An Uncertain Choice

The only thought pounding through my head over and over was that Rosemarie had rejected me.

I didn’t even move when the prisoner in the opposite cell began to stir.

“Hello,” came a hoarse whisper from the prisoner, likely finally awakening from his drunken stupor.

I didn’t answer, grateful for the darkness that hid me from the other man. I didn’t want to talk with anyone, didn’t want anyone to try to cheer me up with annoying platitudes.

“Anyone there?” the voice spoke again, this time stronger and followed by a rustling of the straw.

An ingrained code of courtesy demanded that I reply, but I couldn’t make my lips form the words I knew I ought to speak.

The other prisoner released a long moan. “Father Almighty, help me.”

Something about the man’s voice penetrated my consciousness, and I sat forward. The movement triggered the scampering of rats.

“Hello,” the man said again. “Is that you, Sir Derrick?”

I strained to see through the blackness of the dungeon, but all that met me was the usual foul air. “Yes,” I said hesitantly. “It is I, Sir Derrick. Who are you?”

“’Tis me, sir. Bartholomew. Lady Rosemarie’s guard.”

I didn’t know who I’d been expecting, but at the revelation I slumped against the wall. Bartholomew was the last person with whom I wanted to converse. The old guard’s presence alone would remind me of Lady Rosemarie and the clandestine visits with her over the past week.

But again, the duke’s lessons on manners and kindness demanded that I acknowledge the other man’s presence. “How are you feeling?”

“Like a wild boar let loose inside my head.”

I snorted. Had the old guard been celebrating Lady Rosemarie’s decision to leave? “That’s what happens when you imbibe too freely.”

“Imbibe?” The guard’s question rose a notch. “Not me, sir. This wasn’t from imbibing.”

“I beg your pardon —?”

“I took a whack to the head. And once I catch the men who did it, they better watch their backs.”

I stiffened. “You were attacked?”

“I was coming down here to fetch you for Lady Rosemarie when two men came upon me from the shadows.”

My muscles sprang to life, and in an instant I was on my feet, grabbing at the bars. “You were coming to get me?”

“Aye. I was —?”

“Then Lady Rosemarie wanted to spend another night with me?”

“She was dressed in her prettiest gown, sir. The red one that she wore to the dance. And she was sitting at the table waiting for you, excited as could be.”

The red gown that the duke had given her? A breeze of relief blew across my chest, loosening the chains that had been holding me prisoner since I’d heard the news from the jailer. She’d been waiting to see me. Had been excited about it. Had even donned her best dress for me.

“Then what happened?” I asked, peering through the darkness to the cell across from mine, wishing I could read Bartholomew’s face. “Did she change her mind and decide to leave for the convent in the middle of the night?”

“Convent?” The guard’s gap-toothed voice rang with surprise. “No, sir. She made no mention of leaving for the convent. Especially not in the middle of the night. In fact, I thought she was changing her mind about leaving at all. If you catch my meaning, sir.”

My mind spun with the new information, and I worked to make sense of it. Had she intended on staying, then? If so, what would have made her change her mind? “Do you have any idea who hit you, Bartholomew? And why?”

“I don’t know, sir. They came up behind me too quickly.”

I released my tight grip on the bars and stalked the ten steps to the wall and then back. There was only one person who had any reason to keep Rosemarie from me: Abbot Francis Michael. Perhaps the abbot had learned of our midnight chess matches and decided to put an end to them.

Heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs leading down to the dungeon.

I yanked at my tunic and tugged it over my head. “Take off your outer garment, Bartholomew,” I whispered urgently. “And twist it into a rope.”

I didn’t know what had happened to Rosemarie. Maybe she’d gone to the convent willingly. But maybe she hadn’t. I knew I’d never be able to live with myself if I failed to at least find out. I needed to hear directly from her that she didn’t love me and didn’t want to be my wife. If she said so, then I’d leave and let her take her vows.

But I couldn’t languish in the dungeon any longer. I’d already shown courage by humbling myself in this pit in order to keep her safe. But now it was time to rise up. Time to charge into battle.

“I want you to call the jailer over to your cell,” I whispered, twisting my tunic tightly. “Then take him by surprise and shove him straight back toward me.”

“And if that doesn’t work, then you’ll push him against my cell?”