by Kris Tualla
The Englishman gave a sage nod. “Yes. You are protecting her. I understand, and I approve.”
“Thank you for doing this, Bethington.” Jakob gave his friend as wry grin. “I could not have done it. And at least we have a target to aim for now.”
“It was quite literally my pleasure.” Percy shook his head, his expression gone grim. “On the one hand, the shipbuilder stands to make quite a profit if he can re-sell the ships at the higher percentage.”
That was evident. “And on the other?”
“I would imagine that very few people have three hundred and twenty-five thousand maravedis at hand. So perhaps the lady does have a bit of time to figure out a solution.”
Jakob ran a hand through his hair. “I wonder what that is in pounds sterling?”
“I did ask that, seeing as how I am British.” Percy winked and cleared his throat. “About thirty-nine thousand pounds.”
Jakob blew a whistle. A common laborer generally earned about seven pounds a year; thirty-nine thousand was literally a king’s ransom.
He had no idea how Avery was going to raise this much money in the coming months. But he was determined to help her try.
*****
Avery slept through breakfast, but she attended the midday meal feeling somewhat restored. She decided to finally have a discussion with Esteban and determine what could be cut from the daily operating expenses in the palazzo. Every little bit that might be saved must be counted at this disastrous point.
She was relieved by Jakob’s assertion that people assumed that she had influence, his words proving what she intuited. She needed to think that through more completely at some point and discern how she might use that opinion to her advantage.
Esteban appeared at the dining room door. “You have a visitor, Vizcondesa, but you might wish to greet her in less formal surroundings.”
Avery met his eyes and gave him an intentionally blank look, though anger at his betrayal made her pulse surge. “Why? Who is she?”
“A former employee, come to offer her condolences.”
The visitor could be one of any number of women, and would probably ask for her job back now that Paolo was dead. There was no point in refusing to see her, however—whoever she was.
“I shall meet her in the small study.”
Esteban dipped his chin. “Very good, my lady. I shall escort her there when you are ready.”
Avery looked down at the scattered remains of her meal. “Take her there now, Esteban. I have finished.”
Avery left the dining room without looking back, her jaw clenched. She entered the small study and settled herself in the largest chair. She drew a steadying breath, folded her hands in a deceptively placid manner, and waited curiously to see who might arrive.
When her former lady’s maid, Maria, walked in, Avery let out a little cry and held out her hands. The woman hurried to her and gripped them in her own, her smile bright.
“Lady Averia, welcome home.”
Home? Not in the least bit. “I am so happy to see you, Maria. Please sit.”
The maid lowered herself into the chair facing Avery’s. “I am sorry for your loss, my lady.” The words, while appropriate, sounded hollow.
Avery was not surprised. “How long after I left did he release you from your position?”
“Three months.” Maria gave her a one-shoulder shrug. “I knew you would never return to this city as long as he lived, so I was not surprised.”
Avery squeezed the maid’s hands. “I am sorry that I did not tell you I was escaping. But I could not risk being found.”
“I understand.” Maria looked into her eyes. “All of us who were loyal to you knew that you were neither happy nor safe here.”
Avery pushed her words past a constricting throat. “But the new maid, Zurina, says that you found other employment.”
Maria nodded and her smile brightened once more. “I work at a palazzo not very far from this one.”
“And the man leases the house?”
“He does. And a full staff is provided.” The maid gave her a shy smile. “I am the chief lady’s maid when women are present, and the head of the housekeeping staff at all times.”
Avery’s shoulders released the tension she was not aware they were holding. “So your situation has improved.”
“In many ways, yes. Not only do I have more responsibility and higher wages, but the staff is paid even if the house is vacant.”
“Oh!” Avery chuckled. “Does that happen often?”
“During the hottest months, yes.” Maria leaned forward a bit. “But we are always serving guests in the winter. Often the same noblemen return, escaping some frigid clime from farther north.”
Avery relaxed in her chair. “And do you have a familiar guest this season?”
“No, not at all. In fact, we have only two gentlemen residing.” Maria paused, her eyes pinching impishly at the corner. “Members of the Order of the Golden Fleece.”
Avery stared at the maid. “No…”
“Oh yes. Two very handsome and delightful knights with whom I believe you are acquainted?” Maria laughed. “And while I can see why you might turn aside the Englishman, I must admit that the Norseman stirs my blood a bit.”
“Does he—do they know—that we are acquainted?” Avery stammered.
“Sir Hansen does. I do not know if he told Sir Bethington, however.”
All sorts of uncomfortable ideas sprouted like springtime weeds in Avery’s mind. “Did he send you to talk to me?”
“No, of course not. I am afraid that man does not know what he wants.” Maria waved a dismissive hand. “And I truly believe that as women, we need to watch out for each other’s interests.”
Jakob does not know what he wants? Avery’s chest tightened. “Is that why you came to see me?”
“In part,” Maria admitted. “I wanted to discern how you felt about the gentlemen in question, and to offer my assistance, if you desired.”
“Assistance?” Avery’s brow lowered. “Exactly what sort are you offering?”
