The Lost Lady Read online

  Conversation slowed to a stop, and Luveday took the opportunity to take her leave. Mother Superior looked as if she wished for Luveday to stay, but Christabel was getting bored with the country lady and wanted to head back to her room.

  Mother Superior was about to say something more when Sister Gaynor appeared and announced the presence of a visitor. The two women shared a look between them that even Christabel did not miss. Gaynor hurried off as the Mother Superior quickly said her goodbyes then left them. Christabel looked to Mistress Adela who was waiting in the shadows of a nearby door. The look on the nurse’s face was one of pained patience.

  “Lady Luveday, good day.” The older woman looked pleased to see her.

  “Good day, Mistress Adela. I hope you are well.” Luveday greeted her. Christabel was done with pleasantries and announced to everyone within hearing that she was tired and would be resting in her room until supper.

  Mistress Adela smiled at her charge. “That is good, My Lady. I will accompany Lady Luveday to the gates.” And without further ado, she grabbed Luveday’s arm and walked away leaving Christabel pouting behind them.

  Luveday wondered at the woman’s haste and the iron grip on her forearm. Luveday didn’t say a word but let Mistress Adela pick the time and place. It did not take long before they were out of the area the sisters used and into the common spaces the guests frequented, where the sisters did not usually linger. They slowed and seemed to take a serpentine path to the gates.

  “Lady Bella, I mean Lady Christabel, and I have enjoyed our stay at the abbey.” She stated a little too matter-of-factly. Luveday didn’t answer as it looked as if her companion was deep in her own thoughts. “Mother Superior has been extremely gracious in allowing us to stay so long.” The mistress gave her a hard look; she made it clear that in her opinion they had stayed too long. “My Lady has grown fond of the place, it is very comfortable for a lady such as herself.”

  There was something more to her words, that reminded her of Father Quinn’s warnings. She was trying to say something without actually saying it. Luveday hazarded a guess. “It seems that the Mother Superior is happy to let you stay with the women.”

  “YES!” She looked relieved that Luveday had understood her. “The Mother would not mind if we stayed a good while longer, but I am eager to see the changes Lord Iain spoke of. I am sure the castle is much improved. I hear that while under your care it has blossomed. Lord Iain even mentioned the spoils of his campaign, no doubt to impress My Lady. It sounds like Lander’s Keep will be a jewel among the country lords.” Mistress Adela guided her down another corridor. They must be close to the gates by now, Luveday thought.

  “Indeed, such riches I had never imagined. Lord Iain has done very well for himself. I am sure even the King will be pleased by the transformation.” Luveday hoped she was giving the woman some ammunition to fire against Christabel’s seeming indifference.

  “I will tell My Lady you said so.” They were finally before the gates, were Father Quinn waited expectantly. He smiled upon seeing the lady but did not move to meet them. “Thank you for visiting, and please tell his lordship that we look forward to his next visit as well.” Mistress Adela gave her another lingering look.

  Luveday was growing weary of the intrigue but smiled politely at her not knowing who else might be watching. “I will relay your message. Good day, Mistress Adela.”

  “And to you, Lady Luveday.” And without another word the woman was gone.

  As Luveday came abreast to the priest, he looked her over and smiled at her tired and confused expression. As they walked through the gate and headed for the road that would lead home, Father Quinn asked a single question. “An enlightening trip, My Lady?” She knew he asked about more than just their reason for coming, a look at the gardens.

  Sighing heavily, Luveday answered enigmatically. “Indeed, Father Quinn. In more ways than one.” The walk home was long, but she had never been so happy to see the great doors as she was that evening.

  Luveday relayed Mistress Adela’s message. Lord Iain got the undercurrents in her words. He did not ask her opinion of what had transpired but discerned it by how she chose to word her recounting of the conversation. It was no surprise that Iain was gone the next morning to visit the abbey. While many asked about the visit, only Lady Emmalyn seemed to know what the situation was. It did not seem to surprise her either.

  The day carried on like any other. Luveday was mentally expanding the castle garden to rival the abbey’s as she performed her duties when a commotion like she had never heard roared in from the bailey. Screams and cries, nearly stopped Luveday’s heart as she ran not towards the commotion but for the healing supplies. Lady Emmalyn was as white as a ghost when Luveday arrived with several women who brought clean linen and hot water. The lady was in shock and would be no help to her, so Luveday asked someone to run for Cassandra as she weaved her way through the group of men, to a small, unused room under the stairs.

  A small cot had been placed inside the room, and a man covered in blood and sweat lay in the bed so ashen that he looked almost dead except for his shallow breathing. Candles had been brought to lighten the room, but there were too many people in too small a space. “Clear out everyone.” The men protested, clearly this man was a friend, but they were no help to her. “I need only two men, two men with strong stomachs.” They cleared out, and Luveday prayed she would hold up under strain. She had never done something like this and shook at the idea of doing it alone. The men turned pale, but not as pale as the injured gentleman. She looked back over her shoulder as she blocked the door, he was still breathing. Looking out at the men no one stepped forward. The women deposited their items inside the room with only quick glances at the cot and left in a hurry. Luveday had no time for this, so she chose two. “Sir Gregori,” who only nodded solemnly, “and Sir Perivale.” The second man looked as if he might be ill but stepped up just the same.

