Chapter Eighteen
The first face Elle saw upon entering the great hall of Brython was that of her brother. Gruffydd was near the dais, in conversation with Christopher, and, for a moment, she was surprised to see him.
Beyond that, she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.
So many feelings were swirling within her chest as she watched her brother.
He was the mild-mannered sort, so there was no animation as he spoke to Hereford.
He was calm, as he always was. But it occurred to Elle that Curtis must have known that Gruffydd was coming, because he had clearly invited the man, yet never said a word about it.
She felt strangely betrayed by that.
“There you are,” Curtis said, coming up behind her and taking her hand. Still holding her hand, he stood back to look at her. “God, you’re beautiful. The dress is magnificent. Did my mother amend it?”
Elle nodded. “She was able to,” she said. “I like your mother. She is very kind.”
Curtis nodded, kissing her hand. “She is,” he said. “She will be very helpful to you if you will allow, but you will have to ask her. She would never do anything you did not ask her to do.”
“Like fix a dress.”
“Exactly. She’s not one to push herself onto others.”
Elle smiled weakly. “I hope she and your father remain after the feasting is finished,” she said. “I would like to spend more time with your mother and come to know her better.”
Curtis smiled, kissing her hand again. “I am certain they can be persuaded,” he said. “Were you able to speak with Rebecca and Livvy?”
“You mean that child with the long name, Olivia Charlotte?” Elle said, grinning when Curtis laughed softly. “Your mother told me that she and your father could not agree on names for her, so they call her by both.”
Curtis nodded. “They are both stubborn people,” he said. “I hope we will not have the same trouble with ours.”
Elle shook her head. “We will not,” she said. “I will make a bargain with you.”
“What is that?”
“You will name the boys and I will name the girls.”
His face lit up. “I love that suggestion,” he said. “I accept.”
“I thought you might.”
“The truth is that I already have a name in mind if the child is a boy.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “It is no wonder you agreed to my suggestion so easily,” she said. “Well? What is it? We are not going to name him after a king, are we? Because I do not like the names John or Henry.”
Curtis chuckled. “I would not name my son after those two,” he said. “But if it is a lad… I would like to name him after my father.”
They both turned to look at Christopher, in conversation with Gruffydd, and Elle moved closer to Curtis, putting an arm around his waist. “I like that name,” she whispered. “I cannot think of a more pleasing name.”
His expression turned adoring. “Thank you,” he murmured. “I mean that from the bottom of my heart. It means a great deal to me.”
“I know,” she said. “And I agree—if it is a lad, he should be named for a man you love very much.”
“You’re sweet,” he said, kissing her on the forehead. “But if it is a lass, what will you name her?”
Elle cocked her head thoughtfully. “I do not know,” she said. “If we are naming children after parents, I do not want to name her after mine. What was the name of your mother’s mother?”
“Mary.”
“Then we will name her Mary.”
He grinned, giving her a quick squeeze, but as he did so, he noticed that guests were beginning to come in through the hall entry.
“Our guests are arriving, Lady Leominster,” he said. “We should go to the door and greet them.”
Elle could see them, too. “Of course,” she said. “But before we go, I assume you deliberately did not tell me that Gruffydd was going to be here. Am I correct?”
Curtis didn’t hesitate. “You are,” he said, his features softening as he looked at her.
“I know you have a long history with him, Ellie. I know it has been fraught with tension and unhappiness. But you are a great lady now, with great responsibility. You are a woman of substance. I am wondering if it is possible for you to peacefully coexist with your brother, who is a valuable ally. If you would at least be civil to him, for my sake, I would be grateful.”
She pursed her lips wryly. “When you put it that way, how can I refuse?”
He gave her his best smile, laughing softly when she rolled her eyes. “You cannot,” he said, before kissing her swiftly and then pulling her toward the entry door. “You are the best of me, Ellie. Let us show everyone that, including your brother.”
His words hit her. You are the best of me.
Only a crazy man would say such a thing, but Curtis wasn’t crazy.
He was bright and brilliant and patient and loving, and she believed he was the greatest creature God had ever created.
She never imagined she would think such a thing about any man, especially an Englishman, but she thought that about him.
And he clearly thought that about her.
You are the best of me.
