The Forgotten Princess (Forgotten Royals)

Chapter Nine

My lord stepfather gave us the reception I expected from him and allowed Eleanor and I to take up residence in the gatehouse of Usk Castle. I concealed my rage at the way he treated us lower than the poorest pilgrim and thanked him. The words tasted like vinegar and were wasted on a man who looked through me like I was nothing.

Catrin sniffed as we examined the much smaller rooms, cold and lacking furnishing. "At least you won't be under the same roof as your stepfather."

"That is a blessing." I struggled to smile as I walked past the dreary walls and thought of Mama's beautiful tapestries in the castle. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather run off and join the Welsh rebels?"

She laughed. "Perhaps I will." The humor vanished from her face and she sighed. "But I won't abandon you, my lady."

Eleanor didn't mind, excited to live in a gatehouse and not caring that we couldn't even afford a proper tutor. Fortunately, I still had Mama's books and was able to use them to work on lessons with my sister. Although, as I flipped the precious parchment, it irked me that I was so far away from London. As much as I valued owning books and appreciated the knowledge within them, I probably could have sold them. The annuity took months to reach us and we had to depend on my stepfather's grudging charity.

Long days blended together. Only the occasional letter from Richard broke up the monotony. I was positive he would forget me as he spent his time among noble maidens with fortunes and futures. But at least once a month, a dusty rider would arrive from court with a letter from him. When I was younger, I had scoffed at the idea of learning how to write, but now gratitude filled me that Mama had insisted. I wrote careful letters back to Richard, never expecting him to answer.

He always did.

Letters gave me a chance to get to know Richard in a way that was impossible when chaperoned at court. Discretion draped over every word as we had to be careful not to look like Mortimers and Yorks conspiring. But I learned to read around the silence and from some of his responses, he seemed to understand the truths I had to dance around. He sent me quotes of poetry that was popular at court and shared news. I sent him information about the Wales situation, as soldiers passed through Usk and I caught much gossip. He worried for me, so close to where battles could break out.

Even if I am never knighted, I would be your loyal Lancelot if ever you are in danger.

As the dim candlelight flickered through a late winter's night, I used the precious light to savor those words. The realistic side of me understood it was just words. If there was a terrible battle, there was little chance of Richard arriving in time to save me. But the sentiment still meant something.

When Easter ushered in the sweet spring season, I found myself on edge. If the castle were ever attacked, the gatehouse would fall. I had grown up among the constant conflict with the Welsh leader Owain Glyndwr, but I seldom feared for my life. Now when I knelt with my sister to pray in chapel, I was very aware that our lives meant nothing to anyone. If we died, no one would even pray for us.

Richard might pray for me. But then he would forget me, as he should. I had the gnawing suspicion he had already forgotten me. No more letters arrived after Eastertide. Perhaps I had been an amusement during the Lenten season and now that color and life returned to the world, he had returned to his senses. Our letters were playing with fire. It wouldn't be hard for someone to twist our innocent flirting into a conspiracy. If he was Lancelot, perhaps I was the Maiden of Ascolat, forsaken once he found his true Guinevere.

Melancholy threatened to consume me, and I could not even enjoy May Day. Ignored by most in the castle, I was beginning to feel as if we had died with our mother. The world had forgotten us. On the few occasions of meeting visitors, most expressed surprised that Baron Charleton had stepdaughters. I had ceased to be Anne Mortimer and had become the ghostly girl of the gatehouse.