“Let them. It isn’t anyone’s business what goes on in my house. Our house.” He stood. “I guess we should get some sleep. Tomorrow we start our first full day of being man and wife.”
Chapter Eighteen
Mariana didn’t sleep well her first night as a newlywed. The bed, which was nice enough, wasn’t as comfortable as hers in the palace, nor were the sheets as soft.
However, that wasn’t the main reason she hadn’t slept. Her mind kept coming back to the thought that she was now a married woman. She’d always expected that to be an exciting, happy thought. Not a terrifying one.
All her life, she’d watched her mother and other noblewomen act as hostesses for their husbands and at social gatherings. She’d seen how they dealt with servants and functioned at charity events and parties. Through observation, she thought she knew what was expected of a wife.
If she had married the Sahdeer of Valentine, her life would have been similar to what it had been in the palace. She’d have had servants and jewels and a closet full of clothes.
Now, she had none of those things except for the jewelry and gold she’d brought from the palace. Her father had given Orlando a bag of gold as a wedding gift, but she didn’t know what he had done with it. Fortunately, the King didn’t seem to know she’d taken some with her when she ran away.
Eventually, the sun peeked in through the curtains, and she got out of bed. The fireplace in the bedroom had gone cold, so she pulled the comforter off the bed and wrapped it around her. The cold floor made her wish she’d remembered to pack her velvet slippers. Still, she went to the window and pushed the curtains aside.
Orlando’s farm was outside the village, but she could see the main road. People were already going about their business, and she found herself watching them in curiosity.
She had never given any thought to what commoners did during the day, other than knowing they didn’t spend their days visiting their friends and having tea like she did—
Like she used to.
The truth hit her hard. What would she do all day? She dropped to sit on the bed.
She thought about Jessamae and wondered if she was in the village now. Since she wasn’t able to be Mariana’s maid here, had she gotten another job as a maid in the palace, or had she left Talla and gone back to Aldlake?
She heard the front door open and close. Orlando must be awake.
Quickly, she got dressed, pulling out one of the everyday gowns she wore in the palace when they weren’t expecting guests or going out. It was orange velvet with short sleeves and a lace underskirt.
Orlando had unpacked her skin creams and hair brushes onto a dresser with a mirror attached, but it was higher than her vanity back home. She had to stand to look at her reflection instead of sitting.
Of course, without Jessamae to do her hair, she didn’t need to sit anyway. She ran a brush through her hair and left the bedroom.
Orlando was not in the house, which surprised her. He’d built a fire in the fireplace the night before. From the looks of it, he’d stirred the embers this morning and put on some more wood. A pot of coffee hung from a hook over the flames and the fragrance called to her.
Feeling a bit like she was trespassing, she went to the cupboards in the kitchen, took one of the mugs, and poured herself a cup of the coffee. As she sat at the table, she studied the small cottage.
She was now the hostess, the mistress of the home. How could they ever entertain even just Adindira and her family with only two mugs and two plates? Didn’t Orlando ever have company?
That doctor, Hamneth, and that other man came here from time to time. She knew that, so what did her husband do when he had visitors?
Looking in the cupboard again, she realized these were her dishes, too. Surely, it would be understandable for her to buy some more.
She studied the interior of the cottage. Maybe some new curtains would be a good idea. Something bright. With a nod, she started searching for some paper she could make a list.
Just as she opened a drawer, Orlando came in.
“Oh, good,” he said, “you’re awake. There’s some bacon in the storage cellar. You can cut off half a dozen pieces and start frying them up. I’m going to run out to the bakery and get some bread. We’ll eat breakfast, then go over to see Elnys. He was released last night.”
He kissed her cheek and was out the door again before she could react.
Cook breakfast? She’d never cooked anything before in her life.
Still, she was the Progenna of Valborough, raised to be able to manage a household of servants and organize dinner parties for hundreds of people.
Certainly a pan full of bacon couldn’t be that hard.
****
“You left her alone at the house?” Adindira spooned another serving of cranberry-and-walnut oatmeal into the bowl in front of her brother.
Orlando had gone straight to his sister’s house after leaving his own. He’d wanted to see Elnys and make sure he’d been treated well or at least had not been beaten at the hands of the King. While he didn’t blame Mariana for Elnys’s arrest, he certainly didn’t want her around if the rebels needed to plan some kind of retaliation.
This house was bigger than his own, with two stories and three rooms, two on the second floor. Elnys was better at construction than Orlando was, and he’d built onto the structure whenever it was needed.
The kitchen and living area were in one large room on the first floor, similar in design to Orlando’s, but Adindira had decorated it, so it had a more civilized look.
“I told her to fix breakfast,” Orlando said, taking a spoonful of the oatmeal.
Elnys laughed and weakly lifted his coffee mug. “It was almost worth sitting in that hole to hear that.”
“Don’t you say that,” Adindira said, scowling. She wrapped her arms around her husband for the fourth or fifth time since Orlando arrived. Then she spoke to her brother. “Mariana is your wife. You should be helping her.”
