A Thread of Hope

Copyright

A THREAD OF HOPE

Cover photo by AlexKlen at Pixabay

Cover design by Patrice Hannah

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems--except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews--without permission in writing from its publisher and author.

The characters, places and events portrayed in this book are wholly fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

Copyright © 2018 by Patrice Hannah

All quoted Scripture was derived from the King James Version of the Holy Bible.

Dedication

For all lovers of love;

but especially,

for those in need of hope.

Epigraph

Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the LORD his God.

-P SALM 146 vs 15

At times I feel my faith begin to waver,

When up ahead I see a chasm wide.

It ’s then I turn and look up to my Saviour,

I am strong when He is by my side.

-W. ELMO MERCER

O ne

S ummer of 1810 ...

Ascal Manse, Aligoron Parish

B RECCAN ASCALDE N, CHIEF Lord of Aligoron, drained the remainder of brandy from his glass , closed his eyes and relished deeply in the sensations that suffused through his chest.  

To his left sat his closest friend, Yoreh Gunfield, a massive red-haired brute of infinite abilities and unquestionable trust. A man he had known since he was a mere stripling in linen drawers. To his right and almost directly behind him, sat his friend’s nephew , a boy of fifteen summers named Gabe , to whose incessant ramblings he’d been forced to listen for the past hour and a half. Save for the servants who hovered dutifully in their positions against the tapestried walls, the dining hall was otherwise vacant.

Rumour has it the girl managed to evade the entire party in broad daylight and caused quite a stir when the captain belatedly discovered t hat she had left a dull knife embedded deep inside his left leg. The boy grinned but continued. Amazing tale, isn’t it, milord?

Breccan raised his g lass and a serving maid scurried over to refill it. The boy’s head popped up around his shoulder and he slanted the greenling a disapproving glance. It was obvious the boy meant to impress him with the yarn that had managed to weave itself throughout the village and rather annoyingly taken root within his halls. But Breccan was not regaled by it one bit, for it was no mere tale, and his fist tightened around the gl as s as he lowered it from his mouth.

Did, by any chance, your gossip-monger friends mention the girl’s name?

Interested now in more common flesh, are you? Yoreh’s grating of a voice came just then, laced with much mirth.

Breccan grunted though he felt his brow lower in a frown. He could n ’ t yet figure out his new - found interest in the unnamed virago, only that it had made him a bit uneasy being a personal witness to his captain, Sir Roman’s, sorely bruised pride. No man worth his salt wished to be named as a coward, least of all be bested by a slip of girl. No, the event not only unsettled him, it also irked his temper.

After succeeding his father upon his death near five years ago, Breccan had made it his duty to govern his parish of Aligoron with a fair but stern hand. All under his care and leading understood that he was a man who wished not to be feared but respected; but he also didn ’t have he patience for undue foolishness either. For two days he’d been cognizant of whispers of the girl who had somehow managed to addle the wits of not one but ten highly trained constables , leading them into a merry chase that had ended in his captain being unseated from his courser and thrown face-first into a pile of --

Horse shit! Breccan hissed and gulped at his brandy again. I mean to chastise the girl. In offending my captain, she has succeeded in insulting me as well. I cannot tolerate such insolence, as you should well know.

He jabbed his fork into a cut of stewed lamb and clamped down on it, chewing harder than necessary as he awaited another gibe from Yoreh.

Instead Gabe spoke, I’m not really certain who she is, milord, but I did hear that she is a hideous thing to look at...and has the figure of a dying tree.

Yoreh barked out a raucous laugh. And that ought to kill the spark in your interes t. Heaven knows, there’s n ot much a man can do with a bundle of withering limbs. Aint it so, Gabe?

The boy snickered and Breccan felt the corners of his mouth twitch. Last I remember, Yoreh, you know well enough how to get around such limbs…or the lack thereof.

His friend sobered instantly, shooting him a cutting glare. That was a low blow and you know it. Jade had been a vivacious little spitfire …and I was merely a lad.

