The Dark Deciet; Chapter One

The Dark Deceit
By R.D.B




         Chapter One; How It Came To Be
It was a particularly fine time of a good year, King Charles the Second sat on the English throne, and though a foolhardy attempt had been made by a small thief to steal the crown jewels, much of England was at peace with itself and the recent appointment on their leader, unaware of the trouble that might have been unfolding elsewhere in the world. The year was 1671, and the summer had long since stolen its way into the English countryside. On this fine morning a woman moved back and forth from the large manor house to and from a carriage that had pulled up at the end of the driveway, though for much of the time she was accompanied by a small entourage of men. With each journey to the carriage they all carried something, a parcel, case or even just a small stack of papers that had been bound together with a length of hurriedly tied string.

Suddenly a man appeared in the doorway to the large home, he was looking out and up the drive, his back leaned against the doorframe and the intense brown of his eyes took in everything while he watched the people in the driveway carry the family’s objects to the carriage and load them for the journey. He was a handsome enough young gentleman, the Baron William Byron, with the fingers of one hand brushing through the thick dark curls of his raven black hair and the demonic midnight look of his brown eyes watching his attendants as they made their way back towards the manor. The other hand clutched a small whisky glass that was only half full, though his breath already bore the unmistakable scent of the burning amber liquid, but still it seemed he was content with the morning’s goings on, a crooked smile played across his lips as he watched the approach of his men and the young woman.

When they came close enough to see more clearly and speak to be gave a sharp clear order of “you lot!” At once the group hurried forwards to the house entrance and awaited him patiently. The men were dressed smartly enough; each man had a smart white shirt though only the ruffles of the shirt’s neck showed with their deep navy jackets pulled across it and fastened with small brass buttons, their breeches made of the same deep navy blue and set against the perfect black of their high, polished boots. Each of the men had arrived and stood a few paces from him, one of their knees bent slightly while one hand stretched across their stomach and they leaned forward in an expectant bow. The young woman however wore a long and modest black dress, plain and trimmed lightly at the collar and full length sleeves with white lace, like that of a doily, with simple, modest black shoes and her dark hair tied back and concealed partially by a bandanna that matched the simple modesty of the rest of her outfit.

Unlike the men she did not stand and bow to the master of the house, instead she watched him levelly, apparently revelling in his awkward looks of discomfort. Had the occasion been any different she would have received yet another thrashing from the house master for her insolence and lack of respect, the pure defiance that she felt inclined to show at every opportunity. On this day things were a little different and Baron Byron simply sighed and looked at her coldly before turning his attention back to the men who now stood straight once more and looked to their master respectfully and patiently. “Your wages men…” he muttered as he pulled a small hand full of notes from the inner pocket of his jacket and produced them to the serving men. “Finish loading the carriage and then you might as well be off.”

There was an exchange of nodding as each man took his share before they moved forward as a collective to gather up the remaining luggage. The woman moved with them but was suddenly grabbed by the arm and pushed backwards where she met the deep, dark cold of her master’s glare. “You, slave, should be helping Isabella and Mary prepare.” She moved to follow his instruction but still his hand held her arm tightly, having abandoned its attempts at combing through the dark curls of his hair, and twisted until she gasped in pain and gave a small, feeble groan. Suddenly she was pushed back, her head struck sharply on the wall and a spinning pain blinded her to all but the sound of his coarse laughter. Unsteadily she forced herself up and staggered away, her sight slowly returning to her in a mass of blurred shadows clouded yet further by the tears that threatened to escape the perfect blue pools of her eyes. 

Upstairs and into the young lady Isabella’s room she staggered and quickly busied herself with making the bed and forcing back the shaking sobs that pleaded to be free. The two ladies entered smiling and speaking quite happily to one another and at once the young slave girl knew she would be required without either one of them even looking at her when they entered, but they knew she was there. The Baroness Mary Byron was the wife of the house’s master, Baron William Byron, and their daughter was, of course, young Lady Isabella Byron. The slave girl was a young peasant girl by the name of Catherine, her parents had sold her to the Baron and Baroness when she was only nine years old, of course due to her parents’ desperation Cat had consented to the sale of herself as a household servant. Of course she was at the time unaware what she was getting herself into, so it didn’t seem to matter so much then and there was certainly nothing that could be done about it now. She had been bought for a price, she was nothing more than property and she accepted that.

