Page 64 of An Ill-Made Match

If anything Brigid’s eyes grew wider. “Well, it’s like this my lady. I’m Aphrany born and bred. But my late husband Will was from Sitchmarsh. He was apprenticed in Aphrany, but returned to his home village and brought me with him.” She shrugged. “I lost him three summers ago. Many’s a time I thought about upping sticks and heading back to the city. But I never did it yet.”

“Do you not miss the hustle and bustle of city life?” asked Eden. If Brigid was a city girl, maybe that explained her scorn for country superstition.

“Oh yes,” said Brigid. “But I don’t miss the pick-pockets and the cut-throats and the swindlers. Least,” she amended with a wink. “Not much.” Eden smiled. “But you mustn’t stand about here in the draught my lady,” Brigid, said jumping up. “If you’re back now, I’ll lay the fire and let Mr Baxter know he’s to set about your dinner.”

“Thank you, Brigid.” said Eden. In truth, she had a good feeling about the new maid’s appointment. Which was why she was surprised to find Fulco hovering by her elbow as soon as she’d finished her supper, a glum expression on his face. “What is it, Fulco?” she asked, for Brigid had already taken away the trenchers and bowls.

He cleared his throat. “Just to say, my lady. That if Brigid Hamble doesn’t give satisfaction, you can tell me, and I will give her her marching orders.”

Eden frowned at him a moment. “If I was not happy with Brigid, I would not hesitate to tell her so myself,” she told him firmly. “But as it happens, I think she will do very well indeed.” Fulco could not have looked more astonished if she had announced that Brigid was her full-blood sibling. When he still stood there, looking at her doubtfully, she added in a dismissive tone: “You have done very well in appointing her.” He finally took this as a cue to leave and did so.

Eden only managed an hour in the unwelcoming sitting room, before retiring upstairs to her bedchamber. Brigid had lit the fire for her in there, and Parnell and Nudd followed up the stairs after her. With some misgiving she let them in with her and watched them settle in front of the fire with wide yawns. Eden got on with the business of washing and undressing for bed. Once ready, she picked up the three books she had left on the table and her candle, and opened the small doors to the box bed, clambering in. Looking about her, she found the handiest niche for her candle holder and stowed it there, above her head. Then she selected the uppermost of the three books which was a decent size with little metal clasps holding it shut in the shape of small, clutching hands. To her surprise, after unfastening it, she found it was an illustrated storybook giving an account of the adventures of some knight she had never heard, of called Sir Aguillerd. Eden’s lips turned downwards. She was not personally fond of chivalrous romances and the popularity of the insipid Sir Maurency of Jorde had spawned a slew of even more bland imitations.

Casting that one aside in disappointment, Eden reached for the second book which was a red leather-bound tome which had the first few links of a chain still attached to its spine. It had clearly been part of a chained library previously, and Eden wondered where Oswald Vawdrey must have come across his few prized books. The inside flap contained a rather nasty curse which it said it would befall anyone who stole this book belonging to one Jeffrey John Nokes of Cantonville. Except that Jeffrey John’s name had been firmly scored through and Oswald Vawdrey’s written above it in an audacious, bold hand. Eden’s eyebrows rose. Well, she thought. Nothing bad had ever happened to Earl Vawdrey that she knew of. Perhaps he came by it honestly?

When she prized it open, she found it was a compendium of beasts with an illustration and a paragraph about each one, listing their characteristics, virtues and vices. Flipping through the book Eden found the every-day creatures listed side by side with more fantastical chimeras. On impulse she looked up ‘dog’ and found ‘Most loyal creature, faithful to its master, come what may. Distance cannot dim a hound’s devotion. Be it mastiff or lapdog, its’ heart be of the same substance.’ There followed a drawing of a man lay on his deathbed and his dog’s head flung back in a mournful howl. At his bedside sat a nun in holy orders. On her lap, a little white lapdog, who was looking up at his mistress with eyes only for her. Eden smiled, and pushed open one of the cupboard doors to check on the two dogs. In the glow of the fire she could see their sleeping bodies, stretched out before the hearth.

Returning to the book, she spent only about an hour reading, before she found herself yawning, and her eyelids drooping. It must have been that long walk, she thought as the book slipped from her fingers. She caught it, but noticed it had fallen open at a page which was not fastened to the others but had merely been inserted into its pages. With surprise, she noticed that the illustration was that of a naked man. Her eyes opened wide. Whoever heard of finding an entry for man in a bestiary? ‘Ambiguous, and changeable creature with potential for either good or evil, sometimes both. Untrustworthy.’ Eden read in astonishment. She stared at the page. Why had it come loose? she wondered, examining it closer. She turned it over. It bore no marks of binding. Returning to the drawing again, she blinked at the unflinching realism of the pen strokes. On the entry for mermaid, the sea creature had her breasts strategically covered with a conch shell she was holding, but there were no fanciful flourishes or strategic fig leaves on this one. Slowly, she came to the conclusion that this page was a good imitation of the other entries, but had been added at a later date. She closed the book thoughtfully. But who had added it? Jeffrey John Nokes or Oswald Vawdrey? Whichever one it was, they were an excellent forger, and held rather misanthropic views.