Gabe leaned further forward, almost easing into the chair at Breccan’s side. Obviously, the boy was getting his first share of bawdy talk. But how did she--

All you need to know, boy , is that she managed it, Yoreh interjected, swallowing down the last of his drink. He then patted his leather-vested stomach and fixed narrowed eyes on his friend. The girl isn’t important. Leave her be, I’d say. But if you insist, I’m willing to fetch her for you.

Seems you’re implying that you’re a more intimidating man than Sir Roman is, he taunted, touching a gravy-covered fingertip to his tongue .  Aren’t you worried the girl will wound something far important than your pride?

Yoreh flicked something from between his teeth with his tongue and gave a smug chuckle. Don’t let those academic books in your prized library fool you, Brec . Only cowards hide behind such a thing as pride.

Breccan laughed. Is such an opinion directed at my character then? He turned to Gabe whose face had suddenly gone ashen. What say you, lad? Do you think me a sissy like your uncle does?

Gabe’s face blanched to a colour between green and deathly gray as his eyes widened to saucers, glancing wildly between the two of them . Milord , I.. I hardly think that I’m the… The boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed vigorously and he ducked his head.

Yoreh groaned. For heaven ’s sake, sit up and have some courage, will you? He mumbled something about wimpy saplings and belched again, scowling fiercely at Breccan. You’re giving my favourite nephew a fright, you overbearing fool.

Overbearing? No longer a coward, am I?

G o get some sleep, Gabe. I’ll see you in the morn ing .

The boy scampered away, his breath of relief quite distinct above the briskness of his rapid steps across the hall. Grinning, Breccan grabbed the last scrap of bread from a serving bowl and swiped it into some gravy.

If I hadn’t known you all my thirty years on this godforsaken earth, I would have fed you your own b alls for insulting me so. He flicked the bread into his mouth and chewed.

Yoreh grunte d. Thank God for small mercies then, for one day I do hope to have some little red-headed creatures running around.

Breccan cut him a surprised glance. What? Finally admitting to old age, are you?

A wry smile touched his friend’s lips. I’m merely a month older than you are, you ingrate. But if you must know, Marit has been in my skin like wild nettle for the past two week s. The woman won ’t allow me a second to think , I tell you. All she chatters about now are weddings and ..children .

Mirth made Breccan turn to face him fully, his own mouth twisting with amusement. There ’s been an understanding between you for ages . Doesn’t that speak volumes? Hell, even I thought you’d found love.

"I do love her."

Then what’s the issue?

Her mother is a nutcase. A b leeding nuisance. Once I marry Marit, I’ll never be rid of the harpy.

Breccan laughed and shook his head. Marry the woman and bid her mother to her own household. Find her a companion or fifty cats to keep her company, if you must.

The shrew would probably eat the damn cats too, he mumbled, obviously disgruntled.

Calm down. I ’m sure things aren’t as bad as that . He then rose from his seat. Walk with me. There’s something I w ant to discuss with you.

Breccan brushed a dust of crumbs from his black topcoat and moved towards the door. While he knew his household servants would never do anything to infringe upon his authority, he was certainly no fool either to even presume that even they had no tendency to wag their tongues. Especially once his back was turned. From an early age, he’d accepted the fact that people were just…people, and people were curious by nature. But whenever their curiosities have been sated, they also had an aptitude to share all that which they have heard. And what he wished to confide with Yoreh was not something he was particularly proud to announce.

His friend followed him silently through the wide, candle- lit hall and up the stairs to the second floor of the north tower which housed his private chambers. Ascal Manse had been in his family for over four centuries, the primary seat for all c hief l ords of Aligoron Parish . And like his father and grandfather before and so on, it was Breccan’s duty to ensure that it remained that way. To uphold tradition and continue the family lineage, at whatever cost it may be. And cost him, it will . Recent developments have taught him that.

He turned down another corridor, flicking a dismissive hand at the two footmen who were positioned just outside the double doors to his private sitting room. Once inside, Breccan locked the doors and turned to face Yoreh who was eyeing the room quizzically. Scowling, he shoved pass him and headed straight for the bottle of wine positioned on the mantle above the kindling fireplace. Thinking better of it, he reached for one glass instead. He ’d had enough for the night.

