Brian thought of his brother’s words about a ghost and smiled. Roger was so protective of his little brother and sister. When they were children, they needed protection from their older brother. But now, since Edmund’s death, there was no need of hiding and lying. There was a woman crying, and Brian meant to find out about her. It was probably a kitchen maid who’d fallen in love with Roger and now cried because Roger didn’t return her love. Brian realized that Roger thought his little brother knew nothing that went on between men and women. To Roger, Brian was still a frightened, hiding little boy.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs. The cellars were dark, full of wine barrels and casks of salted fish. As he listened he heard a roll of ivory dice and a couple of guards laughing and cursing. He slipped between the barrels and went toward the back where he knew a locked cell was. He had no idea why he sneaked about except that he’d learned to be good at it when Edmund was alive. Besides, he’d rather Roger didn’t think Brian had no faith in his brother.
The crying became louder as he neared the cell door. It was a soft, wrenching sound that came from inside a woman’s heart. Now he knew why the guards moved to the far side of the cellar: they didn’t want to hear the constant crying.
Brian looked inside the cell. In a formless heap in one corner lay a woman in a nun’s habit.
Brian could only gasp as he grabbed the key from the nail by the door and unlocked the door. It swung open on well-oiled, silent hinges.
“Sister,” Brian whispered as he knelt beside her. “Please let me help you.”
Mary looked up at him with fear in her eyes. “Please release me,” she whispered. “My brothers will cause a war because of this. Please! I could not bear to see them hurt.”
Brian looked at her in bewilderment. “Your brothers? Who are you? What have you done to make Roger take you as his prisoner?”
“Roger?” Mary asked. “Is he the man who holds me? Where am I? Who are you?”
Brian stared at her. Her oval face was swollen, her soft brown eyes red and irritated. She suddenly reminded him of his sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth was as perfectly lovely as an angel, and this woman looked like the Madonna. “I am Brian Chatworth and this is my home, the Chatworth estate. My brother Roger owns this house.”
“Chatworth?” Mary said, sitting up. “My brother was once in love with a lovely woman but she married a man named Chatworth.”
Brian sat back on his heels. He was beginning to see some link to this woman’s imprisonment. “You are a Montgomery!” he gasped. “I knew only of the four brothers. I had no idea there was a sister.”
“I am the eldest child, Mary Montgomery.”
Brian didn’t speak for some minutes.
“Tell me what you know. My brothers protect me too much sometimes. Why am I being held captive? Why should your brother hate my family?”
Brian immediately felt a kinship with Mary. “My brother also protects me. But I listen and I hear things. I will tell you what I know. A young woman named Alice Valence was once in love with your brother, the oldest one, Gavin is it not?”
Mary nodded.
“But for some reason I do not know, they did not marry. Alice married my eldest brother, Edmund, and Gavin married—”
“Judith,” Mary supplied.
“Yes, Judith,” Brian continued. “My brother was murdered one night.” He stopped a moment. He did not tell of the evilness of his eldest brother, the way everyone lived in terror of him. He didn’t mention the lovely young girl who cut her wrists the night Edmund was killed.
“And Alice was a widow,” Mary said quietly.
“Yes, she was. She, I believe, made some attempt to win Gavin back to her. There was an accident and hot oil spilled across her face. She was scarred badly.”
“Do you think there is some connection between this and why I am here now? Where is this Alice now?”
“She lives here. She had no one else.” He thought of the kindness of his brother Roger. “This fall Roger had a public fight with another brother of yours. They fought over a woman.”
“That could only have been Stephen. Bronwyn…never said a word.” Mary rubbed her hand across her face. “I had no idea this was going on. Oh, Brian, what are we to do? We cannot let our families war with each other.”
Brian was startled by her words. What did she mean “we”? How could she assume that he was on her side? Roger was his brother. Of course, he’d take Roger’s side. There must be a good reason why Roger was holding this quiet, gentle woman a prisoner.
Before Brian could say a word, Mary spoke again. “Why do you limp?” she asked quietly.
Brian was startled. No one had asked him that in a long time. “My leg was crushed by a horse,” he said flatly. Mary just looked at him as if she expected more, and Brian found himself transported back to a time he didn’t like to remember.
“Elizabeth was five,” he said in a faraway voice. “Even then she looked like an angel. One of the woodcarvers used her for a model for all the cherubs in the chapel. I was eight. We were playing in the sand in the jousting field. Our brother Edmund was already grown then, twenty-one years old.”
Brian paused a moment. “I don’t remember everything. Later, they said Edmund was drunk. He didn’t see Elizabeth and me as he charged onto the field.”