Annabel carried the stool toward Lord le Wyse, wondering how much of the exchange he had heard. She set about unwinding his bandage. As soon as she had taken it off, however, Beatrice came back into the room and hurried straight over to Lord le Wyse.
“My lord, I brought my mother’s herbs to put on your arm, just as I promised. Move over, Annabel.” She pushed Annabel’s shoulder, and Annabel stood, allowing Beatrice to plop herself down in her place. Lord le Wyse watched Annabel, a masked expression on his face, as Beatrice handed him a cup. “Drink this, my lord. It is my mother’s special drink made from herbs. And I will put this over the burn.”
Would Lord le Wyse allow Beatrice this liberty? Annabel watched as he seemed to sigh in resignation and allow Beatrice to lightly press some green leaves onto his arm.
“Here! What are you about?” Mistress Eustacia rushed over to the lord’s side. “What is that you’re doing?”
“It’s comfrey,” Beatrice stated stoutly, placing her hands on her hips. “It is good for burns. My mother said so.”
“It’s all right, Mistress.” Annabel intervened before Mistress Eustacia did harm to the girl. “Comfrey is indeed good for burns.” And we’ve been using it all along.
“Of course it’s good! It will make him well!” Beatrice’s cheeks were flushed pink. She plastered on a smile and looked at Lord le Wyse. “You will see, my lord.”
“Very well. And I suppose I must drink this?” He picked up the cup of steaming water.
“Yes, my lord.”
“All right, that’s all good and well, Beatrice.” Mistress Eustacia flapped her hands at her as though shooing a chicken. “You may go now. You’ve done your ministrations for one night.”
Beatrice stood, holding her head high in indignation. She turned to go, but then looked back at Lord le Wyse and smiled. “I only want to be of help. Please let me know if it helps, my lord. I will come whenever you need me.” She batted her eyes and lingered a moment, smiling down at him, then left, her nose stuck in the air.
Annabel could barely contain the giggle that tickled her throat.
Mistress Eustacia nodded to her. “Go on, lass. You can finish your task now.”
Annabel sat back down and proceeded to rewrap the bandage over the comfrey leaves Beatrice had spread over his arm. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lord le Wyse take a sip from the cup Beatrice had brought him. He scrunched his face as though tasting something bitter then set the cup back on the table beside him.
As expected after she finished, Lord le Wyse asked her if she would read to him.
“Yes, my lord.”
“You aren’t too tired?”
She shook her head. He was her lord and could order her to do anything, and she was obliged to do it. But he treated her more kindly than her own family. He wasn’t trying to force her to marry disgusting old Bailiff Tom and was even willing to protect her from him. She realized it wasn’t so bad to be here at the lord’s manor. She was working all day to pay her family’s debt, yes, but she was also able to read the Bible every night, which was what she wanted more than anything. The other girls, though they hadn’t accepted her as one of them, were more lively company than her mother and brothers.
Her servant status could almost be a blessing.
This thought surprised her. She’d felt abandoned by God, but maybe He had actually been taking care of her by sending her here.
She moved to one of the matching chairs before the fireplace and began to read. She read so long, in fact, that she glanced up to make sure Lord le Wyse was still awake. He hadn’t moved for quite a long time and his face was completely cast into shadow by the wing of the deep chair where he was reclined.
She thought about asking him a question to see if he was asleep, but she was afraid if she did he would ask her if she was ready to stop reading. And she wasn’t ready to stop. Even if he is asleep, what could it hurt to read further?
Coming to the end of the book of Saint John, she read, “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”
God wanted her to have peace. But how exactly would that peace come about?
“What are you thinking?” Lord Le Wyse’s gruff voice startled her, coming from the shadowy depths of his chair.
“I was wondering about peace and if our troubles draw us closer to God or push us further away from Him.”
Lord le Wyse roused himself to lean forward, gazing at her intently. It made her wonder if he’d been staring at her the entire time she’d been reading and she hadn’t been able to tell.
“Have you had many troubles?”
“No more than most.”
“Have they brought you closer to God?”