“Aye, m’lady.”
That made sense to Andressa. She said a silent prayer of thanks to the daughters of William Marshal, loaning her their bathing things and something to wear. Perhaps a bath and clean clothes was the simplest thing in the world to them, but to her, it was everything. It reminded her of the outside world she was coming to miss, so very much.
God, she wanted to live in a fine house like this, with all of the food and comfort she could tolerate, and it deeply saddened her that it simply wasn’t meant to be. Therefore, she was determined to enjoy the moment, as short as it would be, because God only knew when she’d ever know such comforts again.
The old woman washed her hair once with bar soap that smelled strongly of sulfur, and then rinsed it clear with vinegar again. Seated on the stool, Andressa’s hair was so long that it went all the way to the floor and then some, and the old servant spent a good deal of time combing out her tresses while Andressa sat in the cooling water. Cooling or not, it was still as blissful as she could imagine and she would stretch it out as long as she could.
Bless Maxton and his requests for her comfort.
When the water became too cold, the old woman urged her out of the basin by holding up a large piece of drying cloth. Andressa did as she was told, stepping onto the cold floor while the woman vigorously dried her and her sopping shift. As the old woman came around to the front of her and began drying her arms and torso, as least as much as she could, she suddenly came to a halt.
Andressa had been enjoying the attention until that moment, but when it abruptly stopped, she peered at the old servant onlyto see that the woman was looking at her midsection with some alarm.
“What is it?” Andressa asked curiously.
The old woman opened her mouth to speak, then quickly shut it. She shook her head, swiftly, and returned to her drying duties.
“I… I do not believe that dress shall fit you, m’lady,” she said hesitantly. “I will go and see if I can find something else that is suitable.”
Andressa wasn’t able to reply before the woman was hastily bundling her up in the drying cloth and pushing her towards the hearth.
“Stay here,” she told her firmly. “The heat from the fire will dry you and your hair, but careful you don’t get too close. We wouldn’t want to see your hair go up in flame.”
Andressa nodded, thinking the woman was acting rather strangely all of a suddenly. As she watched, the woman grabbed the wine-colored garment and fled the chamber, shutting the door behind her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Maxton was inno mood for a nervous servant.
He’d met the woman rushing out of the chamber where he’d left Andressa, nearly running into her because she was moving so fast. When she saw him, she gasped, and Maxton received the distinct impression that she wasn’t happy to see him. She looked frightened. His brow furrowed as he peered at her.
“What is wrong?” he demanded. “Is Lady Andressa still in that room?”
He was pointing to the closed door and the old woman nodded vigorously. “Aye, m’lord,” she said. “You asked for clean clothing and a bath and food for her, and she has just finished her bath. But… but the clothing I brought for her will not fit her.”
“Why not?”
The old woman seemed to pale. “Because…” she started, swallowed, and tried again. “M’lord, is the lass a nun? She wears the clothing of someone meant for the cloister.”
Maxton nodded. “She is a pledge,” he said. “What about her clothing? What is this about?”
The old woman struggled past her nervousness; she had to. She didn’t know of the knight’s relationship to the youngwoman, so she wasn’t sure how to answer him. She didn’t even really know the knight, only that he was one of William Marshal’s men. But he was looking at her, expecting an answer, so she proceeded as discreetly as she could.
“I brought her a dress belonging to one of the lord’s daughters,” she said quietly. “It will not fit her because of her belly, m’lord. I must find her a bigger garment.”
“What do you mean ‘because of her belly’?”
“She is with child, m’lord.”
Maxton stared at her for a moment. He wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He simply stared at her as her words flitted about in his muddled mind, trying to find some sense in them.
“She’swhat?” he finally said. “That is impossible. You are mistaken.”
The old woman could see a flash of something in his eyes, of untold madness that could rip her limb from limb should he be displeased enough. But she knew what she saw.
“M’lord,” she said quietly, firmly. “I have had seven children myself. I know what a woman looks like who is with child, and the lass in that room you had me bring clothing and a bath for is clearly with child. I would not have known it, either, for the shapeless clothing she wears, but believe me when I tell you– sheiswith child.”
Maxton couldn’t help his jaw from hanging open. He wasn’t sure what he felt at the moment, but astonishment was certainly among the possibilities. Shock, dismay, even sadness… was she really carrying achild?