Suddenly she wanted to ask Roland’s opinion. What would he be doing now? She wondered, blowing out her candle and rolling onto her side. She remembered the pavilion he had shared with his friends at Tranton Vale. I always have the right bunk, he had said, so they clearly always shared a tent between the three of them. Would his friends Sir Edward and Sir James be asking him how he found married life? And how would he reply? She shifted about on the mattress. In truth, it seemed to her that he was adjusting to this life rather better than she was. She huffed and rolled onto her other side, thumping at the pillow.

When she contemplated her husband’s return, her stomach lurched. No doubt he’d be wanting to commit outrages on her body again! She pressed the backs of her hands to her heated cheeks and frowned. She wasn’t anxious for a repeat of that she told herself briskly. No, not at all. Her thoughts halted abruptly as an image of his face swam before her eyes, when he’d cried out her name the last time. Why had he done that? And why did she keep thinking of the transported expression on his face? And not only that, but he’d been happy. She knew it. Just because he’d lain between her thighs and committed ‘that act’ with her. It was very odd, but the suspicion entered her head that ballad singers and poets had it all wrong after all. Maybe they were just over-complicating the whole thing? Of course, she knew full well that any beast in the field felt a compulsion to rut. That part was understandable, and she’d been forewarned as such. The part she didn’t understand was why he wanted to kiss and fondle her afterwards. What possible purpose could that serve? All it did was make her feel confused and awkward when she remembered it now. She wished he wouldn’t do it. Why could he not just roll off her and go about his business, like everyone said men did! The way he acted was like he felt somehow closer to her because of a physical intimacy they’d shared, but that was nonsense!

She lay brooding over Roland Vawdrey for far longer than she’d ever admit, before her thoughts flitted to her cousin. She must try and write to Lenora on the morrow. Then she made a list in her head of all the people she owed letters to. Lenora, Gunnilde, Fenella, her grandmother. She really must speak to Fulco tomorrow about pen and ink. Or perhaps she should ask Brigid? Her new maid seemed a resourceful girl, where Fulco could be a little surly and uncooperative. Gradually she drifted into an uneasy and fitful dream where the beasts started to crawl out from the pages of the compendium, large as life. Strange to say, it was not the lions or tigers that bothered her most, but the man, who still had no clothes on, and turned out to be Roland Vawdrey. Oh dear, she thought, is he really so untrustworthy? Then he held out his arms to her, she walked straight into them. Like a total fool.

**

The next morning, Eden woke to the sound of barking, and Brigid shaking her shoulder. Eden exclaimed and sat up in bewilderment.

“Quiet you daft beast, do!” Brigid urged Nudd who barked in her face again, unabashed.

To her surprise, Eden found herself sat on the hearth-rug in her room next to the dogs. “What..?” she rubbed her eyes and looked at Brigid.

“Your bed not comfy, milady?” the maid asked, plunking her hands on her hips.

Eden, crossed her arms, feeling a nip in the air. It was a good thing she’d been curled up with the dogs or she would have been chilled to the bone. “I must have been trying to quiet them and fallen asleep,” she said awkwardly, and rose stiffly to her feet. She hobbled over to the washstand where Brigid was pouring her out a basin out of hot water. Her big toe throbbed. She must have stubbed it in the night. Eden glanced around nervously but could see no other sign of upset.

“Well, you won’t be traipsing over the hills today, milady,” said Brigid cheerfully.

For a moment Eden thought she was referring to her pained toe, then she heard the sound of raindrops and glanced at the window. “No indeed,” she agreed, seeing the steady downpour. She set about her ablutions. “How was your night’s sleep?” she asked, turning to look over her shoulder at Brigid. “Are you settled in the servant’s quarters?”

The maid looked pleasantly surprised by her enquiry. “Very comfortable, thank you, milady. I don’t say my in-laws house isn’t pleasant, for ‘tis. But their second son is lately married, and the place is full of bodies. My presence there…” she shrugged. “It’s probably come to its natural end. They promised my Will they would take care of me, but he’s been gone three years now, and there was no children to bind me to them.”

“You were widowed very young.”

“Yes,” agreed Brigid, nodding her curly head. “Married at sixteen, widowed at nineteen.”

Eden realized they must both be much of an age. “Married at sixteen…” she repeated. “Your in-laws still live in the village, then?”

“My father-in-law is Hamble the Miller,” explained Brigid. “They’ve lived in these parts for generations.”

“Like the Vawdreys,” said Eden thoughtfully, and wondered why there were no portraits in the Keep, or any personal touches. Maybe because the place had not had a mistress for so many years. And even when it had, for only very brief periods before some tragic fate befell them. Hastily, she changed the direction of her thoughts.

Brigid took the dogs down to let them out and Eden finished dressing and tidying her hair away. She had just finished pinning her braids securely into place when a great din was raised below with the dogs. “What now?” muttered Eden as she took herself down the stairs to the floor below.

Walking through to the sitting room, she approached the window seat, and peered below. She could see Fulco remonstrating with Castor as he led away someone’s horse. It wasn’t one of theirs. Looking thoughtful, Eden walked back into the dining chamber where a fresh loaf and butter had been laid out for her. She buttered herself a piece of bread and was just pouring herself a cup of water, when she heard the knock on the door. “Come in.”

The door flung back and to Eden’s surprise it was Castor and Seth that came barging in.