Page 42 of Secrets of Capell Manor
Devlin had hoped that Kelley would postpone his visit to Kirkeby so that he could be present during his questioning about the marriage contract, but it was not his place to tell the king’s clerk what to do and when to do it. He had to appear completely impartial so as not to cast doubt on Lady Rosalind’s innocence.
“But I am quite fatigued, so I’ll have a short lie-down before I ride out. Call the manservant to show me to my room.” Kelley rose from his chair and paused. “No, that will take too long. Call the boy. I want to get there before tomorrow.”
Devlin chuckled to himself. Then he called for Ridley.
****
Rosalind passed the day in a state of anxiety. Edward Kelley had left after the noonday meal for an immediate audience with Roland Kirkeby. Her stomach rolled each time she thought of that wretched man. And each time she allowed herself to think of actually marrying that scoundrel; she thought she’d be physically ill. Surely, Mr. Kelley would see his claims of a marriage to pay off a debt and an actual betrothal contract as incredulous and immoral and that the king would never allow him to marry her.
And now, as she sat in the chapel with her head bowed, she struggled to finish her petitions because her mind wandered to Sir Devlin. He was prepared to leave at any moment to travel to Wisbech. She hoped and prayed he’d find answers there, but she wondered if anyone other than Edmond himself knew the depths of his lies and deceptions. Thinking of her uncle spawned images and memories that made her stomach churn, and her heart quicken, and she prayed that the investigation would be over soon. But at the same time, she feared the outcome.
At its conclusion, the best possible scenario would be that she would either be able to return to her father’s estate or be left alone. She’d take the children, Marta and Benton, of course. It would be rough at first, but she was sure she could get the estate working again. There were lands to rent, and she could farm some herself. Or, if the king planned to return her childhood home to another of his barons, she could stay here. After all, she was Edmond’s only heir.
And there was one option she had refused to think about because of the uncertainty and fear it carried with it—the king could marry her to someone else, and Edmond’s lands would become her husband’s. Additionally, the king could make her marriage even more advantageous and appealing to her betrothed and include her childhood home as well in the contract. Her title and lands would make some lord out there very wealthy. In this case, there wasn’t a guarantee that the children would remain with her, and that possibility chilled her to her very core. In that event, she had to find a way for them to stay together and possibly live with Marta and Benton.
Rosalind took one last look at the cross that hung behind the altar, and she stood slowly. She turned and gasped slightly at the tall figure that stood in the door to the chapel. Once she realized that it was Sir Devlin, she smiled and said softly, “You can come in, you know. Praying is available to everyone.”
“I fear that God may not welcome me here, milady,” he answered back just as softly.
“And why would you think that, sir? God welcomes everyone into His house,” she replied as she stepped toward him.
“The paths I’ve chosen haven’t exactly been reverent.”
“No matter,” she assured him. “God knows your heart and your intentions. You see yourself as doomed, without a home…beyond redemption. But I see a very different type of man before me. I’m sure God sees that too.”
“And what about you, Lady Rosalind? Your choices, the path you’ve taken, how do you see yourself? How does God see you?”
“I’ve spent many hours in prayer, Sir Devlin. I’ve done what was necessary to keep myself and the children safe, and I am at peace with that. God has seen all I have done, but He also sees my heart. I pray for His guidance and His mercy, without ceasing.”
“And has it worked, the praying? Have your prayers been answered?”
Rosalind looked him in the eye. “I’m still waiting to find out.”
She left the chapel.
Chapter Thirteen
He dressed in plain clothes and a worn cloak he’d borrowed from Benton. He could not walk into the pub clothed all in black, which would result in unwanted attention, so the clothes were brown and tan homespun. Benton fashioned a cloth eye patch to disguise his face and trimmed his hair.
It was the best they could do, and Devlin hoped no one would recognize him. As he and Alden prepared to ride off, Ridley sprinted into the stable with a couple of leather bags, which he attached to each of their saddles.
“From Marta. She said you might get hungry. There’s cheese, some bread, and dried apples,” Ridley said. “In case you’re delayed.”
The ride to Wisbech took only two hours, and Devlin planned to return that same night. He wasn’t used to others thinking about his needs and wanting to help, so he said nothing, but Alden replied, “Tell Marta that the food is much appreciated.”
Ridley stared up at the men, and looked so small beside their mounts. “Safe travels,” he said with a wavering voice. “Please come back with…”
“Don’t you worry for a second, Ridley. When I come back, I’ll have answers,” Devlin said steadfastly. “And I will come back.”
Ridley nodded, and with that, the men urged their horses into an easy canter and headed toward Wisbech.
****
Rosalind decided that staying busy was the best defense against the overwhelming worry and fear that welled up inside her and threatened to devour her sanity and her soul. She mentally drafted a list of things to do and moved from one task to the other as she tried to keep her hands and mind busy.
She worked on her spinning, and then she weaved a bit. She dusted and swept her bedchamber. Grim provided some relieffor anxiety and allowed her to brush his coat with an old horse brush, but he eventually wandered outside to explore in the winter sun.
She made her way into the kitchen and half-heartedly attempted to cook the evening meal’s pudding, but only scorched the milk in the pot.
