Chapter 16
Julian decided that he would have to have a serious discussion with Sybilla Foxe, addressing her reluctance to wake in the same bed with him.
He’d slept later than usual, and when he finally roused himself, it was to encounter an empty chamber—not even Lucy was present, although evidence of a very wet night for the baby was obvious from the gown and nappy crumpled up on the floor near the crib, as if they’d been hurled there in a heap.
The nursemaid Sybilla had appointed was obviously well versed in such duties, as to have retrieved Lucy so quietly and efficiently.
Oddly enough, there was a wet spot in the center of Julian’s mattress as well, near his elbow, and Julian chuckled darkly to himself at the idea of asking Sybilla Foxe if she was of the habit of drooling in her sleep.
She’d come to him again last night, of her own volition, not driven there by the phantasm of her mother’s memory. Even with Lucy in the room, with whom Sybilla was decidedly still uncomfortable, she had stayed.
I’m beginning to think that I might be able to tolerate you elsewhere, if need be.
He would tell her today. He must. They needed time to address how they would both approach the king, and how they were to present the evidence Julian held, in the best possible light.
And Sybilla must understand that if she possessed information that would aid their plight in any way, she must release it.
She could not continue this mad and pointless loyalty to a woman who had used her so.
Her mother’s memory could not harm her. Julian would not allow it.
But right then, he wanted a draught and to see his daughter, and so he dressed and once again trod quickly and lightly down the spiral stairs that he was actually becoming quite fond of.
Right away he saw the nurse Sybilla had secured for him, carrying a stack of linens and little white gowns through the corridor. “Good morn, milord,” the woman smiled, with a little curtsy in her stride. “Madam’s in the hall.”
“Thank you, Nurse,” Julian said. “But where is Lady Lucy?”
The woman frowned in a perplexed manner and then gave him a little smile. “Why, she’s with Madam, of course, milord. Where else would she be if not at your side?”
Julian turned in a half circle but then froze, his head tilted to the side as he experienced a moment of befuddlement. “I’m sorry, but you’re saying my daughter is with Lady Foxe?”
The nursemaid’s eyebrows rose and she regarded Julian with an air of suspicion. “Yes, milord. That is what I’m saying, precisely.”
“Voluntarily?” Julian pressed.
Now the nursemaid’s eyebrows drew downward with growing disapproval.
“Lady Lucy was insistent that Madam not leave her, but I do believe the arrangement is quite mutual, if that’s what you’re asking after.
” The nursemaid sniffed. “Since it was her ladyship who came to breakfast with the girl, I assumed you were quite aware of the situation and approved.”
Julian blinked. “Madam came to breakfast?”
Then the nursemaid did crack a little knowing smile. “I believe they shared a bit of porridge.”
A huff of laughter escaped Julian and he shook his head.
“Go on,” the nurse said gently and flapped a hand at him. “See for yourself. Although I wouldn’t interrupt—Madam’s about her business at the moment.”
Julian nodded absently. “Thank you.” And then he turned, half in a daze, toward the archway that would lead him to the hall.
He paused there, his eyes taking in the line of serfs and villagers queued up in the main aisle.
Some carried baskets and bundles of goods, and one man held a goat on a woven lead.
It seemed a score of children ran about the common tables playing catch-me and hoop, and several women with kerchiefs covering their heads sat on the benches, sampling from platters of sliced breads and pitchers of milk while they gossiped.
There was a happy buzz in the air, and the sight was unlike anything Julian had ever imagined seeing in the heretofore luxurious and perfect hall. It was almost like a village fair.
Then his eyes found Sybilla. She was seated on her throne-like chair at her table, Graves standing just behind her and to the side, aloof to the goings-on, as usual. A clerk of some sort sat near her right elbow, a selection of open ledgers spread out before him.
On the table as well, within Sybilla’s curled left arm, sat Lucy, happily tossing and jerking on what seemed to be a string of .
. . rubies? The baby squealed and flapped her arms up and down, as if at the wash, and the clatter of the heavy stones rang against the hard and shiny tabletop.
Then he saw the twinkle down her front—several necklaces; gold links; fat, tear-shaped emeralds; pearls; topaz—the strands so long and weighty that some were worn across her chubby body, draping over her shoulder like a sash.
Each wrist was laden with rings of hammered gold, some falling up to her elbows as she played.
A tiara, which looked to be made of diamonds, sat far back on her head cap.
