Chapter Eight
Gisella had been so exhausted that she slept the rest of day and most of the night.
Bastian left her alone, and instructed his aunts to leave her alone, after she had fallen asleep in her shoes and clothing on top of the coverlet in his bedchamber.
But Aunt Beatrice fussed that she still had her shoes on and Aunt Cynthia wanted Bastian to cover her up so that she would not be cold, so Bastian very carefully removed her small slippers and covered her up with a lamb’s skin blanket that Aunt Cynthia gave him.
Tucked in and cozy, Gisella slept the sleep of the dead.
The following morning just before dawn, Gisella awoke in a dark, unfamiliar room.
She had no idea where she was, or what time it was, and she sat up in bed so fast that she ended up rolling off the end.
Falling to her knees, she struggling to remember where she was and slowly, it began to come back to her.
Lady de Russe. She was married now and thoughts of her swift wedding were blurry, as if she had dreamt them, but thoughts of Bastian once they had reached West Court were much clearer.
He had changed dramatically after their arrival and became civil, even kind.
It was quite possible that he was simply putting on a show for his family but she didn’t think so because he had been kind even in moments when they had been alone.
Picking herself up off the floor, her thoughts lingered on Bastian and also on Sparrow.
She wondered where the woman was and she was anxious to see her.
She hoped her friend didn’t feel as if she’d been abandoned.
With the intention of seeking out Sparrow as soon as possible, she went about dressing for the day.
Her capcases were neatly lined up against the wall and she lit a taper so that she could see more clearly.
The lavish room became evident to her in the weak light of the candle and she went to the three lancet windows that faced the river and peeled back the drapery.
They were made from fine damask, slightly oiled even though the windows had glass in them.
There was enough moisture from the river that condensed on the glass that the oiled drapes were a necessity.
With the drapes pulled back, the early morning light filled the room.
The walls were wood paneled and one wall had a tapestry that seemed to depict a military victory of some kind.
Gisella, with something of a trained eye for art thanks to Lady Gloucester, studied it with interest, seeing the fine detail work, before returning to her capcases.
She had fallen asleep fully clothed and her blue surcoat was wrinkled and mussed, so she rummaged about in the two bigger capcases until she found a fresh woolen shift, the color of eggshell, and a yellow damask surcoat with beautiful embroidery around the neckline and on the belled sleeves.
She also pulled forth lemon-scented soap, scented oil, and hair combs.
Setting everything carefully on the bed, she timidly entered the smaller dressing room that adjoined the chamber and noted the contents of the room.
A bigger wardrobe was against the far wall while a smaller cabinet-like table with a big porcelain basin and matching pitcher on top of it was positioned closer the door.
The big iron tub, lined with linen, had been drained but some water lingered in the bottom of it.
Moving to the larger cabinet, she opened to find neat stacks of towels inside, made from linen.
There were also razors and other bathing implements.
Pulling forth a linen towel, Gisella went to the basin and noted that the pitcher was about half-full of water that smelled of lavender.
Pouring it into the basin, she went back into the bedchamber, grabbed her soap, and returned to the dressing room.
She proceeded to strip off her shift and surcoat, washing with her lemon soap in the very cold lavender water.
She washed her face, hands, and body, and by the time she was done toweling off, her teeth were chattering.
Racing back into the bedchamber, she hurriedly put on her soft linen shift and yellow surcoat. But she needed help with fastening the surcoat so she opened the door to the darkened corridor and summoned a male servant, who in turn went for a female servant.
As she waited for someone to help her fasten the surcoat, she sat at the great dressing table and combed her long hair, now wavy because of the braid she had slept in.
Her hair was very dark, like both of her parents, and she could see glistening red highlights that reflected the light.
Braiding it again, she wounded the braid at the base of her neck and secured it with three big iron hairpins from her capcase and a pretty butterfly comb.
She was just finishing with a slick of rouge-tinted lip balm over her chapped lips when the chamber door pushed open.
Bastian appeared in the dim light, his gaze immediately finding Gisella as she sat before the big dressing table that had once belonged to his mother. This had been her chamber, after all, a room long bereft of feminine finery until this morning. When their gazes met, he smiled timidly.