“Well, that depends on whether you wish to repel unwanted advances or attract the man’s attention.” Maria sat back, smiling, and waited for her answer.
“I—I do not know…” Avery’s head was still a bit muzzy from yesterday’s unpleasantness, and she was not completely certain she could trust Maria. After all, nine years was a very long time since their previously confidential relationship.
Maria patted her hand. “Well you know where to find me, now, my lady.” The maid stood preparing to make her exit.
“Actually, I do not,” Avery admitted. “I have sent messages, but have never gone calling on him. Them.”
“Well, I suppose that we shall need to remedy that situation soon.” Maria crossed the small study to the door.
“How?” Avery called after her.
Maria grinned. “You leave that to me.”
And then she was gone.
December 7, 1518
Avery spent two full days following Esteban around the palazzo in order to quiz him regarding every employee’s task and salary. The majordomo was polite at the beginning, but by yesterday his patience had clearly worn thin. The man was not accustomed to having anyone check up on him. Heaven knows, Paolo was in no condition to do so.
“Juan, tell me what it is you do,” Avery said to a boy of about sixteen, who was leaning against a wall in the stable as they approached.
“I told you that he cleans the stalls, Lady Mendoza,” Esteban grumbled.
Avery regarded Esteban, her patience at his deflections growing thin as well. “I thought Pedro cleaned the stables.”
Esteban’s tone was clipped. “Yes. He does.”
Avery lifted her skirts and walked down the paved aisle through the center of the stalls. “We have ten stalls, but only four horses. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
Avery turned around to face the majordomo. “What purpose do the horses serve?”
Esteb
an all but snorted. “They pull the carriage, obviously.”
“Two horses pull the carriage, Señor Gonzales,” Avery said slowly, as if speaking to a fool. “What use are the second two horses put to?”
Esteban’s eyes narrowed. “They are saddle trained. To carry a single rider through town.”
Avery nodded slowly. “Well, I have no need for a mount. Neither does Paolo, any longer.” She smiled sweetly. “Shall we visit the laundry next?”
Having finally finished today’s tour, Avery sat at a desk in her outer chamber to evaluate what she had learned. When her dinner tray arrived, she sniffed it suspiciously, wondering if Esteban might be angry enough to poison her.
At first, the impromptu thought was merely a joke—until she recalled Paolo’s first two wives. Was Esteban employed in the palazzo then?
I shall ask Maria.
For now, she ignored her rumbling belly and only ate the bread and cheese, forgoing the stew. She eyed the wine, wondering if she should risk it.
“I cannot live in fear,” she resolved. If I do die, I shall be in Heaven shortly. And Esteban would be consigned to the pits of Hell for murdering her.
She poured herself a glass and returned to the task at hand.
Avery stared at the list of employees. Twenty-seven mouths to feed, and twenty-seven salaries to pay, and all to care for her and a largely unused house. The clear solution was to cut back as far back as possible.
“But I am supposedly a woman of international influence,” she muttered. How might she prop up that façade and save money at the same time?
Avery leaned back in her chair and pondered the possibly fatal goblet of wine in her hand. It seemed that every simple discovery and subsequent decision expanded her already unhappy situation to encompass huge portions of her life.
She sipped the ruby liquid in small bits, trying to discern any unusual flavors in the beverage. Finding none, she poured a second glass, though still eschewing the stew—better to be careful, after all—and gave serious consideration to her parsimonious plan.
It seemed that everything about her life which required reconsideration coalesced into two questions. First, how would she live? And secondly, where?
Avery considered her life here in Barcelona. Now that her economic situation turned out to be so completely different from what she anticipated, only the palazzo and the climate held her here. She spent five miserable years in this city with Paolo before escaping to the Tudor court. Five unhappy years out of the nearly thirty-five of her life had not endeared her to the city.
“What about returning to Madrid?” she asked the wine.
Madrid without any connections, she realized. She moved away from that city at the age of twenty, and Catherine was already in England by then. Her parents had passed years ago, God rest their souls. And her brother Reynaldo, well, he had his hands full with the failing Galaviz estate in Segovia and his ever-so-lovely wife, Carlotta.
Avery wrinkled her nose and swirled the dark liquid in her glass, watching the wine slide around the goblet’s walls in translucent burgundy sheets, and wondered if she might consider leaving Spain altogether.
But to leave Spain permanently was not something Avery had ever planned to do. Nine years ago, she escaped a horrid marriage with the knowledge that she must return at some point. Her home in the Tudor court was always a temporary situation. Avery—Averia— was a Spaniard. And she would remain a Spaniard for the rest of her days.
“No, I must find my way here.” She drained her wineglass. If she was frugal, she should be able to pay the small debts. Then perhaps she could find enough money to make small payments, and secure the shipbuilder’s loyalty, while she raised the remainder of the necessary funds.
Avery shoved aside the third question which was jumping up and down in her chest and screaming through her thoughts. Her feelings for Jakob would need to wait.
