by Jackie Ivie
“The honor of what?”
“Oh. My. Perhaps I’d best get Augusta. She’s more of a hand with this sort of thing.”
“You don’t think he will mind, do you?”
“That you’re still a maid? Why, I believe he will be most appreciative. Most.”
“You don’t think he guesses, do you?”
“Possibly. No. Wait. It’s highly probable. You say he kissed you on the forehead? Not the lips?”
“He already did that in the stable.”
“My lady!”
“And it was wondrous, as well! I suppose the consummation is even better?”
Roberta sputtered and blushed, although she tried to hide it by refolding one of the linens. Bessie watched her do it.
“Well?” she prompted, once Roberta had finished.
“I can’t rightly say, my lady. That is your husband’s duty. Not to worry. He’ll be right handy at it, too, if I don’t miss my guess.”
“Handy at what?”
“Reddish wigs, you say? I’d best get this message off. Afore it’s too dark and the courier cannot see the ruts. As many carriages as have been going betwixt Stansbury and here, you’d think the road would be more passable, wouldn’t you?”
“Roberta!”
“But, my lady! I’d best go. I’ve orders to see to, and a sister to fetch. You just lie down and rest a bit.”
“You are not going to tell me anything, are you?”
“Ask your husband.”
“I can’t do that! I’d die of embarrassment. Isn’t there some book I can read?”
“It would have been burned on sight, if there were.”
“Burned? It must be very wicked.” She pouted, bringing her hand up to her chin. “I should have known it.”
“It’s not wicked, or evil, or even bad. Unless it’s with the wrong person, or the union is not blessed by God. That is not your problem. You are married. No matter whom you pretend to be, you are still wed. It will still be you. When he does...uh. I mean, when you and he—well, when he—and you—oh, dear. I’ll just be off to fetch Augusta!”
Roberta dashed to the door. Bessie couldn’t remember ever seeing Roberta move that quickly. She was still looking at the door as her maid shut it behind her.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I tell you, I know what I’m doing, and they don’t!”
“And I’ll not take this sort of insolence from a young pup. Out of the way!”
“Will you take it from me, Francis?”
Bessie breezed into one of the drawing rooms. She’d heard the shouting from the hall, as had the ladies with her, Lizzy, Regina, and Olivia. Uncle Francis turned and glared at her. Bessie was so used to it she ignored his scowl and went to stand directly between Henry and his uncle.
“I’ve taken more than I can stand from you, Mistress.”
“Excellent. Perhaps you’ll find the North wing more to your liking? I understand it’s nearly habitable.”
“I’ll not move to the North wing.”
“May I politely disagree? I’ve decided to renovate your chambers next. You will find it exceedingly uncomfortable to stay there. Do I need to be any clearer?”
“You threaten me, when all I was trying to do was keep my nephew from making a fool of himself? This is the thanks I get?”
“What has Henry done that you’d classify as foolish? Henry?”
Bessie swiveled sideways and looked up to Devon’s fourth brother. She was beginning to notice subtle differences about them. Henry’s hair wasn’t as dark as Devon’s, nor was he as tall. He also looked unsure at the moment.
“They were scaling the floor down. It’s stupid.”
“The floors have to be repaired. They slope toward the outer wall in every room on the lower floor. Whose plan was that?”
“It was to keep flood waters out.” Uncle Francis answered.
“That may have been the reason, but there’s not a water mark from the lowest spot of the dungeons upward that I have seen.”
“It could still flood.”
“And it could stay dry, too. In the meantime, we all slide downhill?”
“Why tempt fate?”
“Fate needs the exercise. Better yet, since I’m replacing all the tables in the Great Hall and I’m not having them designed with longer legs on one side - which was the prior method of correcting a poor design - we will need floors that are level. I don’t care what you say about it.”
“You’re replacing the tables?”
“With the heaviest, most expensive oak. Don’t fret, Francis. I can always have the old ones delivered to the North wing for your use. You’ll have some work to do to keep them from falling over, however.”
“You’d allow my nephew to be a workman? With all this fancy talk of education and refinement?”
“Is that what this is all about, Henry?”
“They’re scaling the floors down. I know it’s wrong.”
“Why is it wrong?”
“You’re going to listen to the advice of a lad? I can’t believe my ears.”
“You’re free to leave, Francis. The rest of us will listen. Go ahead, Henry.”
“I got to thinking. It could still flood, and the design isn’t that incorrect. But all we’ll accomplish by chipping the stone floor down is a lot of work. I propose setting heavy timbers on their sides, from the highest point in the room...right here, for example.”
The girls, Bessie, Uncle Francis, and several workmen stood back as Henry passed between them and stopped at the doorway. He crouched down and put his hand out toward the outer wall.
“You see how easy it would be to make it level? We could set one end of the timber in mortar about here.”
He drew an imaginary line at his feet.
“Then we set the other end into the outer wall. All we’d need to do is carve out moorings for each board. Then, we could fashion a floor atop it. In wood. We’d have a level surface, the stone slope would be preserved in the event of water, and we’d save time.”
“Why, that’s positively brilliant, Henry.”
“It will be expensive, though. I should warn you.”