  Back in the room, she had the men move the bed away from the wall, just enough to allow one of them to get to the other side of the bed. There wasn’t much room to work with. Luveday washed her hands and kneeling on the floor beside the low bed, she began to hunt down the source of the blood. A piece of cloth was pressed to the wound until the bleeding had stopped. There was a gash in the man’s right thigh that looked as if someone had tried to cut it to the bone. Luveday worried about the main artery there, but she was sure he would have bled out by now if anything had nicked it. She used the warm water to soak the cloth before she removed it to get a better look at what they were dealing with. The blood was thick and dry, and Luveday worried at how fast infection could set in.

  She worked diligently, issuing orders and not thinking about how quickly they were obeyed. Emmalyn and Cassandra both joined them, but neither woman interrupted. Cass held onto the lady as Emmalyn cried quiet tears. Time passed without Luveday being aware of it. She worked smart and utterly focused on the task at hand as if she had been doing this all her life. She didn’t hesitate as she sliced off bits of shredded skin. She soon had the wound cleaned enough to see the damage properly. There was no way for her to tell if the man would be able to use the limb again when he healed.

  Muscle lay open to the air, and already the skin around the wound looked wrong. Blood poisoning was not a pretty way to go. Luveday focused on what she could do, not the distant future. She did not let herself believe anything, but that this man would live. There was still debris in the wound, she could see clumps of dirt in the gash in the muscle. It looked like someone had tried to cut off his leg but had somehow missed laying open a shallow furrow from groin to knee. The majority of the wound was not deep but laid open from the top inside of his thigh, almost at his groin, to extend down the inner thigh and turn out to finish over his knee. There was a piercing wound on the inside of his upper thigh, only a handsbreadth from his groin. She prodded the hole left by the blade that had done this. It looked as if he were stabbed with the blade, a puncture wound about the width of he
r first finger went deep into his leg. If the blade had been a little farther in, she was sure the artery would have been severed. As it was, the wound was starting to bleed again, she thought that was a good sign.

  “Get me some more boiled water and tell Warin to bring that horrible drink of his. I need a mug of it.”

  One of the men outside laughed at her call for spirits. “Aye, we could use a drink too.” Her two helpers nodded but said nothing. She continued to clean the wound as best she could but couldn’t tell them what she planned to do with the strong alcohol. They would never help her otherwise.

  The spirits arrived first, and Luveday set them aside and washed the wound with water again, not caring that liquid ran down in rivers, soaking her skirts as she knelt beside the bed. The gash looked clean, but to be sure it was free of infection she had to do this next part and prayed that her patient would remain unconscious a while longer. Luveday retrieved what she would need from the healing supplies and dropped the threaded needle into the spirits and let it set a few moments. Moving to her feet, Luveday issued her orders without so much as a hint of the doubt that ate at her stomach. She had a feeling this was going to be bad, but it had to be done. Cassandra had prepared an ointment that she could put on the wounds once the gash was sewn closed, but it would keep infection out, not treat something left within. “Gregori hold his shoulders, and Perivale his legs. Put your weight into it.” Luveday fished the needle and thread from the bottom of the cup. The ladies exited the room, and the door swung closed behind them. Without thinking it over again, Luveday dumped the contents of the mug onto his leg and the most horrible scream she had ever heard rang through the tiny room. Gregori and Perivale held their friend as he writhed in pain, both men looking at her in horror. No one outside dared to open the door to see what was going on.

  Luveday used a clean cloth to whip away the excess liquid and spoke as calmly and soothingly to the man as she could as she began sewing up his leg. He settled and watched her a moment with hooded eyes before succumbing to oblivion again. Luveday didn’t know what she said to the man, she spoke of things from home, of happy summers and comfort, and wasn’t sure it made any sense to anyone, not even herself. By the time she was done sewing, she was done talking. The ointment she applied was noxious and burned a little, but it would keep the suture clean as it healed. Already the redness around the wound looked faded. Gregori looked at her sweaty face in the glow of the candles and only nodded to her. Perivale staggered around the bed and out of the room. She stopped Gregori as he pushed passed her. “What is his name?” She finally thought to ask.

  Gregori just looked at her. “Lord Benedict St. James of Lion’s Head,” came a haggard voice from behind her.

  Luveday turned to look into the face of Lord Iain and knew that he had been present for that scream, and that like her, it still echoed through his mind. She nodded past the lump in her throat.

  Iain did not enter the room as Luveday called for the women to help her clean up. The women worked quickly, removing the ruined garments and washing the blood from his body. Benedict moved and moaned but did not awaken even when they brought another cot and lifted him to remove the soiled one. They covered his naked form with a sheet of clean linen and placed blankets and furs at the foot of the bed. Someone placed a pile of belongings outside the door not wanting to clutter the tiny room. The floor was cleaned, Luveday scrubbed it herself. Her gown was already ruined, there was no need for the women to fuss over it. Someone offered to bring incense, but Luveday asked that they burn a candle in the chapel instead, the room was too small for the thick aroma.

