To Every Love, There is a Season Read online

  Ellen kicked her foot free of the stirrup and slid down from the saddle. Stephen was sitting in the same spot as the day before, as if he had never left. He lazily stood when Ellen approached.

  "I did not expect to see you today. I thought after the work you did yesterday, you would change your mind."

  "I am my father's daughter, Stephen. I do not give up easily once my mind is made up to do something."

  "Surely a virtue when one's arms are sore to the point of falling off,” he chuckled.

  "Thanks to one of Kitty's poultices, I was saved from a night of grievous pain. Had I used the liniment as you suggested, the whole castle would have wondered what I was doing.” Ellen tugged at the laces on her dress, frustrated with their refusal to come undone.

  "A huntress who cannot undo her own laces.” Stephen laughed, then gently pushed her hands away. “Let me, my lady, or you will be here all the day trying to undo them.” With infinite patience, he untied the knots, loosening the work dress, and returned Ellen's grateful smile.

  * * * *

  Father Bernard strode the long, dusty road, and wiped a long sleeve across his sweaty face. He was anxious to get to the village. The large group of cottages rented by the farmers, were sprawled out upon the duke's land, but the priest was interested in the one furthest away. He quickly forgot about the pending visit when movement just beyond the tree line caught his attention, and he stopped to satisfy his curiosity. A young girl was staring up at an older man as he stood too close to her to have anything innocent on his mind. He was gently tugging at the laces in the front of her plain gown. Bernard cautiously stepped closer, wondering, perhaps hoping, he could catch them in something more illicit.

  The priest's eyes widened, as he recognized the duke's daughter and head huntsman. His expression turned to one of smugness, believing a daughter of Eve had finally shown her true self. So Lady Ellen is not the innocent she has led others to believe, but is Stephen truly foolish enough to tumble the young girl? As much as Bernard would have liked to continue spying on the interesting scene, he thought how much more gratifying it would be to see Ellen punished for the temptress she was proving to be. At last, he had something to take to her father, something that should see her confined for a long time, and free him from those foolish lessons. Bernard quickly forgot about his own secret assignation and turned back toward Ravencliff, anxious to be the one to tell the duke what his precious daughter was up to. How the mighty have fallen.

  When he reached the castle, Father Bernard marched through the courtyard in a soldier's double time step, and muttered to himself. Servants jumped out of his way; they would most likely bounce off the rotund priest if they got too close. He ignored the questioning faces around him. What he had seen was too good to share with anyone before he spoke with the duke. There may never be a better opportunity to be rid of the troublesome girl.

  Bernard entered the great hall, and headed straight for the duke's private counting room. “Out of my way, fool,” he growled as he pushed a servant from his path. Nothing was going to interfere in what he perceived as his duty to the duke. Bernard stopped before the thick oak door and hesitated only a moment, before pounding a heavy fist against the solid wood. His breath heaved in his chest. He pounded again, impatient to impart the wonderful scene he had witnessed. He raised his fist once more, and a smirk crossed his round face. What joy it would be to see the duke punish his wayward daughter. Bernard might even be allowed to take part in the punishment. The thought was most gratifying.

  "Come,” the duke called out.

  Bernard hesitated a moment to straightened his robes, and settle himself into the role of a solemn, concerned cleric. He pushed open the door, and shut it behind him, then hid his hands in his sleeves, striving for a picture of righteous concern. He stood before the table and did his utmost to hide his impatience, while Hugh studied one of several scrolls pinned flat with weights.

  Hugh glanced up, surprised to see the priest. “What has happened, Father Bernard? You look as if you have just witnessed something most horrible."

  "Your Grace,” Bernard began solemnly, “I come on a matter most distressing. It has to do with Lady Ellen."

  Hugh raised his head and stared at the priest.

  Bernard forced himself to remain calm. “I saw Lady Ellen a short time ago,” he began, “in a situation most unacceptable for a daughter of the church.” The priest continued, hoping he did not seem too eager in relating his tale, while he embellished the details of what he had seen.

