She couldn’t do it.
But what choice did she have? If she didn’t become the lord’s servant, Tom would still remain a problem. Even if she told her brothers that she was afraid of Bailiff Tom, even if she told them exactly why, it wouldn’t be enough for them. She imagined Edward, his face twisted in that intense way of his when he was agitated. She knew what he would say: “And what did the bailiff do to you?” If she told him the whole story, how the bailiff had grabbed her, what he intended to do to her, her brother would shrug and say, “Well, I did tell him he could marry you.”
He would see the issue as resolved. And Durand would say the same thing, that she should simply marry the bailiff. He would think her objection nothing compared to his sickliness.
As always, her brothers would fail her.
She had no choice. She had to go — but she also had to find a way to protect herself.
Annabel got up early after sleeping very little. The black of night still cloaked her window, but rather than lighting a candle, she groped until she found her second-best dress and slipped it over her head. Her heart pounding, she grasped her cloth bag and tiptoed down the hall into the kitchen. A sliver of gray light was now illuminating the room enough that she was able to see, on the table, their sharpest cutting knife. Her hand closed around the smooth handle. She took a piece of leather and wrapped it around the blade, then slipped the knife into her skirt pocket.
Her hand lingered over the knife, pressing it against her thigh. The bailiff would surely see her at the manor, would quickly learn of her servant status. Would he be able to catch her alone, away from the other servants? Would he finish what he had started yesterday? The thought of him touching her again almost made her heave.
Could she truly use the knife to do harm to Bailiff Tom?
Yes. She could. She would.
Clutching her bag, she went out the back door and stepped into the goat pen. Dawn gave a glow to the sky and revealed a foggy morning. The little garden seemed fresh and waiting, shimmering with droplets of dew. I hope someone will remember to pick the peas. What would her family eat if they didn’t tend the garden?
She couldn’t worry about that now.
She rubbed the goat’s head. “Farewell, Dilly.”
I shouldn’t feel so sad. I’ll be coming back in three years. But a feeling of finality came over her, a sense that she would never live in her family’s home again.
The gray manor house, a plain, rectangular building, emerged out of the mist, its large yard empty of all the people who had witnessed her family’s reckoning yesterday. A rooster crowed, and a boy appeared from behind the dovecote, herding a flock of geese. He yawned so big she wondered if his jaw would come unhinged. The fog that obscured the sun and surrounded the manor and its grounds lent the scene before her a dreamlike quality. The dewy grass had soaked her feet, and her worn-thin shoes squeaked with each step.
Annabel fought to gain control of her thoughts before she reached the manor. I am no longer a merchant’s daughter. I must accept my plight and forget the hopes and dreams I once cherished. The other servants would hate her if they thought she expected any sort of preferential treatment. She must show that she was strong and capable, not a girl mourning the loss of home, comfort, and security.
There was another reason she couldn’t allow herself to appear weak. Bailiff Tom would no doubt be nearby and would sense her fear and be emboldened toward her.
She straightened her back and shoulders, determined to face whatever dangers or indignities awaited her. Anything was better than marrying Bailiff Tom.
Annabel climbed the stone steps to the upper hall and took deep breaths to calm her racing heart, praying with all her might that the bailiff wasn’t in the upper hall with Lord le Wyse. Of course, the bailiff didn’t know she was coming to offer her services to the lord. No one knew.
She reached the top and knocked on the tall, rounded door. It opened and a hefty older woman stood with a broom in her hand. “Yes?”
“Good morning. I’m Annabel Chapman.” How to explain? “My lord, Lord le Wyse, is expecting me — that is, I’m to serve …”
“Come in. Annabel, is it? Call me Mistress Eustacia. I’ll tell Lord Ranulf you’re here.”