In The Shadow
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– I will! Stay here for now! – Alienor let go of her friend's palm, lifted the wet hem of her dress, and hurried up to her waiting mother. – 'Mother, do not be angry! It is not my fault that it rained!
– My child, you need to change your clothes… We have been visited by titled guests! This only happens once in a lifetime, and I will not let you spoil this moment…" said the resentful Lady Norton, but soon her voice disappeared behind the door, and Brigid could not make out the last words.
"Guests! And I was so lucky to fall in the mud!" – With a mockery of herself the girl smiled. She glanced again at her dress and arms, took a deep breath, humbly accepting her awkward position, and, after waiting a little while, slowly made her way up. However, not even three steps up, Brigid heard the door at the top of the stairs open and bang loudly against the wall, the very door behind which Alienor and her mother had recently hidden, and the stairs were suddenly filled with a loud, displeased male voice.
– Now listen, Catherine: we shall stay here as long as I like! I do not wish to ride in the pouring rain! But you, if you are in such a hurry to London, you may go without me! – The voice was like a peal of thunder, and Brigid involuntarily pressed herself against the damp, cold wall.
Goosebumps of fear ran down her back: she was so frightened by this strong, authoritative voice.
– You are right, my dear husband. Walking in the rain is not the best of pleasures. – There was a soft female voice. – I will be glad to keep you company in this cosy and lovely place. Our daughter will understand our tardiness and certainly won't take any offence at us.
– I am glad you find this place lovely," the man's voice parried, and this time there was a coldness in it.
– When the sun comes out again, my dear husband, we can take a walk in the neighbourhood. If you wish, we shall take Miss Anne Boleyn and Miss Mary Carrie with us. – The woman's voice remained still as soft and warm, and this contrast so surprised Brigid that she involuntarily put her palm to her breast and aghhed in pain for the stranger.
It seemed to the girl that her sigh had not been noticed, but the walls, which repeated it with a quiet echo, betrayed her.
– Hey, you there! Over here! Now! What the hell is that? Spies in Norton Castle? – suddenly she heard a man's voice full of anger, and, pale, neither dead nor alive, she hastened to answer.
– 'I'm not spying, sir! I was just coming up the stairs! – squeaked Brigid, praying in her heart that she might be allowed to remain where she was, for she dreaded to meet the owner of that terrible voice and what he would say to her.
– I said, this way!
– Coming, sir!
Tears came to Brigid's eyes. She went up the stairs, almost out of breath, and brushed from her cheeks that salty moisture which not only did not wash away the dirt from them, but smeared it still more.
Soon, trembling with fear and not daring to look at the lady and her husband standing before her, Brigid stopped in front of the unknown guests and lowered herself before them in a deep curtsy.
The staircase was immediately filled with loud, deep male laughter.
– So this is the bird that has been spying on us! – The man turned to his wife, and then threw to Brigid: – 'You don't look well, young miss.
– Thank you, sir," the girl said hastily, and only then realised her mistake: the man laughed even louder.
– Oh, no, miss, it's not my doing! – Through his laughter, he said.
– Forgive my foolishness, sir! – Wanting to disappear, to vanish into thin air, the girl exclaimed. She was so ashamed of her foolish behaviour and tactless words that, if her face had not been covered with mud, the castle guests would have seen it as red as a ripe apple that has absorbed the warm rays of the sun.
– Dear Miss, what has happened to you? – The woman asked. Her voice sounded tender, as if she felt sorry for the poor girl standing before her.
– I was in a field of flowers, my lady… It rained heavily and I ran to the castle, but on the way I slipped and fell face down in the mud," Brigid said quietly. She did not dare to look up at the faces of the strangers, and looked only at the long hem of the woman's gold-embroidered blue dress and the man's high hunting boots.
– That's it! So you're not a servant? – The man asked in a calmer tone.
– No, sir. I am the daughter of…
– It doesn't matter. Go to your room and clean yourself! – the stranger commanded imperiously. – Go!
– Right away, sir! – Brigid straightened her legs and, her head low, walked quickly round the strangers, opened the heavy wooden door, and stepped out into the wide corridor. Her cheeks burned with shame, and she chastised herself for failing to keep silent and giving away her presence.
What did they think of her? That she was a spy? That she had deliberately hidden herself on the stairs to overhear them? What if her strict father heard about it? Or worse, the young, handsome William Tury? She would keep quiet and hope that the lady and her husband would never recognise this dirty, clumsy girl as the daughter of the disgraced Richard Guise, who is already in disfavour of the king.
When Brigid finally entered her chambers, where her mother appeared to be waiting, the first thing she heard was that she was a bad daughter, that she was a disgrace to her family's name, and that if she appeared before her mother like that again, she should blame herself! The convent will be able to teach this wretch!
The soft-hearted girl listened to her mother's reproaches and hurtful words in silence, bowing her head before her. She did not say a word in her own defence: had it ever helped? How many times had she heard those words before? Her mother, an irascible and proud distant relative of the now deceased Elizabeth Woodville of England, had expected her only daughter to elevate the family name and restore the royal favour that the king had deprived them of because of her father's awkward remark about the tenacious royal favourite Anne Boleyn.