Someone Can Help

Patsy, Meryl’s lady in waiting, sneaked away from the dining hall and rushed to find her lady. She opened the door of her room, and immediately took out a small bottle of medicine that she had hidden in her skirt. She lifted Meryl’s head in her lap and made her drink the potion. “Why do you keep doing this, Lady Meryl?” she murmured in annoyance. When Meryl stirred a little, she helped her to lie on the bed. “You poor girl…” Patsy muttered as removed her clothes and applied a cold towel on her body to bring the fever down. She wanted to open the window of the room, but with incessant rains and thunder grumbling, she didn’t take the chances. 

Meryl woke up with a jolt when a thunder sounded right outside her window. Images of the last night flashed across her mind and her gaze swiveled down to her body. She found herself tucked in the furs. The room was dark. Not completely, but there was no sunlight on the outside. The fireplace lent its weak light to the room, which cast shadows everywhere. Recalling the pain that had assailed her after eating the soup, she moved her eyes to look for a pitcher. A goblet was on the bedside table. She grabbed it and drank the water greedily. She settled back on the pillow and looked at her arms turning them up and down. Her skin was still blotchy, but less painful. 

Whenever Meryl woke up with remnants of so many hives and blotches on her skin, she would rarely recall how they came on her body. She had refused to eat the soup yesterday, so how did she end up with this allergy? She tried to remember, but the memories were hazy. They were always hazy... always blank... It was frustrating not to remember exactly how she ended up eating. Why was it that she didn’t recall gaps of time? She knew that Judith never actually fed her the soup by force. She just demanded it and Meryl refused. Then how? She remembered when this happened for the first time. 

She was cold and shivering from being soaked with rains falling on her. Little Meryl had found herself in her bathtub, feeling the pain and fever. Her maid, Patsy, had come running to her to soak her in the water. Eight-year-old Meryl had no idea how this happened. However, as she grew up, she just related it to her stepmother’s angry outbursts.  

She took a deep breath and her eyes went to the portrait on the wall in front of her. A wave of fury mixed with heartache and gloom passed through her, looking at her father. 

Why did her father, Duke of Windley, bestow the estate to Lady Judith instead of giving it to her? Her father, Duke Charles Hanover, was a kind man. After the death of his wife, he didn’t wish to marry. But three years later when his ship sailed for trade to the east, he returned with Judith and a small baby in her hands. He introduced Judith as her new mother and Viola as her new sister. 

When Meryl was seven, her father died, leaving his estate to Judith. 

Meryl often lay awake, as she did now, staring into the darkness, as a knot formed in her stomach, wondering if she had ever disappointed her father in some way, especially when he was on his sick bed for the last two months of his life. Had she not come as a caring and fit heir to him? 

Her chest burned with anguish when her thoughts went to her people who were starving. Judith had imposed crazy taxes upon them. With so much rain and thundershowers throughout the year, their crops were low and so was the business. She placed her arm over her forehead as she let out a deep exhale, wondering if there was a way to help her people. Her mother was only making all the money disappear, and now… now slowly she was removing the precious items of the house. Their castle was bare, with only a few good pieces of furniture, brass artifacts, old paintings and old rugs. 

Meryl was in need of funds… badly. For her people. For her dying estate. She had once overheard her stepmother talking to Viola that she would sell it to someone with money and she better find a rich husband for herself, fast. Meryl knew that once Judith sold the estate, she would leave her alone here to suffer with her people, who were already on the brink of starvation. She had to do something… and very fast. 

She had asked for money from some of the neighboring estates, but everyone refused because they all wanted something against the loan they provided. She didn’t have anything to offer as collateral. 

Her thoughts went to the conversation she had had with her close friend, Valerie. 

“Look Meryl, no one is going to help you like that and give you money with no collateral,” said Valerie and sipped her tea. They were sitting in the parlor of her father’s mansion. Valerie’s father was one of the richest businessmen in the county. He was Duke Hanover’s good friend. Their estate, Pembrook, bordered Windley and was the last human settlement. Surrounded by a dense forest, it was said that the Lore began from here. The forest was a home to many differential planes that led to the various realms. 

Meryl sat on the opposite sofa, with her head hung low, looking at the brown lines of pale cream linen gown she wore. She had draped herself with a thick shawl, but realized that Pembrook was too hot. Unfortunately, she couldn’t take her shawl, else it would reveal her threadbare gown. It was better to sweat than show holes in her gown to Valerie.

Seeing her discomfiture, Valerie continued, “But I pulled some strings and came to know that there is someone, who can help you.” 

Meryl’s eyes shot to Valerie with a gleam. “Who?” 

“Duke of Napane, Alburn.”