She was starting to feel sick again.
“What did my mother select for me to wear?” she asked. “Or did she tell you?”
Greenie looked behind her, at the bed where some garments were strewn across the mattress. “There’s a brown silk on the bed, I think,” she said. “And a shift.”
Ophelia sighed. “That’s what she wants me to wear,” she said. “She says the brown matches my eyes.”
Greenie came around to the front of her, studying her face. “Ye have a fine face, m’lady,” she said. “I know the Blackchurch lads. They like pretty women. Which one are ye to marry?”
What a lovely thought,Ophelia pondered morosely.Men who like pretty girls. More than one? Or a different one every night? Is Blackchurch nothing but a stable of oversexed men?
“De Royans,” she said glumly. “Creston is his name, I think.”
Greenie stopped and looked at her, evidently with some surprise. “Sir Creston?” she repeated. “Have ye never met him, lass?”
“Never.”
Greenie resumed her scrubbing. “Then ye’ll not be disappointed,” she said. “He’s one of the more comely lads of the group.Quitecomely, I’d say.”
That didn’t create more interest for Ophelia than she already had. If anything, it might have made it worse.
“Comely,” she muttered. “I would assume he knows it?”
Greenie shrugged as she lifted Ophelia’s arm and began to wash it. “No more than any other man,” she said. “He deserves a pretty wife and ye’ll do fine. He’ll be pleased.”
Ophelia didn’t really care if the man was pleased or not. They were both being forced into this, so it didn’t matter what they felt. Duty came first. But she was starting to feel sicker, and a little shaky as well, so her thoughts shifted from Creston de Royans to her stomach.
She needed food.
“Greenie, if I asked you to help me, would you?” she said.
Greenie paused, looking at her. “Of course, lass,” she said. “What do ye need?”
Ophelia was careful in how she proceeded. “My grandfather,” she said. “He… he believes a woman should be frail and pale in appearance and he has not given me much food to eat.”
Greenie frowned. “What do ye mean?”
Ophelia sighed heavily. “I mean that he wants me to be frail and pale when I meet my betrothed,” she said. “My grandfather believes that is what makes a woman beautiful. The weaker, the better. But the truth is that he has starved me.”
Now Greenie was starting to understand. “He did that?” she said, aghast. “Ridiculous!”
Ophelia could see she had support. Reaching out, she grasped the woman’s wrist. “Greenie, I’m so very hungry,” she said softly. “Could you bring me some food and not tell my grandfather or my mother? She lets him starve me, so she mustn’t know. I have a little money. I will pay for the food, but could you bring me some and not let anyone see?”
Greenie dropped the rag into the copper pot. “Of course, I will,” she said, clearly outraged. “I’ll get ye something myself. Stay here and I’ll return.”
Ophelia felt more hope and relief than she had since this entire nightmare had started. Since the day that Cecil haddecided to leave her at the altar and her life was turned upside down, nothing had gone her way. No sympathy, no kindness, no love. None at all. Now, one kind person’s agreeing to help her, bringing her something as simple as food, was enough to drive her to tears. As Greenie fled the chamber and shut the door, Ophelia climbed out of the tub and bolted the door behind her.
She didn’t want anyone coming in, surprising her.
She’d had bathed in her shift, refusing to strip naked in front of someone she didn’t know, so now that Greenie was out of the chamber, she pulled off the shift and sat down in the copper tub, finishing what Greenie had started. Using the soap she’d brought, she scrubbed the rest of her body, her face, and behind her ears. Greenie had washed her hair the very first thing, rinsing it with stale ale and then winding it on top of her head and pinning it with big iron pins. When every inch of her body was washed, feet included, she quickly climbed out of the tub and dried off with a long piece of linen that was embroidered around the edges. She and her mother shared it because it was a valuable piece, but it dried her quickly and she pulled a clean shift over her head just as someone knocked on the door.
“Who comes?” she demanded.
“Me, m’lady!”
Quickly, Ophelia rushed to the door and admitted Greenie, who had a small tray in her hands, covered with a cloth. Ophelia followed her like a loyal dog, eagerly, as the servant took the tray over to the small table in the chamber and then uncovered it to reveal a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread. There was also a small bowl of stewed apples with cinnamon and a cup of wine. Ophelia could smell everything. Starving, she sat down and began to stuff her mouth with the mutton stew as Greenie pulled the pins out of her hair and let the damp strands fall.
“I saw yer mother out in the common room,” Greenie said. “I don’t know if she’ll be coming to see ye any time soon, so ye’d better hurry and eat.”
