Page 26 of The Forsaken
“Yer lady mother hasn’t left her bed since news of the battle reached us,” Mildred explained. “Lord Dancy is with her, and the servants are in the kitchen, having their supper. Yer father sent out all the men to search for ye, after ye failed to turn up, me lady, except Isaiah, on account of him being too old.”
“Osbert died,” Kate explained.
“Aye, we know. Matthew found him by the side of the road and brought him back to be buried. Yer father thought ye might have been taken hostage.” Mildred gazed warily at Hugh, unsure of his role in Kate’s disappearance.
“Mildred, this is Hugh de Rosel. He was kind enough to escort me home and will, of course, be spending the night. Please have a bedchamber prepared, and we’d like some supper. I need to see my parents, Hugh,” Kate said apologetically.
“Of course, my lady. I’ll wait in the parlor, if I may.”
“I’ll light the candles and get the fire going,” Mildred fussed, flustered at being caught unprepared. “If ye come this way, sir.”
Mildred led Hugh into the parlor and threw open the shutters. The purpling shadows of twilight filled the empty room but did little to chase away the melancholy mood that seemed to permeate the house. Hugh lowered himself onto a wooden settle by the empty hearth and crossed his legs, the very picture of patience and calm.
Kate hitched up her skirts and sprinted up the stairs. Her heart squeezed with anxiety, but she was grateful to be home at last. She stopped in front of the closed door to her mother’s solar and took a deep breath before knocking.
“Come,” Gerard Dancy called out.
“Father, it’s me,” Kate said as she stepped into the room.
“Oh, Kate, praise the Lord,” Gerard breathed as he came forward to wrap her in a fierce embrace. “We thought we’d lost you. Didn’t we, Anne?”
He addressed his wife, but Anne didn’t respond. She lay quiet and still among the blankets, her face pale and twisted in the meager candlelight.
“Where have you been, Kate? I sent Matthew, Glen, and Cecil to look for you. They found Osbert’s body, but no trace of you,” her father added gruffly. “He looked to have died of natural causes.”
“After Osbert took ill and died, I set off for home on my own. I came across several knights returning from Towton,” Kate explained.
“You met knights on the road?” her father demanded, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.
“Yes. One of them was gravely wounded, so I stayed to tend to him. His brother, Hugh de Rosel, escorted me home. He’s downstairs in the parlor.”
“Is he King Edward’s man?” her father asked.
“No. They fought for King Henry.”
Gerard glowered. “You dare to bring a Lancastrian knight into my household?”
“Father, Hugh de Rosel has been nothing but gallant and kind. I could hardly ask him to leave without inviting him in.”
Gerard Dancy shook his head in dismay. “I suppose we’ll have to put him up for the night. But in the morning, he leaves.”
“I understand,” Kate replied. She had no wish to talk about Hugh. There was so much in her heart. Her father didn’t hold with sentiment or tears, but Kate needed to express her sorrow and offer him whatever comfort she could. “Father, I heard about…” Her voice trailed off. She couldn’t bear to say the words aloud.
Gerard Dancy bowed his head in grief. “I never imagined… Your poor mother… I don’t know how we’ll get through this, Kate. It’s too much to bear.”
“What’s wrong with Mother?”
“Your mother suffered some sort of apoplexy when she found out about the boys,” her father replied, not bothering to lower his voice. “Her entire right side is immobile, and she can barely speak or eat. She sleeps most of the time, and even when she wakes, she’s confused and lost in her own waking nightmare.”
“Oh, Father,” Kate said, taking his hands in hers. “I will tend to her. She will get better in time. I know she will.”
“We must look to the future,” Gerard said, pulling his hands out of Kate’s grasp. “We must survive.”
“Father, will you not come down and meet Hugh?” Kate asked. It seemed rude to leave Hugh all alone in the parlor, but her father shook his head.
“Maybe later.”
Kate nodded. It was pointless to argue with her father when he was in such depressed spirits. She walked over to the bed and kissed her mother’s cold cheek. “I’m home, Mama. Can you hear me?” But her mother didn’t respond. Her face was as still and white as a stone effigy, and her hands, which had always been white and elegant, looked like gnarled claws atop the counterpane. Kate smoothed back her mother’s hair. It had been a rich auburn, like her own, but now thick streaks of silver framed her face. Kate hardly recognized the woman in the bed.
