RulingPassion (9 page)

Chapter Ten

After dinner that evening, Lord Jeoffrey announced the plans
for the council. It set off a near-thunderous murmur of astonishment,
speculation and plans. Everyone knew there’d be much to be done in a short span
of time.

For the next several days, the keep stayed in an uproar of
servants scurrying to and fro, exclaiming when needed items weren’t available
or couldn’t be found, arguing over who should be doing what and when, scolding
and cajoling the extra staff acquired for the nonce. All the guest rooms had to
be aired and prepared for the influx of visitors soon to deluge them. Linens
were washed, straw replaced, fireplaces cleaned, flues checked, extra wood laid
in. Two young housemaids swept out the great hall and replaced all the straw,
cleaned and polished the tables as well as the extra trestles and benches
brought in to accommodate the crowd. In fact, nearly everything in the keep was
cleaned or polished to a high gloss.

The kitchen staff began a round of baking and cooking that
kept interesting aromas circulating through the building. Scullery maids
tripped over each as they flew back and forth at the directions of the cook or
head baker. Both brick ovens steamed from sun-up to sun-down with loaves of
bread, cakes and pies, one replacing another as soon as the previous was done.
Several young men and boys stayed busy hauling in and splitting wood to keep
the fires burning or stacking it against the coming influx.

All but the absolute essentials were cleared from the
courtyards, training fields and gardens to make room for the tents and
pavilions that would house some of the guests.

At Jeoffrey’s request, Rosalind quietly supervised the
activity, but she did it with care to ensure she didn’t interfere with or
undermine the authority of the upper staff. She consulted with Ranulf and
Brenna over supplies that would be needed and how best to procure them, and
then sent messengers with offers and orders.

Elspeth had control of the cleaning and preparation of the
keep, which proceeded in an organized and efficient manner, so Rosalind mostly
stayed out of her way, checking at intervals to ascertain which tasks had been
done.

Rosalind also kept track of who had received invitations and
the responses that came back, noting not only the names, but how many family
members would accompany the lord or squire, how many men-at-arms and servants
could be expected as well. Whether they would bring their own pavilions or
require quarters within the keep, and how many horses would need stabling. She
drew a map of the manor, marking off the location of all guest quarters, extra
servants’ quarters and any spare rooms that might be converted to guest
quarters for the occasion. As the acceptances returned, she began to mark off
who should be placed where.

At midweek, she set out before dawn with Lord Jeoffrey,
heading to town on market day to speak with some of the merchants and acquire
additional supplies. She had a list of items suggested by cook, butler,
housekeeper and the seamstresses. While Jeoffrey went off to the saddler and
blacksmith, a pair of footmen escorted Rosalind to the open air market, where
she spent several delightful hours seeking out the wares she wanted, comparing quality
and quantity, bargaining for the best price and being sure she found all she
needed.

Whispers and giggles followed wherever she went. Rosalind
knew what the young girls and the older women said about her to one other as
she passed, and for a short time she allowed it to concern her. She couldn’t
change what was, so she could do naught about the talk save ignore it.

Whatever they thought of her and her position in Lord
Jeoffrey’s household, all understood she had his coin and permission to
purchase for him. Only two declined to speak or do business with her and those
she felt she could safely disregard since neither had anything she couldn’t
acquire elsewhere.

Though she’d had little practice in the art of buying and
selling, she’d watched others do so and listened to their hints and advice. Her
mother had always recommended one try to be pleasant with and even befriend
those you dealt with. So Rosalind took the time to speak to the various
merchants, commenting on quality of the wares, or the pleasant nature of the
children hanging around, or even the mildness of the weather when no other
topic offered itself.

She asked questions about trades made before and trades with
other merchants not present, and listened carefully to what she was told, until
she had a fair idea of the relative value of most important commodities. In
particular she asked several people their opinion of the Blaisdell ale and the
rates the tavern charged for it. At other intervals she asked about milled
grain and what that went for. She came away more convinced than before that the
agreement with the miller needed to be revised.

