Page 66 of The Forsaken
“There is one thing I miss about my lady Margaret,” Hugh said, lowering his voice so no one could overhear. “She allowed the men to plunder. I was making out very nicely for a while there,” Hugh reminisced. “And would have profited even more had it not been for William’s tender sensibilities.”
“William was a man of honor,” Guy flared.
“William was our father’s heir. He inherited the title and the estate simply by the virtue of being born first. He could afford to be sanctimonious. And now Adam is Baron de Rosel,” Hugh reminded Guy bitterly. “What am I to leave to my children, Guy? Unless I distinguish myself in battle, I have no hope of ever attaining a title or lands. And if we can’t plunder, how are we to fill our coffers?”
Guy shook his head in dismay. With two older brothers, he hadn’t given much thought to his own prospects, but it was time he did. He was going to be six and twenty, a middle-aged man.
“We must find you a worthy bride, Guy,” Hugh said, clapping Guy on the shoulder.
“I’ve no desire to marry,” Guy replied. “I’ve nothing to offer a wife.”
“You’re young—relatively—and not too ugly, and you come from a distinguished family that’s related by marriage to the king himself. You might have a weak arm and difficulty seeing straight, but as long as your prick still works, you should acquit yourself well enough.”
Guy raised an eyebrow in mockery of Hugh’s words. “Hugh, I think we best end this conversation now, while we’re still on speaking terms.”
“I’m only looking out for you, Guy.”
“And I’m looking out for you,” Guy replied acidly and left the warmth of the fire. He was cold and his feet were wet, but he needed to walk to release some of his ire. As he moved further from the walls of the castle, he saw several women making their way toward the fires. The women were of varying ages, but they all had one thing in common: they were widows, fallen on hard times. The women were huddled in their cloaks against the cold, but their eyes were full of intent, scanning the men and evaluating which of them might be more likely to respond to their advances. For as long as the siege lasted, they had a steady supply of customers, and the coin they earned would last them until the spring, if they were lucky.
Some of the women made their way toward men they’d serviced before, and some just walked between the fires, striking up flirtatious conversations with the soldiers. Most of the women didn’t have to walk far before someone took them up on their offer. Since the camp was situated on completely open ground, there was nowhere to go for privacy. Only the higher ranks wereallocated tents. The foot soldiers took the women right there, laying them down in the snow, or simply unlaced their breeches and let the women do their work.
Guy shook his head as a lass of about twenty approached him, smiling shyly. “Good evening, sweeting,” she said quietly. “Are you interested in a bit of company?”
“Not tonight,” Guy replied, not wishing to offend her. She was a comely lass with abundant dark hair and luminous eyes. She’d find the company she was seeking soon enough, possibly even with Hugh, who’d availed himself of the harlots at least once or twice a week. Guy didn’t judge him, but for some reason, he felt angry on Kate’s behalf.
THIRTY-NINE
AUGUST 2014
London, England
“Perhaps you should wait until you know more before you tell Seth,” Gabe suggested as he set the table for dinner. “He’s been through enough. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, he has, but I just feel awful about withholding this from him,” Quinn replied.
“Have you been able to track down Hetty Marks?”
“I have, actually. She still lives in Leicester, and has a Facebook page. I sent her a message. I hope she responds.”
“What about searching for Quentin on Facebook? There can’t be that many women named Quentin residing in the UK,” Gabe suggested.
Quinn transferred some cheesy pasta into a bowl and set it on the table. “I did a search for a Quentin. I got eleven results in Great Britain. Most of them were teenagers, and there were two women who appeared to be well over forty. None of them looked like they could be the right one.”
“Perhaps she moved abroad, or isn’t a fan of social media.”
“That’s possible, of course, but most people these days leave some sort of electronic footprint.”
“That they do. I’ll tell Emma dinner is ready,” Gabe said, effectively putting an end to the conversation.
Quinn set the salad bowl on the table and poured Emma some milk. Her hand began to tremble and she nearly spilled the milk on the table as a terrible thought occurred to her. She mightnot have found anyone named Quentin who fit the profile because her sister might be dead. She’d assumed, and desperately wanted to believe, that her twin had been treated and released after Sylvia left her at the hospital, but what if her medical issue had been more severe? What if Quentin had never left that hospital alive? Child mortality in twentieth century Britain was very low, but it still happened. And given that Sylvia hadn’t thought to seek help for Quentin immediately, she might have wasted precious moments that made the difference between life and death.
Quinn kept this awful thought to herself while they ate. There was no sense telling Gabe about her fear. Hetty Marks would know if Quentin had survived, and if Ms. Marks answered the message Quinn had sent, she’d put her mind at rest, one way or another.
Quinn forced herself to put Quentin out of her mind for the moment and smiled as Emma went on and on about her upcoming party. She was so excited. Emma had made a lot of friends over the past few months, and was finally beginning to feel like she truly belonged. Even her Scottish accent, which had been quite strong when they’d met her in Edinburgh, had softened as she unwittingly imitated the pronunciation of those around her. Emma was beginning to sound more like Gabe, who still had a trace of a northern accent, but after years of living in London almost sounded like a bona fide southerner.
“Is Grandma Sylvia coming to the party?” Emma asked.
“I think we’ll just have the children,” Quinn replied. “It won’t be any fun for the adults.”
