Чтение онлайн

What happiness! What sweetness awaits her!

After kissing her friend on the forehead, Brigid wished her good night, took one of the candleholders, left the chambers and, lighting the corridor with the dancing light of a single candle, headed for her father's chambers: she had had enough of hearing him say that he was marrying her to William. She needed to hear it before she went to bed.

As she approached the door of her father's bedchamber, Brigid knocked timidly and immediately heard a sharp, "Come in!" This gave the girl courage, and, gathering more air into her lungs, she opened the door and entered the chamber.

Sir Richard had no thought of going to bed: he was sitting at an oak table, on which a candlestick with two candles burned dimly, writing a letter. The creak of a sharpened quill being pressed with force against the yellow parchment could be heard.

– Are you still awake? – Brigid smiled affectionately, standing in the doorway, hesitating to approach her father.

– As you can see," he said briefly, not even looking at his daughter. – What do you want?

– Father, I… I heard that William Tury has asked for a girl's hand in marriage today…" Brigid's breath came in short gasps of excitement, and the words she had so carefully chosen on her way to her father stuck in her throat.

– Asked," was her answer.

– When will we be married? – The girl's soul was filled with a divine light: it had happened! Soon she would marry the man she loved, and he would take her to his father's castle!

– Yours? – Sir Richard asked with a sneer in his voice.

The quill in his fingers froze.

– He has asked for my hand! – Brigid reminded him in a trembling and solemn tone.

– He asked for one girl`s hand. But not yours.

– Not mine? But… Whose?

– William had not spoken to me, but to Sir Norton. He asked for his daughter's hand.

– Alienor?! – The girl gasped, and a pain shot through her chest as if she had been pierced by the sharp sword that William Tury sometimes wore on his belt, in its gold-embellished scabbard. – And what… What did her father reply?

– He was pleased. The wedding is to be.

– My daughter, what have you been thinking? – Sir Richard frowned. – What nonsense lives in your empty head? Why would William Tury want you for a wife? I am poor! All the fault of that witch Anne Boleyn!

– But how? It cannot be, Father, you are mistaken! – burst from the poor girl's breast. Her lips trembled, and tears of disappointment and deceived hope came to her eyes.

How cruelly she had been mistaken!

– I have had enough of your foolishness! Go to your chambers! – Sir Richard threw irritably.

– 'Father, he could not ask for Alienor's hand…'

– I said out!

– Please…I love him! I love him with all my heart! – Brigid cried out in despair. – I think he was drunk… He got drunk and mistook Alienor for me!

– He asked her father for her hand in marriage," Sir Richard said, and resumed writing. – I am the unlucky one with a daughter. You are beautiful, but you are as good as this table, though the table is useful, and you are a waste. You're in your best shape, and still no one wants to marry you.

– It's all your fault, sir… You've brought our family into disgrace! – whispered Brigid, but so quietly that her stern, cruel father could not hear her and punish her with a wet rod.

– Learn from your friend. She knows how to interest a man, and you've been standing against the wall all night with a face like a sheep at the slaughterhouse. Go to your chambers. That's an order.

Her father's cold voice made Brigid flinch: he used his vocal cords with such skill that it was as if a cruel hard palm had struck her cheek.

– 'As you say, father. – She curtsied and stepped out into the dark corridor.

As Brigid closed the door, a gust of air blew out the candle she held in her hand, and the girl was greeted by the darkness of night, for despite his wealth, Lord Norton, the master of the castle, was unwilling to spend money on candles or torches in the corridors, for they cost a great deal and burned out quickly. But the darkness never frightened Brigid: it was her faithful friend when she could not sleep at night, and the girl imagined in colours William, her wedding to him and her first wedding night. But it was all just silly and unfulfilled dreams: William wants Alienor! She is the one he wants as his wife, the one he wants to caress in the marital bedroom, the one he sees as the mother of his children! And she, Brigid, is incapable of anything… That's what her father said.

Putting the candleholder on the floor, which made a muffled thud in the corridor, Brigid leaned her hand on the wall, for her legs could not hold her, and put her other hand on the gold chain with a cross adorning her neck. Her lungs, constricted by the tight kirtle, refused to serve her, and she caught the air with her lips like a fish that had accidentally jumped out of the water onto dry land.

How had this happened? Didn't she spend every day in prayer? Didn't she fervently ask the Almighty to give her William's love? Did she not pray enough? Did she not ask humbly enough? She was a dutiful daughter, and in spite of everything, not a single harsh word about her parents escaped her lips. And Alienor? What did she deserve?

"William… My William! For you do not even realise that you broke my heart! You gave me a dance and smiled at me, but your thoughts were not with me, but with her… And you, Alienor, my sister? Did you know of his love? You convinced me that he would be mine, but instead it was you who would walk down the marriage aisle… And it was your body he would caress, kiss your lips, and write sonnets about you… And I am nothing… Disappointment. But, dear sister, it's not your fault' thought the girl wistfully. The cup she was about to drink was not an elixir of happiness, but bitterness, and she drank it to the bottom.

Having recovered a little, Brigid made her way to Alienor's chambers. Her eyes, accustomed to the darkness, easily recognised the familiar path, and the soft light of the growing moon encouraged her to seek answers from her friend. Alienor wouldn't lie to her face, she never would, and if she had any tender feelings for William, she would suppress them, for she knew that Brigid had loved him first. Long ago, as little girls, the girls had sworn to each other that no man would separate them or threaten their friendship: the one who fell in love first would always be the first. Brigid hoped that Alienor had not gone to bed yet; she would not want to wake her after a tiresome evening, only to ask her a single question: "But how did it happen?"