  "He did what?” the duke interrupted, and asked between clenched teeth, trying to keep tight rein on his anger.

  "I saw with my own eyes, my lord,” the priest hurried on with his account. “Lady Ellen's face was turned up to his, a look of adoration in her eyes, as she let him untie her laces. Stephen was smiling, offering her encouragement, and she stood there, making no attempt to stop him. In truth, she tried to help him."

  Hugh rose from the high backed chair behind the desk and stalked across the small room to the door. Pulling it open, he was surprised to see his startled sister-in-law, one hand raised as if about to knock. “Not now, Margaret,” he warned tersely, before she could make a sound. He was aware of her stepping quickly out of his way and staring at him, as if he had gone mad. Perhaps he had. “Jonathan,” he bellowed, his face growing redder with building rage. Stephen would be fortunate to survive the day when he got through with him. Ellen was Hugh's treasured child, and no one was going to take advantage of her innocence. “Jonathan,” he called out again.

  One of the men-at-arms hurried toward him. “Yes, my lord?"

  Take two men with you and find Stephen Hunter. Deliver him to me here as soon as possible."

  "Yes, my lord.” Jonathan turned on his heel and called out to two other soldiers, who followed him quickly from the great hall.

  Hugh returned to his counting room and stood staring at the priest, not seeing him for a moment, then realized the man was still there. “Thank you for telling me, Father Bernard. I will see Stephen is taken care of. He will not take advantage of my daughter again. He will not have the chance."

  "I agonized over how to tell you, Your Grace. I knew it would be most hurtful to know a close friend has betrayed you. I will keep you and Lady Ellen in my prayers.” Bernard inclined his head and left the room. His mouth twitched as he held back a smile of satisfaction. He hid his hands within the wide sleeves of his cassock, pleased with this unexpected turn of events. Ellen's punishment would undoubtedly relieve him of teaching duties, giving him more time to pursue his own private interests. The thought reminded him of his missed appointment with a lovely young woman in the village, but this little bit of news had provided more pleasure than he had expected. He would make up for lost time on his next visit.

  The men-at-arms appeared at Stephen's door, a step or two behind him, and shoved the door open. “His lordship wants a word with you,” Jonathan announced without preamble, a sneer in his voice.

  The huntsman was surprised with the gruffness of the invitation. “Do you know what this is about?"

  Jonathan shrugged. “Something about the Lady Ellen. His lordship does not tell me details. He said to find you and bring you back to the castle."

  Stephen noticed several villagers step out of their homes, curiosity getting the better of them. The times were rare when soldiers were sent here, and Stephen knew his neighbors would assume the matter was serious.

  The three mounted soldiers surrounded him and stayed close to his own horse, giving him little room to run, as if he were being arrested for some crime. They headed back toward the castle. The villagers’ whispers grew as the men rode past, fueling questions of what Stephen had to do with Lady Ellen. They were mumbling among themselves, and Stephen caught a comment about the priest ‘being at it again.’ He wondered what that could mean. Why would they think Bernard had anything to do with this? Speculation would make fine evening gossip.

  As they traveled back to the castle,
Stephen decided it was past time Hugh knew what his daughter was up to, rather than continue to keep secrets. Why did sharing that information require sending three soldiers to escort him back? Surely if Hugh wanted to talk with him, Stephen would have been most happy to speak with his best friend. His escort stopped just outside the counting room and waited for him to enter before returning to their duties.

  Stephen sensed something was wrong, for Hugh stopped pacing as he entered the room. The huntsman turned his back to the duke as he used both hands to close the thick door. When he turned around, he found himself sitting on the stone floor, with broken rushes sticking to his clothing, looking up at his friend. His jaw throbbed with pain. The blow confused him. What had he done to merit Hugh's anger?

