Chapter Eleven #3
“It is,” she said. “That was one of the reasons my father came here today. He knows the debt is paid and he further assumes, rightly so, that Lord Chester has been paying wages for managing his ledgers. He wanted to know how much money I have because he evidently has another gambling debt to pay off.”
Jareth grunted in disapproval. “So he was here with a purpose.”
She nodded. “Aye,” she said. “He also came to tell me that my brother was murdered. In my whole life, my brother is the only person who has ever been truly kind to me. That is why I retreated to my chamber when my father left. I simply needed some time to come to terms with Benedict’s death.”
Jareth began to feel sorry for her. “You have my sympathies, my lady,” he said. “News such as that is never easy to bear.”
“Nay, it is not.”
“May I ask what happened?”
She shrugged, thought she was starting to tear up again.
“My father said that he was set upon by outlaws who intended to rob him,” she said.
“Killed by outlaws, he said. But he was just so cold about it, as if Benedict was not his son, just some stranger he had no ties to. It is heartbreaking to think that Benedict tried so hard to take care of a man who gave him such disregard. As if he was not his father.”
“The same way he treats you.”
“That is very true,” Desdra agreed. “A man like that should not have children.”
Jareth couldn’t disagree with her. “In my experience, men like that are the way they are for a reason,” he said. “A horrible childhood, mayhap the actions of others. Sometimes it is a way to defend one’s feelings.”
But Desdra shook her head. “Not Ciaran,” she said.
“He was the same way with my mother. I was young when she died giving birth to a son, who also died, but I remember my father hardly caring. He sent her body home to her parents and demanded money in return for the loss of his wife. I was very young, but I still remember him becoming angry when they refused to pay him.”
Jareth thought the man sounded like a detestable creature. “That is unfortunate,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to endure such callousness.”
She nodded, accepting his sympathies, wiping at the tears that were still trickling.
“Benedict wasn’t like my father in the least,” she said.
“He was compassionate and kind. My father drifted between hating him and depending on him. When he sent me to Lord Chester in payment of the debt, I thought Benedict was going to kill him. He was furious. But in the end, there was nothing he could do. My father had every legal right to make those decisions for me.”
Jareth could only imagine how a loving brother might have felt over the destiny of a helpless sister. “But you stayed in contact with your brother over the years?” he said.
“I did,” Desdra said. “In fact, he came here to visit me about three months ago. He said that he’d been in negotiations with the Earl of Lincoln. He had been offered a position with him.”
“Oh?” Jareth said. “John de Lacy? I know him well. Did your brother assume the position, then?”
Desdra shrugged. “I do not know,” she said.
“I only know he was offered the position. I do not know if he actually accepted it. Knowing my father, he surely gave my brother a good deal of grief over even considering it, but the truth is that even though my father is titled, there is no money. Benedict would inherit an empty title and no money, so he was trying to make his own fortune. I cannot blame him.”
“Nor I,” Jareth said. “My lady, would you like me to write to de Lacy and find out if your brother had indeed accepted the position? Mayhap there are wages owed. I can clarify the situation if you wish, and if there is money involved, I can have it sent to you directly.”
Desdra looked at him with some surprise. “That is very kind,” she said. “Benedict was married, however. Any money should go to his widow.”
“Would you like me to contact de Lacy about it?”
“I am not sure,” she said hesitantly. “Truthfully, I am more concerned for his widow. She is a sweet woman, and since I know my father will not take care of her, I feel as if I should. I will write to her and ask her if she is returning to her family. If not, Aphrodite’s Feast was made for someone like her, because she can earn money so she and her children will not starve. ”
“Would you like me to send a few of my men out to her home to see to her situation?”
She looked at him for a moment, puzzlement in her expression, as if she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure how to go about it. When she spoke, it was haltingly.
“Forgive me, but… but why should you want to do anything for me?” she said. “I am not your responsibility. Your offer is kind, but I would feel very odd accepting.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You’re wrong,” he said.
“About your not being my responsibility, that is. You serve here, at The Feast, and you are indispensable. Surely Uncle Chester thought so, also, and your loyalty to my uncle affords you privileges when it comes to me. I am more than willing to help someone who has been so devoted to my uncle.”
She broke into a grin, shyly. “You are most kind to offer,” she said. “I will think on it, I promise.”
He smiled in return. “Good,” he said. “Now, will you eat something with me? Aidric was supposed to have something sent up, but it is not here yet and I am famished. Will you show me the kitchens? I can get my own food.”
Her smile turned genuine and she stood up. “That is not necessary,” she said. “I can fetch it for you.”
“You are not a servant.”
“Neither are you.”
His expression suggested that he saw her point. “True,” he said. “But let’s go down to the kitchens, regardless. There were some good things there yesterday. Mayhap there are more good things to eat today.”
Desdra began to head from the chamber with Jareth following. “We can certainly find out,” she said. “Did you speak with the cook yesterday?”
Jareth shook his head. “I was still trying to reconcile this place in my mind,” he said. “So, nay, I did not speak with him at all.”
“He’s an interesting man,” she said. “He used to be a priest.”
“A priest who is now a cook?”
She giggled. “And a very good one,” she said. “A terrible priest, but a wonderful cook.”
Jareth liked seeing her smile. Given the day she’d experienced, he was glad that she seemed to be feeling better. Perhaps he’d contributed to that, just a little.
He hoped so.
The cook, who, Jareth discovered, was named Gustave, didn’t look like either a priest or a cook.
Jareth hadn’t noticed him much yesterday, but today, he did.
The man looked like an ancient Roman wrestler, with a shiny, shaved head, muscular arms, and a beard that was long and braided.
He seemed pleased that Jareth made the effort to visit him again and gave him a bowl of stew with cream and salt, peas, and cured meat in it.
It was positively delicious. Jareth and Desdra ended up sitting at a table in the kitchen, stuffing themselves with the rich stew, and listening to Gustave tell adventurous tales about his life as a priest.
Jareth was fairly certain most of it was fabrication, especially when Gustave explained how he once saved an entire village from an old church that had collapsed on them, but Gustave told the stories so well that he didn’t care.
More and more, he was starting to agree with what everyone in the know had told him.
Aphrodite’s Feast wasn’t just a brothel.
It was more than he could have imagined.