“No worries there. My pockets are deep. Will you be overseeing it, then?”
“You are making my nephew into a common workman. My sister would be turning over in her grave.”
“I’m letting your nephew’s natural talent take flight.”
“Building and masonry are not talents.”
“If you could see Whitehall Chapel, Windsor Castle, or even the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey, you would not be so certain. Stand aside, Francis. Let the man work.”
“Work? The brother of a lord? What kind of a benefactress are you?”
“He’s showing every sign of an architect. It’s a newer profession, Francis. Much vaunted. Likely better than...what is it you usually do, Henry?”
“Tend the gardens.”
“That is your idea of the correct occupation, Francis? I’m surprised at your reasoning. Come along, girls. We’ve still a lesson in medicinal herbs to see to.”
“You are allowing him to toil?”
“What did he do in the garden, watch it grow? Perhaps you’d be best occupied with seeing to the North wing, Francis. I believe I’ll have your bed moved there before supper. Oh, and Henry?”
“Yes?”
Devon’s brother had a glow about him that made Bessie long to shout with joy. It was difficult to hold it in. And all because she knew she’d caused it. She cleared her throat and tried for a calm, solemn tone.
“When you have finished instructing the workers here, will you move on to the library? It is in deplorable shape.”
Francis grumbled. “We still have a library? What a waste.”
Bessie turned back to their uncle. “Only to the uninformed. To those blessed with a mind and the ability to use it, a library is a stepping stone to freedom beyond compare.”
“It’s just a room.”
“And this is merely su
nlight coming through this glass.” Bessie held out her arm, and let the prism of light touch the jewels sewn into her lace cuff.
“I don’t understand. I don’t see anything.”
“There is beauty all about, Francis. Look at the colors the sunshine calls to life within its beam. Without the light, or the glass, or the gemstones, there would be nothing. The same goes for knowledge. That is all about us, as well. But without books, and tutors, and the thirst for it, there is nothing. Do you see what I’m talking about?”
“No.”
“Really? How...sad. I’ve been sheltered from life since the day I was born, yet I know more about living it than you do. We really must leave you now. Henry? One more thing?”
“Yes.”
Devon’s brother was standing straight. Proud. He looked authoritative and very serious. Bessie couldn’t prevent the smile. She nearly giggled.
“The library shelves need attention first. We haven’t much time.”
“Why? Are we expecting a flood now?” Francis asked militantly.
“What a poetic turn of phrase! Actually, I am expecting a flood. One of knowledge.”
“What?”
“I’m having caseloads of books delivered. I don’t know how long it will take, but we need to prepare. Now. We really must be going. Good day.”
“How the devil are you going to pay for it?”
Uncle Francis surprised her, moving so quickly he reached the door before her and blocked it. He glared at her. Bessie lifted her eyes to the beams above her head for a moment before looking back down at him. He couldn’t have seen it, but it made her feel better.
“I am a rich woman, Francis. A very rich woman. So rich, you couldn’t live long enough to count it all. I tire of saying it. Now, kindly cease delaying us. We are due for a lesson.”
“Why does my nephew disclaim it, then?”
“Devon appears to have inherited your stubbornness. Now that I think on it, the North wing may be too close. I’d rather send you to Crump Castle. Perhaps the luxury will convince you. Or stifle you. Either way, you will not be here interfering with everything. And that sounds heavenly. Now. Step aside.”
Bessie was halfway down the hallway before any of the girls said anything. Olivia was first.
“That was the most amazing thing I ever saw. He didn’t raise his voice, but once. And you were amazing! Each comment so quick. Direct...and yet subtle. Is that what you call court talk?”
“How will I ever learn it?” Regina asked.
“I have faith in each and every one of you. You need to be quick studies, however. I fear you will each have so many beaux you’ll need more than words to keep them at bay. Have you decided yet on your costume?”
“I want to go as the black swan. Regina gave it over last night.”
“I did not! I simply said was thinking of trying the fairy princess one, rather than the black swan.”
“Why can’t I attend?”
Lizzy asked it and then reached for Bessie’s hand. The contact sent such a swell of emotion to her throat, she couldn’t reply at first.
“You are too young. No one is looking to betroth a ten-year-old.” Regina spoke.
“Is that the truth?”
Bessie turned to the girl. “Not really. But it is true that you are very young. I don’t wish you to leave us just yet. I’m certain Devon agrees. Imagine how Hilde Castle will feel once all of you have gone. We will find you a bridegroom, however. Never fear. It cannot be just anyone, however. He will need to be charming and handsome and think you the most wondrous woman in existence.”
“Just like Devon does you?”
Bessie snorted. It was covered up by the other girls’ giggling. And then Roberta came from behind, interrupting them.
“My lady? I’ve caught up with you. Good. This note came while you were speaking with that horrible man. It’s from Stansbury.”
“Why thank you, Roberta. I wonder what it says.”
Bessie looked at her maid. Lifted her brows. The mobcap was a new addition. She wondered how Roberta had managed to gather all of her wig into it.
“You receive messages?” Olivia asked
“Of course. All the time. I have to keep an eye on my interests.”
“You can read them?”