“My God,” Julian breathed in disbelief. He had never seen so many costly jewels in one place before, outside of the king’s royal outfit, and now his baby daughter was bathing in them, at Sybilla Foxe’s side, while she held court.
“It matters not,” she was saying to the two men before her table. “You didn’t finish the job, and so you don’t deserve payment.”
“I did half of it, though,” the younger man argued petulantly. “He could pay me for half. I need the coin, milady.”
“He didn’t hire you for half a job,” Sybilla said without sympathy.
“If you are in such need of coin, quit wasting my time and go finish what you promised to do. When you have completed your task, if your employer thinks the work is worthy, I’m certain he will pay you the agreed-upon amount. That is all.”
“But, milady,” the man began to whine.
“Who is next?” Graves called out, effectively dismissing the pair of men.
The old chap with the goat hobbled up to the table and handed the lead to the servant boy who stepped forward from the end of the table.
“Good day, Irving,” Sybilla said, glancing at the old man as she adjusted Lucy’s slipping crown. “How is your leg?”
“Much better, milady, and I thank you. I’m here to repay you as I promised. You saved our lives this winter, with that Fallstowe buck to freshen our nanny after we lost our’n.”
“Irving, I’ll not have your only kid,” Sybilla said coolly; one who didn’t know her might have taken her tone for scorning. “Especially since it is a male and you are still without.”
“No, milady, no—your buck was a good’un and give us twins,” the old man said with a smile.
“Be that as it may, I do believe that we are quite run over with billies at the moment. Is that not so, Graves?”
Graves closed his eyes, a long-suffering gesture that was perhaps supposed to be taken as a blink. “Where would we put another goat, Madam?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Sybilla said dismissively. “Please take him out, Irving, lest he befoul the floor.”
The old man bobbed a bow before the table, his smile shining in his knowing eyes. “Of course, Lady Sybilla. Sorry to trouble you with it.”
Julian found himself smiling, too.
“Who is next?” Graves called out, a sigh in his voice.
But then Sybilla turned her head suddenly, and her gaze landed on Julian. The corners of her mouth lifted hesitantly, as if she was unused to making such a gesture so early in the day.
Julian looked pointedly at Lucy for a moment, placed his hand over his heart, then held his palm toward Sybilla.
Her smile widened briefly before she addressed the hall. “A short recess, while I attend to other business. We shall resume within the half hour.”
The queue dispersed to the tables and the clerk rose and departed Sybilla’s side with a bow. Julian gained the dais and sneaked up behind his daughter, dropping a kiss on the side of her neck and causing her to squeal in delighted surprise.
He looked down at Sybilla with a smile as she withdrew her arm from around Lucy, allowing Julian to pull his daughter from the table with copious clanking and tinkling of jewels.
“Good morning, poppet,” he said to Lucy, kissing her again just because he couldn’t help it, and noticing that she smelled faintly of Sybilla’s personal cologne. “I see you’ve found a playmate. A wealthy playmate.”
“You should be ashamed, Lord Griffin—your daughter has absolutely no toys. Not one thing to amuse her could be found in her chamber this morn.”
“That’s not so,” Julian argued. “She has a doll. I think.”
“If you mean that knot of rags, you should be doubly mortified.”
Julian laughed. “Perhaps she is getting old enough for a true toy, but, Sybilla, you can’t allow her to play with your jewelry.”
She frowned at him, obviously offended. “It’s mine. I shall do with it what I wish.”
“A diamond tiara, Sybilla?” he said. “Really? Is that appropriate for a baby?”
“It suits her.” She looked at him levelly now. “I was going to sit her in a great trunk of gold coin, but thought perhaps that would pose a choking hazard.”
He threw back his head and laughed then, from his very toes it seemed. “How is it possible that I find the two of you here in this state?”
Sybilla shrugged and then took the chalice of wine presented to her by a kitchen boy. “I supposed Lady Lucy feels she is indebted to me for rescuing her from certain death by drowning in her own clothes last night and placing her in bed with us,” she said lightly, and then took a sip from her cup.
“You got up with her in the night?” Julian said softly, completely amazed.
“I could no longer stand the incessant wailing,” Sybilla said.
Julian was baffled, bemused, and completely encouraged. “So that’s why the mattress was wet!”
Sybilla looked up at him and blinked through her frown. “What? Did you think it was me?”
“I did.” He laughed. He felt drunk with hope. “Or perhaps the both of us.”
She gave a short huff. “That’s disgusting.”