– My daughter, what have you been thinking? – Sir Richard frowned. – What nonsense lives in your empty head? Why would William Tury want you for a wife? I am poor! All the fault of that witch Anne Boleyn!

– But how? It cannot be, Father, you are mistaken! – burst from the poor girl's breast. Her lips trembled, and tears of disappointment and deceived hope came to her eyes.

How cruelly she had been mistaken!

– I have had enough of your foolishness! Go to your chambers! – Sir Richard threw irritably.

– 'Father, he could not ask for Alienor's hand…'

– I said out!

– Please…I love him! I love him with all my heart! – Brigid cried out in despair. – I think he was drunk… He got drunk and mistook Alienor for me!

– He asked her father for her hand in marriage," Sir Richard said, and resumed writing. – I am the unlucky one with a daughter. You are beautiful, but you are as good as this table, though the table is useful, and you are a waste. You're in your best shape, and still no one wants to marry you.

– It's all your fault, sir… You've brought our family into disgrace! – whispered Brigid, but so quietly that her stern, cruel father could not hear her and punish her with a wet rod.

– Learn from your friend. She knows how to interest a man, and you've been standing against the wall all night with a face like a sheep at the slaughterhouse. Go to your chambers. That's an order.

Her father's cold voice made Brigid flinch: he used his vocal cords with such skill that it was as if a cruel hard palm had struck her cheek.

– 'As you say, father. – She curtsied and stepped out into the dark corridor.

As Brigid closed the door, a gust of air blew out the candle she held in her hand, and the girl was greeted by the darkness of night, for despite his wealth, Lord Norton, the master of the castle, was unwilling to spend money on candles or torches in the corridors, for they cost a great deal and burned out quickly. But the darkness never frightened Brigid: it was her faithful friend when she could not sleep at night, and the girl imagined in colours William, her wedding to him and her first wedding night. But it was all just silly and unfulfilled dreams: William wants Alienor! She is the one he wants as his wife, the one he wants to caress in the marital bedroom, the one he sees as the mother of his children! And she, Brigid, is incapable of anything… That's what her father said.

Putting the candleholder on the floor, which made a muffled thud in the corridor, Brigid leaned her hand on the wall, for her legs could not hold her, and put her other hand on the gold chain with a cross adorning her neck. Her lungs, constricted by the tight kirtle, refused to serve her, and she caught the air with her lips like a fish that had accidentally jumped out of the water onto dry land.

How had this happened? Didn't she spend every day in prayer? Didn't she fervently ask the Almighty to give her William's love? Did she not pray enough? Did she not ask humbly enough? She was a dutiful daughter, and in spite of everything, not a single harsh word about her parents escaped her lips. And Alienor? What did she deserve?

"William… My William! For you do not even realise that you broke my heart! You gave me a dance and smiled at me, but your thoughts were not with me, but with her… And you, Alienor, my sister? Did you know of his love? You convinced me that he would be mine, but instead it was you who would walk down the marriage aisle… And it was your body he would caress, kiss your lips, and write sonnets about you… And I am nothing… Disappointment. But, dear sister, it's not your fault' thought the girl wistfully. The cup she was about to drink was not an elixir of happiness, but bitterness, and she drank it to the bottom.