Chapter Twenty-Two

Silence accompanied them like a shroud for the next half hour. Frazzled, Serena again pleaded with Lord LeBran to stop somewhere.

“My stomach is heavy. I feel I will cash in my accounts. Please, can we stop somewhere to relieve my distress?”

Lord LeBran removed his top hat. “You may use my hat. We do not stop until we reach my fortress. That is my last word on the subject.

“You cannot be serious. No gentleman would ask this of a woman.”

“Do not mistake me, Lady Serena. I am no gentleman.”

“I can agree with you on that statement.”

“You are mistaken to think me a ploy. We will be married. It is your fate and mine. I am not content about it either.”

“Well spoken,” she uttered. “Another point on which we can agree.”

“Do you require the use of my hat or not?”

“I’d rather die.”

“Anything can be arranged.” The statement was cold, calculating and—probably true.

The smug expression on his face told a story. One eyebrow raised, perhaps in contemplation of the thought spoken by her. She thought him capable of killing. Her hand gripped her chest to calm her rapid breath. Forefront in her mind was the rumor that he had poisoned his former wife.

From that moment, hatred filled her heart for her brother and the vile man next to her. Somehow she and Emma had to escape, but doing it en route was no longer an option. They rode on in silence until the fortress came to view.

When Serena and her maid arrived at Lord LeBran’s keep, fatigue from the long ride without any respite overtook her. The footman assisted the ladies out of the carriage.

“We are here, Lady Serena, your new home.”

“Yes, I see. It is quite an imposing structure, my lord. It looks like a stone medieval castle, beautiful yet foreboding.”

“True, an apt description, Lady Serena. I am charged with its protection to keep France off our shores. My French ancestors were loyal to the English court, as am I. Should you have an interest in my lineage, we have a vast library.”

“I am impressed,” she answered with cunning.

How would she ever escape?

He gazed at her.

Was that a flash of admiration she saw? If so, it fleeted.

She carried her Bible in her clenched hands and followed him up the stone steps to a massive double door. They entered and he removed his hat, gloves and cane.

A thin woman wrapped in a shawl stood in the foyer. He greeted her with inane politeness. “Mother, this is Lady Serena, my future wife—your soon-to-be daughter-in-law.”

He introduced his sister. “This is Lady Josephine whose quarters are next to yours.” Lord LeBran pointed to Emma. “The other woman is the maid.”

His mother’s tall stature suited the unadorned grey wool dress she wore with long sleeves and high collar.

Serena curtsied and spoke in soft measured words, “We have not stopped along the way. It was a lengthy ride and I have a need to use my chambers. Is that possible, Madame LeBran?”

She looked to her son. “Such a long trip and you did not oblige? Josephine will show you to your rooms. You can attend your needs there. Perhaps we can meet in a half hour. My name is Madame Yolanda. I welcome you. We were surprised when my son spoke to us about his impending marriage. I will try to see you are comfortable here, but we do have certain rules with which I will acquaint you.”

“You are too kind.” Serena stifled a breath. Could not the angel of mercy give her death at this moment?

“Follow me,” Josephine spoke to Serena and her maid. “We are on the top floor. It is private.”

Where no one will ever find her.

With all the parapets of the fortress, she might find one she could throw herself off to drown in the cold waters of a relentless sea. The surroundings were as frigid as the man who now claimed her.

“My brother’s apartments are in the other wing.”

Josephine had a sad twist to her mouth, for a house that appeared to have no smiling women.

She opened the only entrance door to a three-room suite. Serena entered. The first room was a sitting room. It looked large but sparse, like Lord LeBran. It led to a bedroom, presumably hers.

“I’ll leave you here and have your belongings sent up. Your maid will be in the adjoining room beyond yours, through this doorway.” Josephine pointed. “Can you find your way down to the main hall or shall I come for you?”

“I believe I can find my way. Thank you.” Serena answered in a resigned manner.

“May I call you Serena?” the slight woman asked. “It is a beautiful name. It will be nice to have someone nearer my age to talk to. I hope we can be friends. Life here can be cold and harsh. If you need a shawl, I can bring mine to you.”

“Josephine, thank you. I will let you know.” Serena untied her cape. “Please, could you direct me to a chamber pot?”

The young woman pointed to a dressing screen behind which sat the necessary. “It’s there. I’ll leave you now.”

The young woman left, Serena rushed to Emma, and they hugged each other in desperation.

“What are we to do, mistress? This is such a lifeless, harsh-looking place.”

“I know, Emma. It is more like a dungeon than a fortress. I feel like a prisoner.” Her eyes pooled.

A knock on the door sounded and they separated. “Enter,” she answered, brushing away the tears.

A footman brought in the small trunk and cloth travel bag and placed them at Serena’s feet, then left without a word.

She moved to the screen.

“I’ll take my bag to my room, mistress, and do the same.”

Once their immediate problem had been relieved, the women stood again in Serena’s sitting room.

She sighed as she removed her heavy cape and felt the chill.

“Sir Henry did tell me the climate would be much cooler than we’re used to. There is not much to unpack. I can’t believe how his mother is dressed in such a somber color. Do you wish to change to the one dress you brought? Will that do?”