“How would I know the difference between a tally sheet and a love note, otherwise?”
“Is that a love note?”
Bessie smiled. “Why don’t we find out? When we’ve finished with the herbs, we’ll find a good spot to start learning how to read.”
“Reading isn’t a necessary skill. Not for a lady,” Olivia said.
“I hope you are not quoting your Uncle Francis,” Bessie replied.
“No. My mirror.”
“I am so surprised,” Regina quipped.
Bessie stifled the chortle.
“No. I am serious. I checked. Reading tends to bring frown lines and can makes you squint.”
“Let me ask you something, Olivia. What will you do if you receive a love note?”
“I...guess I should find someone to read it to me.”
“You’d have to use someone you trust. How would you know if the person reading your note is accurate? They might embellish words.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“I am not saying they would. I’m saying it is a possibility. Especially at court. There is not a lot to occupy the ladies-in-waiting, or the courtiers. I’ve heard things. Seen tricks played.”
“Tricks?”
“The world of court is like a world apart, ladies. Things on the surface might look glittery and exciting. That may not always be the case. Sometimes things are put into play simply to see what might ensue.”
“Why would someone do that?”
“I would guess the usual reason is entertainment. Court life can be extremely boring. Frustrating. Lonely. Another reason could be spite. And there is always jealousy.”
“Jealousy?”
“Someone is always richer. Has more beaux. Nicer attire. Jewelry. Beauty. I must warn you. All of you. Jealousy is a distinct possibility. You are all extremely beautiful women. That can cause others to act...hastily.”
“What could they do?”
“Seriously impact your chances.”
“By reading a note?”
“What if the person you asked to read for you has a secret longing for the author of your note? And they become jealous?”
“That sort of thing happens at court?” Regina asked.
“Oh dear. I never thought—. Perhaps we should skip the herb lesson? I’d best learn how to read.”
“Well. We won’t be able to get far before the masque. But I think you should be able to recognize some words. And definitely numbers.”
“Why would we want that?”
“You’d know the difference between a tally sheet and a love note.”
“That is a tally sheet, my lady,” Roberta said.
“Your maid can read?”
“Of course. She helped me with the lessons, didn’t you, Roberta?”
“I don’t think this is proper, my lady.”
“Well. I am not feeling very proper at the moment. I must tell you ladies something. It’s about trust. Remember? I trust Roberta implicitly. She has been with me since I was very small. She is so much more than a maid. Aren’t you, Roberta?”
“My lady. Please.”
Roberta was blushing, but looked very pleased. Bessie cleared her throat.
“Yes. Well. Back to lessons. I see no reason why we can’t learn herbs alongside a bit of letters. Roberta? Could you see some primers brought to the garden?”
“Very good, my lady.” Roberta dipped into a curtsy and her braid fell over her shoulder at the same time.
“Oh. Will you look there? I didn’t know she had red hair,” Regina commented.
~ ~ ~
“I hear you try to frighten my sisters with tales of court life.”
Bessie gasped as Devon spoke fr
om behind her. She hadn’t seen him since yesterday evening. In the library. When he’d held her. Nor had he been noticeable just now in the dimness of the hall. But she should have felt him! The moment he spoke, every sense she owned came alive. Alert.
And supremely aware.
“I rather wonder how that suits your purpose,” he added.
“Word certainly travels quickly through this castle.”
Bessie took her time letting go of the door handle. She’d barely finished preparing for an appearance at the family sup. She needed a moment to modulate her breathing. Control her emotions. Gather her wits.
“We’re a close-knit family. And you’re avoiding answering. You are very adept at that.”
“I didn’t hear a question.”
“Oh. Interesting. Let me specify, then. I would like to know why you’d want my sisters afraid of their every gesture and word. It seems...short-sighted, at best.”
“I don’t want them afraid. I wanted them forewarned. Being at court can be a hazardous place for the innocent and unaware.”
“That wasn’t my experience.”
“That’s because you were Her Majesty’s favorite—oh! Wait a moment. You obviously should have been forewarned, as well.”
“What makes you say that?”
“There was a game played, Devon. You might not have seen it, or been aware at the time, but someone definitely played a game. On both of us.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Don’t be obtuse. Our marriage is the end result. And, as I recall, it wasn’t much to your liking at the time.”
“Oh. That.”
“Exactly.”
“Perhaps someone should have proposed a possible alliance between us earlier. Introduced us. Given me some advance warning. I might have kept my tongue and opinions of my first impressions to myself. You know, Bess? Call me difficult, but isn’t it enough that I must speak to your weeds?”
“What?”
“Could you turn about please? Or have I done something to merit the back of your head now?”
She took a deep breath, and did as he asked.
The hallway outside her room was a wide span, but he made it small as he stepped into the torchlight. Bessie’s heart gave her trouble again. He didn’t look to have taken much time with his appearance. He was wearing brown leather riding trousers and a thigh-grazing tan jerkin. Rawhide strips had been laced at each shoulder, attaching sleeves that ended just below his elbow. From there he wore gloves that looked well-used. He hadn’t taken any effort with his hair. Or, he’d just arrived and hadn’t time yet. To comb it. Secure it in a queue.
