Page 37 of The Beautiful Pretender

“What is that?” Avelina went over to the bed and pulled back the coverlet. There, smeared all over the sheet, was some kind of filth that smelled of horse manure. Very fresh horse manure.

“Ugh,” Magdalen said, while Avelina gagged and had to turn away.

Avelina ran to the adjacent compartment where Irma slept and yanked open the door. Irma was no longer lying there, as she had been most of the day.

With her arm over her nose, Avelina hurried out of the room, Magdalen leading the way.

Out in the corridor, Magdalen whispered, “Will you tell Lord Thornbeck?”

Avelina gulped in the cleaner air of the corridor. “What would I tell him? ‘My bed is full of horse manure’? No, I will simply have to find clean bedding and throw out these. I can remake the bed and it will be well enough.”

“Shouldn’t you get a servant to do that?”

Avelina opened her mouth, realizing her blunder. “Of course,Iwill not change the bedding. I will get a servant—Irma, she can do it.”

“I shall send Hegatha to find Irma, or to have some of the other servants clean up the mess.” Magdalen went to her own bedchamber and soon came back with Hegatha, who walked past them down the corridor without even glancing at Avelina.

“We will have it cleaned up in no time.”

Avelina shuddered. She did not want to admit it, but her insides were all churned up to think someone would do something like this. Fronicka had brought several servants with her, and she must have had them do the vicious deed.

Avelina wanted to hurt her, to do the same thing back to her, and to add a few stinging nettles. But of course, as the priest in Plimmwald had said, God demands forgiveness, and vengeance does not belong to man. For now, she had to concentrate on keeping one step ahead of Fronicka.

Magdalen shook her head. “Who knows what she might do next. I think we should tell Lord Thornbeck.”

“Perhaps.” Avelina tapped her chin with her finger. “But I don’t want to run to him with such a petty . . .” She sighed. “I simply have to get through these next ten days. Surely we can do that.”

“Very well. Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight? I sometimes let my sisters sleep with me.”

She did not relish sleeping in the bed where Fronicka had left her such a disgusting offering, but she also did not wish to have Magdalen’s old nursemaid giving her sour looks. No, Avelina was a grown woman. “Thank you, but I think I shall be well.”

Hegatha came back just then, an even sterner look on her face than usual, with Irma in tow, carrying clean bedclothes and grumbling under her breath. She brushed past them and entered Avelina’s bedchamber—and exclaimed in a high-pitched voice.

“Come to my room.” Magdalen took her by the arm, leading her.

Avelina spent the next hour with Magdalen, until they heard the other ladies coming up the stairs. She hurried back to her room. She checked the bed, throwing back the sheets. Then she knelt and checked under it. Nothing was there. Surprisingly, there was no lingering stench, only a strong herbal smell of lavender and pennyroyal.

She took off her outer clothes, crawled into bed, and lay staring at the canopy above her with all the curtains pulled back to let in as much light as possible. Was it her imagination that something was touching her leg?

She threw the covers off and sat up. All she saw was one of her own long brown hairs by her leg. She laughed out loud at herself.

She lay down again and tried to close her eyes, but she kept seeing the mess that had been in her bed. Finally, she got up and went to Irma’s little room and opened the door.

“Irma?”

“Yes,” answered the lump on the bed.

“Do you mind if I leave your door open?”

“Afraid of that nasty Lady Fronicka, are you? I warned you she was a malicious one. What did you do to make her hate you?”

“Nothing!”

“From what I hear from the other servants, the margrave fancies you. You had best make sure—”

“That is not true. He favors Lady Magdalen.”

“That’s not what I hear.”