“She is a royal,” Rianaer said as he came down the stairs. He’d run up to get his father a sweater. “Uncle Orlando said it himself. She’s probably spoiled. It wouldn’t hurt her to do a little work for her husband.”
Adindira gasped. “Rianaer, watch your tone. Elnys, do you hear what your son is saying?”
“I heard him. Rian, apologize to your mother. Wives are not just for doing work for their husbands.” He winked at her.
Adindira rolled her eyes, then scowled at her oldest son. “It isn’t me who should be apologized to. Mariana may be the Progenna, but she is also your aunt now. She isn’t responsible for what her father does. You will speak about her with respect.”
Elnys set his coffee mug on the table. “I should apologize to her, as well. I owe her for my release.”
Orlando scowled. “Hey. I asked for the boon.”
“Yeah, but if what you say is true, she wouldn’t have been here if she had agreed with what her father did in arresting me. I think we might have to admit she isn’t like the rest of her family.”
“Or not like her father anyway.” Dira said. “She did say she wanted to help you.”
Orlando pushed his bowl away, his appetite lessened by the conversation. “Do you think I should have stayed with her this morning?”
Adindira nodded. “It would have been nice. She is your wife. Lando, she doesn’t know how to cut bacon, let alone cook it. You’ll be lucky if your house is still standing.”
He sighed, took a last bite of oatmeal, and stood. “I guess I’ll go home.” He kissed his sister’s cheek and patted Elnys’s shoulder.
“Glad you’re back, friend. As soon as you feel well enough, we’ll talk about what you want to do about the arrest.”
“You’re not going to do anything,” Dira said, her arms around her husband again.
“We’ll talk,” Elnys said. “Later.”
Orlando nodded and left their house.
After stopping at the bakery to get the bread he promised, Orlando
got home and froze inside the front door.
Smoke filled the room, and Mariana was at the washtub, up to her elbows in suds. Her hair was in disarray, and pieces of what might have been charcoal were scattered on the floor, the counter, and two plates on the table.
“What in the world happened here?” He took hold of her shoulders and spun her around, checking to see if she’d cut herself anywhere. Certainly the room couldn’t look like this and she be uninjured.
“I made breakfast like you asked.” She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand.
“Breakfast?” Relieved not to see any blood, he scowled at the burnt pan sitting in the water of the tub.
“It’s probably not like you would have done it, but I think for my first time, it’s pretty good.”
She took a towel off the counter, wiped her hands, and sat down at the table.
He shook his head. She actually planned to eat this mess. The black lumps on the plate bore no resemblance to any bacon he’d ever seen before.
Looking confident in her accomplishment, she said, “Bring the bread over and I’ll cut some pieces.” To his surprise, she had one of his kitchen knives stuck in the sash around her waist. She pulled it out, and he took an involuntary step back when he recognized the meat cleaver.
“I’ll cut the bread,” he said, carefully taking the knife out of her hand. “You’ve done a lot of work already.”
Turning his back to her, he took a smaller bread knife from the drawer and cut them each a piece. Then he sat down at the plate across from her.
She watched him expectantly, so he had no choice but to pick up one of the now cold lumps on his plate and put it in his mouth.
It was hard and dry and tasted like smoke, but he forced himself to chew and swallow it. He took a bite of the bread to get the taste out of his mouth.
“How is it?” she asked.
“Um, it’s a little crispier than I like my bacon,” he said, trying to smile convincingly at her.
With a satisfied sigh, she picked up a piece and popped it in her mouth.
Instantly, she spit it back on her plate and stared at him.
“That’s dreadful,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I…um…didn’t want to hurt your feelings?” He knew it sounded like a question but he truly didn’t know what the right answer was. He had been trying to spare her feelings, but he wasn’t willing to eat burned food for the rest of his life.
She pushed her chair back and stood. “I don’t know what you expected. I have never cooked anything before. How could you just walk out like that? Was this some kind of joke? Were you and your buddies laughing about the poor, spoiled Progenna trying to cook breakfast?”
“I wasn’t…” What could he say? Wasn’t that exactly what he’d been doing? “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “That wasn’t nice. I guess I thought this situation was your idea.”
She brushed some strands of hair out of her eyes. “I’ll have you know this isn’t an ideal situation for me, either.”
He picked up the dishes and threw the burnt bacon away. “I know. I wasn’t thinking this morning. I didn’t sleep well in the barn, and I woke up a little grumpy.”
“You wanted to pay me back.” She brushed some flakes of black ash off her dress. “I guess I understand your position. You don’t like royals, and you see me as one of them.”
As he washed the plates, he said, “I did. When you first came here, I wasn’t thrilled having the King’s daughter in my house, and I figured it would end badly. Like me being accused of kidnapping or something. Your father isn’t always quick to listen to explanations.”
When he met her eyes, the expression on her face instantly made him regret his comment. The King was still her father, and she probably didn’t understand who he truly was or how he treated the commoners.
“I’m sorry.” With a sigh, he shook his head. “I guess I’m going to say that a lot.”
Now she shook her head. “Don’t. You’re right about my father. I don’t know all the reasons you don’t like him, but he never admits anyone else could be right. I should have known he wouldn’t believe our story.”
