The Damaged Bride

Chapter 8

As morning dawned, Marcus extricated himself from Erica's embrace and returned to his own rooms to dress for his morning's ride. As he pulled on his riding boots, Marcus felt a moment of clarity. This morning his house, his land, they were his again.

No more worrying that O'Flagnery would bring the constables and have him thrown out of this place that had been his family's for hundreds of years. No more worrying about being indentured to O'Flagnery either, as long as he could get his wife with child, his home was still his.

Guiding his horse out of the stables, Marcus was determined to ride over his land, from east to west and north to south; it was all his. Feeling the wind on his face, Marcus spurred his horse faster, for the first time in years, he finally felt free. Going from farm to farm, Marcus could see that there was much work to be done.

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Bridgette watched from her small arrow slit window as Marcus rode away into the morning mist. Loneliness as she had never felt it before crept into her heart, causing a shiver to run through her body.

Rubbing her hands up and down her arms to warm them, she gasped in pain as her hand passed over her left arm. Rolling up her nightgown sleeve, Bridgette could see several small deep purple bruises marking the place where Marcus had grabbed her the night before.

They would fade of course, as all of the bruises her grandfather inflicted on her, but she had been so childish, so blind to believe that Marcus would be any different. What she had taken for pride and strength were nothing more than arrogance and rage.

Marcus was no different than any other man, he would hurt her and use her.

Wiping the unbidden tears from her face Bridgette moved to her trunk and retrieved her least patched gown and kirtle. By the time Christine arrived she was not only dressed, but her bedding had been straightened and everything put to rights.

Christine was astonished, nearly dropping her tray of brown bread, cheese and mead. Not only was her new mistress dressed, she had completed every chore worth doing in her room.

"Miss," Christine said with a curtsy before setting Bridgette's food on the small table by the fire.

"Good morning," Bridgette replied, standing aside, looking anxiously at her maid.

"Is there anything else you need ma'am?" Christine asked, unable to gauge the woman who was now her mistress.

She'd grown up hearing horrible stories about Douglass O'Flagnery and had assumed his granddaughter would be just like him, but this frightened girl was not what she expected.

"No," Bridgette replied, still standing away from Christine as if afraid. "Thank you."

"Leave the plate and trencher when you're done," Christine said, "I'll retrieve them later."

With that she was gone and Bridgette was alone once more.

Ravenous, Bridgette quickly devoured every morsel of food and drank down the spicy mead with relish. Thus refreshed, she decided she would like nothing more than to be doing something, anything. Taking her cup and plate in hand, she simply followed her nose to the kitchens.

There she found several women hard at work, churning the mornings butter, plucking a hen, and chopping vegetables. When Bridgette stepped into the room, all conversation ceased and the ladies simply stared at her. Not one of the women in the room would look her in the eyes.

Her courage flagging, Bridgette simply put her breakfast implements down on the nearest table and fled.

Walking away she could hear that conversation was once again taking place in the kitchen. Not wanting to hear what they were saying about her, she moved quickly into the main hall.

Walking slowly, she marveled at the tapestries that hung, each depicting a scene from the bible. Gingerly, she reached out and caressed the delicate threads with her finger.

Bridgette wished she possessed the talent it would take to make such a beautiful piece of art, but she'd never been taught how.

Staring in awe, Bridgette did not hear the crunching of horses hooves as they entered the courtyard. She was unaware that anyone was with her until the first blow was struck, sending her forward into the tapestry, tearing it from the wall as it too fell to the floor.