Annabel had to duck her head under the water to cool her face. She came up sputtering and asked, “Why did you marry? Was it for love?”
“For that and more. It’s a natural thing to want to be married, to want a husband and children.”
“Were you happy when you were married?”
“Aye, I was happy.” She smiled wistfully. Annabel knew Eustacia had borne four children, and one had died as a baby. “A good husband is a blessing, and children are a gift from God. My children and my husband were my whole life, along with helping care for Lord Ranulf and his brother and sister.”
“Lord le Wyse has a brother and sister?”
“He did have. They are gone now, poor things. His brother, the oldest and the heir, died of a fever several years ago, and his sister died in the Great Pestilence. When his brother died, Lord Ranulf’s life changed, of course. Around that time he was pursued by Guinevere — the woman he married. She only wanted him for his wealth and power.” Eustacia’s mouth twisted in distaste.
Annabel felt a pain in her stomach thinking about Lord le Wyse being treated badly, especially by his own wife. She submerged her head underwater and rinsed away the remains of the hair soap. Mention of the lord’s wife brought to mind the lord’s paintings, especially the one of the woman and baby lying dead in coffins. How much pain her lord had suffered! She tried to scrub away the images.
Clearly, marriage could bring pain as well as the happiness Mistress Eustacia had known. In going to live at the abbey, women would be her only companions, women she hoped were as kind as Mistress Eustacia and who only wished to live for God and His purposes. She wouldn’t have to be tormented with confusing thoughts or marriage proposals or violent attacks or inquisitions. God was finally saving her from all her troubles.
The only thing that gnawed at her was Lord le Wyse. He said he would miss her when she left. She remembered the way he had touched her cheek, so tenderly … but she was only a servant to him. He wasn’t in love with her. She didn’t even want him to be. Did she?
She shook her head. She didn’t know the answer to that.
When Annabel sat down with the Bible that night to read, Sir Clement and Mistress Eustacia quietly left the room. She opened her mouth but was only able to get out the first word before Lord le Wyse interrupted her.
“I have something to tell you while we’re alone.”
“Yes, my lord?”
He sighed then said, “I received a missive from my aunt, the abbess at Rosings Abbey. I’m afraid you won’t be able to go as soon as I had hoped.”
Annabel was surprised not to feel some disappointment at his news. She waited for him to go on.
“My aunt tells me there is an illness that has spread through the abbey. No one has died yet, but it involves fever and a rash. She begs me to wait until she is able to send word that the illness is over.”
“Very well, then.”
Lord le Wyse’s expression was sober. “I’m afraid you will not be able to avoid being here when the jury begins their inquiries into the bailiff’s injuries.”
“I see.” This was grave indeed. She stared down morosely at the open Bible. The prospect of standing before the jury, in the presence of everyone who knew her and hated her family, terrified her.
“I will do my best to keep Sir Clement from revealing what he knows, and I won’t betray your secret.”
Annabel nodded.
“I’m very sorry you can’t leave yet.” Lord le Wyse looked grim, almost angry. “I know you’re eager to go.”
“It isn’t that. I’m afraid of having to answer the jury’s questions.”
“Of course.” The angry tone was gone, but now he looked despondent. “I will protect you as much as I can.”
“I know. All will be well.” She tried to look hopeful, to turn him from sad thoughts. His melancholy moods always made her want to cheer him up. “God works out everything for our good, remember?”
He stared back at her and half frowned. But how could God work this out? She had no idea.
“But sometimes I wonder if he’s angry with me,” she confessed, “and that is why this is happening.”
“Angry? With you? Why?”
She shook her head. “I did a terrible thing by possibly bringing about the bailiff’s death. He may not have been a good man, but I should never have reacted as I did.”
“But you didn’t —”
“No, I didn’t throw the stone, but what happened to him was my fault.” She looked up and pressed her hand against her chest, trying to push back the pain and guilt that seemed to suffocate her now as it did when she was lying in bed at night. “I am to blame for his death if he dies.”
“How?” By the look on his face, he clearly didn’t believe her.