He was the best of her, too.
With Curtis by her side, and eventually Christopher and Dustin, Elle met men with names like Bretton and Caius and Sean.
Big, scarred, older knights who had seen much action in the course of their lives.
Curtis would introduce her and then whisper in her ear about who the men were and what made them so special, summarizing their careers for her.
It was a parade of legends.
Spies and assassins and agents passed into the great hall, as well as the Earl of Wrexham and the Earl of Wolverhampton.
Great, powerful lords who had shaped the history of England and even Wales and Scotland, and in the middle of it was Christopher, whom everyone revered greatly.
Peter and Alexander and their wives had arrived, and Elle was introduced to Liora de Lohr and Christin de Sherrington.
Beautiful, graceful women who were more than happy to hug her and tell her how happy they were to meet her.
Acceptance.
Kindness.
Elle was overwhelmed by all of it.
Myles had arranged for musicians to play for the evening, having lured them over from a tavern in a village south of Brython, so music filled the stale warmth of the hall as everyone mingled and drank.
There was a party atmosphere. Elle had been commandeered by Christin and Dustin and Liora, who took her to the dais and sat at the end of the table, conversing over the noise of the men and music.
Other wives were in attendance, like the Countess of Wolverhampton, Giselle, who had come with her husband.
The two of them had Christopher cornered.
Still other wives—de Lara, d’Avignon, and Wrexham—had been unable to come due to sick children or pregnancies.
Truthfully, Elle was glad. She was already overwhelmed with so many people and, in particular, so many women.
Melusine, who had been mostly in the kitchens while Elle led a gay social whirl in the hall, finally joined the ladies and sat next to her cousin, holding her hand, and somewhat fearful of all of the Englishwomen around them.
But Elle wasn’t afraid.
She’d never in her life known such kind and curious women.
They weren’t her bitter grandmother. They weren’t her mother who had run out after she’d been born, never to be heard from again.
These were women who knew and loved one another, who shared similar experiences, and who spoke to Elle as if she was part of them.
She’d never been part of anything in her life.
The overwhelming feeling began to turn into gratitude.
The tears began to come.
Before Elle realized it, they were streaming down her cheeks and she’d had to lower her head, discreetly trying to wipe them away, when she heard a soft voice in her right ear.
“Are you weary, sweetheart?” Dustin asked softly. “Would you like to lie down for a while? Everyone will still be here when you return.”
Elle lifted her head, trying to smile. “Nay,” she said. “I… I am not weary. It’s just… It’s just that…”
She couldn’t finish. The other women were concerned that she was weeping, and she was trying to smile and assure them that nothing was terribly wrong. But she couldn’t quite get the message across, and they were growing more concerned.
“It is nothing, truly,” she finally said, wiping furiously at her eyes.
“It’s simply that… that other than Melusine, my cousin, I’ve never had any women to speak to.
My mother left after I was born, and the only other woman I’ve spent time with was my grandmother, who was resentful and hateful.
I have come to realize that. Now, I’m sitting with you lovely women, and to experience this…
this kindness and camaraderie… It is simply overwhelming. I’ve never known anything like it.”
They understood. Dustin put her arm around Elle’s shoulders and gave her a gentle hug, knowing that the woman’s upbringing and background was far rougher and more brutal than she let on.
“You are one of us now,” Dustin said. “We will come to know you, and we will value you very much, I promise.”
Elle laughed softly, a nervous sort of laugh, as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I am being silly,” she said. “Forgive me.”
Dustin kissed her cheek. “There is nothing to forgive, my love,” she said. “But if you are feeling poorly, I will take you back to your chamber. You should lie down for a time and rest. This gathering will still be going on when you return, I promise.”
Elle shook her head. “Not before we eat,” she said, looking to Melusine. “Are we ready to bring the food out?”
Melusine nodded and stood up. “I will see to it,” she said. “It will only be a moment.”
The ladies watched her scurry off as Elle spoke softly. “I have given her the task of managing the kitchens,” she said. “Everyone has tasks here at Brython, and the kitchens are hers, although I help her. She has been doing very well. She likes standing in those hot kitchens more than I do.”
“You are fortunate to have the help,” Christin said from across the table. “And she is content with her role?”