The Damaged Bride

Chapter 16

Before long Bridgette knew all of the gossip on the estate, she knew who was expecting a new addition to their families and who had recently lost someone. She knew the hardships Marcus had inherited along with his estate. The harvest this year was a good one, owing mostly to hours and hours of work he’d put into all of his tenant’s farms.

As Christine prattled on, Bridgette couldn’t help but smile. This was the first time she’d ever felt anything like friendship and it filled her heart with joy.

Moira joined her for tea and brought with her a beautifully bound book.

“A bible,” Bridgette breathed as she reverently stroked the soft leather.

“Yes miss,” Moira said, settling into her now familiar armchair. “Since you won’t be able to make it to mass tomorrow, I thought you might like to read some passages.”

Bridgette quickly removed her hand from the tome and turned her face away.

“Did I say something wrong child?” Moira asked, concern in her voice.

“No,” Bridgette sniffled, “it is not anything you have done.”

“Then what is it?” Moira asked, moving to place her arms around her mistress.

“I can not read,” Bridgette sobbed, turning into the older woman’s embrace. “Grandfather never thought it was necessary.”

“Oh child,” Moira cooed, “I can teach you.”

“Really?” Bridgette asked excitedly, sitting up to look Moira in the eyes.

“Of course I can,” the older woman said, wiping away Bridgette’s tears. “There is no need to cry.”

She began that night, using Marcus’ bible. The going was slow, and there were times Bridgette didn’t think it was worth the effort, but she had wanted to read for as long as she could remember and this was her chance.

When she was finally able to get out of bed, Bridgette tried on all her new gowns waiting patiently as Christine hemmed, pinned and added the last small details to each. By the time they were done, she returned to bed, all of her energy spent.

The next day, as she looked at herself in her cracked silvered glass, Bridgette fought back tears at the damage the beating had left. The bruises were beginning to fade to sickly yellow at the edges, but the centers of them were still dark and ugly. The split in her lip was healing nicely, but it was still painful to move her mouth.

She knew she would heal, she always did, but it didn’t change the despair she felt.

After she’d pinned her hair into her new cap, she dressed and began to explore her new home once more. Finding her way to the kitchens again, her greeting this time was markedly different. The women welcomed her into their conversations, asking what foods she liked best, was there anything she needed from town.

Thanking them profusely for their concerns, but explaining that the short trip from her room to the kitchen had tired her, Bridgette was ushered to the hearthside. Cook ordered her own chair moved there and made it available for Bridgette’s use.

As Bridgette rested, the women went back to their work, though their eyes were often turned in her direction.

After a pleasant nap, the warm glow of the fire easing her aches, Bridgette asked if there was anything she could do to help. When she tried to stand, she found herself ordered back to the chair. At her insistence, the women provided Bridgette work. They gave her peas to shell, gooseberries to stem and hens to pluck.

Since coming to O’Connor Lodge, she had not been as happy as she was at that moment. Covered with feathers and pea shells, Bridgette smiled in contentment as she worked.