“What does thee wish?” came a quiet voice.
Andreas shifted from the besotted lover to the imposing knight in a heartbeat. He peered at the face on the other side.
“My name is Andreas de Wolfe,” he said. “My aunt and uncle are the Earl and Countess of Northumbria. Please admit us.”
The woman didn’t move right away. She was trying to see the men in the darkness and what they were wearing. When Andreas realized that, he stood back and opened his cloak so she could see his de Wolfe tunic. It was one of the most recognizable in northern England.
That was enough to open the gate.
Andreas entered, leading Gavriella by the hand, followed by Will and finally Gareth. Brodie and Corey remained outside with the men. The tiny nun closed the gate, motioning for her guests to follow.
“Come with me,” she said, heading for the tower.
They pursued the woman into the stout, round tower. The entry level was surprisingly roomy, with a big entry chamber that had an enormous hearth and then a secondary chamber off that, containing a long table and sturdy benches. It was the dining hall. As the old woman bolted the door behind them, a woman in robes came down the stairs. She was swathed in unbleached wool from head to toe, her face round and rosy as she focused on the visitors.
“I am Sister Fiona,” she said. “May I ask what brings thee at this late hour?”
Andreas didn’t even have a chance to respond because Gavriella recognized her. She rushed the woman.
“Do you remember me?” she said, nearly plowing the woman over in her eagerness. “My name is Gavriella de Leia and you came to Falstone Castle last year to collect my son. He was newly born and my father forced me to give him over to you. Do you remember? His name was Storm. I told you that before you took him away.”
There was a plea in her tone. Begging. She wanted the woman to remember her so badly and the woman, in fact, studied her closely for a moment.
“Falstone,” Sister Fiona said slowly. “A newly born infant, male.”
“Aye!”
Sister Fiona nodded. “I remember,” she said. “Thou were quite distraught, as I recall. Thou asked me to take good care of thy little boy.”
Gavriella nodded quickly. “I did,” she said, tears stinging her eyes. “I have come to retrieve him. I am to marry Sir Andreas. He is a de Wolfe. His aunt and uncle are patrons of this charity. Please… may I have my son?”
The sister’s focus lingered on her a moment, her features conveying surprise. Her gaze moved to Andreas, standing behind Gavriella with two other big knights.
“I see,” she said after a moment. “Sir Andreas, thou art related to Lady Northumbria?”
Andreas nodded. “I am,” he said. “Her husband is my father’s brother.”
“Who is thy father?”
“Troy de Wolfe, Lord Braemoor,” he said. “He is the lord of Kale Water Castle. It is not far from here.”
Sister Fiona nodded. “I know of it,” she said. “And you are to marry this lady?”
“I am. I will be a good father to the lad, I swear it.”
Sister Fiona looked between Andreas and Gavriella for a moment before her focus finally settled on Andreas.
May… may I speak with thee a moment, my lord?” she asked. “Alone, please.”
It seemed like a strange request, but if it would get her child any faster, Gavriella was willing to do anything. Perhaps the old woman wanted to interrogate Andreas to make sure he would be a good father. Andreas walked past her, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder as if to beg for her patience, as he followed the old nun into the next chamber.
As Gavriella twitched and paced in the entry hall, Andreas had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong. It was the way the woman had looked at Gavriella when she recognized her. The woman came to a halt and turned to him.
“My lord,” she said quietly. “I did not wish to tell the young lady in front of everyone, so as her betrothed, I will let thee tell her.”
Andreas’ stomach lurched. “Tell her what?”
The old woman wasn’t without sympathy. “Last month, several of the children contracted a fever,” she said softly. “The lady’s son was one of them. He was a sweet child, a healthy child, but the fever weakened him greatly. We lost four children to the illness, the lady’s son included.”
Andreas closed his eyes and lowered his head. “God,” he groaned. “He’s dead?”
“Aye.” Sister Fiona watched him struggle. “I am so very sorry. I remember thy lady when I came to take the child. She was utterly heartbroken over it, but I also remember her father. He was quite… firm, I am sorry to say. I do not know what the circumstances of the child’s birth were and I did not ask, but it seemed to me as if it was an… unfortunate birth.”
She meant illegitimate, but she was too tactful to say so. Andreas dragged a hand over his face.
“Unfortunate, indeed,” he said. “But I assure you, it was through no wrongdoing of her own. She was so happy to collect her son and now… it does not seem fair that tragedy seems to follow her wherever she goes.”
Sister Fiona nodded faintly. “Am I to understand you are not the father?”
“Nay.”
“But you would raise the child as your own.”
Andreas shrugged. “The child is part of her. That is all I see.”
A smile creased the old woman’s lips. It was a touching thing to say. “Sir Andreas,” she said softly. “Sometimes God moves in ways that we do not understand but always with a purpose. I do not profess to know what his purpose was for allowing a child’s death, but it must not be in vain. We must have faith.”
Andreas snorted. “Faith,” he muttered. “Is that what I am to tell her? That we must have faith in God because he has allowed another tragedy to befall her? What should I tell her that purpose is, Sister?”
Sister Fiona didn’t have an answer. “She is young to know such hardship.”
Andreas turned his head as if to see her through the wall that separated them. “She is young and compassionate and sweet, and she has never committed a sin in her life, yet bad things seem to find her,” he said. “I told her I would protect her, but I cannot protect her from this. I do not even know how. Already, I feel as if I have failed her.”
“She loves her son very much?”
“Very much. You said yourself how heartbroken she was when they were separated.”
Sister Fiona watched him struggle with his emotions, his faith, his everything, and an idea occurred to her. A mother without a child… and so many children in her care without mothers.
Perhaps she could fix what Andreas could not.
“Go to her,” she said. “But do not tell her what I have told you. Not yet.”
He looked at her, torn between grief and curiosity. “Why?”
Sister Fiona was already heading out of the chamber. “Please,” she said. “Have faith, Sir Andreas. I will only be a moment.”
By that time, she was into the entry, heading for the stairs. Andreas came out after her, watching the woman with confusion as she disappeared up the steps. But Gavriella rushed to him, distracting him.
“Where is she going?” she asked.