A Servant's Security

Chapter 13

(John's POV)

Elizabeth had picked a red rose and placed it in a small pottery vase filled with water, setting it on the gray stone mantle over the fireplace. John studied it, admiring the shape, the color, the delicate beauty of the petals. The servants were busy in their early morning chores, leaving him alone in the upper hall, so he set his easel and paper next to a window. Placing the rose on a table beside him, he took out his materials and began to paint.

It had been a long time since he had wanted to paint. Perhaps the country and this village were good for him after all. He stroked the brush across the paper until a rose emerged, but something else was emerging as well. The real subject was not the rose, but the person holding the rose. A girl with blonde hair with full lips and a familiar nose and wide blue eyes.

He suddenly realized who was emerging on his canvas, and it made him feel annoyed. But he had already started the painting. It would be a shame not to finish it.

After he was done, he would hide it.

He added a slight blush to her cheeks and a wisp of hair touching her chin. He took extra care in forming her nose and eyebrows, trying to get them exactly right. If he was going to paint her, he might as well do it to the best of his abilities. He pulled the paper closer to the window, since the sun was nearly overhead and not streaming in as brightly as before. When he did, he caught movement next to the house. The subject of his painting, Isabel, was washing laundry with Anastasia. And sneaking up behind her was Bailiff Richard. 

(Isabel's POV)

Isabel worked opposite of Anastasia on the tub of dirty laundry. She let her mind wander as she scrubbed a sheet from one of the servant's beds.

"Isabel. You look as if you're solving the world's problems." Miss Elizabeth stood beside her holding a bundle of laundry that overflowed in her arms.

"Forgive me. I was thinking." She took the bundle from her arms and plunged the load into the warm tub of water.

"There's nothing to forgive, my dear. You girls have washed a lot in a short period of time." She picked up the basket of clean clothes that Isabel and Anastasia had finished washing, and carried it towards the clothesline.

Isabel glanced at Anastasia then stated as the servant girl held one of Lord Goodwin's unwashed shirts against her cheek and closed her eyes. She seemed to be inhaling the scent of it.

Anastasia's eyes flickered open and she caught Isabel staring. Anastasia scowled and pushed the shirt down into the water, applying soap and roughly scrubbing the material.

Isabel wondered how Anastasia could have such strong feelings for Lord Goodwin. She herself had never felt anything for any man, and couldn't imagine men having such appeal that she would sniff their dirty shirts!

Anastasia finished wringing out Lord Goodwin's shirt and laid it in the basket. Isabel concentrated on her own scrubbing, though her thoughts wandered again to Anastasia. Why did Lord Goodwin appeal to Anastasia? She had probably discovered how quickly one grew used to the lord's scarred hand and face. The confident way he held himself gave him such an image that she could imagine how Anastasia would consider him superior to every other man living in Glynval.

Soon, Isabel started to think about her family. She wondered for the hundredth time how her family was getting along without her. Who was doing the cooking? Did they get enough to eat? Were they milking the cow every day? 

With a start, Isabel realized she had been scrubbing a short more aggressively than she had intended. Eyebrows raised, Anastasia announced that she was going to get the rest of the dirty laundry then got up and walked away.

Someone was walking towards her, but Isabel didn't pay attention, thinking it was a servant. When she looked up, Bailiff Richard was striding towards her with an ugly stare.

"Have you had enough of all this hard work?" He leaned over her, blowing his breath in her face. "Not used to working from sunup to sundown, are you?"

"I rather enjoy it." Isabel said, going back to washing the clothes before her and pretending to ignore him. Hurry, Anastasia.

He snorted. "If you change your mind, I believe the lord will let you out of your forced servitude and allow you to marry me. Three years is a long time for such hard labor, especially for a girl like you."

He began to run his hand down her arm. She jerked away from him and leapt to her feet. "Don't touch me." Her hand went into her pocket and closed around the handle of her knife. "I told you, I will not marry you."

With a hand on her shoulder, he shoved her back down on her stool. He leaned down, and stroked her arm again. "Come with me to the woods tonight, and I'll show you what a real man is like."

"Get away from me!" Isabel raised her voice, desperately hoping someone would come and help her. Surely someone was within hearing distance.

"Bailiff." Lord Goodwin's voice cracked like a whip behind her.

The bailiff let go. Isabel stood and stepped away from him, her knees suddenly weak.

"What are you doing?"

"Just speaking with the girl about her work. She's a known slacker, and I wouldn't trust her, my lord. Don't allow yourself to be alone with this one, as you never know what she might do. Her family-"

"Come with me." Lord Goodwin took a few steps toward the manor house, then stopped and waited for Richard to march ahead of him. The two walked away.

Isabel bit her lip against the anger, relief, and shame waging war inside. She shuddered at the way the bailiff had held her down. And what about the thing he said about her? The lord already had a low opinion of her. Please God, don't let the bailiff turn him against me.