Page 23 of An Ill-Made Match

“Expectations?” asked Eden, her ears pricking up. “Do the Conways now have connections at court?”

“Yes indeed,” nodded Gunnilde. “For Arthur’s sister has lately married Sir Christopher Lelland, a very prominent man. And they do say that he may sponsor Arthur, which would be a very grand thing for the Conways.” Gunnilde’s voice had dropped to a reverent whisper.

Eden’s mouth twisted. She knew Sir Christopher Lelland. He held the position as an usher in the King’s retinue. She supposed, around these parts they might think him an elevated member of court, though he did not move in the first circles and was rather staid in reputation.

“I know of Sir Christopher,” said Eden cautiously.

“Oh!” Gunnilde reddened. “I hope you do not think I spoke out of turn…”

“Of course not,” Eden assured her. “You have said naught amiss.”

“I wonder if he and his new wife are still staying with the Conways,” wondered her new friend aloud. “If so, you may even see him here today.”

Eden’s heart sank at the idea of crossing paths with a fellow courtier. Still, it had to be done. And no doubt several of the knights attended court. “Have you met Sir Edward Bevan and Sir James Attley?” she asked. “They are both friends of Roland Vawdrey’s. My husband,” she added belatedly, trying it out. It sounded stiff and awkward on her lips.

“Not officially,” replied Gunnilde, who had not seemed to notice. “But I saw them when they arrived yesterday, for my brother Hal and I were watching from the ramparts. They both looked so very handsome and distinguished. I am sure I would be far too tongue-tied to ever utter more than two words together in their presence!”

“Nonsense,” responded Eden briskly. “You need not be shy and must have some conversation with them at this evening’s feast. You are a young woman with a great deal of presence and rational conversation. I will be glad to introduce you myself.”

Gunnilde gasped. “Would you?” She bit her lower lip. “Your pardon, I did not realize that you were so well acquainted with royal court. Is that where you met your husband, the King’s champion?”

Eden nodded. “Yes, for my uncle Sir Leofric is a member of the King’s bedchamber, and I myself am lady-in-waiting to Queen Armenal.”

The girl’s jaw dropped. “L-lady-in-waiting? To the Queen herself?” she stammered.

“Yes,” answered Eden. “Though I may not be, when I return.” She winced. “The Queen’s ladies are supposed to ask permission before they marry. And I did not.”

Gunnilde was staring at her now, with so much astonished admiration that Eden was a little alarmed. Belatedly she remembered how romantic the girl was in her notions.

“To risk losing your position at court, for love,” breathed Gunnilde, covering her mouth with her hands. Her eyes filled with tears. “It should be made into a ballad!”

“It is largely just a matter of courtesy these days,” Eden hurried to reassure her. “And the Queen will likely not care overmuch.”

“I think you’re wonderful,” said Gunnilde in a choked voice. “I really do!”

To Eden’s relief, she spotted a crowd of people heading their way and realized more spectators were arriving. “It seems we have company,” she said brightly.

Gunnilde wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “Oh no,” she whispered. “Tis the Conways already. Is my nose very red?”

“It looks fine,” Eden assured her. “I think I see Sir Christopher. Which one is Arthur?”

“The fair one with the lordly bearing and the blonde moustache,” said Gunnilde, with a very clear bias.

Arthur Conway was of middling height with wavy blonde hair and moustache. He had a slightly self-conscious swagger in his walk, which Eden thought might have been for Gunnilde’s benefit as he seemed to look everywhere, except directly at her new friend.

“Is that his mother and sister with him?” Eden asked looking at a middle-aged matron in blue and a younger woman with a rather large headdress on, and an even larger air of self-importance.

“Yes,” said Gunnilde, sounding a bit crestfallen. “Muriel and I used to be great friends, but in recent years… well…” her words trailed off miserably. “Not so much.” They waited as the Conway party approached.

“Goodness, is that you Gunnilde, child,” said Lady Conway as they drew near. “I would hardly recognize you. You look quite changed. Have you been ill?”

Gunnilde flushed as she bobbed a curtsey. “I have not,” she said with a quiet dignity that impressed Eden.

“She doesn’t look ill, mother,” frowned Sir Arthur Conway. “Looks very well, i’faith!” He made a bow to Gunnilde and then to Eden.

“May I introduce our neighbors,” Gunnilde started her introductions. “Sir Arthur Conway and his mother Lady Conway. And this is his sister, Lady Muriel…”

“Gracious me, you silly child! You seem to forget I am lately married!” cut in Muriel Lelland with a high, rather false laugh. “I have not been Muriel Conway, for at least a month and a half!”