The girl, round and pale with curly dark hair and rouged cheeks, was disappointed he didn’t respond to her leering smile and purring question. Still, she dutifully answered him.
“The beef and peas,” she said, gesturing to Andressa’s half-empty plate. “Bread and cheese, which I already brought you. But I think there is barley pudding, too.”
Maxton was interested. “What is in it?”
“Barley, eggs, milk, and honey. I think there are currants also.”
“Bring it,” he commanded quietly. “And listen closely; I want you to find a sack and stuff it full of all of the bread and cheese you can find. I wish to take it with me. Is that clear?”
“It is, m’lord.”
“Off with you, now.”
The girl scampered away to do his bidding and by the time he returned his attention to the table, he could see that Andressa was looking at him with some curiosity.
“If the barley pudding is for me, truly, I do not need such extravagance,” she said hesitantly. “I am very satisfied with what I have. It is more than enough, my lord.”
He knew that. He also knew she probably would have been happy with a simple crust of bread. But there was some satisfaction in giving the woman more food than she could eat.
“I know,” he said. “But you may as well try it since we are here. You mentioned your love of bread sweetened with honey, so sample their pudding. It could be very delicious.”
She nodded, a bit unsteadily, and returned to the beef, now pulling the remaining bits from the bone. Maxton’s gaze lingered on her.
“What great lady did you wish to become?” he asked.
Andressa stopped sucking the beef from her fingers. “My lord?” she asked, confused.
“You said that all young girls wish to grow up to be great ladies. What did you wish to become?”
She put her hand down, wiping it off on the cloth at her fingertips. It seemed to be a question she didn’t want to answer but, out of courtesy, she did.
“My family has raised beeves for generations,” she said. “Cattle with red and white hides. I had an older brother when I was born, but he died at a very young age, so my father used to take me with him as he went about managing his lands. I learned about the cattle and I learned how to take them to market and to sell them for a fair price. I always believed I would retire to Chalford Hill and administer my family’s legacy as I’d been taught. I hoped I would marry well and pass the empire to my children.”
Maxton nodded as he thought on red and white cattle, and the gentle hills of Gloucestershire. “You still can,” he said. “Send a missive to the king. Tell him that your aunt has stolen your lands. Ask for his good justice.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “It is not such a simple thing,” she said. “There is no way for me to send a missive. There is nothing to write with at St. Blitha; I do not have access to quill or parchment. I would have to see the king personally in order to deliver any message and I am quite certain he would not see me. I am no one of consequence. In fact, I would probably be in for a good deal of trouble if I did so. It would make me look ungrateful not only to St. Blitha, but also to my aunt. And do not forget that Essex is a confidante of the king. How would it make him look ifa charge from St. Blitha told the king a tale of woe, of a Mother Abbess who sells our food to set her own fine table?”
He could see her point, but he wasn’t one to surrender so easily. “Then I shall tell him,” he said with firm quietness. “I have business with him, anyway. I will tell him your story and ask that he look into your aunt’s dealings. What is her name?”
“Hildeth du Bose,” she said hesitantly. “But…”
He cut her off. “Then it is settled,” he said. “I shall speak to the king of this… this travesty and insist he investigate Hildeth du Bose and the entire Culverhay situation.”
Andressa was shaking her head even as he spoke. “But you cannot,” she insisted softly. “My lord, it is very chivalrous for you to want to help me but, if you do this, the king will know that I have told you everything. That information will make it back to the Mother Abbess, and I do not wish to cross the woman. She can be quite… brutal.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Brutal? Explain.”
Andressa sighed heavily, clearly reluctant to say anything more but knowing he probably wouldn’t let the subject rest. She could just tell; he had that aggressive manner about him. “I will explain, but only on the condition that you not speak to the king,” she said with surprising firmness. “I must have your oath, my lord, or I will not tell you. I should not speak of such things. I could risk my own life in doing so.”
Now, he scowled. “Risk your own life? What in the hell goes on at St. Blitha that you should fear for your life if you speak the truth?”
She was starting to tremble; he could see it in her hands. “I will not tell you unless I have your oath not to repeat it.”
“You have it. Tell me.”
Andressa sat back in her chair, hanging her head. “I should not have said what I did,” she whispered tightly. “I should not have…”
“But you did,” he said, cutting her off. Sitting forward so he could hear her better, he could see how frightened she was. He was genuinely, and deeply, curious. “My lady, please tell me.”
