A/n: Im sorry this is a short chapter but I have been so worn out because of my new job. This chapter touches on my oc Mary who is a chaimbermaid. I do plan to write more about her in the following chapters but thought i'd lighten things up for her. The following chapters will touch on the other characters and of course of Jane and smithy. Until then, please enjoy.

Chapter 38: A Glimpse Of Hope

Wrapped up in her threadbare cloak, the chambermaid was a bit cold but had been praying for a while now on what she ought to do. The sun had not yet risen, but her soul was weary. If Mary had not been afraid of rousing anyone from slumber, she might have gone to her usual place of worship, but she did not feel worthy of it. Instead, she had chosen one of the grand arbours to kneel under, where she would not disturb anyone, and beg God for peace. Her lips quivered as the words and lamentations fell silently from her soul; the disappointment of a love which would never be draining her strength.

Although Mary knew it would be simple enough to avoid the blacksmith, what diversion would she have now that one of her few joys was lost? Her immediate thoughts were that she could flee and attempt to seek employment elsewhere, or become a servant for a wealthy household, but it might not be as pleasant or rewarding as her current home. There would be no friends there, no kindness, nor a handsome stablemaster to warm her soul with hope on her loneliest days. If only she had not been persuaded to attempt to shorten the disparity, but her desperation had tempted her; the fool had tricked her.

Yet, had it been wrong to wish for love too? To be in want of family and future? Perchance Mary had asked for one too many things; had become greedy in her wants and disregarding her needs. Along with her plea for peace, came her incessant need to be forgiven. No doubt, the cook had known the truth, and the lady knight had sensed her indifference, but with all her might, she hoped the blacksmith would not come to know of her deceit; it would have been difficult to bear.

No matter what, Smithy had never deserved her deception, because her affection, while insignificant, was genuine and tender in its own right, but unequal to that of the lady knight. Oh yes, the chambermaid knew the truth; had known it for as long as she had served in this castle that station, nor birth, nor circumstance could keep them apart for long; a knight would always be in need of a blacksmith. Theirs was a love story that even the jester could not have predicted, but if he had, then he would have been disappointed. Despite the tears she had shed, the chambermaid refused to cry any longer, for God had been good to her and had allowed her even for a moment to taste romance before she had to let it go. And in acquiescence, and the beginning of accepting her fate, peace washed over her, but soon peace was broken by the inquiry from his lordship Sir Gunther. "What are you doing down there?"

Opening her eyes, and glancing up at the raven-haired knight, Mary answered plainly, "I was praying Sir."

With a raised brow, he shifted his weight to his dominant leg, and questioned, "Praying? To a tree?"

The absurdity of the inquiry almost induced her to smile, but the chambermaid answered with seriousness, "No sir, to God."

"Well, you could have chosen a better place for that." Came his exasperation, "I almost mistook you for an intruder, but I doubt a thief would bother to pray unless his life was at risk."

She hoped he would go and allow her to continue as she was, but he remained; studying her, and finding that his suspicions were unwarranted. "I did not believe I would be disturbed here Sir, but I will leave if I am a hindrance."

And with that, the chambermaid began to rise, but Gunther stated, "Seeing as you are not disturbing anyone, you may continue as you are, but do not be late for your duty. It will not be my fault if you lose track of time and get reprimanded."

Breathing a sigh of relief, the chambermaid nodded, "Of course sir."

And turning away to continue his duty, he mentioned, "Also, if you find the time Mary, would you mind praying for me?"

The raven-haired knight took her silence as a sign of confusion, and he added, "I fear I do not know how to approach God," Or if any supplication he made would be listened to, "but perchance if he hears anyone, I suppose he would hear you."

Was Sir Gunther complimenting her? It was hard to say. The knight walked away briskly before he had a chance of listening to her reply. And bowing her head, and clasping her hands, she felt bolstered by this honourable task and found that while she lamented her troubles, the anxieties of a knight must be tenfold. Thus, a new plan, as well as a new hope, was developed and became the inspiration to exert effort; unbeknownst to her that they both had lost the fight to their unrequited affections.