Page 25 of Castle of Refuge

“Yes, Lord Dericott. Thank you. I am feeling much better today.”

“I am glad. Do you need me to send word to your family that you are safe and recovering from illness?”

Her heart stopped beating for a moment.Take a breath and be calm, she told herself. It was a reasonable thing to ask. And it sounded as if he had no idea who her father was.

“No, I was...” She swallowed, taking a long moment, pretending her throat was dry. “I was on my way to visit my aunt and uncle. But they did not know I was coming—”

“In Derbyshire?”

Her heart stuttered again. “Oh. Yes. How did you know?” Her face burned.

“You mentioned Derbyshire before,” Mistress Wattlesbrook said softly.

“Of course. Yes. So I will be on my way as soon as I am able to travel.”

Lord Dericott continued to stare at her. As well he might. She had not answered his question.

“Shall I tell your aunt and uncle where you are? In case your mother and father begin to worry about you?”

“I do not have a mother. I am alone, as it were. My mother is dead.” It was all true, although a bit deceptive.Forgive me.

“Poor dear,” Mistress Wattlesbrook said. “But you did say something... I believe it was ‘Please don’t tell him I am here.’ Is there someone you’re afraid of?”

The air seemed to leave her and she sucked in a breath through her mouth, which brought on a coughing fit. She coughed uncontrollably, but the sharp pains in her chest were not as pronounced as they had been. When the coughing began to subside, Mistress Wattlesbrook handed her the cup of herbal water and honey.

“Forgive me for prying,” Mistress Wattlesbrook said.

“There is nothing to forgive,” Audrey said between sips. “And I am very grateful for all you have done for me, Mistress Wattlesbrook, and you, Lord Dericott. Thank you. I do not wish to trespass on your kindness overlong, so I will leave as soon as I get my strength back.”

“You may stay at Dericott Castle,” Lord Dericott said firmly. “If you wish, Mistress Wattlesbrook can find you something to do. One of our serving maids just married someone in a neighboring village, so we are in need of another servant.”

Now she was certain he had no idea who she was. He’d never offer a servant position to a viscount’s daughter. But she had been wearing one of her old flower-picking dresses, and she had traded her only fine dress for some bread. He would have no reason to think she was above becoming a servant.

But what could be more perfect? Her father would never imagine she was working as a servant at Dericott Castle, the home he had hoped she would be mistress of. He’d never find her here.

“Thank you. That is very kind of you.” And it was. So very kind. Audrey’s eyes filled with tears, and she had to blink them away. She took another sip of the herbal tea and cleared her throat. “I dare say I shall be well enough in a day or two to start work.”

“You just rest. We are not so in need of servants that you should endanger your healing.” Mistress Wattlesbrook smiled.

“You must recover fully,” Lord Dericott said. “Rest and obey Mistress Wattlesbrook.”

“Thank you. I shall. I promise.” She stared back at her new master, realizing she would much rather be this man’s servant than Sir Clement’s wife.

Or Maris’s sister.

Six

Audrey climbed to the top step beside the giant bed and yanked the fur covering. Dust flew up, making her sneeze, and she lost her balance, teetering to one side. She stared at the floor below, then leaned toward the bed until she was able to get her balance, planting her hands on the bed.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. If she had fallen off the steps, she might have broken her ankle, and then how could she work?

She tugged again at the fur covering and it slipped off the bed and onto the floor. But she’d swept and scrubbed the floor earlier that morning, so she let the covering lie where it fell and continued stripping the bed of its sheets. As she gathered them in her arms, her head started to spin again, but she focused her gaze on one spot on the feather mattress until the dizzy spell passed. Then she carefully backed down the steps.

Not fully recovered from her illness—although she’d assured Mistress Wattlesbrook that she was well enough to work—shewas still a bit weak and wobbly. But she wanted to show that she was willing to work and that she knew how.

Truly, as the daughter of a viscount who owned lands and enjoyed peace and favor at the king’s court, the only work she’d ever done was studying under her tutor. But she’d observed her father’s servants, and even followed them around when she was a child, enough to have a vague knowledge of how household chores were done. She found she liked to be doing something with her hands, accomplishing tasks. Yet she was already certain she would tire of cleaning floors and stripping beds eventually.

Though she did like the feeling of being useful, what she wanted was to be safe and never have to worry about Maris wreaking her spitefulness on her. She also did not want to marry an old man she did not love. She wanted to fulfill a purpose, to be a bright light. It was a cherished dream she held in her heart, and though it sounded vague even to her, and she didn’t know exactly how it would come about, she felt very strongly that there was something she was supposed to do, a good work God had planned for her to do since before she was born.