by Barb Hendee
“Roweena!” he called to young serving woman down the left passage.
At the sight of him, her eyes widened and she trotted to us. “My lord?”
“This is Lady Nicole, your new mistress” he said. “Please take her to her rooms and have a fire built. Her trunk will be up directly. Help her to change for dinner and then bring her to the great hall.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Christophe walked away, calling over his shoulder, “My lady, I’ll change for dinner and meet you there.”
Though glad for a chance to stand before a fire and change into dry clothing, I wondered about the reference to my own rooms. He and I were married now. Should we not be living in the same rooms?
* * * *
Not long past darkness, I left my new rooms wearing my lavender gown. It was my first evening here and I wanted to look well. Roweena showed me to the great hall and as I walked in, it dawned on me that I was mistress of this vast keep.
Near the hearth, Christophe stood waiting. Beside him stood a woman and two children, a boy and a girl. The woman was tall and gaunt, perhaps thirty years old. She wore a high-necked black gown with a starched white collar. Her hair was pulled into a severe bun at the back of her neck.
Both the children wore serious expressions.
At the sight of me, Christophe’s expression softened. “Mildreth, this is Lady Nicole, my wife,” he said. “Nicole, this is my sister, Lady Mildreth, and her children, Jordan and Amanda.”
I thought it odd that he did not introduce Jordan and Amanda as his nephew and niece, but rather as “Mildreth’s children,” as if they had no connection to him. But I did not comment and smiled at Mildreth.
“I am so glad to meet you.”
She didn’t respond and looked at me in surprise. After a moment, she said, “You both must be hungry. I will have dinner brought in.”
We sat and I waited for her to ask after our wedding or my parents, or even Erik, who had visited here often. But she did not speak and neither did Christophe or the children. Servants brought in trays of roast beef, green beans, and gravy.
“This looks delicious,” I said.
Christophe began to eat and he took a long drink from his cup of ale. I preferred water, but sipped at some wine, becoming more baffled when no one spoke. With children at the table, I assumed the chatter would be nonstop.
“When will you begin building my henhouse?” I asked my husband.
A slight smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Not for a few days. Tomorrow, I need to go to the shore and get a report from Captain Fáuvel.”
“What is this about a henhouse?” Mildreth asked.
“Nicole kept hens at White Deer Lodge,” Christophe answered. “I promised her a henhouse.”
For the first time, Amanda seemed interested in what was happening around her.
I smiled. “Do you like hens?”
She drew back in her chair, as if unused to being asked a question. Then she answered softly, “I like baby chicks.”
“Oh, good,” I said. “Then when I bring the first chicks in, you can help me care for them.”
Her eyes were like saucers at the prospect and she looked to Mildreth. “Could I, Mama?”
“We’ll see,” Mildreth answered.
Somehow, we made it through dinner, and Christophe said he was tired and would walk me to my rooms.
Mildreth made no response.
* * * *
Christophe brought me back up to the apartments on the second floor, where I had changed for dinner. The rooms were well furnished with low couches, vases of fresh flowers, and a large bedroom. But I was still puzzled about the arrangements.
“You’re not too tired?” he asked me. “You don’t mind if I stay?”
Flustered, I responded. “What do you mean? Are these not your rooms too? Where are any of your things?”
“My things? They are in my rooms.”
“Do you mean to tell me you expect us to live in separate apartments?”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“We’re married. My parents have always lived in the same rooms together.”
Nonplussed, he said, “That is not typical.”
“It’s not?”
“No. Couples of our station keep separate rooms. I’ve never heard of a noble couple sharing the same apartments.”
“That’s absurd. How does anyone make a child with that arrangement?”
This seemed to embarrass him. “The man comes to visit the woman in her apartments when he wishes.”
I stared. “You mean to tell me that we are never to sleep in the same bed unless you wish it, and you decide to come here? I am not fond of that that idea at all, are you?”
He thought for a moment. “No…I’m not.”
“Then we should live in the same apartments. Will you move in here?”
He shook his head. “You should move into my apartments. They are bigger.” Reaching out, he gently grasped the back of my head. “Tomorrow. We’ll sleep here tonight.”
* * * *
The next morning, Christophe left early to take a boat to shore and confer with the captain. After dressing and eating a light meal in the apartments, I wondered what I should do with my day. While taking stock of the medicinal supplies my mother had sent with me, I noted she’d sent no cough syrup.
Roweena came in to fetch my breakfast tray and I asked her, “Where are the kitchen gardens located?”
“Not far from the kitchen itself, my lady. If you go out the back door, there is a space of land between the keep and the wall that gets enough sun. Our cook, Mistress Amelia, keeps a good garden.”
“Are there roses?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good. I’ll follow you down and you can show me the door.”
And so I began my life at the keep. I did wonder that Christophe had not remained even one day to show me around and get me acclimated, but I knew he had many duties and as a result, he was a well-respected lord.
