Read Online Lost Innocents (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 3) by Denise Domning - Free Book Online
Book: Lost Innocents (A Servant of the Crown Mystery Book 3) by Denise Domning
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Authors: Denise Domning
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she cried in silence. Johnnie made a pained sound. Easing around to sit beside his half-sister, he leaned his head against her cloaked shoulder. Then he caught her nearest hand and drew it to his chest, pressing it to his heart. Rather than push him away, Amelyn curled her fingers around his, holding his hand tightly as if the youth were the rope supporting her in her personal well of sorrow.
When Amelyn at last raised her head, glistening tears trembled on the line of her jaw. She again turned her gaze toward the old man at the well. Faucon followed her look. Although the ancient stood still as a statue, the amusement had left his expression. There was no mistaking his intense interest in what went forward at his community's well.
"I suppose if I don't tell you all of it, there will be others here quick to spill what they know, when they only speculate," Amelyn sighed. "No one but Martha ever knew all. Odger sought revenge because I refused his unwanted advances before a witness."
Here, her voice broke. She fell silent, her mouth yet open as if there were words yet trapped in her throat that she couldn't bring onto her tongue. After a moment she cleared them loose and threw herself into her tale.
"It was before Jessimond's coming, two days after my husband was buried," she began, her voice muted. "Odger came to me as I was collecting my belongings, preparing to return to my father's home, the one that Martha had by then claimed, what with Johnnie my father's only heir. My brother-by-marriage needed my cottage for his own son, which was his right," she added in explanation.
"So you had no heir by your husband?" Faucon interrupted. The lack of a male child was the most common reason for a widow to leave the house she'd shared with her husband but not the only one.
"Nay, no lad. The only child I gave Tom was the little lass I bore before we traded vows." She sighed, the sound holding an older and more tolerable grief. "Sweet Tilly. She died a year after we were wed. After that, there was nary a stirring in my womb."
That startled Faucon. He glanced at Jessimond, then remembered that Meg had named the girl a bastard. "Then Jessimond wasn't your husband's child?" he prodded.
But Amelyn didn't answer his question or follow his suggestion that she tell her daughter's tale. Instead, she continued with her own. Content to let her speak as she would for a moment or two, Faucon shifted into an easier position as he listened.
"The harvesting had just begun and every soul save me was out reaping. I had petitioned Odger to stay behind so I might have time to collect my belongings. He agreed. I thought he was being kind. I was wrong."
When she lifted her head, her tears had dried and the line of her jaw was hard. "There I was, grieving for my husband and alone in the home that had once been mine. When Odger tapped at the door, I assumed he'd come to reclaim those tools that belonged to the lady, the ones Tom had used while he lived. Instead, when I let our bailiff inside, he drove me back against a wall, seeking to lift my skirts. As he did so, he warned me not to scream.
"But I couldn't help myself," she said, her voice ragged. "I screamed and told him nay as I fought him with all my might. I did so even though I had no hope that anyone might hear me. How could they when he'd made certain they were far from me, beyond offering any aid?
"Then, like a miracle, Martha was in the house with me, adding her screams to mine. When Odger realized he wasn't going to have his way with me unless he took me in front of Martha, making her a witness to his rape, he retreated. He said nothing as he departed, but I knew—we both knew—he would never forgive either of us for how we'd stymied him.
"We were right. Even though neither Martha nor I ever told another soul what he'd done, when the chance came to destroy me a year after Jessimond's birth, Odger did so joyfully."
"Jessimond was a bastard, then?" Faucon asked more directly this time
When Amelyn at last raised her head, glistening tears trembled on the line of her jaw. She again turned her gaze toward the old man at the well. Faucon followed her look. Although the ancient stood still as a statue, the amusement had left his expression. There was no mistaking his intense interest in what went forward at his community's well.
"I suppose if I don't tell you all of it, there will be others here quick to spill what they know, when they only speculate," Amelyn sighed. "No one but Martha ever knew all. Odger sought revenge because I refused his unwanted advances before a witness."
Here, her voice broke. She fell silent, her mouth yet open as if there were words yet trapped in her throat that she couldn't bring onto her tongue. After a moment she cleared them loose and threw herself into her tale.
"It was before Jessimond's coming, two days after my husband was buried," she began, her voice muted. "Odger came to me as I was collecting my belongings, preparing to return to my father's home, the one that Martha had by then claimed, what with Johnnie my father's only heir. My brother-by-marriage needed my cottage for his own son, which was his right," she added in explanation.
"So you had no heir by your husband?" Faucon interrupted. The lack of a male child was the most common reason for a widow to leave the house she'd shared with her husband but not the only one.
"Nay, no lad. The only child I gave Tom was the little lass I bore before we traded vows." She sighed, the sound holding an older and more tolerable grief. "Sweet Tilly. She died a year after we were wed. After that, there was nary a stirring in my womb."
That startled Faucon. He glanced at Jessimond, then remembered that Meg had named the girl a bastard. "Then Jessimond wasn't your husband's child?" he prodded.
But Amelyn didn't answer his question or follow his suggestion that she tell her daughter's tale. Instead, she continued with her own. Content to let her speak as she would for a moment or two, Faucon shifted into an easier position as he listened.
"The harvesting had just begun and every soul save me was out reaping. I had petitioned Odger to stay behind so I might have time to collect my belongings. He agreed. I thought he was being kind. I was wrong."
When she lifted her head, her tears had dried and the line of her jaw was hard. "There I was, grieving for my husband and alone in the home that had once been mine. When Odger tapped at the door, I assumed he'd come to reclaim those tools that belonged to the lady, the ones Tom had used while he lived. Instead, when I let our bailiff inside, he drove me back against a wall, seeking to lift my skirts. As he did so, he warned me not to scream.
"But I couldn't help myself," she said, her voice ragged. "I screamed and told him nay as I fought him with all my might. I did so even though I had no hope that anyone might hear me. How could they when he'd made certain they were far from me, beyond offering any aid?
"Then, like a miracle, Martha was in the house with me, adding her screams to mine. When Odger realized he wasn't going to have his way with me unless he took me in front of Martha, making her a witness to his rape, he retreated. He said nothing as he departed, but I knew—we both knew—he would never forgive either of us for how we'd stymied him.
"We were right. Even though neither Martha nor I ever told another soul what he'd done, when the chance came to destroy me a year after Jessimond's birth, Odger did so joyfully."
"Jessimond was a bastard, then?" Faucon asked more directly this time
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