“Come in,” she beckoned him. She was feeling stronger now that she was doing something familiar. She was the lady of Friarsgate, no matter that she had a husband now. “Come and see what I have planned for the fields, and give me your council.”
He walked around the table to stand next to her and looked down at the map. “Why are these fields not to be planted?” he asked her, curious.
“Each year I leave several fields fallow and plant rye. It replenishes the soil,” she explained. “Doesn’t your father do that?”
“We don’t have fields such as yours, and ’tis all he can do to get a living out of what he has,” Baen said. “By the way, I haven’t had the time to tell you until now, but I brought you a dower portion.”
“Indeed?” A smile played about the corners of her mouth.
“Most of the sheep I bought from you last year, and their lambs,” he told her.
“Just most?”
“Those that weren’t lost by one means or another,” he said.
“Stolen? Eaten by your father’s cotters, or wolves? How many remain?”
“Actually about two-thirds of the flock,” he told her.
“You are a well-propertied man, husband,” Elizabeth responded, pleased.
“Well, they were yours to begin with,” he said.
“But you purchased them honestly,” she quickly replied.
“Several of your shepherds rode out early this morning for Claven’s Carn. It will take them a good day and a half to bring the flock home,” he explained. “The lambs were too young for the journey, and so we put them in a straw-filled wagon.”
“’Twas well done!” she exclaimed, very pleased.
“I expect they will be glad to be back at Friarsgate,” he said with a rueful grin. “Our Highland pastures are not the lush meadows of Friarsgate. The sheep had a harder time of it, I fear.”
“How many lambs?” she asked him.
“A dozen, no more, though the ram was vigorous,” he murmured.
She flushed, nodded, and then said, “I would like you to see if we kept enough seed for the fields.” She rolled up the map parchment. “Take this with you when you visit the seed storage.” She handed it to him. “And if you have the time you might begin visiting the cotters who weave. Edmund can tell you who they are. Learn how much cloth each wove this winter. I must begin preparing for the shipment to our factor in the Netherlands. The cloth market is always happy to see Friarsgate wool arriving.” Then she turned away dismissively.
Baen walked from the library. She was all business, his bride of just a few hours. He wondered if other newlywed couples spent their wedding day as they were. She masked her anger well, but such icy hauteur from a girl he knew to be a passionate creature amazed him. He would have a difficult time, he could now see, in winning her heart back, but he had no intention of giving up. Elizabeth was not going to forgive him easily, but then he had never been anything but honest with her. He made no secret of the fact that he would return to Grayhaven. Why was she angry at him for being loyal? He shrugged. She had to come around eventually. Didn’t she?
The next few weeks passed, and each day but for the Sabbath was like the last. They arose, broke their fast, and worked. The main meal of the day was at the noon hour. They ate, and worked until sunset. A final light meal was served, and then Elizabeth would disappear upstairs into her chamber. She rarely spoke to him except to issue orders or discuss the business of the manor with him. He had attempted to engage her in a game of Hare and Hounds on several evenings, but she had refused him. She was not openly hostile to him, and she listened to his advice when he spoke. But there was no rapport between them as there had once been, and she made no effort to cultivate one.
And with each passing day Elizabeth’s belly seemed to grow larger and larger. She was beginning to waddle about very much like the ducks in the barnyard. She was beginning to wheeze slightly when she walked. And her temper was growing shorter and shorter as the weeks went by. Baen was beginning to look forward to the return of his mother-in-law.
“This bairn you put in my belly is going to be a giant,” Elizabeth said irritably one evening. The stairs were hard for her now, and she was avoiding them for the moment.
“My father is a big man, I am a big man, and my brothers are too. Still, Ellen, my stepmother, was tall and slim like you. She birthed Gilbert easily, for I was there,” he told her cheerfully. “Our son will be a big man.”
“It had best be a lad,” Elizabeth snapped, “for a girl this big would never find a husband, and be considered odd. And do not tell me your sister is large.”
“Nay, Margaret is small and delicate,” he answered her affably.
“She’s a nun, isn’t she?”
“Aye. Like your cousin,” he remarked.
“I think I should like to play a game with you,” she said. “Can you play chess?”
“Aye, I can. I’ll get the game table,” he said, hurrying to do so.
