The Maiden of Anjou (standard:romance, 1852 words)
Author: empress	Added: Jan 19 2003	Views/Reads: 3678/2465	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
She was a maiden, he was a visiting English Lord...

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

At the end of the passage were the upper rooms of the priest, and a
spiral stairway that led to the sanctuary. Anacelle planned to light 
two candles for her parents. She wondered if uncle Jacques was happily 
married. No news came from him, either. 

Anacelle stopped walking in the middle of the passage and looked out one
of the arched windows. A tear slipped unnoticed down her smooth cheek 
and fell. She was so lonely. The unhappy and yet beautiful girl stood 
alone on the crossway, which connected the chapel from the big, empty 
house where she lived. It was such a sad picture that anyone who saw it 
would feel the poignancy, the raw feeling of loneliness coming from the 
girl. 

Beneath her, a young man felt something wet fall on his head. Was it
raining? He looked away from the two young women staring at him with 
unabashed admiration and looked up. To his surprise, he found himself 
staring at the bottom of a passageway connecting the chapel and the 
chƒteau, but she couldn't see if there was anyone on it. 

Lord Hans Milford Beckham of Brighthelmstone urged his horse forward,
stopped ten feet away from where he had been and looked up at the 
passageway. There he saw the most beautiful young woman he had ever 
seen in his life. Hans was entranced. He couldn't look away from her. 

She had long, dark brown hair, braided in two sides and joined at the
back of her head. She was wearing a plain white gown belted just below 
her waist with a gold sash. The dress was cut expertly, and it was 
obviously a dress made for gentry. He couldn't tell what color her eyes 
were, but he was sure he would find them; whatever color they were, 
beautiful. 

Then he saw her wipe her cheek with a small white handkerchief. Was she
crying? Was it her teardrop what he felt on his head a while ago? He 
wished he could talk to her. Suddenly, a strong wind pushed her forward 
and he heard her gasp when her handkerchief was blown away. 

Hans watched the maiden reach out for it instinctively. His heart almost
stopped when he thought she would fall, but she was able to keep her 
feet on the inside of the window. The white handkerchief floated down, 
and Hans immediately got off his horse. 

This scene was almost a repeat of the other maidens who "accidentally"
dropped their white handkerchiefs. He wondered if this maiden was apt 
in the ways of the women at court, of if she knew of the ways of 
courtly love. He watched her as he walked to where the handkerchief had 
fallen. She was staring at it, and when he came to her line of vision, 
her beautiful eyes widened. 

It wasn't an act, he realized. She was staring at him in surprise, her
pink lips forming an O. Hank was once again reminded of her beauty. She 
looked like an angel. A very surprised angel. Why, she was a blushing 
angel! 

He just couldn't resist. 

He winked at her. 

*							*						* 

Chapter Two 

Anacelle's heart banged against her chest. He had winked at her! She
couldn't... oh dear he was... he was such an audacious man! Well, he 
was a handsome audacious young man! Oh dear Lord he really was such 
a... Her mind was scrambled and she could put any of her thoughts 
together form a single grammatically correct thought, not that she knew 
anything important about grammar. She was just a woman, after all. 

But he had winked at her! 

And... Oh my... he was... he CROOKED his finger at her and held up the
handkerchief he had just plucked from the ground! 

Would she? 

Could she? 

Was it correct of her, proper if she went down and took it? Was there
any harm in it? Mother used to talk about young men who couldn't 
control themselves and just... Oh she was just confused! 

Anacelle bit her lip. Oh God the man was now grinning at her. It was
that a naughty, wicked grin if she ever saw one. And didn't his neck 
hurt from staring up at her all this time? Oh dear! She shook her head 
at him. 

He waggled his eyebrows at her. 

Oh my God! 

She whirled around and ran to the chapel, down the spiraled stairs, and
exited though the main entrance. He was there, waiting for her. 
Anacelle came to a halt and stared at his feet. He stepped forward and 
looked down at her. 

"My lady?" He asked, making sure she was one. 

"Monsieur, I cannot speak in English," she said in French. Hans heard a
giggle somewhere behind him, and the girl's head jerked up. She looked 
past his shoulder. He was looking intently at her face. She was even 
more beautiful up close. He wanted to... 

Her face suddenly reddened. He wondered if she had read his thoughts. He
turned around to see what she was staring at. Those two girls who had 
been staring at him a while ago... A small hand grabbed at the 
handkerchief he was holding and snatched it away. Hans turned back to 
her, and saw her running inside the chapel and disappear inside. 

Damn it! He was about to follow when one of his men called out. 

He would find out who she was later. 

*					*					* 

Anacelle was still thinking about him that night, at the dinner table.
Who was he? He was an Englishman! Of course, she realized that from his 
accent. What was he doing here? Surely if he was a guest her brother 
would have introduced him earlier. But Alessandro didn't introduce 
anyone to her that night. 

Who was he? 

"Alessandro, did you see those foreign men here this midday?" 

The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She felt her
face getting warm, and she stared at the food on her plate. It was 
roast venison and hot potatoes. Tomorrow and the following two weeks 
they would be eating only fish and vegetables, for Holy Week was at 
hand. She planned to pray the rosary in the chapel three times a day. 
Mother said that if a person prayed the rosary three times a day 
everyday he would die peacefully. 

"You saw them?" Alessandro was looking at her. "Did they talk to you?
They were here to see me but I wasn't here so I missed them." 

Anacelle chewed slowly before answering. 

"I... just saw them. They were Englishmen, I think." 

Alessandro looked interested. "I wonder what they want. They left late
in the afternoon, with a message that said they would be back. I 
arrived here half an hour after they left. I wonder why they couldn't 
wait until supper time." 

A sense of disappointment settled on Anacelle, who tried to brush it
away. What was wrong with her? Why was she sad they had left so early? 

"Do you think they are enemies, Alessandro?" 

"No. I don't know. I don't think so, if they are Englishmen. I have a
friend among them, who was a friend of our father. A Lord Beckham, I 
think." 

"Oh." Anacelle shifted in her chair. Well, good. He wasn't an enemy; she
at least had the consolation she wasn't cavorting with an enemy. And he 
would return, as her brother said. She thought about that handsome 
Englishman she spoke with earlier that day and smiled. She would see 
him again, she was sure of it. 

9 


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