The day that nine year old Catherine had arrived in the manor she had been given to the Baron’s daughter, Isabella, as a gift for her eleventh birthday. The two girls had never established a friendship, being simply too different to find any common ground and they continued living simply with Isabella giving the instructions and Cat being beaten into obeying them.  In only three days’ time Isabella would be celebrating her twentieth birthday. However, much to her dismay, Isabella would be forced to celebrate this event aboard The Duke Remorah while the family travelled to Spain, where the Baron had acquired several estates. While Mary and Isabella complained endlessly, about the master’s desire to take the family from their nice little English home, Cat had to admit herself excited about the prospect of the journey and the new home.

She moved toward Isabella, who had sat down on the stool in front of her dresser to look at her reflection and admire the various artefacts left on the dresser that she could accessorize herself with for that day, she picked up the brush from the dresser’s side and began running it through Isabella’s hair slowly, pushing the long blonde locks into some more appropriately tidy position, pushing them up and pinning them back into neat little curls that hung down at the back. With this done Cat stepped back a moment and allowed Isabella to admire the style that she usually requested anyway, a pale white, long fingered, hand then offered a more delicate silver necklace to the slave which the girl quickly fastened around Isabella’s neck before she started to tidy away the other things on the dresser and get everything ready for their departure.

“Girl, what time is Lord Caver due to arrive?” The Baroness stood by the glass paned window at the other side of the room, looking down onto the driveway where Cat could not see the carriage that awaited its passengers, but she knew it to be there awaiting the family. Lord Caver the second was the son of the first Lord Markus Caver, who had died but three years before and had been a very close friend to The Baron. His intentions for some time had been to court Isabella; he would even be travelling with the family to Spain. The Baron had offered him a share of the estates that they would own in Spain and in return Lord Caver had offered his services to the family as an escort and protector to the family on their journey and in particular to Isabella, who cared as much for Lord Caver as the various other men she had allowed to court her.

“Any moment now, miss,” Cat said softly, still gathering up the things from the dresser and neatly placing them inside a small, velvet lined travel case.

Isabella had gotten to her feet once more and walked to the window to stand alongside her mother and look down on the courtyard and up the driveway to where the black shadow of the coach stood on the cobbled road. Cat glanced up for a moment to watch as the pair began to speak among themselves, but as usual she kept out of the conversation for the most part. It was no concern of hers what her mistresses discussed, but she always had to be listening just in case something was directed at her.

“Markus coming almost makes the journey worthwhile,” giggled Isabella with a girlish glance at her mother and a permanent grin.

“Well, he is handsome,” said Mary with a hesitant glance at her daughter. “He’s a perfectly charming young gentleman, but he means to do more than spend passionate hours alone in a bedchamber with you my dear.”  It was well known by many men that the famously beautiful Isabella Byron was an easy woman to seduce, she enjoyed the thrill of a man and everyone knew it, but she was not so easy to court for something more long term.

“Then perhaps he shall be the one I wed,” countered Isabella with a bright smile as she saw a strong bay gelding trotting down the drive towards the house, a handsome young man astride the creature’s back.

“Girl, Lord Caver has arrived, gather our things and take them to the carriage at once, we will await the Lord in the library.” As usual when the Baroness spoke to Cat her voice was sharp with agitation but she lead her daughter from the room and down the stairs, no doubt to the library that sat at the back of the house with a view of the gardens. With a heavy sigh Cat grabbed the case and slammed it shut, fastening the buckle to keep the contents from being lost should something happen to the case and she hurried down to the main doors where Lord Caver already stood waiting with his usual bright smile. Cat did not return the smile, only turned to see a movement at her side as The Baron came out into the hallway with Keith, a serving man, at his side. Keith smiled at Cat as usual and she smiled back, allowing herself to break away from Lord Caver for a moment to speak with him while The Baron went to speak to Lord Caver.

“You’re off then?” She asked him softly, the smile still playing delicately on her lips.

“Got no reason to stay, not with The Baron leaving,” he answered gently and at this Cat glanced back at The Baron who was watching them out of the corner of his eye while speaking to Lord Caver.

“Don’t let them push you about too much, it’s a new start in Spain, you deserve one.” He had placed his hand gently on her shoulder and was speaking quietly so that her master would not hear. In truth what he said could not happen, not for her, she belonged to the family and would never escape that fate.

