a hand in supplication and returned his attention to whatever he had been doing
when she had entered the hut. Cantia, however, was unforgiving. She didn’t want
an audience for what she was about to do.  She didn’t want anyone witnessing
what was likely to be a very emotional moment, gossip fodder to be spread
throughout Rochester.

“Get out,” she
commanded. “Get out this instant.”

The physic set
his implements down and, without question, vacated the shack. The serving wench
quickly followed. When the door swung shut behind them, Cantia returned her
attention to the woman in the corner.

What am I
doing here?
The thought kept rolling around in Cantia’s head as she
approached the bed.  She still didn’t really know. As sunlight streamed in
between the gaps in the walls, filtering in through the musty shadows, she came
to a halt next to the straw mattress, gazing down at the partially-covered
face.

The woman was
breathing heavily; she could hear it. A wet cloth covered her nose and mouth,
and Cantia reached down, gingerly took a corner, and pulled it off.  The
features of the woman were fair, if not somewhat plain, but she could see
Arabel in the shape of the face. There was also a big dimple in the woman’s
chin, just like her daughter. Aye, the more Cantia stared, the more she could
see the resemblance.  Her heart began to pound.

“Louisa?” she
whispered, paused, then whispered loudly. “Lady Louisa? Can you hear me?”

The woman
twitched, drawing in a deep breath that brought rowels from her chest.  Cantia
stood back somewhat, not wanting to get too close, but she made sure she was
close enough that the woman could see her.  She tried again.

“Lady Louisa,”
she said in a normal speaking tone. “Can you hear me? Please awaken.”

The woman
twitched again.  It took two more tries from Cantia to rouse the woman until,
finally, the eyelids lifted.  The eyes were only slightly open, however, and
Cantia bent down so she could meet the woman’s muddled gaze. Dark eyes finally
fixed on her.

“Lady Louisa?”
she said, more gently. “Are you Lady Louisa?”

The woman just
stared at her. Then, she shifted slightly, trying to lift her head when she
realized a very beautiful pregnant woman in fine garments was speaking to her. 
But she was so very, very weak, her life all but drained from her by the disease
that was swiftly consuming her.  All she could do was lay upon the straw and
gaze, weakly, at the very fine lady.

“Qui vous est?”
she rasped.

Who are you?
Cantia replied to her in French. “My name is the Lady Cantia Penden,” she
replied. “I am the Lady of Rochester Castle, and you have been brought to us.
Are you Louisa of Hesse?”

The woman
continued to stare at her. Cantia waited, with baited breath, for a response,
but none was immediately forthcoming. It was evident that the woman was too
weak to carry on a conversation. Finally, the dark eyes closed.  Cantia waited
a nominal amount of time before realizing she might not receive an answer. As
she debated on whether or not to leave, the woman spoke.

“
J'étais, une
fois
,” she whispered.
I was, once
. She continued in French. “Now I
am the wind. I will blow away until I exist no longer.”

Cantia listened
to the barely-audible words. “Do you know why you have been brought to
Rochester?” she asked softly.

There was a very
long pause. “I do not know.  Men came to my home and took me away but they did
not tell me why. I can only ask that you allow me to die in peace.”

“No one has told
you anything?”

“No.”

Cantia
considered what she would say next very carefully. “You have been brought to
Rochester because your husband and daughter are here,” she said quietly. “You
were brought here as a favor to me.”

The woman didn’t
react for a moment. Then, the eyes opened again, only this time, they opened
wider.  The woman actually appeared lucid. The pasty face registered an
expression for the first time.

“My…?” she
whispered. “My… child is here?”

Cantia lowered
herself to sit on the ground so the woman wouldn’t strain herself looking up at
her. The conversation was difficult enough already. Several feet away, she sat
on her bum in her fine surcoat and faced the woman.

“I want you to
listen to me and listen carefully,” she murmured. “Can you do this?”

The woman was
hesitant at first but eventually nodded, as much as she could muster. “I can.”

Cantia acknowledged
the reply, wondering what, exactly, to say at this point. She wondered if she
should be selective about what she told the woman but eventually opted for
everything because she had come this far and there was no reason to hold back. 
For Tevin’s sake, and hers, she would be forthcoming with the hope that the
woman would be forthcoming as well.

“Long ago, you
were married to Tevin du Reims,” she finally said. “You are still married to
him.”

The woman’s pale
face registered even more shock. “How… how would you know this?”

Cantia tried not
to be careful. “I know this because he loves me and I love him,” she whispered.
“We cannot be married because he is still married to you. He did not know your
fate, whether you were dead or alive, so a… a friend swore to find you so that we
would know what had become of you. If you were alive, perhaps you would grant
Tevin an annulment, but if you were dead… then at least we would know.  I carry
Tevin’s child and we very much wish to be married but we cannot do that so long
as… well, so long as you are still his wife.”

The woman stared
at her, shock turning to disbelief and, strangely, some understanding. “
That
is why… why…?’

Cantia simply
nodded as the woman trailed off. Then she regarded her carefully for several
long moments.

“Tell me why you
left him,” she said softly.  “Tell me why you abandoned Tevin and Arabel.”

The woman
regarded her in return.  She simply lay there and stared at her, some of the
shock gone from her face as she came to understand why she had been brought to
Rochester.  With that understanding came defiance, and perhaps some
self-preservation.

“He has brought
me here to kill me,” she finally muttered.

Cantia shook her
head. “No one is going to kill you. But I would like to know why you left.”

The woman didn’t
reply for a moment, but her expression didn’t waver. When she finally spoke, it
was with surprising strength.

“It was so long
ago,” she muttered. “Why does it matter now?”

“Because it
does. Please tell me.”

The woman
hesitated for a brief moment before complying. She figured she had nothing to
lose; she was dying anyway. What more could she say that wouldn’t hasten that
death?

“My name is Louisa
Berthilde Solveig of the House of Hesse-Rheinfels,” she said. “My father was
Maurice the Bold of Hess-Rheinfels, the man who pledged me to Titus du Reim’s
son when I was still a very young girl. I had never met Tevin du Reims before
the day we married, when I was still a child myself of fourteen years.  I did
not want to marry him, you see, because I was in love with my beautiful Kael.  We
had fallen in love as children and were deeply devoted to each other. It was
Kael who escorted me to my wedding with Tevin and watched the woman he loved
marry another. He even stayed with me during my first year of marriage, as part
of a contingent of soldiers my father left behind for my personal protection.”