Page 12 of The Beautiful Pretender

Another squire came to serve a large pheasant to their section of the table. Truly, Avelina would be eating better than she ever had before, if she was not too nervous to swallow.

“Did you bring anyone with you?” Avelina asked quietly. “I have only my maidservant.”

“I have only my servant as well. I have a younger brother and younger sisters, but they are too young to accompany me.”

“I do not have any brothers or sisters.”

“Oh yes. You shall have a large inheritance. I should think a lot of noblemen would want to marry you.”

“I do not think so. Am I the last guest to arrive?”

Magdalen nodded. “Most of us have been here for a day or more. I can tell you everyone’s names, if you wish.”

“Oh yes, thank you.”

“The girl next to me is Applonia of Hindenberg, and she’s talking to Otilia of Steenbeke. Across from them is Beatrix of Darghun, and next to her, Gertrudt of Wolfberg, a tiny but very wealthy duchy on the north coast, at the Baltic Sea.”

Avelina tapped her chin with her finger. How would she ever remember all these names?

Magdalen named three more young women, all of them clad in silk and embroidered fine linen, their hair immaculate and swept up in sophisticated styles, which Avelina had been able to achieve with Dorothea but was unable to implement on her own hair. Irma, she had discovered, had no skill with dressing hair. So Avelina’s was simply braided down her back and fastened with ribbon.

“Last but not least,” Magdalen said with a slight twist of her lips. “See that girl sitting at the margrave’s right side? That’s Fronicka. Her father is the Duke of Geitbart.” Magdalen leaned over to whisper in Avelina’s ear, “She is determined to marry the margrave and she’s given every other girl here notice that if they tryto flirt with him, they will find something horrible in their bed the next night.”

Avelina leaned forward to get a better look at Fronicka. She was smiling at the margrave, looking quite demure and sweet. “Perhaps she was in jest.”

Magdalen raised her brows. “Perhaps.”

The other ladies sitting around the table were also smiling at Lord Thornbeck. All Avelina had to do was stay out of the way and let the other ladies flirt with him.

However, if Fronicka managed to marry Lord Thornbeck, it would mean certain destruction for the Earl of Plimmwald. The margrave would likely help his wife’s father, Geitbart, take over Plimmwald rather than stopping him and defending Plimmwald. The earl would be killed or imprisoned. All the people of Plimmwald, including her father and siblings, would be at Geitbart’s mercy.

She whispered under her breath, “God, be merciful and do not let the margrave choose her.”

As Avelina and Magdalen ate, Magdalen spoke of her younger sisters and brother with warmth and affection. “I wish they could have come with me, but the invitation was only for myself.” She talked about her mother and siblings a bit more, then spoke of how poor the villagers of Mallin were. “The copper mines have been Mallin’s main source of wealth. But about ten years ago the copper suddenly ran out. My father died soon after.” She sighed. “Our land does not grow much food, as the soil is very rocky. It would be good for raising sheep and other livestock, but the people don’t have money for buying livestock. It is why my mother wants to marry me to a wealthy nobleman, hoping he will help our people.”

Avelina nodded. “Plimmwald is not very wealthy either. Most of our people are farmers or woodcutters . . . peasants.” That was what Lady Dorothea called all the people of Plimmwald.

“My father always emphasized to me that as the noble family of Mallin, we were ultimately responsible for our people. I feel guilty sometimes living in a house made of stone, with silk dresses and plenty of food, when so many in our villages are going hungry.”

Avelina knew that guilty feeling too, but it was because she often slept and ate at Plimmwald Castle, while her little sister and brother had to fend for themselves in their little dirt-floor, wattle-and-daub hovel they shared with their father, who was dependent on the neighbors to help him get from his chair to his bed.

“But what can we do to help them?” Avelina wondered aloud.

“There is only one thing a woman might do, and that is to marry someone wealthy—and generous.”

Avelina started tapping her chin, then stopped herself as she realized it did not look very regal or ladylike.

“My maidservant said the margrave would want to ask me some questions. Did he already talk with you?”

Magdalen nodded, her mouth full of pheasant.

“What did he ask you? Will I be too frightened to even be able to speak?” She asked the latter question more to herself than to Magdalen.

“It was not frightening, although I do think the margrave himself is a little gruff and frightening. His questions were not what I might have expected, but they were respectful and nothing was difficult to answer. Do not worry. You will answer him well.”

“It hardly matters. I do not wish to marry the margrave in any case,” she confided.

“Do you not?”