Chapter Six
Worthington watched as Bastian disappeared into the dimly lit home that was cold and still at this hour of the morning. It had been a rather abrupt and rude departure, as if the introduction of his wife had no meaning whatsoever, and Worthington glanced at Gisella apologetically.
“As I said, welcome to West Court,” he said, trying to make amends for his rude cousin. “Please come in and we shall settle you in a comfortable room.”
Gannon took Gisella to the door but didn’t go inside.
The house was for family and he had been assigned to the garconnière, or bachelor housing, that was on the east side of the courtyard.
It was its own separate cottage where visiting men or knights stayed away from the main house and, presumably, away from any women of the family. It was considered proper etiquette.
Gisella felt a bit abandoned when her brother left her at the door as he turned away and headed off into the early morning.
She stood there, holding on to Sparrow’s hand and trying not to feel inordinately lost. A new house with a callous new husband…
it was a depressing thought but this was what her life was to be now.
She wasn’t the type to cry about her circumstances and even if her new husband was behaving badly, she wouldn’t.
She would show them what the new Lady de Russe was made out of – what Richmond le Bec’s daughter was made of.
She was a le Bec, after all, and proud of the fact. Facing Worthington, she forced a smile.
“Thank you for your gracious welcome,” she said. “If it would not be too much trouble, I would like to rest for a while. We have been riding most of the night and….”
Worthington cut her off politely. “Come along inside and I will see that you are settled.”
Gisella and Sparrow followed him into the entry of the manor. Since this was a home built for comfort and not purely for military purposes or protection, it was much more elaborate and comfortable inside than a castle keep would have been.
The entry was paved with stone floors, cleanly swept, and immediately to the right was a massive reception room with an equally massive fireplace in it giving off smoke and sparks into the room as a servant stoked the morning fire.
Decorative carvings of angels and knights decorated the wall and a huge tapestry hung upon one of the walls, floor to ceiling, while the windows they could see, two of them, had precious panes of glass.
Gisella and Sparrow hovered in the entry, curiously observing the opulent surroundings, as Worthington found a house servant, an older man, and they exchanged a few words. Worthington then beckoned the women to follow him.
“Come with me,” he said, directing them up a flight of stairs to their left, stairs of stone with wooden bannisters. “We shall get you settled upstairs.”
Silently, the women followed, heading up two flights of stairs before being led down a darkened corridor and on into a large, dark bedchamber with one big bed in the middle of the room.
As Gisella and Sparrow entered, Worthington hissed at a servant sleeping in an alcove nearby and the young serving girl jumped up, rubbed her eyes, and dashed into the room to begin building a fire in the large hearth.
“The room shall be warm shortly,” he assured Gisella. “I will go and make sure a meal is brought to you and I will also make sure your cases are brought up. Please make yourselves comfortable.”
With that, he fled back down the dim corridor, disappearing down the stairs.
Gisella watched the man fade away before closing the chamber door.
Even with the servant girl working on starting a fire, the room was still fairly dark and she noticed a taper on the table near the bed.
Collecting it, she had the serving girl light it with the flint and stone she was using for the hearth.
With the soft hint of golden light introduced into the room, they could see just how lavish and comfortable it was.
The bed was tall as well as large, with stepping stools to help one actually reach the overstuffed mattress.
It was canopied, with heavy drapes surrounding it, and Sparrow let go of Gisella’s hand to inspect the great heavy curtains around the bed, for they were quite magnificent and a testament to the wealth of the de Russe family.
As Gisella noted a particularly fine dressing table near the door, Sparrow gasped softly.
“Gigi,” she called quietly. “Come and feel this fabric. It is velvet!”
Gisella hustled over to the bed, running her fingers over the band of fabric that secured the drapes to the canopy post. “Lady Gloucester had a dress made out of fabric such as this, do you recall?” she said. “It is quite fine and quite expensive.”
Sparrow rubbed it against her cheek. “I would wish for all of my dresses to be made of this fabric,” she said. “Does your brother have enough money to keep me supplied in velvet dresses?”