I followed Roweena past the kitchen, and I found some shears and a basket and headed out the back of the keep.
She had not been wrong. A plot of land outside sported a fine kitchen garden with peas, potatoes, tomatoes, onions, green beans, and other lush vegetables. To the back of that, I saw a flower garden with an abundance of roses.
Carrying my basket, I began clipping heads and harvesting petals.
I’d clipped only a few when the back door opened and Mildreth walked out. She stopped in mid-step as if not expecting to find me here.
“Good morning, Mildreth,” I said. “Did you need me?”
“No, I came to check on the onions. They’ve not been growing as they should this year.” Walking over, she looked into my basket. Her entire body was tense. “What are you doing?”
“Gathering rose petals to make cough syrup. We’ll need a good supply for this coming winter.”
“You know how to make cough syrup?”
“Yes, and once I have my herb garden growing, I can make a number of other syrups and ointments. My mother is a healer and she taught me.”
Lifting her gaze from the basket, she said, “You are not all what I expected.”
This puzzled me. “What did you expect?”
“We have visitors here from time to time and I’ve heard much of your sister. I expected you to be something like her: vain, decorative, and useless. Spending your days organizing tea parties or in fittings for gowns and yet fancying yourself as the lady of the house.”
It should have angered me to hear of my sister or myself described in such oversimplified terms, but she spoke with such dispassion, as if discussing the weather as opposed to being critical.
Then her eyes narrowed. “But you are not useless, are you? The question between the tw
o of us is, how useful do you wish to be?”
At this, I felt thankful for Christophe’s warning the night before. He’d been wise to tell me of her situation.
“Mildreth,” I said. “Christophe has told me that you’ve managed the household, as mistress, for eight years and that you’ve done a fine job. You are right that I cannot abide to be idle and I have no talent for tea parties. At home, I had many duties, but I’ve been neither trained nor prepared to run a great house like this one. While I would like to be included in some matters, such as planning the menus, I have no wish to take your place.”
She studied me, as if uncertain whether or not to believe my speech. “Why did you marry my brother?”
“Because I love him. He is the best of men.”
Somehow, this was the right answer and the tension in her body eased ever so slightly.
“You and I are sisters now,” I added, “and for years to come. It would be best if we could be friends.”
The walls she’d created around herself were thick, but she continued to study me. “Perhaps.”
* * * *
Summer passed into early autumn.
During the harvest season, Christophe was away from home a good deal, but I’d expected that, as my father and Erik were often out visiting villages and checking harvests at this time of year.
I wrote to Chloe several times, but she answered only once, saying she was busy with her new life. Erik did not come to visit. This hurt a little, but I was finding my place in my own new life.
Christophe and I chose a spot for the henhouse right outside the keep front gates, with a space for an herb garden nearby. He brought me to a meadow outside the village and we decided on this for the beehives.
As promised, he built the henhouse himself, and together we painted it white with blue trim. Young Amanda showed interest in my new chicks and she began to accompany me every morning. Mildreth did not appear to mind and I noticed the girl coming out of her quiet shell more and more.
This caused me to encourage Christophe to spend time with Jordan, teaching the boy things he would need to know. For some reason, this had never occurred to Christophe, but he began teaching the boy how to ride and defend himself.
While busy with my hens, bees, and gardening, I left much of the running of the household to Mildreth, and she was gratified enough to confer with me on the menus. I did not believe we would ever become sisters, but it seemed that perhaps we were becoming friends. Without ever showing her an ounce of pity, I understood that her position here was a tenuous one—as sister of the lord and not his wife—and I had no wish to cause her fear of losing her place in the world.
She, in turn, seemed quietly grateful for Christophe’s interest in Jordan. Although I missed my mother, father, Erik, and Chloe, I found myself becoming more and more part of my new family.
Christophe made no secret of his love for me and this was seductive unto itself. When he looked at me, he saw perfection. I was coming to need to see myself through his eyes, and I could tell he needed to see himself through mine. I thought myself the most fortunate of women and did not hide this when I looked at him. My husband was kind and devoted and always put the needs of others before his own.
Only one thing troubled me. I spent every night in a bed with Christophe, taking pleasure in joining my body with his, and yet my courses continued to come each month. I was not yet with child.
Autumn passed into winter. When winter was just on the edge of spring, we faced a shocking tragedy. Somehow, raiders from the sea made their way to a de Fiore village called Chastain and they ravaged it.
Christophe and I joined Captain Fáuvel and a large contingent of guards to travel there to offer our assistance. The people had suffered greatly and eleven young women had been taken. Christophe blamed himself when he learned the raiders had rowed their ships upriver. He’d not foreseen ships that could cross both the sea and traverse a river.
We stayed at the village for over week, where I offered myself as a healer and Christophe worked to rebuild homes. Upon returning home, he launched into plans to block the rivers from passage via the sea.
