She would try a new tactic. She would show him what a contemptible creature she thought him to be, and then maybe he would stop leering at her in front of everyone. He would see, reflected in her face, what she thought of him.
While she set the trenchers on the table and filled the goblets with ale, the laborers and servants began to filter into the room. Instead of ignoring Bailiff Tom as she normally would — afraid of making eye contact with him — Annabel raised her head and purposely searched for him. She quickly caught him staring at her from across the room, a bold look in his tiny, black, ratlike eyes.
She set her jaw and glared back, giving him her coldest, most contemptuous look. She converted every ounce of fear within her into anger and hatred, fervently hoping he could read her thoughts as she pronounced him the most repulsive creature on two legs.
The bailiff stared back for a moment. His thin lips spread with a slow grin, as though pleased she was looking at him.
Was he blind? He wasn’t supposed to be pleased. She curled her lip and narrowed her eyes, willing him to read derision and hatred in her eyes. Finally, a befuddled look came over his features, and he looked away.
Annabel’s chest swelled with triumph. She’d forced him to look away! But she prepared herself to repeat her projected daggers of contempt several times, if necessary, during the evening meal.
A small prickling of guilt niggled at her conscience. Of course, she’d heard the priest say many times that hatred was of the devil, but what else could she do? Perhaps if she were able to read the Bible, the book would provide a better way to deal with the prurient bailiff.
Her desire for a Bible welled up inside her as she continued filling the goblets with ale. Was it wrong to want to read the Holy Writ? Many people would probably frown upon her desire. A woman wasn’t expected to have ambitions about increasing her knowledge. And wasn’t she supposed to submit herself to the priest’s instruction? Only priests and monks and others who had taken holy vows were encouraged to read the Bible.
She pushed the frustrating questions away. She had to gather her defenses and be prepared to deal with the bailiff whenever she caught him staring.
As soon as Annabel and the other maids finished serving the food, Lord le Wyse strode in. Everyone else stood behind the benches and waited for him to seat himself at the head of the table before they took their own seats. She ended up beside Beatrice. This time, instead of planting himself directly opposite her, the bailiff sat a few spaces away. Ready with her glare, she caught him staring at her and pretended her eyes were an invisible dagger. Fervently she ran him through, making him look away again.
Annabel ate heartily of the roast goose and pudding on her stale trencher, smiling inwardly at her victory. She had wiped the smug leer from her enemy’s face without having to speak a single empty threat.
An elbow in her ribs caused her to jump and turn to Beatrice.
“What do you think of Gilbert Carpenter?” Beatrice whispered. “Handsome, is he not?”
Annabel hesitated to say. “Do you think he is?”
“I would marry him.” Beatrice pursed her lips in what was almost a smile.
“Forget him,” Maud said from the other side of Beatrice. “His little boy is set on him marrying Annabel. Looks like you should have spent a little time with the son instead of chasing the father.”
“Who says I’ve been chasing the father?” Beatrice straightened her shoulders and glared at her fellow dairymaid. Then she smiled a slow, sneaky grin. “Besides, he isn’t the most handsome man in the room.”
Maud squinted. “Who is, then?”
Beatrice glanced sideways at Annabel and winked. “I’ll tell you tonight when we all retire to bed.”
Annabel stared at the two girls. Beatrice actually wanted to confide in her? She only hoped they didn’t ask her who she thought was handsomest. The sermons of Sir Matefrid, the village priest, were another reason she had never been interested in attracting men or pursuing marriage. He made it sound as if women were fiends of hell, luring men into adultery. Annabel couldn’t imagine doing such a thing, yet Bailiff Tom persisted in leering at her every chance he got. With no father to protect her, staying indifferent to men seemed safer, even if the priest’s reasoning seemed askew. Why did God make men thus, preying on women to satisfy their lusts? Perhaps the answer even to that could be found in the Holy Writ.
That night, as Annabel followed the rest of the maids down the steps to their sleeping quarters in the undercroft, she saw Lord le Wyse talking in the yard with someone.
“Stephen!” How good it was to see his friendly face! Though in truth, it was too dark to see his features. It was his form she recognized.
He shifted in her direction and raised his hand in greeting, then turned back to Lord le Wyse. Annabel lingered outside the undercroft door, hoping to speak with him, her only true friend.
When they finished their conversation, Lord le Wyse strode away. Stephen began, in his twisting gait, to walk toward her.