  "By what right do you dare lay hands on my daughter?” Hugh asked quietly. He forced himself to remain very still, the clenching and unclenching of his right hand the only perceptible movement. Anger clouded his eyes. A muscle in his jaw jumped against the tension held there.

  Stephen was not deceived by Hugh's calm tone, for this sort of calmness meant the duke was in a fit of rage. Stephen wriggled his jaw, relieved it wasn't broken. Hugh could still throw a powerful punch. “How else am I to teach her what she asks?” He got up, only to find himself knocked back onto the floor by another hard blow.

  "She's a child, Stephen. You are old enough to be her father.” Hugh was aware how foolish the words sounded, but could not help himself. He was furious that his best friend would take advantage of a young noble lady, his own daughter. He shook his hand against the jarring pain in his fingers. Who would have thought Stephen had such a hard jaw?

  "What has age to do with anything? She asked me to teach her the things a squire would learn. I told her no, that I would teach her to be a hunter instead. I cannot imagine her trying to lift a sword, let alone wield one.” Stephen picked himself up once more, and braced his arms on the desk for support. As Hugh moved toward him, Stephen kept the desk between them, not anxious to experience another blow to his face.

  "Squire? Hunter? What are you talking about?” The conversation was becoming more confusing by the moment.

  "Did you not call me here to ask about my teaching Lady Ellen to hunt and track?"

  "Of course not. When I called you here, I was trying to decide what punishment would be fitting for a seducer of young girls.” Hugh's face was beginning to turn a light shade of crimson.

  "Seducer of young girls?” Stephen sputtered, confused. “Hugh, do you know what you are saying? Where on earth would you get such an idea? That child is like my own; I would lay down my life for her. How could you think such a thing?"

  "You were seen, Stephen, this is not from someone's imagination.” Hugh slammed his fist into the tabletop.

  Stephen managed to find his way to a nearby chair and dropped into it. He leaned his head against the high back and laughed, then stopped suddenly when he realized Hugh was utterly serious. “Did Ellen not speak with you?"

  "No. Do you think she would tell me of such a meeting with you, or any other man?"

  Stephen became deadly serious. “What is going on here?"

  Hugh ran both his hands through his hair, wondering why it had not turned white long ago. He told Stephen of the scene as it was described to him.

  Someone has seen fit to put their own interpretation on an innocent scene. “Who told you of this?"

  "Father Bernard happened along the road and caught sight of you and Ellen within the trees."

  "Meddling priest, should see to his own soul before judging others,” Stephen muttered, and continued to spew a few choice venomous names in his native Gaelic. When he finished, he looked up at Hugh. “You cannot believe a word of what that meddlesome, so called man of God claims. He sees only what he wants and interprets it to suit himself.” Stephen paused a moment, then continued. “For the last six years, that priest has made life miserable for your daughter, and she's borne it admirably. He constantly harasses her at her lessons, insisting she lacks intelligence, and therefore any ability to learn. He keeps a willow switch at hand, usually out of sight. Likes to snap it and startle her."

  "Why did she not come to me?” Hugh could not believe his own daughter had said nothing. Why would she not confide in him on such a serious matter? Did she not trust him to make things right for her? This was the first time he felt he had failed her and he did not like the feeling. But if she said nothing about what went on, his hands were tied. He should let the situation die on its own, but thought better of that idea.

  "She is her father's daughter, Hugh. If the father is strong willed, can the daughter be any less? She was afraid you would put an end to her lessons, so she devised a way to continue without involving you. She will make some fortunate man a wife to be proud of. In the meantime, I do not envy you. You also have your hands full with a young lady who wishes to be, and do, more than what is normally allowed of her gender."

  Stephen laughed at the recent memory. “What I tell you now is the truth, Hugh, and I pray you will believe me over the words of a disreputable cleric.” Stephen held his breath before continuing. His own story seemed farfetched, but he knew it to be the truth, and hoped Hugh would accept it as such. “The Lady Ellen has been chopping wood to gain strength so she can draw a bowstring. I think she has chopped enough wood to supply half the village for the winter."