“No, what I have on will suffice.” Serena rubbed her fingers against her chin. “I need to devise a new plan, Emma. We will stay here only as long as it takes to find a way to leave. As you go about your tasks, take note of the rooms and especially the exits. I will do the same.”

“Yes, mistress.” Emma started unpacking what little they had brought. She combed Serena’s hair back and secured it with barrettes.

“Emma, find out what the routine is for meals. Thank goodness you thought to bring some biscuits.”

“Mistress, don’t worry about me. I will do as I am told and will report it all back to you. They will think me a docile servant in all things.” Emma went to her mistress’s small cosmetics container and opened it. A few items were not in the proper order. “Someone has been through your things.”

Serena rushed to her maid. “You are sure?” her hand trembled.

“Yes, the salves for your back are at the bottom. I always pack them on the top with great care. And your portfolio is on the very top.”

“I can surmise they were searched before delivery to our rooms. Has yours been searched?”

Emma ran to her satchel, opened it, and pinched her lips. “Yes, mistress.”

Serena gave an exasperated nod. “It is a sad circumstance.” She hung her only other dress in the wardrobe and slammed the armoire door. The brute would not get the best of her. She straightened her back, went through the portal to the hallway and closed the heavy door behind her. The steps down to the hall did not seem as many as the steps up. Anger fortified her.

Serena entered the main hall where LeBran’s mother waited.

“Please, be seated near the fire,” the woman motioned to a wing chair. “I saw you arrive with your Bible. Are you a good Christian woman?” His mother stared at her.

“I believe in God and the commandments,” Serena replied.

“You brought little with you, dear.”

“We did not have sufficient time to properly pack our clothes and other supplies. They are to be sent to us at a later time.”

“What do you mean by other supplies?” the older woman inquired.

“I am an artist, Madame. I brought a sketchpad and charcoal pencils. At some point, I would ask for my paints and canvases to be sent. It helps occupy the time. I do not embroider well enough.”

“I will talk to my son at the appropriate time about your artist’s tools. It is an unusual pursuit for a woman.” The expression on Madame Yolanda’s face changed when her forehead creased in concern. “What will you paint?”

“I am not sure. Perhaps the seagulls? Or the ocean? Or the fortress? Maybe the schooners? Would you like to have a portrait of Josephine?”

“That would be acceptable. Could you also paint Leland?”

Serena’s breath faltered. “I do not know if I could do him the justice he deserves.” There wasn’t enough black oil in the world to paint her monster of a son. “However, after I have completed Josephine’s portrait, I will try, Madame Yolanda.”

“Due to my religious convictions, I cannot abide lewdness.”

“Perish the thought. Neither can I,” she answered in an appropriate manner.

She did not think LeBran’s mother would appreciate her sketches of Geoffrey’s male parts. A sly smile crossed her face at the wonderful thought.

“I should like to see your work,” Madame Yolanda’s tone quickened.

“I would be happy to show you when my other sketchbooks and supplies arrive.”

His mother informed her of the household routine and times for meals.

“Your maid will eat with the other servants and will be allowed to go to the market as necessary chaperoned by our cook.” Madame Yolanda stared at Serena. “You may not leave the keep without Leland’s permission, but feel free to use the chapel as you wish.”

“Madame Yolanda, your son has informed me he has a vast library. I do like to read about other countries, and in particular, about France. May I borrow some books? I would show you my selection before I read.”

“I see no reason you cannot further educate yourself.” His mother smiled.

“Madame, how do I address you? I would not wish to offend.” Serena wanted to appear submissive, but inside dwelled an angry woman. She would not marry that ogre.

“Madame Yolanda will suffice. I appreciate your courteous inquiry.” His mother’s imperial tone cautioned, “If you would like to rest before dinner, you are excused.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that Emma has a room to herself in my suite. Shall I send her down to the kitchen quarters, wherever they are?”

“I will have Josephine introduce her later to the staff.”

Serena curtsied and took to the stairs in silence. She entered her rooms and found Emma waiting.

Emma saw the look on her mistress’s face. “Is it that bad?”

“His mother is as stern as her son. I have been informed…” She told her maid about their conversation. “I will have free use of the library. There might be drawings of this fortress. Keep your eye out for guards and their placement as you get acquainted with the staff. Pretend you are glad to be here.”

She placed her hands on Emma’s shoulders. “Courage, my dear friend. I will find a way out no matter what I have to do.” Serena tasted fear; it sucked at her like the bite of a fiery monster, despite her brave words.

Josephine spoke from the hallway. “Serena, may I enter?”

“Yes, you may.”

“I’ve come to fetch Emma and show her around,” Josephine informed her.

“Go with Josephine. Emma, follow her in all things.”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Josephine, can you tell me where to find the chapel?” She reached for her Bible.

“It is opposite the main hall.”

“Josephine, may I accept your offer of a shawl? There is a chill in the air here.”

“Yes, Serena. I’ll get it for you now.” She turned and left, returning with a dark shawl, and handed it to her.

“Come, Emma. I will take you downstairs to the kitchens.”

Emma followed without comment.

Alone with her thoughts at last, Serena went to the window niche and watched the ships in the bay. Somehow she had to get in touch with Geoffrey. She dared not write anything down as yet and would have to use Emma in some way, yet did not want to endanger her maid.

Could she be doomed to this cold environment? She would never forgive Henry’s betrayal.