Gisella shrugged. “If he takes up highway robbery as a career, it is possible.”
Sparrow giggled, moving from the velvet to the bed coverlet, which was beautiful, blue damask. Climbing up the little stool, she flopped down onto the bed, which had a feather mattress. It was so soft and fluffy that it nearly smothered her as she sank into it.
“I am so sleepy,” she said, yawning. “I fear I could sleep forever.”
Gisella went to the bed, putting her hands on it and feeling its softness. “Me, too,” she sighed. “Hopefully food will be sent to us soon and we can eat and retire.”
Sparrow rolled onto her side, watching her friend in the dim light. “I am sure you never expected to spend your wedding night with me,” she said softly. “I make a terrible husband. I am sorry you have to spend the first night of your married life with me.”
Gisella shrugged weakly. “It is of no matter,” she said, running her hand over the damask coverlet.
“I am glad, actually. I am in no mood to spend this night with a man who has no use for me. I had always hoped… or, at least, I had always assumed that my husband would want to pay attention to me and at least be friendly with me. It would seem that de Russe has no intention of even being civil.”
Sparrow reached out and squeezed her hand. “It is not your fault,” she said. “It is Gloucester’s fault. If de Russe is to blame anyone, it is Gloucester for forcing this marriage down his throat.”
Gisella sighed gently. “I am sure my husband sees it as a duty, as do I,” she said, sadness in her tone. But that sadness was quickly gone as she forced a smile. “At least I have you.”
“I told you, I am not a handsome husband.”
Gisella laughed softly. “Nay, you are not,” she said. Her smile faded as she eyed Sparrow rather hesitantly. “He…he is rather handsome, isn’t he?”
Sparrow nodded. “Verily,” she agreed. “Quite handsome, I would say.”
Gisella thought on the stranger that was her husband with his long, dark hair and pale blue eyes. “It is a pity his manners do not match his beauty,” she said. “I suppose I am not surprised. Men with comely looks are usually the arrogant sort and de Russe is no different.”
“I suppose not.”
“What should I do?”
“There is nothing you can do. You must accept the man for what he is or you will go mad trying to change him.”
There was nothing more to say to that. The fire in the hearth began to blaze and Gisella sent the serving woman for warmed water so they could wash their hands and face.
She and Sparrow proceeded to strip off their cloaks and gloves, settling in, when there was a knock on the door and two servants delivered their capcases.
As the room warmed up and the sun rose over the countryside, the women hunted around for their sleeping shifts.
With the warmth of the room and with their possessions around them, they began to relax and feel a bit more comfortable.
Light chatter bounced around with Sparrow telling another one of her funny stories from her childhood, something about stealing hard-boiled eggs from the cook who, when the thievery was discovered, tried to chase Sparrow down but ended up falling into the pig trough instead.
It was enough to bring a smile to Gisella’s lips.
When the serving wench finally brought warmed water with rose petals floating in it, the ladies helped each other wash away the dirt and stress of the night’s ride.
Gisella sat in front of the dressing table as Sparrow pulled a wooden comb out of the smaller capcase and unbraided her long, dark hair.
Running the comb through the wavy tresses, she combed and combed until they shined.
By now, the stress of the night’s events had faded completely and by the time food was brought, most of the unhappiness and uncertainty was forgotten, at least for the moment.
There was porridge with honey and raisins, tart white cheese, warm bread with herbs in it, and eggs baked with cream.
It was quite a delicious fare and the women delved into it hungrily, eating until there was nothing left.
There was also warmed wine watered down with fruit juice, which filled their bellies and made them very sleepy.
Donning their sleeping shifts, they climbed into the massive bed as the sun began to rise over the landscape and the manor of West Court began to come alive as servants and residents went about their business.
Their chamber was facing the river, away from the courtyard, so the noise was minimal.
Sparrow began snoring the moment her head hit the pillow and Gisella was almost asleep as well when a heavy knock at the chamber door interrupted the promise of dreams.