Annabel retreated to the hot kitchen as the rain sprinkled her head. Sitting as far as she could from the huge fireplace and the pungent smell of two pigs roasting on a spit, she and Mistress Eustacia chopped beans and leeks and cabbage. Eustacia commented on how much nicer things would be once the lord’s new home was finished. Annabel murmured a reply, then listened to the rain pattering on the roof and against the shuttered windows.
Lord le Wyse burst through the door.
A puddle formed around his feet, his beard dripped, and his dark hair was plastered to his forehead and temples. His fine linen shirt, alarmingly transparent, clung to his shoulders and arms, revealing muscular upper arms and shoulders.
His eye locked with Annabel’s and she glanced away, uncomfortable with seeing him again, especially in such a disheveled state. She looked down at the cabbage then chanced another glimpse.
He was still looking at her. Her heart thumped painfully against her chest as his eyebrows drew together and his lips parted. What would he say? Would he tell Mistress Eustacia that she’d snooped in his sleeping area when she was supposed to be cleaning? Would her mistress regret making Annabel her helper, thinking her too nosy to be trusted?
But by the look on his face, she actually wondered if he would tell her he was sorry for yelling at her earlier. That was foolish thinking, of course. Lords didn’t apologize to servants.
She ducked her head, trying to concentrate on the cabbage, thankful for the dim light in her corner of the room.
“My lord!” Mistress Eustacia fussed anxiously. “You must get out of those wet things at once. You’ll be sick, perhaps with some deadly fever, and then what will become of the rest of us, says I?”
“Dry clothes … Precisely why I’m here.”
“In your trunk — oh, nay, saints have mercy, your shirts are all here.” Eustacia jumped up, spilling beans and leeks onto the floor. Annabel immediately dropped to her knees to pick them up.
“I shall iron one this minute, this minute, I shall.” Mistress Eustacia went to the basket of clothing she had taken in off the line the day before.
As soon as Eustacia turned, Lord le Wyse backed out the door and was gone.
Eustacia snatched a cloth and used it to take the heavy iron from where it was warming in front of the fire. She ironed furiously, and in a few moments was done. She held up the shirt. “Go take this to Lord le Wyse.”
“Me?” Annabel croaked.
“Of course. I’ll wrap it in this sheet so it won’t get wet. But be careful you hold it gently. No wrinkles. He’s particular about his clothes, he is.”
Annabel stared at the shirt Eustacia was holding out to her. How would Lord le Wyse react when she brought it to him? Would he be angry, thinking she was trying to invade his privacy again? Worse yet, would he be undressed?
Mistress Eustacia said, “Don’t worry. He frightens most people, but the master would never harm you.” She reached out and patted Annabel’s cheek with her work-roughened fingertips.
Hating that her fear must have shown on her face, and not wanting Mistress Eustacia to think she was like “most people,” she took the piece of clothing and hurried out into the rain.
She ran across the yard and up the slippery steps of the manor house, holding the shirt close to keep it from getting wet. She knocked on the door then opened it, trying to steady her breathing. “My lord?”
Annabel closed the door behind her. Her eyes adapted slowly to the dim light.
“I am here.” His muffled voice came from behind the screen.
Detecting no anger in his voice, she pressed on. “Mistress Eustacia sent me with your shirt. Where would you prefer me to put it?” She panted, feeling breathless after stringing so many words together in his presence.
“Bring it to me.” He thrust out his hand around the side of the screen.
Annabel crossed the room, unwrapping the garment as she went. Standing as far away from the screen as possible, she stretched her arm out and placed the shirt in his open hand. It disappeared behind the screen.
Instead of leaving, she decided this was her opportunity to apologize for being in his screened-off quarters. She began to speak before she could change her mind.
“Lord le Wyse, please forgive me for this morning. I would never invade your privacy. I know I did just that, and I’m very sorry I did. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to clean behind your screen. No one told me.” She felt like someone running down a steep hill, unable to stop or slow down. “I tried not to look at your illuminations, I truly did, but they were so fascinating. I didn’t intend to invade your privacy, and I’m sorry, and I will never do it again. Please forgive me.”
She felt a small measure of relief that she’d explained her actions and asked forgiveness. She turned and started to walk back across the room.