"That bitch has gone too far!" Queen Catherine fumed. She slammed her bedchamber door closed and crossed to the massive looking glass that hung on the far wall. Examining her face, she saw few lines and her hair was still dark as a raven's wing. "How dare she tell me I'm old!" She stared at her reflection without seeing it as she replayed the previous ten minutes in her mind.
She'd been seated at the head of the dining table with her two daughters and stepdaughter flanking her. Catherine had just told the girls that she'd accepted the marriage proposal of Prince Henry. Her own lovely daughters had, of course, been thrilled. Their fortune had been dwindling since the death of their stepfather, King Liam, eighteen months earlier and Prince Henry was rich beyond comprehension.
Evelyn, on the other hand, wasn't as happy. At 19, she was already past prime marrying age and was still living in her stepmother's home instead of her own. She'd had the nerve to look Catherine straight in the eye, as she said, "Aren't you a little old for the young Prince. Surely you won't be able to bear him an heir." True, the wench's words had her speechless for a short time. The girl had never learned to hold her tongue. It was her father's fault. He'd spoiled Evelyn before his death but Catherine had been trying to remedy that. The girl's hands were no longer soft and smooth but coarse and callused from hours of scrubbing floors, washing linens, and tending the kitchen garden. Catherine smiled into the mirror as she thought of beautiful Evelyn sleeping in the stables alone but for the horses and the rats for the next week. She'd have no protection from the stable hands, but that couldn't be helped. "She's too old to snare a good husband anyway, so her virtue is no longer of any import. Let those randy young men take their fill of her. Mayhap that'll teach her to keep a civil tongue in her head."
It wasn't often that she had such an excellent opportunity to prick her stepmother's infamous vanity and she relished the way her face had turned red as she struggled for a retort. Her joy was short lived, however. The Queen regained her tongue and used it's sharp edge to cut her deeply. Her two younger stepsisters joined in as well and she was soon banished to the stable for the next week as punishment for her incorrigibleness. And it wasn't that she'd never been made to sleep out here in the stable before. But never had it been for more than a single night at once. She'd been able to keep herself hidden from the men that tended the horses, but doubted that she could for a whole week. One or more of them were sure to find her. Fear tied her stomach in knots as she huddled behind some hay bales in the corner. The night air was chill and Evelyn pulled her thin shawl closer around her. She couldn't stay here. The men had all returned hours before and though she strained to hear any noise, there was none. Evelyn gathered her courage to do what she knew she must.
"What do you mean she's gone? Have you searched for her?" Catherine's ire had the servant shaking in his muddy boots.
"Everywhere, my Queen." He ducked and barely escaped being hit buy the solid gold candlestick Catherine threw at him.
"Where do you think she's gone to, Mother?"
"It doesn't matter where she is, Gweny. She'll be punished for her disobedience and I won't be so kind to her this time." She turned to the still quaking servant. "Fetch me, Derek."
"Whatever do you want with that brute?" Glenna, her eldest daughter, asked.
"That brute knows the forest well. If the wench is hiding there, he'll find her. And when he does, he'll make sure she never draws another breath."
"Who do you think she is?"
"Don't know, Marta. Pretty thing."
"Dressed fancy, too. Anna, heat some water so I can wash the dirt from her face and get a good look at her."
"Yes, Mama." Anna hurried to the kitchen as her parents continued to stare at the young woman lying unconscious on her bed. They'd found her in the barn not a half hour before. They couldn't wake her so Jack, her father, carried her to the house and put her in Anna's bed. Even covered in dirt and with hay in her dark hair, Anna could see that she was pretty and looked to be about her own age. Her clothes were torn and filthy but they were obviously expensive. Anna looked down at her own plain dress, "Whoever she is, she's not a farmer's daughter."
"Anna, is the water ready?"
"Yes, Mama." She carried the kettle of hot water into her bedroom along with a bowl and a washcloth. "She hasn't waked?"
"No," her mother sighed as she began wiping the girl's face clean. "If she doesn't wake soon we'll have to send for Doctor Fetcher."
"The boys will be home soon, Marta. I'll send Alex for the doc. He can eat his supper when he returns."
"Everyone, she's waking!" Anna called through the open door when she he saw the girl's eyelids flutter. Her brothers and parents surrounded the bed, waiting for her to open her eyes. Doctor Fetcher had already examined her and left. He hadn't found anything wrong with her but guessed that she'd been exhausted and simply needed lots of sleep. He'd left instructions to notify him if she hadn't waked by morning. After he left, Marta had ordered Jack and the boys out of the house while she and Anna bathed the girl.
Anna was surprised at the warmth that flooded her veins at the sight of the girl's naked body, which was just as beautiful as her face. Her skin was smooth and white all over. Marta carefully washed the dirt, leaves, and hay from her hair while Anna ran a washcloth over her body. Her breasts were firm and pink tipped; her stomach flat and unmarked.
"She's never borne a babe from the looks of her," Marta commented. "Seems to be about your age, Anna."
"Yes, she does. Look at her hands, Mama." Anna turned the girl's palm upward, showing Martha its work-roughened surface.
"Hmmm…those aren't the hands of a wealthy girl. Maybe she stole those fancy clothes she was wearing."
They finished bathing her, dressed her in one of Anna's nightgowns, and tucked her back into bed. Anna sat by the bed while her mother went outside to wash the girl's clothing. Her father and brothers came in and sat in front of the fire wondering where the girl came from and who she was. Now they all stood around the bed staring down at her as she stretched and opened her eyes. They were a deep, clear blue and filled with fear as she saw the clan standing over her.
"She looks scared," Brandon, the youngest of them all, noted.
"Well of course she's scared. Waking up to find us all here peering at her." Marta took the girl's hand in her own and felt her forehead. "Still no fever, that's a good sign. Can you tell us your name, girl?" She opened her mouth and let out a croak. Anna gave her the glass of water from the bedside table. The girl emptied the cup quickly.
"Do you know your name?"
"Evelyn. Where am I?"
