When Elizabeth finished, her fingers were stained with the black ink. She left the little library and hurried upstairs to her chamber. Entering it, she was surprised to discover that Nancy had a bath waiting for her. “Bless you!” she said.
“Don’t touch your garments with those ink-stained paws of yours,” Nancy cautioned. She helped her mistress from her clothing. “I’ll need to pour just a bit more hot water from the kettle, and then you get right in,” she instructed.
Elizabeth nodded and waited as her serving woman made certain the bath temperature was just right. Then, stepping into the oak tub, she sank down into the water. “Ahhh,” she said, and a smile lit up her features.
“You have little time to dally,” Nancy told her. “It will soon be time for the meal, but I somehow thought you would like your bath now instead of later.”
“Aye, entering numbers, line after line of them, is tiring. I should rather be out riding across my fields. When Edmund is well enough...” She stopped in midsentence, sighing. “I must stop thinking nothing has changed, Nancy. Edmund is an old man. When he is well he and Maybel must retire to their cottage. He has stewarded Friarsgate for over fifty years now.” She soaped her fingers and rubbed them with her cloth.
Nancy nodded and, taking up a brush, scrubbed Elizabeth’s long back. “Aye, he’s an old man now, and I know he’s been having dizzy spells for the last year, but he would not tell Maybel or you, mistress. He feared you could not do without him, as you had no husband to take over for him.”
“I have been so selfish,” Elizabeth said. “I have thought only of what I wanted, and not of the good of those who serve me and in doing so serve Friarsgate. I have been a poor chatelaine, Nancy, but I did not realize it. This is going to change. It has to!”
“You’ve always done right by us,” Nancy soothed. “None here would call you a bad mistress. There!” she said, handing a washing cloth to Elizabeth. “Do the private bits, and you’re finished. The sun is low on the horizon, and soon those in the hall will be ready for their food, and you must be there to say the blessing.”
Elizabeth did as she had been bidden. Then, arising, she stepped from the tub and began to dry herself off. As Nancy bustled about the chamber gathering fresh garments, the lady of Friarsgate glanced at herself critically. Would Baen MacColl find her body attractive? Would it be as tempting to him as any woman’s was? She hoped so.
Nancy handed Elizabeth a clean chemise. She put it on. Two petticoats followed, then a black linen skirt and white blouse. She fitted a wide leather belt about her narrow waist. Sitting, she let Nancy brush out her long hair and rebraid it. Then she slipped her bare feet into a pair of black leather slippers and hurried from her chamber. She stopped first to see how Edmund was doing. He had been returned to his chamber and was now sleeping.
Maybel arose and hurried forward when Elizabeth entered. “He is weary, I fear, but a bit better. He can move his left hand again. Only the right remains useless.”
“When he is well enough,” Elizabeth said, “you are going home to your own cottage, Maybel. Edmund has served Friarsgate well and long. It is time for him to rest, and you too. I know my mother would agree with me. I sent a messenger to her this morning telling her of Edmund’s illness, but I also told her it was not necessary for her to return. You and I will care for Edmund.”
Maybel nodded slowly. “Who will manage the house for you?” she asked.
“You will pick your successor, but I do favor Albert,” Elizabeth replied.
Maybel nodded again. “The cottage will need cleaning,” she said as if to herself.
“Then we will send someone to clean it,” Elizabeth told her with a smile. “Come now, and let us go down to the meal. We will send a serving wench up to watch over Edmund while you are gone.” Elizabeth slipped her arm through Maybel’s.
The hall was full with Friarsgate folk, the men-at-arms who guarded the manor, servants, and a peddler who had asked shelter for the night. Elizabeth took her place of authority at the high board. “Give the blessing tonight, Father Mata,” she said.
“The eyes of all wait upon thee, o Lord,” the priest began.
“And thou givest them their meat in due season,” came the hall’s reply.
The priest continued, ending the blessing with, “Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit.”
“As it was in the beginning, it is now and ever shall be, world without end,Amen!” came the chorus from those in the hall. Then came the scraping of the benches as they all sat.
Baen found himself seated on Elizabeth’s direct right, in the place that had been Edmund’s. He was just vaguely uncomfortable, but no one seemed to object.
“What did you learn watching the shearing today?” Elizabeth asked him.
“That sheep are quick, and they can be very ornery when parting them from their fleece,” he answered with a grin. “But you were right. The fleeces are wonderful.”
She nodded, helping herself to the fish and tearing a piece off of the warm cottage loaf. “I don’t know whose idea it was to shear just after midsummer, but we’ve always done it that way here at Friarsgate.” She began to eat, and he did too.
Wine was poured into their goblets. A fat capon stuffed with bread, onions, and sage was served to them. Elizabeth tore the bird in half and placed half on his wooden plate, along with several slices of ham. He said nothing, but he was surprised, for she was treating him like an equal. But glancing surreptitiously about him he could see no one was surprised by her actions. Mumbling his thanks, he began to eat. She added several spoonfuls of new peas, and more bread. He ate and he drank, and, looking about the hall, he imagined for the briefest moment what it would be like to be master of all this. It would be wonderful, he thought, to be the lord of Friarsgate with Elizabeth, the lady—his lady—by his side. Then he pulled himself back to reality, banishing the warm glow that had temporarily bathed him. “You must not serve me,” he said to Elizabeth as she put several chunks of cheddar cheese on his plate.
“Why not?” she asked him.
“I am not worthy of this place, or of you,” he told her.
“Is not that my decision to make, Baen? After all, I am the lady of Friarsgate,” Elizabeth told him. “You must put aside this unassuming and quite frankly irritating humility with me. It does not suit you, and I will wager your father would agree with me. I have told you that I mean to have you for my mate.”
“Your speech is too bold,” he said low.
