“I know not what you speak of!”
The lady turned away, came swiftly back around as Clarice started to rise. “Do not move! I must think.” She nodded. “I can fix this. I just have to think.” She slapped a palm against her forehead. “Think, Sebille!”
“I want to go.” Clarice scooted to the edge of the bed, but before she could drop her feet to the floor, a hand thrust her onto her back.
“I said do not move!”
Clarice had no intention of obeying, but as she pushed onto her elbows, the lady gripped the hilt of a meat dagger on her girdle opposite her prayer beads.
Clarice stilled, glanced at Lady Raisa.
Though the old woman’s face appeared further misshapen, there seemed sorrow in her eyes.
“I cannot think!” Lady Sebille shrilled.
Clarice’s own thoughts were so murky with fear that the only thing she could think to save herself was a childish act that had oft brought Lady Maude and her mother running. Unfortunately, it would be effective only were someone near.
It was mid-morn, and Clarice had left her mother in the hall and ventured to the third floor as she had promised she would not. Too distant, especially had the Lady of Lexeter gone to the kitchen to oversee the nooning meal. As for Clarice’s new father, did he yet sleep, he might hear. Or a chambermaid. Or the physician returning to administer medicinals.
Clarice returned her focus to Lady Sebille who picked over her prayer beads with one hand while the hand that had touched the meat dagger scratched at her brow. Next Clarice looked to the old woman.
Lady Raisa’s eyes were closed, but tears pooled in their corners as her chest slowly rose and fell.
Clarice wanted to assure the woman that her son would come. Instead, she swung her legs up and to the side, rolled, and as she dropped her feet on the opposite side of the bed, screamed—high pitched piercing wails that made Lady Sebille fling herself around the bed.
Three. That was all she had time for, then the lady’s hand was over her mouth and the force of her body drove Clarice back into the bedside table, toppling two candles and leaving only one to light the chamber. But it was enough for her to see the fury in the face over hers. And fear the meat dagger that would soon be at her throat.
Chapter 36
It sounded like the screech of a mouse, but it was much more. Laura did not know how she knew—whether the sudden heaviness of her heart was responsible or an angel whispered in her ear, but she knew. And she knew who.
“Clarice!” She turned from the corridor to which she had ascended, yanked up her skirts, and took the next flight of stairs two at a time. Reaching the landing, she stumbled and went down on a knee, landing so hard her teeth snapped and she tasted the blood of a bitten tongue. She lunged back to her feet, and though there were no other sounds to guide her, she knew where to find her daughter.
Wishing she had thought to call to Lothaire who, were he not deeply asleep, would have been fast on her heels, she beseeched, “Lord, please!” and flung open the first door on the corridor. The chamber was empty, as was the second. But not the third. That one’s door banged so hard against the wall it rebounded and nearly struck her in the face as she charged inside.
She did not understand what she was seeing, only that it was frightening. Though the shadows were thick to the right of the bed upon which lay Lothaire’s mother, Laura saw it was Clarice there and Sebille at her back, the forearm the latter pressed to the girl’s throat holding her captive, the hand over the girl’s mouth silencing further screams.
“Come no nearer!” Lothaire’s sister cried. “I do not wish to hurt her.”
Reaching the foot of the bed, Laura halted and met Clarice’s wide-eyed gaze. “I am here,” she said, then looked to the woman over her daughter’s shoulder. “Of course you do not wish to hurt her.” She splayed her hands. “This makes no sense, though I am sure you can explain, but for now all I ask is that you release my daughter.”
Laura heard Sebille swallow. “I shall. I just need to think. To fix this.”
“We will.” Laura took a step forward. “Let Clarice come to me, and we will sit and mend whatever is broken.”
“Everything is broken. Because of her.” She jerked her chin at her mother.
“She is leaving, Sebille. And you are staying. With us.”
Lothaire’s sister closed her eyes, and Laura returned her gaze to her daughter’s. Aching over the fear there, she hoped Clarice was somewhat reassured by her mother’s presence.
“I can stay at High Castle only if I make this right,” Sebille said. “And I cannot think how to do it.”
Laura advanced another step.
“Stop!” Sebille dragged Clarice closer.
“She is only nine, Sebille,” Laura beseeched. “She is a child, and you are frightening her as I know you do not mean to.”
“I was only nine, and so much more I bore!”
Laura’s mind scrambled to understand, but all she knew was nine was the age at which the woman lost her father. “Pray, Lady Sebille, release my daughter.”
“She listened in on Lady Raisa and me, heard things she ought not.”
“For which she is very sorry. If you will allow her to speak, she will apologize and we can make this right.”
Sebille shook her head, and Laura saw the fingers of the arm against Clarice’s neck begin to move as they often did over her prayer beads. She glanced at where they hung from the woman’s girdle.
“I know you are faithful with your prayers,” Laura said. “Were you to give yourself to them now, you would find comfort enough to do as I ask—nay, beg.”
Sebille’s fingers stilled. “She will scream again. And I vow I did naught to make her do so.”
“I know, Sebille, just as I know she will not scream if you let her come to me.”
“I-I will have naught to hold to.”
Was that the answer? Laura wondered, then nodded at the chair to the right of the two. “You will have me. I will sit there, you will loose Clarice, and I shall stay as long as you wish. My word I give.”
Sebille frowned, slowly nodded. “Sit.”
Laura gave her daughter an encouraging smile and crossed to the chair. Though she longed to perch on its edge, she sat back. And prayed Clarice would soon be freed.
Sebille walked the girl to the chair. “Do not scream,” she said and removed her hand from the girl’s mouth and set it on Laura’s shoulder. “You are certain we can fix this, Lady Laura?”
Laura looked up. “I am.”
The lady’s arm moved from Clarice’s neck to her waist and fell away.
And Lady Raisa loosed what sounded like a breath of relief.
But the girl did not run. “Mother?”
Knowing the fear in Clarice’s voice was now more for one other than herself, Laura said, “All will be well. Leave us.” And bring Lothaire, she dared not say, nor needed to, certain Clarice would go directly to him.
“Truly, I should leave you?”
Cautiously, Laura reached up, laid a hand atop Sebille’s, and felt the woman stiffen. “My sister-in-law and I shall talk a while. I will see you soon.”