She nodded encouragingly and smiled at him, his gentle face watched her intensely for a while before he too nodded and pulled back as though to leave, but he suddenly stopped and reached for the velvet lined case in Cat’s hand.

“I’ll take that to the carriage for you as I leave.” With that he gave a final whisper of goodbye and kissed the slave girl’s cheek lightly before he turned and left. Keith had been around the family before Cat arrived, however she was the only slave they owned and therefore the only one they could force to take with them, the other house servants had been paid employees who had no desire to travel so that they could continue to serve the Byron family, but saying goodbye to Keith was like saying goodbye to a brother for Cat.

Nervously Cat moved a little closer to where Lord Caver and The Baron were talking and almost instantly both turned and looked at her, but while The Lord smiled at her briefly The Baron looked angrier than she had seen him in quite some time.

“Was that behaviour really appropriate girl?” He demanded sharply. “We have company you know!”

“Please Baron Byron, they were friends and she’ll never see him again after today. Surely you understand?” Before she had been able to apologize Lord Caver had gone to her aid and she felt the cold shiver of fear.

“You should allow the girl to create her own excuses,” he growled, but he didn’t look at his guest, he was glaring at the slave girl.
“I’m sorry sir; he has been like a brother to me.” She kept her gaze cast down low as she spoke in soft, honeyed tones and hoped that her master would find his way to forgiving the behaviour on this occasion, but it was not to be. In two strides he had reached her and struck her hard across the face. “You have no family, no brother. Your own parents sold you and I took you in, clothed you, fed you and gave you a bed to sleep in. You thank us by trying to adopt in new family members!?”

She had staggered back when he had struck her, however she did not lose her balance but instead she glared at him defiantly and was surprised to see Lord Caver’s hand close on her master’s shoulder to pull him back suddenly and look at him coldly. “There is no reason to strike a lady, ever.” He muttered with his strong, deep voice.

The Baron was not so easily discouraged and at once he pushed Lord Caver back and growled. “That is no lady. That is my daughter’s possession, an object dedicated to ensuring Isabella’s every comfort!” The look on Lord Caver’s face changed, it hardened and looked suddenly stricken, “an object?” he questioned with wide eyes. “And if you intend to court my daughter you would do well to remember that.” The silence between them was tense for a moment but Cat had collected herself and gently rubbed her cheek where she had been struck.
“My Lord,” she said more confidently than even she had expected, at this both men suddenly turned to face her looking confused. “Lord Caver, your lady is waiting to meet you in the library.” Both men continued to look at her until she turned suddenly, with no appearance of emotion to show for their argument other than cold defiance, and walked toward the library with long smooth strides. In the silence she knew that Lord Caver was following her, but she was also certain she heard the heavy steps of The Baron following along behind.

Catherine stopped at the heavy oak door into the library and pulled it aside for their entry, nodding in a low bow she watched as they both passed her then closed the door behind them to stand outside and wait patiently, her hands resting in her lap where she stood. Though the men stayed in the room with the ladies for some time Catherine had not moved from her place when they did finally emerge once more and looked at her expectantly. Her gaze lifted to meet that of her master, there was a moments silence before she spoke at last, “yes sir, your driver arrived some time ago. The carriage is ready whenever you are.”

In the same previous silence her master nodded and left, followed quickly by his wife, who seemed eager to take his arm in her hand but was unable to reach it with the quick pace he set. The younger couple followed behind at an easier pace, Lord Caver’s arm linked with Isabella’s in a gentleman and lady fashion, though he passed a doubtful look at Catherine when he passed her. “We’ll be leaving now!” announced Baron Byron at the head of the group as he drew close to the doors to the house.

Everyone made their way out and down the driveway toward the carriage quickly and within paces of each other, that was all but Catherine. The young slave tagged along behind so as not to catch any conversation she should not, while her thoughts roamed through the long journey that was to come before they would reach Spain, the company she would keep during that time. Of course she could be partially thankful for Lord Craver’s presence along the way, as he encouraged The Baron to treat her better, although this is usually to no avail, and he kept Isabella’s time occupied, which meant that the young mistress felt no need to badger her slave with more and more agitating requests.

