Darcey Bonnette - Betrayal in the Tudor Court

He was shown into the house, where he was instructed to wait in the great hall for the girl. It was a stunning hall, outfitted with imported Turkish carpets, intricate tapestries, and stained-glass windows bearing the Burkhart coat of arms. He shook his head, awed as always by such opulence. It, along with all of the treasures within, belonged to a single little girl now. Quite heady.

“I’m afraid she won’t come down, Father,” a stout servant informed him with a huffing sigh. “She’s been devastated since her loss, sequestering herself in her mother’s wardrobe. She takes her meals in there and everything—only leaving to use the chamber pot!” With this the round face flushed deep crimson. “If I may be begging your pardon, Father.”

Father Alec smiled and waved a hand in dismissal. “Perhaps you should take me to the girl.”

“I apologise, Father,” the servant continued as she led him up the stairs to the chamber that used to belong to Baroness Ashley Burkhart. “Lady Cecily has always had a bit of a stubborn streak in her and now aggrieved as she is—”

“I am not worried, mistress,” assured the young priest with a slight chuckle.

The servant entered the chambers first. “Lady Cecily, there’s a priest here waiting to see you, a servant of God! You’ll not want to be angering a servant of God!”

“We’re all servants of God, so I expect he should not want to anger me, either!” a little voice shot back.

Father Alec’s lips twitched, but he refrained from breaking into a smile.

The servant balled her thick hand into a fist and pounded on the heavy oaken doors of the wardrobe. “Now we’ve indulged you long enough! You come out of there!”

At this Father Alec rushed forward, laying his hands upon the doughy shoulders of the servant. “Please, mistress, perhaps you should allow me. If you wouldn’t mind stepping out?”

Scowling, the servant scuffled out of the room, slamming the chamber door so that the little girl within the wardrobe was certain her displeasure was heard.

Father Alec laid a slim-fingered hand on the door. “Lady Cecily, my name is Father Alec Cahill. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind coming out and speaking with me awhile? If you do not like what I have to say you can go back in if it pleases you.”

“No!”

Father Alec leaned his forehead on the door. He found himself wishing with more fervency that the Pierces had come to collect the girl.

“Then perhaps you will allow me to come in there and talk to you,” he suggested in gentle tones.

Silence.

“All right, you may come in,” she conceded.

“Thank you, my lady,” said Father Alec as he opened the door and crawled inside the cramped, stuffy wardrobe. He folded his knees up under his cassock and thanked God he didn’t have gout. “This is a rather nice spot, my lady, if I may say so.”

“Thank you,” the child replied, her voice thick with reluctance.

“I’m told you’ve made it a second home,” he said. “Small for gentry folk, but I suppose it has all the amenities.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “My … my … lady’s gowns are here so I stay here to be closer to her. To her smell.” Her voice caught in her throat. “It makes her seem alive.”

“My child, you will never heal from this. I know.” Father Alec heaved a sigh, squeezing his eyes against memories of his own. He continued. “But God will give you the strength to go on and each day your burden will be easier to bear. You must honour their memory by living. There is so much of the world to see, so much that you need to do. You are the last of your family and it is up to you to be brave and carry on for them, to grow up, to marry and have children. You cannot do any of that if you hide yourself away in this little wardrobe.”

“But if I come out it all becomes true. One day will go by and then another and another. And all without them,” she said miserably. “In here it isn’t quite real; in here I can pretend they’re just away. They were always away so that is easy,” she added with a sniffle. “I can still smell my mother’s pomander, you know. I wait for her in here. Any minute, I keep thinking, she will throw open the doors and find me hiding, just like she used to when she was alive. She would laugh and put her hand to her heart as though I gave her an awful fright—but all along she knew I was there.”

Father Alec was silent along moment. “It sounds like a beautiful memory, Lady Cecily. I imagine your mother must have been a kind, loving woman. It would break her heart to see you hiding away. She cannot come find you now. So she sent God to. And God and your mother both long to see you come out and take your place in the world.”

The child was silent.

In the hopes she was giving credence to his words, Father Alec went on. “I’m certain the wardrobe with all of your mother’s lovely gowns can be brought to your new chambers at Sumerton,” he told her. “And someday when you are big enough, the gowns can be updated and fitted for you. Your mother would love to know you would use them again, I imagine.”

Cecily paused a long moment, then quietly, in tremulous tones, she asked, “What is Sumerton like?”

“It’s a lovely place, much like your home,” Father Alec told her. “It is surrounded by a lush forest teeming with life and there is a lake the Pierces keep their barge on. There are stables filled with beautiful horses and mews with regal hawks. And Lord Sumerton loves hounds. The king himself has called them among the finest in England.”

“The earl—I am his ward now?” Cecily asked.

Father Alec nodded, then, realising it was too dark for her to see, said, “Yes.”

“Is he kind?”

“He is,” Father Alec told her in truth. He had never known Lord Hal to be unkind. The man always smiled, always had a gentle word for his children, never raised a hand to anyone. “He is kind and quite young, in truth.” He smiled in fondness. “He and Lady Grace, the countess, are both vibrant with youth and vigour. It is … well, it is a fun place, my lady—very alive. And me, I am tutor to their children, which means I will be educating you as well.”

“Tell me of the children,” Cecily prompted.

Father Alec’s legs were getting sore and stiff within the confines of the wardrobe, but he continued. He would win this child. Rather win her than have to drag her kicking and screaming to Sumerton. He rubbed the backs of his knees as he talked.

“One, young Aubrey—they call him Brey—is just your age, and Mirabella is thirteen. They are loving children and eager to make your acquaintance,” he said. “Why, the whole household has been in a thrall of preparations since news of your wardship. They will be so disappointed if I cannot convince you to join me.” He paused. “Won’t you join me, Lady Cecily?”

She was silent again. “Yes,” she acquiesced at last. She pushed open the doors, squinting as blinding white light flooded the wardrobe.

Father Alec scrambled to his feet, then extended his hand toward the girl.

She accepted it, emerging from the depths of the wardrobe to reveal a stunning beauty with rippling waves of rose-gold hair and startling teal blue eyes set in a tiny face with skin the colour of alabaster. Father Alec’s breath caught in his throat. An example , he thought to himself. I am looking at an example of God’s art, for this child is nothing if not a masterpiece .

He squeezed the little hand in his. She turned her strange eyes to him, eyes that were a mingling of so many emotions—fear, grief, anxiety, longing. Longing to trust, to be happy. To live.

Together priest and child proceeded out of Burkhart Manor, where waited the coach that would carry them toward Sumerton and Cecily’s new life.