In The Shadow - стр. 3
– I said, this way!
– Coming, sir!
Tears came to Brigid's eyes. She went up the stairs, almost out of breath, and brushed from her cheeks that salty moisture which not only did not wash away the dirt from them, but smeared it still more.
Soon, trembling with fear and not daring to look at the lady and her husband standing before her, Brigid stopped in front of the unknown guests and lowered herself before them in a deep curtsy.
The staircase was immediately filled with loud, deep male laughter.
– So this is the bird that has been spying on us! – The man turned to his wife, and then threw to Brigid: – 'You don't look well, young miss.
– Thank you, sir," the girl said hastily, and only then realised her mistake: the man laughed even louder.
– Oh, no, miss, it's not my doing! – Through his laughter, he said.
– Forgive my foolishness, sir! – Wanting to disappear, to vanish into thin air, the girl exclaimed. She was so ashamed of her foolish behaviour and tactless words that, if her face had not been covered with mud, the castle guests would have seen it as red as a ripe apple that has absorbed the warm rays of the sun.
– Dear Miss, what has happened to you? – The woman asked. Her voice sounded tender, as if she felt sorry for the poor girl standing before her.
– I was in a field of flowers, my lady… It rained heavily and I ran to the castle, but on the way I slipped and fell face down in the mud," Brigid said quietly. She did not dare to look up at the faces of the strangers, and looked only at the long hem of the woman's gold-embroidered blue dress and the man's high hunting boots.
– That's it! So you're not a servant? – The man asked in a calmer tone.
– No, sir. I am the daughter of…
– It doesn't matter. Go to your room and clean yourself! – the stranger commanded imperiously. – Go!
– Right away, sir! – Brigid straightened her legs and, her head low, walked quickly round the strangers, opened the heavy wooden door, and stepped out into the wide corridor. Her cheeks burned with shame, and she chastised herself for failing to keep silent and giving away her presence.
What did they think of her? That she was a spy? That she had deliberately hidden herself on the stairs to overhear them? What if her strict father heard about it? Or worse, the young, handsome William Tury? She would keep quiet and hope that the lady and her husband would never recognise this dirty, clumsy girl as the daughter of the disgraced Richard Guise, who is already in disfavour of the king.
When Brigid finally entered her chambers, where her mother appeared to be waiting, the first thing she heard was that she was a bad daughter, that she was a disgrace to her family's name, and that if she appeared before her mother like that again, she should blame herself! The convent will be able to teach this wretch!
The soft-hearted girl listened to her mother's reproaches and hurtful words in silence, bowing her head before her. She did not say a word in her own defence: had it ever helped? How many times had she heard those words before? Her mother, an irascible and proud distant relative of the now deceased Elizabeth Woodville of England, had expected her only daughter to elevate the family name and restore the royal favour that the king had deprived them of because of her father's awkward remark about the tenacious royal favourite Anne Boleyn.