Want one?

I think I might. The brute was chuckling now, gaze sweeping over the brightly coloured tapestry and delicate furnishings. Then he pivoted, pointing at a newly upholstered chaise. Say, what colour is that?

Do n't mock me by asking. Breccan’s lips twisted as he poured. L augh if you w ant to, I’ll not hold it against you. If I wasn’t so disturbed myself, I’d find it funny too.

Yoreh sipped. Did your kind mother vomit all over your sitting room?

" Kind isn’t exactly the word I’d use to describe the dowager at the moment. "

When did this…abomination happen? The shudder he gave mirrored Breccan’s sentiments perfectly.

A week past while you were away visiting your sister . He grimaced, moving towards a wing chair but quickly decided against it. Such a flimsy contraption could never have been designed to uphold a grown man’s weight. She’s gone on an expedition to soothe her nerves, I hear. And to find me a suitable bride.

Yoreh’s w ine spewed through his nose, his face a mask of profound shock. "A bride? Of her choosing?"

Breccan chuckled though his gut churned with distaste. So she wrote in a letter delivered to me just yesterday. Apparently, this travesty , h e said, waving an impatient hand around the room , is in preparation for the coming of my intended.

But… I didn ’t know you were ready to take another wife.

He sighed, turning about the room slowly but finally stopping at the window which overlooked the courtyard. A gray cat shot across the moon-lit quadrangle, diving pass the rosebushes surrounding the full-length sculpture of his great, great-grandfather.

Breccan's marriage to his former wife, Dellaria , had been annulled three years past, only a month after the wedding . She was a stunning beauty but unfortunately, Breccan could not have brought himself to co ntinue through with the union after it had been brought to his attention that she'd been secretly and quite impen it ently trifling with another man. The lady had clearly been in love with someone else, and he had no intention of playing the cuckold.

I suppose I ca nnot fairly turn away the lady upon first arrival. My mother’s faults are well known but I cannot deny the purpose of her actions. I have a duty to my heritage and my people, Yoreh. It is no secret that I must marry again. If only for the sake of securing my heir. Love is not an important factor.

Yoreh reached him fast, twisting him around by the shoulder. Now you’re the one who’s gone mad. To accept a bride chosen by your mother? Have you forgotten how the last one had turned out?

Breccan shrugged off his grip. I haven't forgotten. But I wi ll have to be courteous nonetheless.

You’d be forced to extend your hospitality for up to a week.

Yes, he admitted with a sigh. Let ’s just hope her entire family does not decide to accompany her.

Yoreh grunted, returning to his drink. And here I thought my problems were bad.

Freedom, a woman who loves you and a mother who has her own affairs to tend to? That, my friend, is perfection.

That’s what you think, he mumbled, gesturing to the w ine bottle. I think I’ll have another.

Breccan shrugged and turned back to stare out the window. His gaze wandered beyond the manse gates, roaming over the distant lights in the village. About the girl…

You've decided to let it go?

He slanted his friend a look, slightly annoyed by how easily he could decipher his thoughts. But nodded , nonetheless. I'm sure the captain’s pride will heal in time with his leg. In the meanwhile, I need you to do something for me. He reached inside his coat and withdrew a sealed letter. Ensure that this gets to Cranford. I need a response promptly.

There was a brief pause. I did not know that you spoke with each other.

Breccan chuckled. I know what you're thinking and it's far from it. Cranford and I merely have an understanding.

You two have hardly ever agreed about anything . What has changed?

Nothing. He released a sharp breath and stared at a smudge of mist on the glass window . But I have it on good authority that he hasn't been...well. I only intend to do what I can to help.

T wo

Sheridan Hall, Shortwood Parish

T HE DOWAGE R LADY Ascalden sank gracefully into the old wood-chipped armchair by the ancient pianoforte, the hem of her voluminous skirts barely revealing the toes of her refined silver shoes. Slowly, she began to remove a pair of matching silk gloves from small dainty hands, all the while darting side ward glances around the poorly furnished room.

Well, at least the room was tidy .

C