“Why don’t you get cleaned up?” he said. “I’ll get all this taken care of, and then I’ll take you into the village. You’re going to need to learn how to do the shopping and such.”
She stared at him, blinking and grinning. “Shopping? I love shopping.”
He sighed. “I don’t mean for clothes and shoes and all that girly stuff. I mean for food.”
“But you have all those pigs. Why do you need to shop for food?”
“Pigs don’t make bread or milk or potatoes, you know.” After a second, he furrowed his brow. “You do know that, right?”
She glared at him. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is pigs don’t lay eggs either.” She clicked her tongue. “I’ll change my dress, unless you think I’m too stupid to do that either.”
As she closed the bedroom door behind her, he laughed. At least being married to her wouldn’t be boring.
****
The last time Mariana had walked through Talla, she’d been with Adindira while Orlando sat at the inn with his friends. This time, it was just the two of them, and she was surprised at how he was treated by the villagers.
“Orlando,” a woman called from the window of a cottage as they passed by. “I have something for you.”
He didn’t say anything to Mariana, but they stopped. The woman, wearing a faded red dress covered by a green and gray apron, hurried out carrying something wrapped in a cloth.
“Herman butchered a cow yesterday, and we wanted you to have a roast.” She dropped a brief curtsy to Mariana. “To celebrate your wedding.”
“Thank you, Arrwyn.” He took the bundle from her hand. “I’m sure it will serve us well.”
“It’s little enough for what you did for my boys.” Tears welled up in the woman’s eyes, and she dabbed at them with the corner of her apron. Orlando patted her shoulder.
“Don’t mention it. I was glad to help.” He nodded his thanks, put a hand on Mariana’s back, and urged her toward town.
“What did you do for her boys?”
He shrugged. “It was nothing. You know, neighbors help each other. So, I suppose we’ll have a beef roast for dinner tonight.” Patting the cloth-wrapped package, he went on, “Possibly more than one night. I suppose we should pick up some potatoes and maybe some carrots to go with it.”
They reached the edge of town, where three identical houses stood like gatekeepers. Two of the houses, which were on the right side of the road, were painted dark red, while the third, which stood on the opposite side and faced them, was painted blue.
“The Fossard triplets,” Orlando said, stopping between the houses. “They aren’t triplets in truth, but everyone refers to them that way. Two sisters and a brother. None of them ever married. They inherited a large farm and some smaller pieces of property from a grandfather or maybe an uncle.” He shrugged. “Anyway, none of them wanted to move away from the others, but they couldn’t stand living together in the family home either. So, they sold the farm and the land and built these houses. They’ve been living like this for about twenty-five years.”
Mariana gaped. “That long? Why didn’t at least one of them get married?”
“I don’t know the answer to that one.”
Just then, the door to one of the red houses opened, and a woman who had to be the same age as the Queen walked out onto the front porch.
“Orlando? Is that you, honey? Come on up here.”
As he and Mariana turned toward the speaker, the front door of the blue house opened.
“Now, Zilka, you let those young people be. They’re newlyweds, you know. They don’t want to sit and have tea with old people.”
“Speak for yourself, Gavril,” Zilka called, scowling. “If anyone is old around here, it’s you.”
“You know you’re four years older than I am.”
“That’s a vicious lie.” Zilka grabbed a broom from inside her house and stomped toward the street.
“I think we’d better get out of this,” Orlando whispered, taking Mariana’s arm and urging her toward town.
“No, Orlando, you wait right there.” The woman changed direction and hurried toward them. “I want to meet your wife. I can’t believe you got married without inviting anyone from the town.” She tsked and used the broom to dust off his legs, although Mariana didn’t see they needed cleaning. “Such poor manners. What would your mama say?”
“Leave the boy alone, you witch.” Now Gavril had joined them. “Why would you want to go to a wedding at the palace anyway? You ain’t got anything to wear there.”
“I may not have gone, but it would’ve been nice to be asked.” Zilka cleaned Orlando’s legs and shoes with her broom while she talked. Then she started on Mariana’s skirt.
“Zilka, I do believe our guests have bathed this week.”
“And this will be Veserry, the third one.” Orlando whispered in Mariana’s ear.
She spun around toward the sweet musical voice that came from the doorway of the third house. The woman that approached practically glided down the three steps that led to her porch.
Her sky-blue surcoat was decorated with embroidered daisies and the yellow underdress matched the flowers. She wore a white veil head-covering, unlike her sister.
All three of the siblings had brown hair, but Veserry’s hair was long and fell in waves around her shoulders. She gave Mariana the impression of a special doll no child would be allowed to play with.
“This must be the Progenna.” Veserry dropped into a deep curtsy, nearly sitting on the ground. “Your Highness.”
“No, please,” Mariana said, reaching to take her hand and lift her up. “You don’t need to do that.”
“She is my wife now, Veserry.” Orlando helped her to her feet. “We are heading into town to get food for breakfast. Mariana had some trouble with the bacon this morning.”
Pigsty Princess Page 19