  The day passed into night with Luveday keeping watch. Emmalyn came and sat with her for a while, relaying some of her patient’s past and identity. Benedict was a companion of Iain’s, more like a brother. He and Gregori were always at De Lane’s side. They had grown from long-legged youths to knights together, a small band of brothers. Benedict was the charmer, always a smile and a joke to contrast Iain’s foolhardiness and Gregori’s quiet demeanor. Through tournaments and fierce battles, the three of them could be found side by side.

  Emmalyn had watched the boys grow, taking them in as her own after her own young sons had died so suddenly. Lady Jane St. James was the man’s mother and Emmalyn’s dearest friend. Seeing him hurt and so pale sent her mind racing to things she had hoped to forget. Her heart broke as if it were her own son once again. The lady quietly apologized for not helping, but Luveday just took her hand and held it for a while. Neither noticed Iain’s presence or when he left to find his bed. The lady left soon after, urging Luveday to find her bed for a few hours at least. “Change your gown and wash up. One of the women can keep vigil for a while.”

  Reluctantly, Luveday finally took the advice and was happy to find that the water in her room was still warm when she stripped to only her underwear and a shirt to lay down on the bed. If she could, she would pour some of her own strength into the knight to heal him. In fact, it felt as if she had done just that.

  The night had not been kind to Benedict. Sometime in the wee hours, a fever had started to take hold. Luveday found him flushed and restless a few hours later when she returned from her brief rest. Henna watched as she took a candle and heated the glass vile that contained the willow bark syrup that Cassandra had taught Luveday to make. It was easier to manipulate when warm, and the chill in the room had caused the sticky substance to harden. Luveday used the candle to liquefy the honey like medicine so that she could dispense a spoonful down the young man’s throat. The syrupy concoction was made to taste better than its tincture counterpart and was far more potent. A little was enough to help bring down his body temperature and help with some of his pain. Luveday checked the wound again, though still raw looking the coloring was good. She had stitched the skin closed in strategic places, in case there was a need to reopen the wound. She laid the cloth back in place and took up her stool beside the cot never noticing when Henna left a little while later.

  When she emerged from the room a few hours after dawn, she was surprised to find that Iain and a handful of men were already gone. Elli retold what news they had heard from the men. A traveler had found Benedict on the road, not far from the Abbey. At the time the young Lord was still conscious and had asked to be brought here. Gregori and some men had come across them as they went to the Abbey to talk to Father Quinn and Lord Iain. Elli let it slip that they were there to talk about Lady Christabel, but a look from Emmalyn had her back to the subject at hand. Benedict didn’t make much sense as he tried to talk to his friend. Gregori had sent a man to the Abbey to fetch Iain, and the rest had helped to transport the injured young Lordling to the keep. The St. James’ horse had arrived on its own not long after its master had been settled and Iain had arrived not long after that. At the news, De Lane had ridden out of the Abbey as if the very devil perused him.

  Supposedly there was talk of foul play in the woods. Iain had left at first light to examine the scene. They were to collect the traveler from the Abbey, and he was to show the men where he had found the wounded knight. Elli’s recounting had all the drama and dire tones of a horror story, but Luveday knew there was a real danger here. Someone had tried to kill that man, and more than likely they would try again. Luveday returned to her patient and sat talking to him about the world outside of his little windowless cell though she was unsure if he actually heard her.

  Two days passed before Luveday looked up from her sewing and found Benedict looking back at her with intense eyes. Her song stuttered to a stop, and she poked herself with the needle as she dropped her work into her lap. Benedict had opened his eyes on and off through the last two days, but when they tried to speak to him, there was no recognition, no understanding. He’d close his eyes again as if he wished to sleep for a hundred years, which wasn’t so outrageous to Luveday. His golden hair and bright blue eyes with their long lashes reminded her of a Disney princess, though the rest of him was decidedly male.

  He leaned up against the wall
at the head of the bed, how he had gotten in that position without her noticing she couldn’t guess. He shifted his weight and grimaced. Luveday got to her feet and offered him a drink.

  “I am Lady Luveday, and you are safe in Lander’s Keep.” Luveday thought he would be relieved by the news, but the look he gave her over the rim of his cup clearly said, ‘I know,’ as if he had spoken the words aloud. Luveday waited until he finished the drink which was laced with a bit of the willow bark to help with the pain and inflammation.

  The first word out of his mouth was, “Iain?”

  “Gone for two days to hunt the countryside for whoever did this to you.” Luveday didn’t know what to expect, but his reaction finally showed the relief she had thought to see earlier. He nodded, still tired and threw back the edge of the blanket that concealed him to remove the heavy cloth that covered the upper half of his right leg. The edges of his skin where healing together nicely, even Emmalyn and Cassandra were surprised at how well he was doing. Another day or two and they would bind the wound closed with a proper bandage, a week or so after that they might remove the stitches.

  He stared at the long line twisting down his thigh for several minutes in silence. Luveday watched the flicker of his eyes until he sighed and returned the linens to their former place. He looked at her and in a clear and steady voice said, “‘Tis not as bad as I had thought.”