Baron William Byron stopped dead by the carriage and looked coldly at the closed door, glaring at it as though it would cause the carriage to open of its own accord. The driver had turned in his seat, expecting his passengers to board, but when he saw the outrage on The Baron’s face he instantly jumped from his seat and moved to open the door, muttering something that Catherine couldn’t hear, even as she hurried towards the carriage herself. The driver was the first to get his hand onto the door handle, but almost as soon as contact was made his wrist was grabbed and pulled back, “no,” muttered The Baron, turning the depth of his dark brown eyes on Catherine.

She had her hand on the door not a moment later and had flung it open to admit him, but already the hand that had released the driver had taken her wrist and twisted it painfully in his grasp. It wasn’t too long before she was on her knees on the cobbled driveway, looking up at him and pleading her soft apologies while the driver and Lord Caver looked on with shock and pity. However the devoted wife and daughter present looked on without any true sign of emotion, if anything it could have been said that their eyes showed a certain level of disgust towards the girl, currently being punished for some crime they were unaware of.

“Do you know your duties girl!?” he demanded sharply, still twisting her wrist painfully in his grip.

“Yes sir, I should have opened the carriage, I’m sorry sir!” her voice was nothing more than desperate pleading, muffled slightly by the sharp gasps of pain that she seemed to allow herself to pass on this occasion. The moment his hand released her she was on her feet once more and had stepped aside to allow the entry of the passengers, all four got inside and she closed the door behind them before moving to the front of the carriage in silence and taking a seat beside that of the driver, who joined her soon after and they were off.

There was only a brief time of sitting beside the driver where there was silence, and though Catherine looked ahead of the carriage, watching the horses as their heads rose and fell in time with their strides and they pulled forward in their harnesses; dragging the small travelling party along behind them. The driver gave off a curious and anxious air, she could sense that he wanted to ask questions, but knew that they would be the sort she never had any desire to answer. Of course they came anyway.

“I’m sorry if I got you into any trouble miss.” He said at last. When she said nothing in reply he smiled at her reassuringly and pressed the horses into a faster gait with the encouragement of his whip. “Not seen a servant let herself get treated like that before. Then again, I suppose if you’re willing to travel all the way to Spain with your master and his family you must be loyal to them, what is it? I mean does he pay you incredibly well, or are you loyal for some other reason? It can hardly be that he is a good employer.” There was amusement in his voice, so she smiled and looked at him properly for the first time.

He looked to be a kind man, perhaps in his forties, with greying hair and a tickle of a beard threatening the weathered skin of his face. His clear green eyes were only partially concealed by the bushy white of his eyebrows but they seemed to be smiling at her like she had never seen eyes do before, not that she could remember at least.

“I have no choice in the matter,” she said softly, looking away once more.

“But the rest of the servants, they quit didn’t they? Refused to go with him?” His voice had lost the amusement it had previously held and now seemed edged with concern and confusion, but it remained deep and gentle, the sort of soft probing words she was inclined to give in to.
“I’m a slave. Not a servant. What I do for that man is to keep my life, not my job.” Her voice too had kept the usual soft tones, but it now seemed blunt and factual, there was no emotion in what she said. 

“Nah!” he laughed heartily, as though he had just caught on to a bad joke. “The slaves are the dark folk, they’re not like us.”

“I was sold into it. The colour of my skin makes no difference at all, sir.” There was a tone of finality in her voice that could not be ignored, and thankfully he accepted her indignant silence for a while, but sadly not the entire journey.

When they had made their way for perhaps a little over an hour but still had a further hour of the journey to the docking yard to complete the carriage was stopped to allow the horses a moment’s rest. At which time the driver vanished into the trees by the side of the road with the intention of relieving himself. Catherine first tended to The Baron and his wife and daughter, along with their guest. She gave them water and handed back some small items that had been packed for the journey, a small picnic lunch of sandwiches and fruit. She then tended to the horses. She was standing with the two mares when Lord Caver emerged and explained to the others in the carriage that he needed to stretch his legs.

He walked over and smiled to her while she stroked a black mare’s mane and held a bucket of water up for it to drink from. Catherine attempted to ignore him at first; however she soon found it difficult, due to his persistence to inspire conversation between them. “Have you watered Spook?” he asked softly with reference to the young bay stallion that was tethered to the back of the carriage and had been following throughout the journey. No doubt the man’s concern came from the knowledge that the stallion belonged to him.

Determined not to respond through speech she simply nodded without so much as a glance upward. He seemed helpless to all but a sigh before he turned and moved back to the carriage to settle himself back in alongside Isabella. Their conversation soon returned to normal and she went back to patting and tending to the horses. When the driver returned both of them took their seats on top and the carriage drew out onto the road once more to continue the journey, this time with a fresh attempt at conversation between the two.

