“It’s funny,” Marigold said, finishing off her batch of herbs and grabbing another, “I know that the king is all of those things–in my mind–but whenever I have been in proximity to him, in well, parades and such, I have felt nothing but friendly affection for him. No desire. I am not like some women, who would die to touch him.”
“Sadly, I am one of those,” Freddie said. “But I doubt he would like my type–tomboyish, brutish.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Marigold said, smiling now, remembering seeing Helena and Topaz’s sword fight out of the window before she left, how handily Helena had beat her adversary. “I believe he would like a woman that could best him in a fight. He has that kind of reputation. For respecting such women.”
“Oh dear, now I am more in love with him.” Freddie laughed.
Marigold nodded.
“He is a good man. I do not understand why I could not love him,” she said glumly.
“Cheer up, Mary,” Freddie said. “Don’t sound so guilty. I’m all for patriotism–but it’s not like you’re married to him.”
When they finished picking herbs, they had no time to tarry; Rosemary had written down some other tasks for them on a receipt addressed to Finn.
“Sweep and scrub the floors,” Freddie groaned.
“Is he the oldest?” Marigold asked.
“Who?”
Marigold held up the receipt.
“Oh? Finn? No, but he is the bossiest. Rosemary is the oldest. Those two are usually up early–before dawn. The rest of us are altogether different. We stay up and languish in bed as long as possible.”
“Well,” Marigold said, “you can blame him for my rude presence in your house. He’s the one who insisted on helping me find my horse.”
“How unlike him.” Freddie laughed. “It’s usually Rosemary that likes to take in strays.” Suddenly her eyes went huge. “Forgive me, I only meant-”
“It’s alright,” Marigold said quickly, waving her hands. “I am a stray. But perhaps ‘wanderer’ is more…polite.”
“Finn is engaged,” Freddie said suddenly. “We’re holding a party for the family being together, but also for Finn’s most honorable action. He has ‘finally’ chosen ‘the perfect’ wife.”
“So you despise her,” Marigold said.
Freddie’s eyes found Marigold’s, and she laughed.
“Completely.”
Marigold wanted nothing more than a moment to herself; but though she tried to slip away after the completion of every task, Rosemary would not let her go. Perhaps Rosemary somehow knew that, during the desired moment alone, Marigold planned to consider the complete lunacy of her actions. Why was she doing chores for a strange family that planned to invite her to an intimate celebration dinner? For all Marigold knew, she could be the meal. Maybe Freddie would take her up the stairs and slit her throat at any moment. One heard of such horrors; they were not so uncommon.
Still, Marigold didn’t have much to lose, and she was not yet over hating herself for abandoning her children, so perhaps she deserved whatever foul play might occur. So time went by and still, she stayed with the family, completing the next task, and the next one, until the sun was beginning to set and Rosemary, who had had her brow furrowed all afternoon, uncoiled herself and began flitting about lighting candles and washing mixing bowls.
“You two,” she said to Freddie and Marigold, “change.”
Marigold’s dress was completely ruined, so Freddie took her upstairs so that she could borrow some of the girls’ clothes. Freddie’s oversized men’s clothes actually fit better on Marigold. She wore pants and boots and a long jacket that went nearly to the floor. Freddie braided her long hair and then allowed Marigold to look in the mirror. Marigold couldn’t help smiling.
“This woman…she looks like,” Marigold said, fumbling for words. “She looks like something.”
Freddie smiled.
“Indeed,” she said. “Like a bandit, perhaps? Or a pirate?”
“I feel that I could be anything that I’d like to be,” Marigold said. “Maybe that’s silly.”
Freddie turned Marigold toward her and continued grooming, putting some stray hair behind Marigold’s ears.
“Don’t be so sure.”