But for as much sorrow as the event brought to us, working side by side to help his people—who were now my people—this also brought Christophe and me closer together in ways we had not experienced before.
And yet, I wanted to give him a child. Spring was arriving and we had been married in the previous summer. Upon our return from Chastain, I felt my hopes begin to rise. My courses were late and I had been feeling some queasiness in my stomach. I began to believe that I might finally have a child growing inside me.
Then in the early evening, I was in the rooms I shared with Christophe, preparing to dress for dinner, and I felt a cramp in my stomach. Checking my undergarments, I found spots of blood. The sight was crushing. I had been so sure, so full of hope. Unable to stop them, tears flowed down my cheeks.
While I crouched on the floor, weeping, Christophe walked in. At the sight of me there, he ran forward in alarm.
“Nicole!”
Pressing one side of my face against his shoulder, I told him of my sorrow. I let my pain pour out.
He rocked me back and forth like a child. “Is this what’s been wrong lately? I’ve known something was wrong. You should have told me. Please don’t worry. My parents were married over a year before Mildreth was conceived. It is not unusual.”
I knew this. In my mind, I knew this, but knowing something and living through it are two different things. Still, I felt better after talking to him. As always, Christophe offered kindness and comfort.
About a month after this, I received a letter from my mother.
My sweet girl,
Forgive me for being so remiss in writing to you of late. I think of you every day.
I have news. Last month, your sister gave birth to a fine son. She and the child are both well, and she has named him Gideon, after your father.
In two weeks’ time, she and Julian will be traveling to White Deer Lodge for a visit. I know the baby is young for a journey, but she does so want for us to see him. I suggested that your father and I go to her, but she prefers to come here.
Might you and Christophe join us? It would make my heart glad to have everyone together under one roof for even a short while.
Sending love,
Your mother
I loved receiving letters from my mother. She wrote with the same warm affection with which she always spoke. I could hear her voice as if she stood in the room. The letter made me want to see her, but more, I wanted to see Chloe and know for myself that she was all right.
That night, I showed the letter to Christophe.
“Might we go?” I asked.
His brow knitted. “I don’t know. We’re heading into tilling season and I may be needed here to help decide the distribution of community equipment. You would not believe some of the squabbles that take place.”
Gripping the letter, I said, “Please, Christophe. She is my sister.”
At the longing in my voice, he reached out and touched my arm. “Of course. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Chapter 15
We arrived in the courtyard of White Deer Lodge a few weeks later with a small contingent of de Fiore guards.
The sight of the familiar log structures, built all around us, filled my heart with joy. My place was at Whale’s Keep, but perhaps I would always think of White Deer Lodge as home. Erik came running from the barracks, straight to my horse. Without a word, he reached up and lifted me off, holding me against himself with my feet still off the ground.
It was rather undignified and I struggled. “Put me down.”
The instant my feet touched earth, I made a fist and struck his chest. “You have not come to visit.”
He didn’t seem to notice the blow and kissed the top of my head. “I know.
I’m sorry. I’ve been training men every day.”
Christophe dismounted and they greeted each other with affection. I think each one viewed the other as the closest he would ever have to a brother. My parents came hurrying out to greet us. I hugged my father first and then found myself lost in my mother’s arms. I did not want to let go of her, but I asked, “Is Chloe here? Where is she?”
“Not yet arrived,” my mother answered. “But she will be here before dark.”
Belledini lands were about as far inland as Whale’s Keep was to the north—a full day’s journey. But Christophe and I had made good time and dusk was nearly an hour away. I could wait.
Going inside, Mother and I left the men to their talk of training soldiers. We sat by the fire in the dining room and she asked me many questions about my life at Whale’s Keep. It was so good to talk to her.
But then darkness came. Chloe, Julian, and the new baby had still not arrived. The men came in to the dining room to join us and I could see my father was worried. He did not like the idea of Chloe on the road after dark, even with guards. Mother announced we would delay dinner.
I was becoming concerned myself, when we heard the sound of hoofbeats, horses, and voices out in the courtyard.
Mother smiled in relief. “There they are.”
A happy group, we all walked out to greet them. But as I emerged into the courtyard, two things struck me: First, the guards around Chloe were not wearing the red tabards of the Belledinis. They were our own family guards, led by Corporal Devon.
Second, Chloe rode in a wagon, holding a bundle in her arms, but Julian was nowhere to be seen.
Christophe reached the wagon first, reaching up. “My lady, hand me the child.”
Through the darkness, I followed on his heels. She handed him the bundle. He passed it off to me and I held my nephew in my arms for the first time, looking down into the blanket to see his blond-red hair and blue eyes. He was a tiny copy of Erik.
“Oh,” I breathed, at a loss for other words.
Christophe carefully lifted Chloe down, as if she might be made of glass, and then my family was greeting her.
