Page 65 of An Ill-Made Match

“You brutes!” yelled Brigid after them. “Your pardon, milady,” she said breathlessly. “But I couldn’t stop them!”

“It’s not your fault,” Eden assured her, eyeing the large white dog and the large brown dog respectively as they sat themselves on either side of her, staring with hostility at the door. Eden turned back and found Brigid ushering in a guest. Over her arm she carried a sopping wet cloak and hood which was dripping all over the floor.

“The Lady Orla Bernard has come to visit with you, milady,” she announced with a curtsey.

Eden rose from her bench. Castor gave her a warning rumble. “Castor!” she remonstrated with him, and curtsied to her guest. “You must forgive our dogs, Lady Orla. I’m afraid they are unaccustomed to visitors and their manners are sadly rusty.”

“It does not signify,” Orla waved the apology aside as she sailed into the room. She was a tall thin woman with a rather long nose and light brown hair. Eden thought she was aged in her mid-thirties or thereabouts. She envied her dark purple gown, which had a high neckline and had black velvet bands at the wrists and hem. She wished she was dressed in such a gown, instead of her frivolous ice blue which she was heartily sick of by now. “Take a seat on this bench here, nearest to the fire where you can dry out,” she urged Orla. “It is such filthy weather this morning. Will you join me?” she said gesturing to the loaf. “There is sure to be some fish dish served at some point.”

“I never eat before a light meal at midday,” said Orla disapprovingly. “My Mother used to say that only the infirm or the infantile should eat at day-break. Or common workers of course.”

“Oh, did she?” asked Eden. “Well, she would not have been alone in that belief. It is the common opinion after all.” She let that sink in before continuing. “We have a mutual acquaintance I think in the Countess Vawdrey.”

“My sister-in-law,” said Orla, arranging her skirts around her and looking smug.

“And mine,” Eden reminded her.

“Quite, quite,” twittered Orla. “You are lately married. I wish you joy, of course.”

Eden steeled herself, waiting for Orla to make some comment about Lenora being the intended bride, but to her surprise, she did not.

“Fenella wrote to me about it of course. She is very fond of Sir Roland, for all his faults.” Orla looked about her. “Is he from home at present?”

“He is competing at the tournament at Areley Kings,” said Eden, bristling in spite of herself, at the mention of Roland’s faults.

Orla clicked her tongue. “Menfolk! How childishly they play at these games of war!”

“You do not care for the tournaments, Lady Orla?” Contrarily, Eden who had always despised them, now felt the need to defend the pursuit.

“Oh, I’ve never been to one,” said Orla breezily.

“If you had,” said Eden. “Then you would not call it ‘play’.”

“Pshaw!” said Orla violently.

Castor growled, and Eden was forced to put a hand out, to lightly touch his head. He stopped the noise at once and Eden returned to her bread and butter.

“I see this place is still packed to the rafters with curs,” said Orla with a loud sniff. “It’s almost like the old Baron were still rattling around the place!”

“Oh, there’s always been dogs at Vawdrey Keep,” said Eden mildly. “Did you know the late Baron Vawdrey?” She was curious in spite of herself.

“Oh yes, he was a well-known figure around these parts,” said Orla.

A light knock was heard on the door, and Brigid sailed in bearing a dish of herrings. “Shall I fetch another plate, my lady?”

“W-ell,” mused Orla. “Those herrings do smell rather delicious. Perhaps I will make an exception, just this once, dear Lady Vawdrey.”

“I am honored. Please do, Brigid.”

“I’m amazed you have female staff,” said Orla, her eyebrows high. “The last thing I heard the place was shunned.”

“Oh yes, I had heard tell of some rumors. Spectral hounds, was it not?” asked Eden slyly.

“Hounds? Oh no, my dear!” Orla lowered her voice. “Ghost brides, of the old Baron. They walk the place, wringing their hands and lamenting their premature deaths.”

“Dear me!” Eden stifled a laugh. Orla looked shocked. “I’m sorry, tis only that I have been here several days now and seen not one spectral thing.”

“Oh, well… I daresay it is a load of nonsense,” admitted Orla, climbing down off her high horse.