If she ended up destitute despite her efforts, then forgoing her title and marrying the knight became a possibility. Of course, that would require her to accompany the Norseman to Denmark to obtain his king’s permission first—not an assured outcome, at all.
“And then I would have to live in the far north and make do with his income.” Avery was not certain she could do either of those things.
There was always Gustavo Salazar. Marrying him would solve her financial situation, and she could remain in Spain.
She would think more about that possibility later, in spite of the sinking feeling it prompted in her mood. Tonight, she must concentrate on the task at hand, and begin to reorder her household.
She pulled out a sheet of paper and resolutely began her list. “I shall need a cook.”
Georgette.
“And she will require an assistant, and a scullery maid.”
Ana. Enriqueta.
“And I require a lady’s maid…”
Zurina.
“And a chamber maid.”
Sofia.
“We need someone to drive the carriage and care for the horses.”
Antonio. Pedro.
“Laundry.”
Maribel.
“A housekeeper.”
Jacinda.
“And someone to oversee the staff.”
Avery clenched her jaw and scowled as she wrote Esteban. She knew she must; she could not tip her hand just yet.
Her staff of twenty-seven could easily be cut to this staff of ten, but that still seemed excessive for one woman. Avery tapped the quill’s feather against her lips, thinking.
If she closed down all of the unused rooms, draping the furniture—no, selling the furniture!—she could retain just one housekeeper who would also see to her chamber.
She crossed off Sofia.
“I will sell the saddle horses.” She crossed off Pedro. Antonio could easily care for two animals and the carriages.
Avery made a heading halfway down her page, To Sell. Under that, she wrote furnishings, two horses, the large carriage.
A household of nine people should not be difficult to cook for, since Avery had no intentions of entertaining. She crossed off Enriqueta, reasoning that Ana could both help cook and wash dishes. Now they were eight.
“I shall give Esteban extra duties in the meantime.” Avery’s lips curved in a devious smile. “He will assist any staff member who requires help.” Even in the laundry.
Avery consulted her notes. Different staff members were paid differing salaries, but when she totaled the cost of the nineteen employees which she would release from her service on the morrow, she would immediately begin saving over a thousand maravedis a week.
“That is over one hundred and twenty pounds sterling, I believe.” After nine years in England, she was more comfortable thinking in their system. “Nearly five hundred pounds a month.”
That was a very substantial amount of money. Added to the items she would sell meant she should have nearly five thousand pounds in cash only a month from today. That converted to sixty thousand maravedis to pay toward the balance on the ships.
Jakob should have completed his part of the investigation by now. Avery penned a quick note asking if she could visit him on the morrow. She summoned Esteban to have the note delivered—only nine bells had rung this evening, so the hour was not late.
She handed her majordomo the sealed letter. “Please see that this message is delivered to Sir Hansen this evening.”
Esteban’s heated gaze nearly set the paper aflame. “Of course, Vizcondesa.”
He turned to do her bidding, but she continued speaking, her tone making it clear that she had not yet dismissed him. “And on the morrow, I want you to assemble the entire staff in the courtyard at ten on the clock.”
Esteban faced her and his brow lowered. “My lady?”
“I have made some rather hard decisions regarding the future of this household, based on the Vizconde’s gross mismanagement of his affairs.” Avery lifted one brow, daring Esteban to contradict her. “I will need to explain those decision
s to the staff, along with their unhappy ramifications.”
Esteban’s cheeks ruddied violently. “Yes. Of course. I shall see to it.”
“Thank you.” Avery smiled stiffly. “You may go now.”
Chapter Twelve
December 8, 1518
Avery walked into the palazzo’s courtyard about two minutes after the church bells rang the tenth hour of the morning, giving everyone on her staff ample chance to gather as she requested. The sky was low and heavily clouded but with no breeze—a fit setting for the news she was about to deliver.
She practiced her speech before going to bed, and again when she arose this morning. She wanted to make certain that the staff all knew that Esteban was largely to blame for her current situation, without saying so outright. And, that she was truly very sorry to have to let so many of them go.
Standing before her assembled staff, Avery flashed a sad smile and let her eyes meet each gaze that was aimed in her direction. Her smile faded, however, when her eyes met Esteban’s.
She addressed the gathering with a somber voice. “First of all, I want to thank you all for your service to Paolo Mendoza over the past several years. I, for one, appreciate it greatly.”
Avery turned to her left and began a slow pace. “I know that you all are aware of exactly what afflicted my husband. And you can testify to the behaviors which led him to such a gruesome end.”
She paused and faced the somber servants.
“I was spared the same fate, only because I removed myself from his forceful advances before he was infected.”
Avery let that idea hang for a moment, before reversing her direction and resuming her slow pace. “Due to his diseased state, Paolo was not able to make wise decisions regarding the efficient management of his affairs. And because I was in England, I was not informed, nor consulted, about any of the decisions which were made on his behalf.”
“My lady, we did not know where you were,” Esteban objected.
Avery halted and faced him. “When Paolo Mendoza was finally dying, I was informed, obviously. Had you sincerely tried to reach me, you could have.”
