Fate Comes

Kasey / Kes / Karen S.

kasey8473@yahoo.com

Summary: Christiana ponders her fate.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Not mine and I do not own them at all.

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I sit in my Lady's tent and wait. The day of my release from employ has come and the hour of my journey draws near. Little did I know as a child those long years past that my father would do such an about-face for my fate.

I was born the seventh daughter of Hugh Devereaux, a man desperate for sons, so desperate that he's worn out five wives in pursuit of a suitable heir. A woman will not do to inherit his meager holdings. He named me Christiana, a nod to the life of nun he planned for me from birth. He has always said thus, although why he didn't leave me at St. Anne's is a mystery. Was he fond of me in his own way? Did he know the life of a nun would not inspire happiness in me? We took a tour, spoke to the Prioress, and he took me back home. A few weeks later I was with Jocelyn.

Jocelyn's family took me in, welcomed me with arms wide open. I was tutored with her, treated as another daughter, a companion and not the maid I truly was. My father was content to leave me there. He rarely wrote over the years and it did not bother me a bit. There is no love lost between us.

What now has turned my father's mind? I wish that I could once understand him. He drops me with no second thoughts and little contact, then suddenly decides I must wed? Has something happened to my sisters that I must leave all I know and go out into an uncertain life? Has it fallen to me now to make an alliance that will further the family coffers?

I know that I will be an adequate wife, for I've been trained in wifely things. I can sew, run a household and tend the ill. I will do so. I will run my Lord's household, tend him and bear his children if God so wills it. But I find contemplation of these things leaves me sad for what I must leave behind me. The years with Jocelyn's family made me content to be a companion. Being separated is frightening.

Outside, I hear a commotion, the sounds of many feet and horses approaching. In moments I shall be called to go and there is still so much I wish to ponder. Oh, time runs from me on such swift, merciless feet!

Roland. Dear, sweet and gentle Roland, whose embroidery is the loveliest I've ever seen. I love him, yet I am not in love with him. With overwhelming regret I do wish I had told him I was noble born, the lowliest daughter of a poor Lord. But I was silent and I can still hear the pain that tinged his voice in the whispered word 'why'. My deception was similar to Sir Will's. I did not admit to what I am until too late. I am in the stocks as Sir Will was, but I shall not escape that bondage. No, mine shall last my life.

Wat has nothing to say and I expected as much. As for Kate, she simply said, "If not on earth, you and I will meet again in heaven." My Lady Jocelyn's reaction is what I expected upon the certain news of my coming nuptials. She cries still and once even pleaded to her father for intervention. Sir Will comforts her and says they must wish me every happiness. It is not the end of the world. Nothing states she cannot write to me.

Goeff. I must laugh now, although somewhat hysterically. I am not the only one leaving the company of friends. He returns to London and his life after today, no longer to herald for Sir Will. He alone out of all is aware of the contents of the many letters I have received these last weeks, most from my future husband. Goeff and I have held long and heated discourse about those letters and, despite his urgings to unburden myself to friends, I have not revealed the contents to all.

I will be a dutiful wife no matter what happens. I will be silent and meek and obedient. My Lord will not find fault with me and perhaps, through my honoring him at all times we shall enjoy a union without conflict. A large hope I realize and one I will continue to pray for.

A little tenderness.

Some consideration.

A kind word now and then.

These I pray to have.

I hear them now, outside, Jocelyn's "No!" loud and piercing. Will's voice is muted, too low to pick out the words, only his angry tone audible. Goeff sweeps open the tent flap and looks in at me, great weariness aging him, all levity lost from fine features.

"My...Lady." His voice almost breaks on the title I feel I have no right to. "Your husband-to-be is waiting."

Make them understand, dear God, why I did not tell them.

There are more shouts, more angry tones.

I nod.

And go to Adhemar.