Page 118 of Feathers in the Wind
“I am not resisting, merely defending my home,” Deliverance responded. “You have my answer, Sir Richard.”
“So be it, Mistress Felton.” He doffed his hat to her and turned back to his fellows.
Luke held out his hand and helped Deliverance off the box. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and bright. He tightened his fingers on hers and smiled.
“That was well done, Mistress Felton.”
“Is that it? What happens now?”
She stepped down from the box, almost tripping on the infernal skirts again. Penitence was a few fingers taller than her and the skirts of the red gown were far too long.
“Farrington will send you a formal letter requesting your surrender,” Luke said.
“And what do I do in the meantime?”
“You sit quietly and wait,” Luke suggested.
Penitence smiled. “We have some sheets to turn into bandages, Deliverance dear. Join me in the parlour.
As Penitence ripped the castle’s oldest and most darned linen, Deliverance watched from the window as the garrison went about its last-minute preparations.
Ned and Luke stood in the centre of the courtyard, their heads together, in deep conversation. They both looked up at the sudden blast of a trumpet from beyond the walls. Luke, displaying no sense of urgency, took the steps to the curtain wall.
“This is agonising,” Deliverance complained. “I need to know what’s happening.”
Penitence joined her at the window.
Luke had returned to his position in the courtyard, his eyes on the gate. The portcullis rose and a lone figure on foot, wearing Sir Richard Farrington’s uniform jacket of blue with silver trim, ducked underneath it and walked forward. The men greeted each other with a formal bow and Luke stood to one side, gesturing for Farrington’s man to enter the residence.
Penitence gave a sharp indrawn breath and her hands flew to her mouth. “Oh, no. It’s Jack.”
Deliverance caught her sister’s arm giving her a reassuring squeeze.
“Who did you expect? He sent the least objectionable person, thinking we will capitulate to Jack’s charms. Try not to think about him as Jack, but as the enemy who wants to destroy our home and murder our garrison as he did Byton’s.”
Her sister’s lower lip trembled. “Oh, not Jack...he would never...”
“If seeing Jack is too painful, you can wait here.” At the sight of her sister’s stricken face, she continued in a softer tone. “Otherwise I would like to have you by my side.”
Melchior Blakelocke appeared at the door. “Sir Richard Farrington’s envoy is awaiting you in the Great Hall.”
Deliverance reached for her sister’s hand. “Coming, Pen?”
Penitence took a deep breath. “I am Sir John Felton’s daughter, too. I just wish I was as strong as you, Liv.”
If only she could see how my stomach is churning,Deliverance thought.
Deliverance paused at the screen before sweeping into the Great Hall, the skirts of the red gown making a satisfactory swish through the rushes on the floor. She had the satisfaction of seeing Jack’s eyes widen with surprise as he bent into a low bow. As he straightened, his eyes flicked to Penitence and Deliverance saw the naked misery in his face.
“Good afternoon, Jack,” Deliverance said, deliberately using his forename.
“Del... Mistress Felton,” Jack said. “It pains me that we must once again meet in these circumstances.
She glanced at the officers of her own garrison, who stood behind Jack. Both Luke and Ned wore expressions of military inscrutability. She was the lady of the castle and she had never felt so completely alone.
“I bring a letter from my father.”
Jack handed over the stiff parchment, bearing the Farrington seal in a pool of red wax that had been applied with such haste, or anger, that it sputtered across the paper, like drops of blood.
