“But he loves her, and I believe he will treat her well. If you truly cared for her, you would want her to marry Mathis.” His jaw hardened as he said the words that were a death knell to Jorgen’s hopes.
For a moment, Jorgen wanted to slam his fist into Rutger’s face. But that would not help. “You would sell Odette to the wealthiest suitor, then. I had thought you better than that. But I also never would have thought you would use Odette so shamefully as to let her go out poaching, believing she was helping the children, when you—” Jorgen halted his tirade and ran a hand through his hair. Ranting would not serve any good purpose either.
Rutger took a step toward the door, then stopped and stared at Jorgen. “Even if I did not need help from Mathis, he would still be her best choice of husband, the choice that makes sense for her. And she has made that choice. She told Mathis yesterday that she would marry him. He’s having the banns published on Sunday.”
Jorgen seemed to go numb all over. Even his mind was numb. But Rutger was right. She was wise to choose Mathis. And he would be wise to let her.
Odette slept fitfully that night. In addition to the occasional sharp pains in her arm and leg, she had stayed awake wishing Jorgen would come back to talk to her. She couldn’t stop wondering if he had gone to tell the margrave he had caught the poacher. All night she kept waking up, her mind going over and over what he must think of her. She also kept thinking of how worried Rutger must be that she had not come home, even if Jorgen did go and tell him she was safe.
As the sun finally came up, she prayed for wisdom and mercy.
Jorgen’s mother came to her bedside to bring her some food. She rearranged Odette’s pillows for her, even though she could get up, although painfully, and fluff her pillows for herself.
“I made you some pheasant and stewed fruit. I remember you said you liked pheasant more than pork.”
“You don’t have to cook special things for me.” Odette wished she hadn’t admitted to the woman the foods she liked and disliked when she had asked her. “I will eat whatever you make. I am in no position to be picky.” She gave Frau Hartman what she hoped was a meek expression.
She only smiled and briefly touched Odette’s cheek after placing the tray of food across her lap.
Was this how mothers treated their daughters when they were sick in bed? She could not remember her own mother. Odette was rarely sick, and since moving with Rutger to Thornbeck, she had been tended by servants. But to be treated like a cherished daughter . . . It warmed her and made her sad at the same time.
Frau Hartman sat beside her with her sewing again as Odette began to eat. She couldn’t stop thinking about how many reasons Jorgen’s mother had to dislike her.
“Why are you so kind to me?” Odette asked, afraid to hear the answer and bracing herself for it.
“I would think, for the same reason you are kind to those poor children. And for other reasons as well.” She tucked her chin to her chest and continued sewing.
Odette didn’t ask the other reasons.
She suddenly remembered something Jorgen had told her. “I wonder if I could read Jorgen’s Psalter. He also said he has two Gospel books.”
“Of course, my dear.” She set her sewing aside and stood.
“Do you think he would mind?”
“He would be pleased to let you read them. I know just where they are.” She bustled out of the room and came back a few moments later with the books in her arms.
“Thank you so much.” Odette held them reverently and then opened one. “Shall I read aloud?”
“That would be lovely.”
Odette began to read some of the gospel of John. After a while, Frau Hartman said, “Would you read a few psalms now?”
“Of course.” Odette randomly opened the Psalter to Psalm 91. As she read, she thought about Jorgen. He was out in the forest, alone, and someone was possibly trying to harm him. They had already shot at him.
You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,
nor the plague that destroys at midday.
A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.
God, please, please keep Jorgen safe from whoever wants to harm him.
She read on, finishing Psalm 91, still praying in her mind for the psalm to come true on Jorgen’s behalf. Didn’t he love God and follow God’s commands? Surely God would not allow anything bad to happen to him.