Read Online The Merchant's Daughter by Melanie Dickerson - Free Book Online
Authors: Melanie Dickerson
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hand.”
Annabel’s chest ached at her lord’s fate.
“Some say he’s part wolf now, that he prowls the woods at night.”
Several low hoots and a couple of gasps went round.
“Some say they’ve seen him.”
“Could be,” a voice chimed in.
More offensive comments, punctuated by laughs, swept through the sleeping quarters.
“But what of his scars?” Beatrice’s shrill voice rose about the laughter. “Aren’t you curious to see how extensive” — she lingered over the word extensive — “they are?”
Laughter echoed throughout the large room, and Annabel pressed her hands over her ears to keep out their banter as they discussed the possibilities.
How could they speak so of their lord, and he only one floor above them?
She could take no more of their talk. And besides that, she didn’t think she could fall asleep until she visited the privy. Annabel quietly slipped from her bed, and after putting her dress back on, hurried across the room and out the door. She shut it behind her with a sigh of relief at escaping the group’s notice.
The dark silhouette of trees surrounded her, alongside the manor house and a few outbuildings illuminated by the moon. Standing still to listen, she heard only the faintest rustling sounds around her. She slipped her hand into her pocket and felt her knife.
She turned and rushed through the trees, down the newly worn path to the women’s privy. Holding her breath as she hurried, almost running, her gaze darted around in search of any perceptible movement. She made it to the small wooden building and shut herself inside.
When she came out of the privy, she looked around again. Nothing moved and there were no ominous sounds, only a frog croaking in the distance. She began walking back along the path, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling the cool night air on her face.
Annabel dreaded going back into the undercroft with the other maids. But not wanting to be caught outside alone by anyone — especially the bailiff — she walked steadily toward the manor house.
She then noticed someone coming through the trees — not along the path toward her, but far to her right. She froze. The form was too tall to be any woman she knew. Had he seen her? Annabel ducked behind a large oak and watched.
The figure wandered among the trees, veering away from her into the thick of the forest. She was fairly certain now that the figure was Lord le Wyse, based on his height and his build. She started to sidle quietly away, hoping he wouldn’t hear or see her. Then he fell to his knees on the ground.
Is he hurt? Does he need help? Perhaps she should go get Mistress Eustacia.
Before she could rush away, he bent forward and moaned as though from deep inside. The sound grew, raw and wrenching, until it became a howl. Then he bowed lower and was still.
Was he sick? Somehow she sensed his pain was not physical. She watched and listened, but he didn’t move.
The silence seemed to weigh on her shoulders. She wanted to get away before her lord saw her, as he clearly wished to be alone, but she was afraid of making a noise and drawing his attention.
Her legs were beginning to cramp with fatigue, impelling her to take a step toward the manor house. Her foot landed on a twig and it snapped with a loud crack.
She stopped and held her breath, watching Lord le Wyse’s bent body. After several frozen minutes, she tried again. When she stepped back onto the path, this time her footfall made no sound. She walked carefully until she reached the clearing and the manor house. Darting inside the undercroft, she hurried to her bed.
The room was quiet except for the heavy breathing of sleep. Annabel got undressed and crawled under her sheets. But when she closed her eyes, Lord le Wyse’s anguished body posture and groans haunted her. What caused him such pain?
As she pondered her lord’s actions, a loneliness settled over her as a burden in her chest. Even though she was in a room full of
Annabel’s chest ached at her lord’s fate.
“Some say he’s part wolf now, that he prowls the woods at night.”
Several low hoots and a couple of gasps went round.
“Some say they’ve seen him.”
“Could be,” a voice chimed in.
More offensive comments, punctuated by laughs, swept through the sleeping quarters.
“But what of his scars?” Beatrice’s shrill voice rose about the laughter. “Aren’t you curious to see how extensive” — she lingered over the word extensive — “they are?”
Laughter echoed throughout the large room, and Annabel pressed her hands over her ears to keep out their banter as they discussed the possibilities.
How could they speak so of their lord, and he only one floor above them?
She could take no more of their talk. And besides that, she didn’t think she could fall asleep until she visited the privy. Annabel quietly slipped from her bed, and after putting her dress back on, hurried across the room and out the door. She shut it behind her with a sigh of relief at escaping the group’s notice.
The dark silhouette of trees surrounded her, alongside the manor house and a few outbuildings illuminated by the moon. Standing still to listen, she heard only the faintest rustling sounds around her. She slipped her hand into her pocket and felt her knife.
She turned and rushed through the trees, down the newly worn path to the women’s privy. Holding her breath as she hurried, almost running, her gaze darted around in search of any perceptible movement. She made it to the small wooden building and shut herself inside.
When she came out of the privy, she looked around again. Nothing moved and there were no ominous sounds, only a frog croaking in the distance. She began walking back along the path, wrapping her arms around herself, feeling the cool night air on her face.
Annabel dreaded going back into the undercroft with the other maids. But not wanting to be caught outside alone by anyone — especially the bailiff — she walked steadily toward the manor house.
She then noticed someone coming through the trees — not along the path toward her, but far to her right. She froze. The form was too tall to be any woman she knew. Had he seen her? Annabel ducked behind a large oak and watched.
The figure wandered among the trees, veering away from her into the thick of the forest. She was fairly certain now that the figure was Lord le Wyse, based on his height and his build. She started to sidle quietly away, hoping he wouldn’t hear or see her. Then he fell to his knees on the ground.
Is he hurt? Does he need help? Perhaps she should go get Mistress Eustacia.
Before she could rush away, he bent forward and moaned as though from deep inside. The sound grew, raw and wrenching, until it became a howl. Then he bowed lower and was still.
Was he sick? Somehow she sensed his pain was not physical. She watched and listened, but he didn’t move.
The silence seemed to weigh on her shoulders. She wanted to get away before her lord saw her, as he clearly wished to be alone, but she was afraid of making a noise and drawing his attention.
Her legs were beginning to cramp with fatigue, impelling her to take a step toward the manor house. Her foot landed on a twig and it snapped with a loud crack.
She stopped and held her breath, watching Lord le Wyse’s bent body. After several frozen minutes, she tried again. When she stepped back onto the path, this time her footfall made no sound. She walked carefully until she reached the clearing and the manor house. Darting inside the undercroft, she hurried to her bed.
The room was quiet except for the heavy breathing of sleep. Annabel got undressed and crawled under her sheets. But when she closed her eyes, Lord le Wyse’s anguished body posture and groans haunted her. What caused him such pain?
As she pondered her lord’s actions, a loneliness settled over her as a burden in her chest. Even though she was in a room full of
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