Chapter Five #2
They spoke of the House of du Reims at some length, even as Eiselle grew so sleepy she could barely keep her eyes open.
Realizing this, Bric had politely excused himself so that she could return to bed, and he’d done nothing more than smile at her before quitting her chamber.
No touching her hand, and certainly no kiss farewell. He’d been strictly polite.
Eiselle had fallen asleep with visions of a silver-eyed knight on her mind.
And now, Keeva had dressed her to please the man. No matter if it had been an annoyance, the end result was worth it. Eiselle was deeply grateful.
“It is I who am the fortunate one, Lady de Winter,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me. I am very grateful.”
Keeva stepped forward, fussing with the veil so it draped more gracefully. “May I tell you a secret, my lady?”
“Of course. And you may call me Eiselle. I would be honored.”
Keeva smiled at her as she continued to fuss with the veil.
“Eiselle,” she repeated. “Daveigh and I have been married for almost fifteen years and we’ve yet to have children.
I do not think we shall ever be so blessed, and I had been saving this dress for my daughter, should I have had one.
It belonged to my younger sister, you see, and it was to be her wedding dress, but she died before she was able to wear it.
I have been saving it all of these years and since Bric is my cousin, I think it is most appropriate to give the dress to you. You are my family now, too.”
Eiselle was deeply touched. She looked down at the garment, which fit her so beautifully except it was a little too long. That she was wearing a dead woman’s dress brought her sorrow.
“What was your sister’s name?” she asked softly.
“Maeve,” Keeva replied, finally finished with the veil. “It was an illness that took her when she had seen fourteen years. I still miss her, every day, but I believe she would be very happy to see you wear her dress.”
Eiselle felt a lump in her throat as she smoothed at the brocade. “Maeve,” Eiselle repeated softly. “I will wear her dress with honor. But I will make you this promise – should you ever have a daughter, I will be more than happy to give the dress back. I considered it only borrowed.”
Keeva touched her cheek. “You are a sweet lass,” she said. “I am very happy to welcome you to our family.”
Eiselle smiled bravely. “Thank you, my lady. You do me a very great honor.”
Keeva’s teary-eyed expression said it all.
But she quickly sniffed it away and clapped her hands at the servants, as if she wasn’t comfortable being overly emotional or overly sentimental about the dress or about Bric’s coming marriage.
Emotion embarrassed Keeva, even though she was full of it.
It was rare when she let her guard down but, with Eiselle, she felt safe enough.
“Come, now,” she said, gathering things like rags and bowls and shoving them at the servants. “Remove these things, swiftly. Zara, you will go to the hall and see if the priest is ready to conduct the marriage. Hurry back, lass, and do not stop to talk to your husband. Run!”
Zara opened the door and rushed off. The servants were right behind her, sending more servants into the chamber to collect the cold water from the bath and the tub itself, removing it all from the chamber.
As much flurry as occurred in beginning the process of transforming Eiselle into a bride that morning, it was with equal flurry that everything involved in the process was removed.
Soon enough, the chamber was empty of servants and tubs and grooming implements, and Eiselle stood near the lancet window, feeling the breeze on her face, as Keeva and Angela stood in the open doorway.
Eventually, Angela left because she needed to tend her son and didn’t like leaving him with a nurse too long, so Keeva was left waiting for Zara to return with news that the priest was prepared.
Unfortunately, Keeva was impatient and Zara didn’t return soon enough.
So, excusing herself from Eiselle’s chamber, she shut the door and hurried down to the hall.
Eiselle grinned when she could hear the woman shouting in the distance.
She was full of life, fire, and generosity, and Eiselle liked that.
But she was also deeply grateful that the woman left her alone.
Finally, alone.
These were the last few, final moments before her wedding and Eiselle had a feeling that this would be the last time she would ever truly be alone.
From this point forward, she would belong to Bric.
And if last night was an indication, she had a feeling they would be spending a good deal of time together. Not that she minded it.
She rather liked him.
It was time for her to be alone no longer.
