As Arissa and Emma giggled, Penelope flushed. “Not true, you little pigeon. It is a tastefully designed surcoat.”
“Aye, and he shall be able to taste all of you,” Emma snickered, sending Arissa into gales of laughter.
Flustered, Penelope turned away. Arissa knew how sensitive Penelope was when it came to her strong young knight. She put her hand soothingly on the pale blond head.
“Do not be so serious, Pen,” she said. “We have the utmost respect for Daniel.”
“And Daniel’s good taste,” Emma couldn’t resist adding the final insult.
Penelope fixed her younger friend with a vicious gaze. “At least I have a man, Emma. Pray, darling, can the same be said for you?”
Emma’s smile faded. As sensitive as Penelope was about Daniel, Emma was equally sensitive of the fact that at sixteen years of age, she hadn’t yet been presented with the opportunity of courtship. Very pretty in her own right, with dark blond hair and a tendency for fat, she was an unfortunate pale shadow in comparison to Penelope’s fragile blond grace and Arissa’s magnificent beauty.
“You can have all of my suitors, Emma,” Arissa said, casting Penelope a reproving glance. “In a few weeks, I shall have no need for any man.”
The focus immediately shifted from Emma’s shame to Arissa’s future. Gone were the smirking expression and taunting smiles.
“Do you have to go?” Penelope asked softly. “We have never been apart, not even for a small amount of time. Knowing that we may never see you again….”
“Whitby Abbey is so far away,” Emma agreed, wriggling her toes in the mud. “North Yorkshire is nearly to Scotland.”
Arissa sighed, brushing a stray lock of black hair away from her face. “’Tis my destiny, ladies. I was pledged to the abbey at birth and they are expecting me and my substantial dowry. Surely they will perish without us both.”
“But you shall be a nun,” Emma shook her head sadly. “No more suitors, no more parties, no more… no more anything. How can you give it all up so easily?”
Arissa shrugged. She, too, wondered how she was going to be able to relinquish all of the material delights that brought her such pleasure. Certainly she was being selfish in her thoughts, for it was an honor to devote one’s life to God. But she was feeling particularly selfish on the eve of her eighteenth birthday.
“I shall simply have to,” she said after a moment, forcing bravery that she did not feel. “Which is why Mother is throwing a grand party for my birthday. Mayhap I shall simply indulge myself until I cannot stand the sight of another sweet cake or the feel of another corset about my waist. Mayhap I shall make myself so sick of material delights that to retreat far from the sinful pleasures of life will come as a welcome blessing.”
Neither lady believed her, but they said nothing. The thought of Arissa going away, never to return, left them feeling hollow and empty. Arissa could read their melancholy but she refused to allow it to settle.
“The de Beckets should be here this eve,” she said brightly, struggling to divert the subject. “Emma, certainly you remember Ronald?”
Emma, emerging from her depressing thoughts, blinked thoughtfully. “Ronald de Becket? Isn’t he the knight with the mole on the end his nose that makes him look like a troll?”
Before Arissa could respond, Penelope shook her head. “Nay, Emma, he’s the knight with the receding blond hair. Not un-handsome by any means.”
Emma thought a moment. “Aye, I remember him. He kept scratching his arse the last he was here. I heard the men say he has saddle warts.”
“Saddle warts?” Penelope looked puzzled.
Arissa cleared her throat delicately. “A most painful malady, the poor fellow. I understand they bleed and…. well, it is most painful to evacuate one’s bowels.”
Emma’s face lit up with malicious humor and she crowed with laughter. “I have heard that they can grow as big as melons and then burst!”
Penelope made a horrified face as Arissa fought off the urge to join Emma’s mirth. “Surely not, Emma. How awful.”
Still snorting, Emma turned away from shore and forged deeper into the water, digging her toes into the silky mud. “Who else is coming?”
Arissa looked thoughtful. “Nearly every important house within twenty miles. The de Rydals, the Wendovers, the de Clares. Pen, don’t the Wendovers have a son?”
Penelope nodded. “He’s fostering in Durham. Daniel told me that Tad de Rydal has recently returned from Derby Castle.”
“I understand he was serving the Earl of Leicester,” Arissa mentioned. “I wonder why he has returned?”
“Who can say?” Penelope shrugged, picking at a blade of grass. “Will Richmond be here?”
The mere sound of his name was enough to knock the wind from Arissa. She swallowed hard, trying to control the quivering that had suddenly overtaken her hands. Unable to find a casual position for the appendages, she sat on them.