By midafternoon she’d acquired or arranged for delivery of
everything on her list save the fabric requested by the housekeeper to replace
some of the linens too worn to be used. Given the short time until guests
arrived, the household weavers—already working to supply necessary items,
particularly servants’ uniforms which had been allowed to grow a little
shabby—couldn’t be expected to replace such a quantity of household linens as
well, so they’d have to be purchased.

Rosalind had noted the location of several cloth-merchants
and she went round to them, discussing fabrics available, quality and price
until she found what she wanted at a reasonable cost.

Once the deal for the linen broadcloth was concluded, she
asked the merchant about his finer fabrics, and in particular if he had any
dyed silks. Due to her thrift and her rapidly improving bargaining skills, she
still had a few coins left with everything on her list covered, which meant she
could indulge in a thought she’d had earlier. The man nodded and invited her
into a small tent behind his stall. She left a footman to wait with the linen
while she followed the cloth-merchant into the dim, crowded little space. He
moved standing bolts and rolls of fabric aside until he found what he wanted.

“This, Madame?” he asked, holding forth a roll of delicate,
sky-blue silk. The color was lovely and the cloth had a fine weave with an
excellent sheen, but it wouldn’t suit at all.

“The quality is right but not the color,” she told him.
“Have you anything in a deeper shade?”

He thought for a moment, then sorted through the rolls
again. This time he emerged with a smaller bolt of indigo-dyed silk.

She fought down her excitement as she fingered the edge. It
was perfect, exactly what she wanted, but it wouldn’t do to let the man know
that.

“Is this all you have of it?” she asked. “The bolt is a bit
small. I know not if the quantity would be adequate. And have you anything
darker yet?”

“Alas, Madame, this is as deep as anything I have.”

She expected it would be so, but pretended disappointment.
“It might do, but I’m not sure. How much do you want for it?”

Although the starting level wasn’t as high as she’d
expected, she flinched when she heard the price and shook her head sadly. “I
don’t have that much, sir,” she said and made a counter-offer. As anticipated,
he looked horrified. He decreased the asking price, however, and lowered it a
bit more than she’d hoped. She steeled herself to keep her expression neutral
as they reached an agreement that would leave her with just a few small coins
remaining.

Because she wanted it to be a surprise, she had the footman
roll the bolt of silk inside the broadcloth to hide it. One last stop saw her
turn over the last of the coins for a bit of exquisite lace that would set off
the silk perfectly.

Just in time, she carefully stored the lace in the cloth bag
she carried. When she looked up, she saw Jeoffrey approaching. Though he wore
his customary plain clothes, no one mistook him for anything but a lord. People
moved out of his way, bowing or curtsying to him, as he crossed the road to
meet her.

He eyed the footmen flanking her, noting the loads they
bore, then he smiled at her. Her heart did a funny little leap in her chest.

“My lady, I presume from the loads I’ve seen heaped in the
carts and those my men are bearing, your time has been successfully spent?”

“Indeed it has, my lord,” she answered.

“Are you done?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Let’s be on our way, then.”

He took her arm and led her toward the place down the road
where his carriage waited. The footmen followed behind.

As before, people moved out of their way and paid courtesy
to Lord Jeoffrey as they passed. When they looked at her, however, most either
stared in contempt or glanced away in quick dismissal.

After the third time it happened, she felt his growing anger
in the way the muscles of his arm tightened and the set of his shoulders grew
more rigid. His step quickened and his expression darkened into a frown. When
another man bowed to him and flicked her a look of amusement mixed with
disdain, he moved toward the man, saying, “You, sir, should be—”

Rosalind stepped to Jeoffrey’s side and took his arm again.
“Please, my lord, let it be. They do nothing wrong, truly.”

“They have not the right to judge you that way.”

“Perhaps not, but in custom they do only what is usual.”