  Hugh rubbed a hand over his features, unable to hide his frustration. He looked up at Stephen and grinned. “Did she really chop firewood?"

  Stephen's grin was sufficient answer.

  "I am sorry I thought badly of you, Stephen. I was so angry when presented with the news, I could not think straight. What shall we do about it?"

  "Well, you are the duke and she is your daughter, but if I were you, I would let it be for now, and give Father Bernard enough rope to hang himself. I have a feeling there is much more to this situation than we know. All he needs is enough room and all things should be revealed."

  Hugh reluctantly nodded his agreement.

  "Do I have your permission to continue teaching your daughter? I have to be honest and say I believe she shows promise of becoming an excellent tracker and hunter, but it might be best if no one else knew about it."

  "On one condition,” Hugh smiled broadly. “You must provide me with periodic reports of her progress. I am rather curious to see how far, and how long, she is willing to take this new project of hers."

  "Consider it done.” Stephen tested his sore jaw once more. “I would rather not meet the wrong side of your fist again.” The two friends walked to the door, Hugh's arm about Stephen's shoulders. As they stepped into the great hall, both men laughed over a comment one of them made.

  * * * *

  Father Bernard looked up from his seat at one of the tables. He had managed to coax one of the serving girls to bring him something to eat and drink, before the evening meal was ready. The bread and cheese were almost gone. He held up his goblet and toasted himself for a job well done, then gulped down the ale. He was refilling his goblet, when his attention was drawn to Hugh and Stephen. They were laughing about something; their behavior was perplexing. At the very least, the duke should be ready to hang Stephen from the gatehouse. How could the hunter molest a nobleman's daughter and get away with it? Stephen must have convincingly denied the whole episode, or relied on his close friendship with Hugh to be forgiven his unacceptable behavior. Bernard frowned with that thought. Somehow, he would find a way to turn father against daughter, and put her in her place, ridding himself of his responsibility to her. It mattered not to him how he succeeded in doing it, as long as it was done.

  Another plan began taking shape in his mind. It would take some time to complete, but when it was done, success would be guaranteed and Ravencliff would have a new master. He knew just the person to make his plan work.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Ellen and Margaret worked diligently in the stillroom, preparing herbs for poultices and medicines. Ellen listened carefully as
her aunt explained the use of the herb while picking it apart, removing seeds and leaves. Some seeds would be set aside for next year's garden while the rest would be crushed. Ellen used mortar and pestle to grind the dried bits into a fine powder, then carefully transferred the bowl's contents to a small bottle.

  Margaret glanced at her companion, then continued her own work of placing seeds in packets. She took down another bunch of herbs from the low rafters and sniffed them. “I've noticed your absences are becoming more and more frequent. Where do you go off to each day?” Margaret pinched off a few seeds and put them in a small dish.

  "Have I forgotten to do some chore, aunt? If I have, please, forgive me. I will be sure not to forget again.” Ellen continued to crush and grind the dried leaves. If her aunt found out what she had been up to, Ellen's lessons with Stephen would quickly come to an end.

  "You have forgotten nothing, child. I find it amazing you can do all your chores and do them well, then disappear for hours at a time. I would be truly exhausted by day's end."

  "Believe me, aunt,” Ellen chuckled, “by day's end I am truly exhausted."

  "Ellen. Ellen, where are you, girl?” Hugh's voice bellowed throughout the great hall. Busy servants stopped what they were doing, and hurried out of the way as they stared at the stern expression on the duke's face. Hugh strode through the cavernous room, determined to find his wayward daughter.

  "Oh, Ellen,” Margaret sighed, “what have you done now to make your father so angry?” Margaret placed a bunch of rosemary on the worktable and shook her head as she stared at her niece.