Page 48 of An Ill-Made Match

“I don’t understand,” said Eden as they returned to the staircase. “Where are the kitchens?”

“Below the disarming room,” he explained. “There are steps that lead down. I did not bother to show you the pantry or the buttery. You’re mistress here after all, not servant.”

Eden pondered this. “I see. But surely Fulco cannot be the only staff here?”

“There used to be others,” Roland said vaguely. “I’m not sure how many remain.” He held his hand out to her and she took it, following him back out to the winding stairs. They climbed upwards once again. “Watch this step,” he said.

“How is it that Vawdrey Keep passed to you, the youngest son?” she asked curiously.

“I’m the only one that has any affection for the old place,” he replied after a slight pause. “Oswald has no desire to live here. Too far from court. And Mason gained an estate through his wife. Though,” he added with a shrug. “I suppose he could not have inherited it by right. My Father never married his mother.” The next door up opened into a small passageway with several doors off it. “This will be ours,” Roland said leading her into a large bedchamber furnished only with a large carved bedstead and a rather battered looking trunk. He exclaimed in annoyance.

“What is it?” asked Eden, before noticing that the bed wore no mattress, blankets or quilts. “Oh, well, likely we can have it made up before night falls.”

He shot an irritated look at her, and the unwelcome thought occurred that he might have had more immediate plans for it. He crossed the room and inspected it, looking underneath the bed and then lifting the lid of the trunk. Eden stayed by the door in case he got any ideas about lying her down on the bare ropes slung across the bedstead. Or worse still, he found some old dog blanket which he expected her to lie on. “Let’s check the other rooms,” he grunted at last, seeming to give up. They went back out to the corridor and into another bedchamber, which was still decent sized though rather smaller. There was a large box cupboard in the far corner which Roland crossed to, while she went across to the window to look out at the valley below. It was a great view, she conceded, from atop the Vawdrey’s hill. There was a bird’s eye view of the green forest they had ridden through that morning. Looking back over her shoulder, she found Roland flinging the doors open to the cupboard. To her surprise there was a good-sized bed inside it, with a mattress, though the blankets looked sparse and she could see no pillows.

“How curious,” she said, moving closer. “I’ve never seen a bed inside a box like that.”

“It’s Oswald’s old bed,” said Roland disparagingly. “He always was a secretive bastard.”

Peering inside, Eden thought she could see a pile of books in the far corner, though it was hard to make out without a candle.

“Forget it, I’m not sleeping in there,” said Roland. “You can’t see your hand in front of your face it’s so dark.”

“But why should you need to, when you are sleeping,” Eden asked him irritably.

Again, he cast another look at her. “I mean to see what I’m doing.”

Eden flushed, could he think of nothing but his conjugal rights, she thought crossly. It was ridiculous!

“Come,” he said. “There’s always my old room.” He led her to a third smaller bedroom which had only a pallet bed low to the ground. “Damn, I had forgotten,” he muttered. “Just how small my old bed is.”

“When were you last home?” asked Eden, trying to distract herself from the thought of having to sleep on such a narrow cot with Roland Vawdrey. Why, she’d have to lie fully on top of him! She felt her chest swell at the indignity of marital relations. Why had no-one warned her how it would be? No wonder so many women took themselves off to a nunnery! The fact he was so handsome somehow made it ten times worse!

He leaned down, pressing on the thin mattress. “The dogs have been sleeping on this,” he said with displeasure, ignoring her question. “We can’t sleep here.”

Thanking the heavens for small mercies, Eden followed him back out into the passageway. “What’s on the top floor?” she asked.

“Naught but the attics. Although,” he broke off, brightening up. “Mason’s old room is up there. Wait here.” He bounded up the last flight of stairs, while Eden wondered if she would be allowed her own bedchamber, once he had tired of her. If so, she would surely choose Oswald’s old room which undoubtedly had the best view. She wandered back into the largest bedchamber again, to look out of that window. But this window faced the mountains and the aspect was not half as picturesque. She heard Roland’s footsteps and hurried back out to meet him. She did not want him to think she was poking and prying around his home.

“A straw mattress, would you believe,” he said with disgust. “Half eaten by mice.”

“Oh dear,” said Eden, without much conviction.

He glowered at her. “We’ll just have to use Oswald’s until we get a new mattress.”

“Can we have it aired before tonight?” Eden asked, wondering when the last time was that it would have been slept on.

“At least being in a cupboard means the dogs couldn’t get on it,” he murmured, opening the door to the staircase. “Mind your step. Put a hand to my shoulder.” Eden followed closely behind him, lifting her skirts with one hand, so she should not trip and placing the other on his muscular shoulder. He warned her each time they were approaching a trip-step and she marveled at how quickly she had heard him run up to the attic. Even with this cautious approach, she felt herself stumble at least twice, and was grateful to have Roland’s back to brace against, preventing her from falling headlong down the steep stone steps. She only breathed easy again when they emerged once more from the staircase into the disarming room, although two of the dogs still stood guard in there and immediately glued themselves to Roland’s heels. He glanced back at her uncertainly. “I’m going down to see if I can find Fulco.”

“I’m not staying here on my own,” Eden found herself retorting. “Castor could return at any point and resume hostilities!”

He laughed. “He’ll be outside now very likely, or with Fulco.” He reached down and fondled the ears of the brown-haired dog she thought was called Hector. The other dog was black and white and she had no idea of his name. Without Castor around they seemed determined to ignore her. Well, that was fine with Eden. “Follow me down then,” said Roland. “But stay close and mind your footing.”

Eden followed his directions and found herself in a large kitchen and scullery area with two big fireplaces, a number of cavernous cooking pots and two large spits for roasting meats. A vast table stood in the center, covered in pots and pans. Not a soul was in sight, but the kitchen at least looked lived in. There was no dust or soot lying around and the floors were swept clean. Roland strode across the floor and opened another door leading into a vast store room which Eden guessed was the pantry. “No-one,” he huffed, shutting the door again. “Where the devil is everyone?”

Eden pointed to a large bowl of eggs. “Someone collected these,” she said. “And very likely this morning.” The black and white dog, jumped up, setting his two paws on the table to sniff for any meat.

“Down, Seth!” Roland roared, and the dog complied, looking a little sheepish.