“So, that Lord fella; he be trying to court Lady Isabella, right?” the tone of his voice was cheery and seemed to be more casual and conversational, as though no tension had ever existed between them. Catherine took up the possibility of a rare, normal conversation with a bright smile and nodded.

“Yes, The Baron hopes to announce their engagement upon arrival in Spain.” She explained softly, a tone of light amusement to her own voice now.

“And the rumours about her, does he know?”

“I expect so, yes.”

“Are they true?”

“Most of them are, yes, but I don’t think that Lord Caver wants to believe any of them.”

It was well known around the villages that the Baron’s daughter was an easy woman if you wanted her for your bed; however it was not so simple to get her to submit to something more long term. The girl was wild in her own right, but shamefully obedient to the wishes of a man, something that Catherine found to be particularly worrying but obviously could never say anything about.

“He’ll be in for a shock if he ever makes a wife out of her,” he said with a light sigh as though he felt bad for the lord. Of course it was only natural, when Catherine thought about the heartbreak Isabella could cause that man she too couldn’t help but been pity for him. “I’m Oliver, by the way.” He said with a friendly smile towards her.

“I’m Catherine.”

Over the following hour the two conversed lightly and offered one another a small amount of pleasant company, though they did little more than this. He proved to be a nice enough man and spoke politely, treating her like so much more than the slave she was usually taught to be. He learned much about her usual defiance, her hatred for her master and the frequency of his punishments, which she had grown to care about incredibly little by comparison to some things. She learned of his more simple life, he drove sometimes for the people in the area, offering his carriage, horses and time, though for the most part he was a simple farmer with a small patch of land and his wife.

Then they arrived, surrounded by bustling streets of people making their way from one place to another, houses seeming to be everywhere and carriages travelling up and down every road. She watched them in amazement, right up to the point where the carriage stopped alongside the docking yards and the great ships came into sight, sitting on the waves and rocking back and forth slowly. Most were of great size, The Duke Remorah was perhaps the most magnificent of all the vessels there that day, probably bigger than The Baron’s house the great ship sported large white sails, marked with the bright colours of the British flag.

Time went by quickly enough, Oliver helped Catherine to begin loading the family’s possessions onto the ship and after a few trips the crew began to offer their help too, and with The Baron so distracted with tending to the last of the affairs and speaking with the captain about their journey he had neither time nor patience to protest. Besides, the help she received assisted them in a speedy departure, which assisted him in his ignorance of it. The small hours of the afternoon were beginning to settle with the sun setting down from its centre point when Isabella walked into her new cabin, Catherine at her side and holding a few cases of her possessions.

“Put my things on the bed girl.” Came the sharp instruction from the lips of a weary Isabella.

Without a word Catherine did as she was told, she took the cases and laid them on the bed opening a small velvet case and taking from it the artefacts that had adorned her dresser back at the house. These she began to place on the cabin’s dresser in almost precisely the same places they had taken in their previous home. Catherine didn’t notice Lord Caver enter the room while she was unpacking a few more of her mistress’ things and finding homes for each item in turn. However it would have been impossible to ignore the soft words that came from behind her.

“Alright there?” She turned suddenly to face him and took a glance around the room.

“Where is Lady Isabella?” She asked with a frown, having noticed her mistress’ absence from the room.

“On deck with her father, I believe they have been invited to dine with the captain this afternoon.”

“Why are you here?”

“I came to ensure you were well. The Baron treated you rather roughly this morning; I didn’t feel it was right of him.”

“The Baron would not appreciate your feelings, sir. I suggest you join him, and leave me to take care of myself, I am more than capable.”

“I am sure. But it is such a shame to see a pretty young maiden like your-self going to such waste.”

At this comment she suddenly understood his intentions and she could only glare in her hatred of the mere idea of it. Apparently this glare was misread, for the man was foolish enough to approach her, so close that the warmth of his body could be felt on hers. It was the first time she had ever felt at all grateful for the very covering attire she was ordered to wear.

His hand grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her sharply toward his body. His fingers found her hair and pulled it back to force her face to look up into his. The deep blue pools looked up into his gaze defiantly, angrily and suddenly his eyes widened and he let out a coarse, maddened scream. Cat had reached down and taken him in her hand, grabbing hard and twisting until he leapt back and was forced to rub himself tenderly in hopes of relieving some of the pain, Catherine could only smirk.