The man he’d approached had wisely removed himself from the
way of danger, scuttling out of sight while the lord and lady were occupied
with each other. Jeoffrey stood rigid, battling back his anger. Finally after a
few tense moments, he drew a deep breath, let it out and relaxed just a shade.

“My apologies, Lady Rosalind,” he said. He met her gaze, his
gray eyes deep and shadowed. “I did not think adequately on how your position
would appear in the eyes of the world, nor how it would affect you.”

She tried not to sigh. “Regard it not,” she begged. “My
position is a great deal improved over the time I spent with Sir William, and
for that I am nothing but grateful. My standing in the world may improve in
time, but for now, I’m content with things as they are.”

He looked at her. “Are you truly, my lady?” he asked, his
tone all sincerity. “I know not why you should be. You receive not the respect
to which you should be entitled.”

“My lord,” she said, considering her words carefully, “in
the eyes of the world I deserve no more respect than I have been given. But I
am in receipt of a love and joy to which, perhaps, I am not entitled but have
been given as a gift. That compensates for much.”

She looked up at him when he stopped and tensed up again. He
looked astonished.

“Love?” he asked.

“Aye. Love. You love me, My Lord Jeoffrey. You would wish it
were not so, I know, but ‘tis true, nonetheless.”

When she tugged on his arm, he began to move again, but he
was like a man sleepwalking. “I love you,” he said, half-question,
half-statement. “And do you love me in return, Lady Rosalind?”

“Aye, that I do.”

He made no answer, but suddenly increased the pace of his
walk. Rosalind didn’t hear what he told the carriage driver, but they quickly
outdistanced the carts that had accompanied them, and the return trip was made
at a faster pace than the journey the opposite way that morning.

On returning to the manor, Jeoffrey stopped in the kitchen
long enough to request a bath, specifying the large tub be brought, before
leading her directly to their quarters. They didn’t have to wait long before a
pair of men brought in a large tub and several more servants followed with
buckets of water.

Rosalind and Jeoffrey shared the tub, and a flask of wine,
and much merriment. They splashed each other between drinks, giggled, and sang.
He taught her several very naughty ditties and they took turns singing them,
though in truth neither of them could carry a tune for very long.

As they were getting out, she stepped ahead of him, and
wrapped herself in the big towel, leaving him with a much smaller one. She
moved to the other side of the room and grinned as he tried to approach her and
hold the small towel around his middle at the same time.

“Foul, lady,” he cried. “You know that towel is mine. This
is barely a handkerchief to cover my privates.”

“But it looks so very well on you, my lord.”

“That matters naught. You used the wrong towel. I demand you
return my towel.”

“Perhaps you shall have to come and claim it,” she teased.

“If I do so, you will regret you did not concede it to me
sooner.” His tone conveyed more promise than threat.

“Perhaps,” she agreed. “But at least I shall be warm and dry
by then.”

In mock anger he said, “You shall be warmer yet when I catch
you. Your bottom will be especially warmed.”

She slid to the side as he got within arms’ reach of her,
slipping away from him, around the table and chairs, nearing the wardrobe
chest. He followed, one hand clutching the tiny towel, grunting and growling,
his face screwed into a fierce frown. She couldn’t suppress a giggle as the
towel slipped and his enlarging member pushed above it.

He finally let the inadequate cover fall to the floor and
lunged toward her. Again she eluded him, sliding past the wardrobe and nearing
the bed. Avoiding the trap of having the bed at her back or being caught
between it and the wall, she angled across the room. A lively chase around the
room ensued.

She clutched the towel to her breast as she evaded him time
and again, side-stepping or ducking under an outstretched arm to get away.

He caught a handful of the towel and jerked on it to bring
her back to him. Instead she let the cloth fall away. For a moment, the sight
of her nude body stopped him, then he dropped the towel he’d been so eager to
capture and rushed toward her. Again she eluded his grasp and he pursued her
around the room twice before he finally grabbed a handful of hair, effectively
bringing her to a stop.