death.’
Sarah’s stomach clenched. The Queen had hinted at William’s death being the way for Sarah to remarry. While she had no wish to remain wed to him, neither did she desire his death. She turned to look at him. ‘I have harmed no one. And I can assure you that nobody has died because of some crumb of information I may have passed on to the Queen.’
‘How can you know that for certain?’
In all honesty, she couldn’t be certain. But with the pained expression furrowing William’s brow, and the tightness of his mouth, she wasn’t about to admit that to him. ‘It wasn’t as if I had gathered information of any great importance.’
‘Even a tiny scrap of information in the wrong hands becomes important.’
‘William, cease.’ Earl Hugh placed a hand on William’s arm.
While Sarah wondered at William’s emotional response, Lady Adrienna brought the conversation back to the Queen. ‘You said the Queen permitted her elderly guard to remain in her court?’ She shook her head, admitting, ‘I didn’t know Queen Eleanor could be that soft-hearted.’
Sarah assured her, ‘She often treated her subjects with more kindness than many could imagine.’
‘Oh, yes.’ William stared at her. ‘The Queen’s compassion is apparent to all of us.’
‘I said often, not always.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘Other than this instance, she’d always treated me…justly.’
William noted Sarah’s hesitation. Had ‘justly’ been the correct word?
‘Justly?’ To his surprise, Lady Adrienna badgered Sarah, asking, ‘How can you say that? If using you to do her underhanded bidding was just, then I am truly thankful she never saw fit to treat me thusly.’
His wife’s eyebrows rose as she turned to answer Adrienna. ‘Ah, but you came to the court as a woman fully grown, with gold in hand and prospects of a grand marriage. I came as an unwanted child, with nothing more than the ill-fitting clothes on my back. Queen Eleanor gave me a safe place to sleep, enough food to eat, and permitted me the opportunity to learn how to read and write.’
Sarah plucked at the skirt of her gown, a golden-hued garment fitted more to the court than for travelling. ‘I am indebted to the Queen for everything. The clothing I now wear.’ She raised a hand to the jewelled clips decorating the ends of her braids. ‘And even for the little trinkets that you would take for granted.’
‘I am sorry.’ Adrienna touched Sarah’s arm. ‘I—’
‘No.’ Sarah leaned away from Adrienna’s touch. ‘I am not seeking your pity. I have no complaints with my lot in life. I sought only to explain why I am beholden to the Queen.’
William tossed Sarah’s words around in his head. He rose from his seat next to Hugh. ‘You are wrong, Sarah.’ After assisting Adrienna to her feet, William took her place on the log. ‘Those days are over. You are not beholden to her. Queen Eleanor is no longer your master.’
‘Master?’ Sarah frowned. ‘What a strange way to refer to the Queen. It was not as if she owned me.’
‘Then how would you describe it?’ Hugh asked from across the fire. ‘You depended on her for food, shelter and clothing. In return she used you any way she saw fit. Is that not the relationship between a servant and a master?’
‘No. It was more that I performed services in exchange for her generosity through the years.’
‘Since she had accepted you into her court, I can only assume that she had made a promise to your father to care for you.’
“I suppose.’ Sarah shrugged. ‘I have not spoken to my father since he left me with the Queen.’
William asked, ‘How long have you been with the court?’
‘About twelve years. I was not yet seven years old when my father brought me to court. He did so only because he had not the gold to foist me off on the Church.’
Sarah didn’t know it, but they had more in common than she realised. She had been under the Queen’s rule nearly as long as he’d been a captive. William sidled a little closer to her. ‘And your mother?’
Sarah stared into the fire for a few moments before she finally answered in a whisper, ‘I barely remember her.’
‘Did she die?’
‘Not exactly.’ Sarah picked up a twig and snapped it into little pieces.
William glanced towards Hugh and Adrienna. They sat forehead to forehead, talking softly to each other. He drew his attention back to his wife. Covering her shaking hands with one of his own, he asked, ‘What happened?’
She turned her face away and tugged to free her hands. He moved closer; putting an arm across her shoulders, he forced her to lean against him. ‘What happened, Sarah?’
‘I killed her.’ Her trembling voice was barely above a whisper.
‘At six years old? I doubt that, Sarah.’ Who in their right mind would convince a child of such vile nonsense? ‘How did she die?’
For a few moments he didn’t think she’d answer him, but finally, she said, ‘I had been playing with my baby, on the stairs, when the nursemaid called me to get ready for bed.’ Sarah paused for a heartbeat as if trying to remember the incident. ‘Later that night, I was awakened by my mother’s scream. She tripped over the doll I’d left behind and fell down the stairs.’
William tightened his embrace. He lowered his head and whispered against her ear, ‘That was not your fault.’
‘Yes, it was. My father carried her and the doll up to the bedchamber. After she’d taken her last ragged breath, he threw the doll at me, shouting that I’d killed his wife and unborn child. He then ordered me to take my cursed toy and leave his sight for good.’
William’s heart ached for the child. He could only imagine her fear and confusion. ‘Ah, Sarah, he didn’t mean that. His angry words came from grief.’
She struggled against his chest, gasping, ‘I can’t breathe, let me go.’
He relaxed his hold, but didn’t release her. When her breathing calmed, she said, ‘My father had meant exactly what he said. I hid in a tower chamber, and ate only when someone remembered to bring me food.’ She touched her crooked nose. ‘And I quickly learned to stay out of my father’s sight.’
Speechless that a father could treat a child so, William kept his mouth shut. The man’s responsibility had been to protect her—to care for her, not place her in danger. Above the sound of blood rushing through his head, his mind shouted, She was but a babe herself. How could you?
The feel of Sarah’s fingers against his cheek drew him from the sudden, evil urge to kill the man with his bare hands. ‘William, do not.’
He shook his head, trying to clear away the vicious thoughts of revenge. ‘Do not what?’
‘Do not fret for the child. She survived.’
Survived?