“Never touch me again.” She growled threateningly. However at this point a young man threw himself through the door and looked cautiously on the scene in front of him, his gaze wavering for a moment on where the man rubbed his balls tenderly. “Is everything alright here Lord Caver? I was sure I heard you shout.”

“This slave attacked me! I demand that she is taken to the captain and punishment be issued.” His voice was sharp, clearly she had upset him and yet still she only smirked at his anger.

The boy looked at her for a moment, then back at the lord, and then at last he nodded. “Yes sir. Miss, please come with me.” Catherine was not given the opportunity to follow him; Lord Caver grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along behind, insisting that the boy lead the way. They walked in a small group through the small hallways and all the way to the head of the ship where the captain’s cabin door stood, the soft tone of pleasant conversation muttering behind it.

The young boy reached out and knocked twice before a deep, rough voice called “enter!” The three entered the room as the voice had instructed, Lord Caver still looking livid and still clutching Catherine’s arm aggressively.

“Excuse me Captain, but the Lord here says he wants the girl dealt with, says she attacked him.”

“That’s alright Max. Who is the girl?” he asked, having first nodded to the boy’s apology then looked at Catherine when young ‘Max’ was done explaining the situation.

“That is my daughter’s slave!” gasped Baron Bryon with shock as he stepped forward in to stand beside cabin.

At this the captain raised an eyebrow a little and allowed his gaze to sweep over Catherine and then over Lord Caver.

“Might I ask in what manner she attacked you? I see no physical signs.” There was a tone of amusement in his voice that clearly did not please Lord Caver.

“She grabbed me in a place I wish not to display in the company of young Lady Isabella.” He growled, almost as soon as this had been established the eyes of every man in the room widened and looked at Catherine, who was smirking again.

“Girl!” exclaimed Baron Byron suddenly as he took get another step forward. “Why would you do such a thing to Lord Caver? Has he not defended you? Was it not he that attempted to shield you from my beatings not hours before? Has he not been a kind and fair gentleman to you?” There was such fury in his voice that she dared look at no one else, but she could not guess how they would appear at this moment, with the exception of Lord Caver himself of course, she expected that a self-indulgent grin had now crossed his arrogant features, pleased with himself for having brought trouble on her.

The punishment itself came swiftly, though surprisingly it was not as she had thought it would be, not at first at least. Catherine had expected her master to beat her then and there, instead he looked to the captain and requested some small space in which she could be expected to sleep for the remainder of the journey. It turned out that there were cells in the lowest part of the ship’s backend, built originally for the holding of thieves and mutineers on the ship, but her master was welcome to put her in one.

It was a place labelled by the crew as The Brigg, small, dark and damp, and the surrounding area was something like a wine cellar but with a stench hanging in the air her mind could not place. Upon entry her master did indeed beat her, he stuck her squarely across the cheek so that she stumbled back and hit her head against an iron bar, he kicked her sharply in the stomach and hurled abusive, hateful words before he finally closed the door of her prison, locked it and left.

In this cage time did not pass as it probably should have, things were illogical and she spent much of the time sleeping or singing quietly to herself so that the others would not hear her. The only company she received was from Max, the little lad that had come that day and taken her to the captain. He was a friendly boy, though it seemed unlikely that he was much more than sixteen years old, he loved the ship and this much was clear in everything he did, he also seemed sorry for having taken her that day and getting her in so much trouble. He was the one to fetch her meals and he always spoke to her when he came, but she never spoke back, instead she seemed simply to pretend that he did not exist.

Not even Catherine herself knew why she rejected his conversation; perhaps it was simply because she did not care for the topic. Max was always asking questions about why she had attacked Lord Caver and why she had not explained herself, and he seemed even more interested in whether or not she was sorry that she had.

So it was that Catherine was journeying to Spain, a prisoner and a slave, her future at this point was more uncertain than ever. She could hardly expect to keep her position in the family as the daughter’s attendant, and certainly not if Isabella did agree to marry Lord Caver, but if they would not accept her back, what would they do to her? If they let her go she would find it near impossible to survive, she had no money, no home, no friends and no family, she could not speak Spanish so her chances of finding employment there were slim and she had no means of returning to England.