His smile was taut. “I thank you, but as you see, Lady Clarice and the superb Tina have all in hand.” He nodded at the two who held baskets of candles, winked at the latter.
Even had Laura not seen the hurt flash across the lady’s face, she would have felt it. “I could use your help, Lady Sebille,” she said. “I must finalize the menu with Cook and would be grateful for your…” She trailed off as Lothaire’s sister turned on a toe.
“Is she angry?” Clarice asked when Sebille disappeared up the stairs.
“No more than usual,” Angus muttered and grimaced when Laura shot her gaze to his.
“She is not friendly,” Clarice said. “Nor the physician. Do you not think it too, Tina?”
“Methinks it best I keep my opinion to meself whilst we set the rest of these candles.” The maid bustled toward the candlestick to the right of the high table, and Clarice ran to catch up with her.
“I know,” Sir Angus said. “I should not have winked at your maid.”
Laura sighed. “I think not.”
“Fire!” Sebille’s cry spun Laura around and caused Sir Angus to lunge toward the stairs.
“Stay with Tina, Clarice!” Laura called as she followed the knight.
Before she reached the stairs she smelled smoke, halfway up she saw its haze, and upon reaching the landing she glimpsed Sir Angus darting into the chamber Laura shared with Clarice and Tina.
“Out, Sebille!” he shouted.
A moment later, the lady exited with the force of one flung. She slapped hands to the wall opposite the door from which smoke puffed, pushed off, and stumbled down the corridor.
“Do not go in,” she rasped and caught hold of Laura’s arm.
“Sir Angus—”
“’Tis mostly smoke, Lady Laura. Methinks something was set too near the brazier.”
“I have put it out!” the knight called and gave a hacking cough.
Laura ceased resisting Sebille’s effort to hold her back, and as she waited for the knight to emerge, wondered what had caught fire. There was a chair near the brazier, but not too near, and Tina swept the rushes well back from the source of heat lest a spark set all afire. So what had fallen victim to coals that had little to recommend them after holding back the night’s chill?
Shortly, Sir Angus appeared amid the smoke. “Come away,” he said and gripped the women’s arms. “I used the basin of water to douse the offender and threw open the shutters, but it will be some time ere the chamber is fit to enter.”
“My wedding gown is in there,” Laura said as he drew them down the corridor.
“If ’twas the same placed near the brazier, my lady, it is too late.” He coughed, cleared his throat. “That is what I doused. I am sorry, but it is ruined.”
Laura gasped. How was it the gown fashioned of Eleanor’s generosity and Tina’s hard work was lost? “’Twas draped over the chair’s back,” she protested as he assisted them down the stairs up which servants bounded. “How could it catch fire?”
“The chair was toppled, my lady.” He paused to instruct the servants in remedying the damage, and when he and the ladies resumed their descent said, “’Tis possible a dog overturned it, mayhap the one with whom your daughter likes to keep company.”
Had it been Tomas? He was so large and smelled so foul Laura discouraged Clarice from allowing the animal in their chamber. Had the beast ventured abovestairs in search of the girl? That made little sense as Clarice had been in the hall where Tomas dwelt when he was not out of doors.
“Mayhap it was…” Sebille’s suggestion died amidst a cough so terrible the knight halted on the stairs to allow her to bend and clear her lungs.
When she straightened, tears streamed her cheeks.
“What do you think it was, my lady?” Laura asked.
Sebille averted her gaze. “Silly me. I thought it might be the wind come through the windows, but Sir Angus told he opened the shutters to let out the smoke.”
Absurd, even had the shutters been wide open on a morn cooled by a breeze of so little force one had to close their eyes to confirm its presence. Nay, Sebille had nearly said something else, perhaps of detriment, though not to herself. To her mother who was not as bedridden as she wished Lothaire to believe and who was opposed to her son wedding a harlot? Had Lady Raisa once more descended to the second floor? Tipped the chair into the brazier? Made ruin of a wedding gown befitting a relation of the queen but not a licentious bride?
Laura was barely aware of stepping into the hall until her daughter and Tina rushed upon her.
“What happened, Mother?”
For the first time since Laura had seen Lothaire away, her gaze fell upon the scraggly Tomas who loped alongside Clarice. Was he only recently returned to the hall? She hoped the accident could be blamed on him, for how else could it be unintentional?
“An accident,” she said as Lothaire’s knight moved past and summoned more servants. “My gown was too near the brazier in our chamber. It caught fire.”
Tina gasped. “How, my lady? The chair was—”
“’Tis most fortunate Lady Sebille went abovestairs when she did,” Laura talked over her and received a knowing look from the maid. “And Sir Angus so quickly put it out.”
“A fine man he is,” Tina said.
Sebille stiffened, snapped, “That is not for a servant to say.”
Tina cast her gaze down. “Forgive me, my lady. I forget meself.”
“Certes, you do.” Lothaire’s sister glanced at the knight who had paused in directing the servants in what was required of them to set Laura’s chamber aright. “I must ensure the Lady of Lexeter is unaffected,” she said and turned back to the stairs.
Laura squeezed Tina’s arm. “You did naught wrong. She is simply prickly.”
“I like her even less,” Clarice declared. “Mayhap not at all.”
Laura sighed. “Methinks her life has been difficult.”
“Once more you sound like Lady Maude, Mother. Why does a difficult life grant one permission to make the lives of others difficult?”
Laura was first struck by the obvious—that in such a way Lady Maude had likely excused the minimal presence of Clarice’s mother by telling her life had been difficult. Next, she was struck by how wise the girl’s reasoning.
“You are correct, Clarice. No matter our circumstances, we have no right to wield them as weapons that reduce others to our state of sorrow.”
Clarice’s brow smoothed, and she shrugged. “What will you wear for your wedding?”
“I have many a gown. I am sure one will suit just as well.”
Nay, better, she silently amended. She would have been uncomfortable so splendidly garbed that she looked like royalty. Too, Lothaire preferred her in simpler gowns as she also preferred. And then there were the rest of the pearls and beads she would have had to pick free.
“I had near given up hope of seeing you ere the wedding,” the priest said as Lothaire swung out of the saddle.
“I pray you will forgive me for not coming sooner.” Lothaire looped the reins over the top rail of the fence enclosing the churchyard.