“Good morn to you, my lady,” he said softly in his deep, husky voice. “How are you feeling this morning?”
Gisella’s heart leapt at the sight of him and she smiled in return, setting the lip balm down to the table. It was enough to just stare at him a moment, reminding herself that they were now married. It still seemed odd and impossible, but wholly pleasant.
“Very well, thank you,” she replied. Then, she sobered somewhat. “This is probably a silly question, but how long did I sleep?”
“Three weeks.”
Her eyes bugged with shock. “I did what?”
Bastian chuckled. “A jest,” he said. “You slept all day and all night. It is now early morning, exactly one day after we arrived. You were clearly exhausted so I told everyone not to wake you.”
She grinned with relief, with his little joke, thinking the man had a fairly ready sense of humor.
She had seen it yesterday. It also served to dispel some of the concern she had about his good behavior only being for his family’s sake.
Already, he was smiling and jesting with her.
He was acting as if he was actually glad to see her. It made her heart swell enormously.
“I appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she said. “I am sorry to have thrown you out of your bed.”
He shook his head. “You did not,” he said. “I slept next to you. Did you not hear the snoring?”
Gisella shook her head, rather shocked and giddy to think that he had actually slept next to her and she hadn’t even noticed him. He was her husband, after all, but the thought of the man next to her in the same bed made her feel a little lightheaded.
“I did not hear anything at all,” she admitted. Then, she glanced up to the ceiling, to the chamber overhead. “Is… is Lady Sparrow well? I fear she will think that I have abandoned her.”
Bastian leaned against the doorjamb. “I have assigned your brother to watch over her,” he said. “I believe they spent yesterday walking all over the grounds. I think they even went down to the river. She is not alone if that is your concern. She is well taken care of.”
A hint of a smile flickered on Gisella’s lips. “Then I fear you have played into her hands,” she said. “Sparrow thought my brother to be quite handsome. You have done exactly what she wished.”
Bastian shrugged lazily. “I do not believe Gannon has any complaints.”
Gisella cast him a glance. “I have not seen my brother in almost two years,” she said. “He does not have a lady he is fond of, does he? I do not want Sparrow to find herself in the middle of a tense situation.”
Bastian shook his head. “Gannon does not but de Lara has,” he replied. “You need not worry about your brother. Many a maid has tried but no one has yet captured him.”
He said it with some humor and Gisella smiled at the mental image of her brother escaping clever women. “Is de Lara married, then?”
Again, Bastian shook his head. “Nay, he is not,” he replied, “but I would not be surprised if he marries the woman when we return to France. She is the daughter of the Lord Mayor of Rouen.”
A maid bustled into the room and went to Gisella, who stood up from the dressing stool so the woman could fasten the stays on the back of her dress. Gisella ignored the woman for the most part, her thoughts lingering on Bastian’s most recent statement.
“Then your stay in England is temporary,” she clarified.
Bastian’s gaze was drawn to the lovely damask gown and Gisella’s very small waist as the maid fixed the stays. He thought he might have detected some disappointment or concern in her question.
“Everything I do is temporary,” he said. “I go where Bedford and Gloucester wish for me to go. Today, it is London but tomorrow it could be back to France.”
Gisella didn’t like that suggestion but she tried not to sound too demanding or upset about it. “Would I go with you?” she asked.
Bastian’s gaze lingered on her. “Probably not,” he said quietly. “I would be returning to battle and that is no place for you. Surely you would be happier, and safer, here at home, with your family or even here at West Court.”
Gisella looked around the chamber. “It is very nice here at West Court,” she said. “But it would be sad for you to leave just when we are coming to know one another.”
Bastian felt a flush of giddiness, something that was unusual for him.
He wasn’t the giddy sort. But her words filled him with something like hope, or delight, he couldn’t be sure.
All he knew was that her words made him feel wanted.
He had no idea how to express the fact that he felt the same way and, even if he knew the correct words, he would have been deeply embarrassed to speak them in front of the maid.
He wasn’t a man accustomed to speaking of his emotions.