The other truth was that the more I got to know her, the more concerned I was for her well-being. I’d tried again to probe into her situation and her unnamed enemy. When I asked her about the duchess’s steward who had leveled the accusations of stealing against her, she’d offered little in her defense. My guess was that the steward had pilfered from the coffer to line his own pockets and had allowed Lady Gabriella to suffer for it.
How could I blame her for keeping secrets from me when I’d done the same to her?
“May I start training today?” she whispered as she stopped to wipe the sheen of perspiration from her brow. “Please? A week has passed.”
I scooped up pieces of rock that had fallen to the ground and dumped them in my basket, bringing the level nearly to the top.
After pretending to be enamored with each other for the past week, what would Curly think if I pulled Gabriella aside today for a few minutes alone? Would he allow it? Or would he come after me the way he had the first day Gabriella and I had started talking? He’d pressed a sharp rock against my back and told me I’d fare much worse if I did anything to hurt Gabi, especially leading her on only to break her heart.
I glanced down the drift to where the leader and his gang of loyal followers worked, not only filling their baskets but also completing quotas for the people in the infirmary.
There was only one way to find out his reaction. We had to sneak off.
“I’ll go first.” I tucked my tools into my rope belt. With my shoulders in a perpetual hunch and my head low to avoid hitting the ceiling, I crept toward the end of the drift, heading for a tunnel that had already been mined for anything of value.
A minute later Gabriella stepped into the passageway. She paused, uncertainty wrinkling her brow. “Do we have enough light here?”
It was dim, with scant illumination from the main drift. While it would be enough to hold any rats at bay, such conditions weren’t ideal for teaching her how to wield a knife.
“We’ll stay on the end closest to the light.”
She searched the shadows, her fear palpable. “We cannot take long, so shall we begin?”
I slipped the knife out of the secretive sheath built into my boot. At the sight of the small but sharp blade, she blanched. She was the gentlest soul I’d ever met. I doubted she’d be able to kill anyone, even if she trained for it and tried.
“Take it by the grip,” I instructed.
Gingerly she touched the ivory but then pulled away, biting her lip.
“Are you sure you must do this?” I asked.
She hesitated, then wrapped her fingers around the knife’s grip. She held it awkwardly, and as I positioned her hand, I realized her training would be slow. Especially since her first and only lesson for today would consist of becoming comfortable touching the weapon.
If nothing else, my lessons would teach her self-defense. With a sharp rock, she might be able to protect herself if she were attacked again by rats.
Her knuckles were almost as white as the ivory handle.
“Loosen your hold a little.”
For several minutes, she practiced moving the knife from hand to hand and getting her fingers into the correct hold.
“Good,” I said as she gripped it tighter. At the crunch of footsteps nearing our passageway, I maneuvered her against the nearest wall and pressed into her, forcing her hand down to her side where the knife would be hidden.
She started to struggle, pushing against my chest.
“Take heed,” I whispered. “Someone is coming.” I nuzzled my nose into her hair and tried to act casual and yet ardent at the same time.
She sucked in a breath and held herself immobile.
I brushed my cheek against hers and was suddenly conscious of the softness and warmth of her skin as well as the silk of her hair.
As the footsteps entered our deserted passageway, she tensed even more. I dropped one of my hands to the knife and slipped it from her grip. I would be able to hide it up my sleeve until I had the chance to return it to my sole.
At a clearing throat behind us, I pretended to startle.
“My lady,” Benedict said with a hint of anxiety in his voice. “Are you in trouble?”
“No trouble, Benedict.” Her voice squeaked.
I quickly backed away, hiding the knife at the same time.
“We were just talking.” She smoothed her hands over her stained skirt, even as a flush climbed up her cheeks. “Were we not?”
“Yes. And now we must return to work.”
As I passed Benedict, I could sense the disapproval in his gaze following me until I was gone. But strangely, all I could think about as I returned to my digging was the brief contact I’d had with Gabriella and the sweetness of holding her, if only for a few seconds.
Chapter
6
Gabriella
“Is she any better this morn?” Molly knelt across from me in the infirmary.
I let my song, one of the psalms, fade to silence before I pressed the cold cloth to Alice’s forehead, willing her my strength and health. But to no avail. Nothing I’d done had helped my dear old servant.
“She still languishes with fever.” I kissed Alice’s cheek, the flesh hanging loose and lifeless.
“I’m sorry, Gabi.” Molly hugged her shawl tightly, covering the stump still bandaged but beginning to heal.
At the rapid rise and fall of Alice’s chest, I sat back on my heels, tears stinging my eyes at the helplessness of my situation. Back at Rockland, I would have had access to the apothecary for fever-reducing remedies. But here . . . in this godforsaken place?
If only we knew what caused the fevers. Some believed the superstitions, blaming wraiths for breathing upon some and not others. I suspected the noxious fumes that existed in parts of the mine had something to do with people falling ill. Regardless, I needed to find a way to bring Alice’s fever down.
My gaze strayed outside to where a few of the overseers were finishing repairs to the suspension bridge so the supply transports could cross more safely. Was it possible I could plead with them for medicine?
Some of the women were laundering blankets and clothing on our one day off a week. Water bubbled in pots hanging over the central fire pit, lines were strung between the huts, and a few dripping garments flapped in the breeze. After the long winter months, our linens were in sore need of cleaning. But I couldn’t leave Alice’s side. I’d even skipped going down into the mines yesterday so I could tend to her.
I’d been surprised when Vilmar had surfaced at dusk not only with his bucket, but mine and Alice’s, both full. He claimed others had done what they could to help, but Benedict later informed me that Vilmar had done most of the drilling himself, working without a break for hours.
I’d only spoken with Vilmar briefly when he stopped in the infirmary to deliver the food rations he’d earned for us. Later, Curly brought me the news that Vilmar and Ty had gone back down into the mine pits and hadn’t come back up before the hatch had been closed for the night.
No one knew what had possessed Vilmar and his companion to descend or why they hadn’t returned. I’d tossed and turned all night, thinking about what might have happened. And earlier at Mass, I’d offered prayers for him and Ty when I wasn’t praying for Alice.