After being informed early that morning that Keeva arranged for the marriage to take place at the nooning hour, something Bric didn’t protest in the least, he’d gone to tend his men and do his usual rounds, especially after the raid the night before.
He still wasn’t entirely convinced that it hadn’t been some sort of ruse, so he and Pearce and Mylo had spent time on the battlements as the sun rose, sending out scouts and receiving reports that the area within a five-mile radius of the castle seemed to be free of anything unexpected.
If there were rebels about, they weren’t near Narborough.
Still, there were three more castles and two manor houses that belonged to the Honor of Narborough, the name of the empire that belonged to the House of de Winter.
All of the properties were aligned down the River Ouse, about four or five miles from each other, and Narborough was up at the head of the string of castles.
There was Roxham Castle, small but sturdy, and Wissington Castle, which was actually a small village with a keep in the middle, surrounded by enormous walls.
Along with the three castles were two smaller manor houses, Bexwell and Bedingfeld.
Keeva liked Bexwell, and preferred it to the cold and often prison-like castles, so that was known as the “other” de Winter home when they weren’t in residence at Narborough.
Bedingfeld was smaller, a delightful moated manor house with a large garden, but it was further out in the countryside and away from the more heavily traveled areas. It was a paradise unto itself.
But all of these properties could be targets for the rebels, so Bric sent patrols out to check on the locations as the sun began to rise. Each location already had a contingent of men for protection, but Bric wanted to make sure nothing went awry with the rebels on the loose, today of all days.
He didn’t want anything upsetting his wedding.
After the time he’d spent with Eiselle last night, Bric was looking forward to their marriage in a way he could have never imagined.
It wasn’t so much the thrill of taking a wife, a mother for his heirs.
If he’d been looking for a mother for his children, he could have picked any woman he wanted.
Nay, this was more than that – he’d spent hours last night talking to a woman who had a sly sense of humor and a quiet dignity about her that was rare.
Eiselle had lived a life without affection, without much meaning, but it didn’t darken her outlook on the future, nor did it mar her manner.
She wasn’t bitter or cold; on the contrary, she was kind and thoughtful and compassionate.
She was eager to please. Bric had felt an interest in her that he’d never felt with any other woman, and it was an interest he was more than willing to indulge.
He was eager for the marriage simply to spend time with her, to find out why she fascinated him so.
Eiselle de Gael intrigued him more than he could control.
Therefore, when his duties were finished and the morning advanced towards noon, he headed into the keep to make sure everything was prepared for the coming ceremony.
He knew that Keeva had seen to the arrangements, but he also knew she would be occupied with Eiselle and in helping her prepare, so he simply wanted to see things for himself.
It was a good thing he did. With Pearce beside him, he made his way into the great hall of Narborough only to be confronted by a priest who was eating and drinking to excess at this time of the morning.
As Bric and Pearce approached the table, the priest didn’t seem too concerned.
The table and floor around him was littered with scraps and hungry dogs, as if there had been a feeding frenzy that was still going on.
The priest poured himself more wine and eyed the men as he lifted the cup to his lips.
The fact that he didn’t even acknowledge them, with a greeting or otherwise, began the slow burn of Bric’s temper.
“Well?” Bric said. “We are to have a wedding at the nooning hour. Are you prepared?”
The priest drained the entire cup of wine and burped loudly. “It will be done, my lord,” he said, shoveling bread into his mouth. “The couple will stand before me and it will be done. It is no great trouble.”
He was slurring his speech. The pisswit is drunk, Bric thought with disgust. Not a man of great diplomacy, but a man of quick action, Bric looked at Pearce and jerked his head in the direction of the priest. When Bric grabbed the pitcher of wine and threw it into the hearth, Pearce used his big arm to sweep all of the food in front of the priest off the table and onto the floor.
The dogs, startled by the noise, began barking but quickly settled down when they realized there was more food to be had. As the priest roared in both surprise and anger, Bric grabbed the man by the collar of his brown woolen robes and yanked him to his feet.
“No more food and no more drink for you,” he hissed. “You will clean yourself up before you will perform the marriage.”