Chapter 73

Margaret’s POV

I hosted a lavish banquet, but not a single high-ranking noble or senior official I invited showed up, sparking widespread speculation and discussion. The whispers reached me first through the servants - hushed conversations that died when I entered a room, furtive glances exchanged over their tasks. At first, I dismissed them as mere peasant gossip, unworthy of my attention. But then Paul brought news from the marketplace that made my blood run cold.

"My lady?" Paul's voice trembled as he helped me with my morning prayers the next day. "The marketplace... they say—"

"What do they say?" I kept my voice steady, though my fingers clutched my prayer book tighter.

"They speak of the Battle of Symonford. They say it wasn't Lady Beatrice who—"

"Nonsense!" I snapped, my hand clenching the arm of my chair. "If Isabella had such skill, why would she have served as my companion? She was nothing more than a nobleman's pampered daughter."

But the rumors persisted, growing stronger with each passing day. In taverns and marketplaces, people spoke of Isabella's heritage - daughter of Duke de Montfort, her family massacred in their own castle. They whispered that she had joined the campaign not for glory, but for vengeance.

"It makes sense," I overheard one of the kitchen maids saying. "They say she fights like an avenging angel, determined to prove herself stronger than Lady Beatrice."

"Silence!" I shouted when these words reached my ears. "Isabella was barely competent at needlework - how dare anyone suggest she could lead the troops? If she had such abilities, why spend years tending to an old woman?"

Yet even as I spoke the words, memories surfaced unbidden - the scene where Isabella and William fight over the dowry list. No, no - I pushed these thoughts away. Beatrice was the warrior, the one destined for glory. She had to be.

As the days wore on, opinions about the St. Croix Fortress battle began to shift. What had once been celebrated as a triumph became clouded with controversy. Symonford and Ilerford are the last two fortresses in the Holy Land, and the achievements surpass those of St. Croix Fortress. Some people are discontented that William abandoned Isabella and married Beatrice. William's reputation suffered, and Beatrice's name was spoken with increasing doubt.

I retreated deeper into the manor, refusing visitors, clinging to my certainty even as it crumbled around me. "You'll see," I told Lady Constance."When the official announcements come, everyone will know the truth."

The truth came on a bright morning, delivered by a royal herald whose voice rang through the great hall with devastating clarity. Isabella de Montfort, named first among the heroes, credited with breaking the gates of both Ilerford and Symonford. William Beauchamp, mentioned only in passing. And Beatrice... Beatrice's name was nowhere to be found.

"It's a mistake," I whispered, my vision blurring. "It has to be a mistake."

The pain in my chest returned, sharper than ever. How could this be? My Beatrice, who had departed so proudly, who had promised such glory - how could she be absent from the honors entirely?

"My lady!" I heard Lady Constance cry out as the room began to spin. "Someone fetch help!"

Princess Eleanor Hawthorne’s POV

I was attempting to focus on my morning devotions when I heard the whispers of my ladies-in-waiting outside the heavy oak door.

"Lady Isabella led the charge herself at Symonford," one maid murmured excitedly. "They say she broke through the Byzantine lines with just hudreds knights."

I pressed my fingers against the cold beads of my rosary, trying to ignore their chatter, but each word seemed to echo in the small space. Through the narrow window, I could hear the distant sound of trumpets - the city celebrating another victory in the Holy Land. A victory I was forbidden to celebrate.

My mind wandered to that day three months ago, when Isabella's messenger arrived at Aveline's wedding feast. I could still see the ornate gift box, wrapped in the De Montfort colors, sitting untouched on the side table as I declared loudly enough for all to hear: "We cannot accept gifts from one whose marriage was dissolved by the Church. It would mar the sanctity of this blessed occasion."

The memory made my fingers tremble on the rosary beads. I had been so certain then - so proud of maintaining our family's dignity. Now...

"Eleanor." Prince Hawthorne's voice cut through my thoughts. I hadn't heard him enter the chapel. When I turned, the fury in his eyes made me shrink back against the prayer rail.

"My lord husband-" I began, but he cut me off with a sharp gesture.

"While you sit here and pray, your niece bleeds defending our lands," he said, his voice low and controlled - which somehow made it worse. "The same niece whose wedding gift you rejected. The same niece you've never once visited since her departure."

"I was confined to the manor," I protested weakly. "You yourself ordered-"

The crack of his palm against my cheek echoed in the chapel. In twenty years of marriage, he had never struck me. I touched my face, more shocked than hurt.

"Do not dare use my punishment as your excuse," he said. "You could have sent messages, gifts, some show of support. Instead, you sat in your pride, thinking her beneath you now that her marriage was dissolved."

Tears welled in my eyes. "I only thought... with William's new marriage blessed by the Church..."

"Enough." He turned away from me, toward the altar. "Our daughter is forbidden from court celebrations because of your actions. The King himself notes your treatment of his favored champion. And now Isabella returns with new titles and honors, while we..." He left the implications hanging in the air.

Later, in my chambers, I found old Catherine preparing my afternoon medicines. The elderly nurse had served our family since I was a child, and now she was the only one I could turn to.

"Did I truly do so wrong?" I asked her, though I already knew the answer.

Catherine's weathered hands stilled on the medicine bottles. "Do you remember, my lady, how you used to sneak sweetmeats to little Isabella when she visited? How you would brush her hair and tell her stories of brave knights?"

"That was before..." I trailed off, unable to finish.

"Before you decided status was more important than love?" Her directness made me flinch. "When Sir William sought his new marriage, you should have stood with her. Instead..."

"It was the King's decree," I protested. "The Church's blessing-"

"The Church blesses many things, my lady. It does not make them right."

I moved to the window, watching the celebrations in the streets below. "Perhaps... perhaps I could visit her family estate. Show that I think of her..."

"Now that she's a decorated war hero?" Catherine's tone was gentle but reproachful. "Your niece may wear armor, my lady, but her heart still bears the scars of your rejection."

I racked my brain trying to think of a way to fix this. “When Isabella comes back, I'll have Aveline visit her. They grew up together and are quite close,” I said, then started getting dressed. “I'm going to her manor—even if it’s just for show. At least when she returns, her servants will be able to tell her that I did go to see her.”