The Merchant's Daughter

“Miss Annabel,” called an insistent voice.

 

“Hello, Adam.” She forced her face into a smile. “How is your arm?”

 

“’Tis well.”

 

She saw that the bandage was still there, though quite covered in dirt.

 

“Miss Annabel, you didn’t meet my father.”

 

“Oh, Adam, I don’t think now is the best time.” Annabel glanced desperately at Eustacia, but she was still talking with the same young woman.

 

Adam’s smile disappeared. “Oh. My father wants to meet you. I told him you would make a fine mother.” The timid smile returned.

 

She swallowed and felt a ridiculous urge to run from the room and go home. She could not face the inevitable meeting, not tonight. “Thank you, Adam, but I’m very tired. I promise you’ll see me again tomorrow. Now it is time for you to go to bed. And besides, we can’t disturb your father while he’s speaking with Lord le Wyse. Tomorrow. I promise.”

 

Adam cocked his head to one side. Finally, he nodded then wandered away.

 

Her head ached with the weight of fatigue, and she prayed she hadn’t hurt the little fellow’s feelings.

 

Mistress Eustacia talked on with the maidservant, gesturing with one hand while her other rested on her hip. Annabel again looked around for someone to ask about sleeping arrangements, but the other maids and workers had already slipped out the door of the upper hall, leaving her to stand conspicuously still while everyone else had somewhere to go. She thought of her little bed in her father’s house. If only she could crawl under the familiar sheet and lay her head on her own pillow.

 

Desperate now, she moved toward Mistress Eustacia. Oh, thank you, God, the maid was walking away. “Mistress Eustacia.” Annabel bit her lip at the tremor in her voice.

 

The woman turned, and her eyes grew big at the sight of Annabel. “Oh, my dear, what is it?” Eustacia’s eyes flicked down to Annabel’s bag. “Ah, you haven’t found your bed. I’ll take you there, I will. Come.” She huffed a tired breath, grabbed a candle, and turned toward the door at one end of the now almost-empty hall. “It’s the best time of day, when a body can fall into bed after its labors.”

 

Annabel followed her. When she turned to close the door, Lord le Wyse’s eye met hers. She turned away quickly.

 

“All the women servants, except me, sleep down here in the undercroft,” Mistress Eustacia said between huffs, making her way down the stone steps. “The men are bedded down in the barn and the sleeping shed. I’m in the upper hall with the master, in case he needs anything. I’ve been with his family since before he was born, and a gentler boy you never saw.” Her voice lilted and ended with a sigh, as though the memories were dear. “’Tis only too sad that he’s had such pain in his life, it is.” She shook her head.

 

She must mean whatever destroyed his eye and mangled his hand.

 

Her mistress clicked her tongue. “The attack was the beginning of his sorrows. But the other, well, I shouldn’t even speak of — I, who know more than anyone.” They had made it to the bottom of the steps and stopped at the door to the undercroft. She stared at Annabel in the moonlight and a slight smile crossed her lips. Lifting her hand to Annabel’s cheek, Eustacia caressed it for a moment, then let her hand fall. “You’re a kind, gentle lass. I see it in your eyes. He should have married someone like you instead of — “ She shook her head again and turned away. “But there’s no wisdom in speaking of that.”

 

Annabel’s tired mind registered surprise at her mistress’s implication.

 

Eustacia pushed the door open and entered the barely lit undercroft, a large room the size of the upper hall but with stone arches undulating the ceiling and columns interrupting the open space here and there.

 

Women lay or sat on at least a dozen cots. Mistress Eustacia found one in the center of the room and pointed. “Here. This one’s unclaimed as yet. Do ye have need of anything? I was young once, so there’s naught you can’t confide in me.”

 

“Nay, Mistress Eustacia, thank you.” Annabel dropped her bag onto the thin straw mattress.

 

“I’ll talk to Lord Ranulf tonight. I need your help in the kitchen tomorrow. There’s to be no more fieldwork for you. The lord listens to me, he does.” She stared into Annabel’s eyes, holding the candle up, as though to better inspect her features. She seemed about to say something then smiled wistfully and squeezed Annabel’s shoulder before quitting the room.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter

 

4

 

 

 

 

Annabel opened her bag and pulled out her nightgown. She changed her clothes quickly, not even looking to see if anyone was watching. She crawled onto the bed and wrapped the sheet around herself. There was no pillow, so she rested her head on the crook of her arm.

 

“You there. New girl. It’s Annabel, isn’t it?”

 

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