Chapter Two
Thump! Ridley, who slept in a small room just off the pantry, woke to Marta’s soft singing as she kneaded and punched the dough on the huge wooden table in the middle of the large kitchen.
He sighed as he peeled back his covers on his bed.
They were a warm cocoon that he didn’t want to leave this cold winter morning.
However, he had chores; the first was seeing to other’s comfort before they awoke.
Keeping the large manor house running smoothly was an endeavor that required all who still resided there to work…
and work hard. Each member of the household, whether servant or titled, had jobs to do.
Marta always woke first, and she was busy in the kitchen long before the sun.
Each morning, the smell of baking bread wafted through the great hall, up the stairs, and into the corridors that led to the bedrooms where the rest of the house still slept.
After dressing, he crept quietly upstairs, his single candle barely casting a shadow as he moved down the dark hall.
He entered the bed chamber where his lady slept, stoked the fire with the heavy iron poker, and added a log.
He then moved into the adjoining room where Kaylyn and little Luella slept and did the same.
Normally this room would have been used as a sitting room for the lady of the house, reserved for reading or sewing, but Lady Rosalind preferred to house the girls there and keep them close.
Ridley smiled when he heard Kaylyn snoring, and he’d be sure to tease her later.
Ridley didn’t dawdle. Now that there were guests in the manor house, more fires needed tending.
Sir Devlin and Alden’s quarters were next.
Ridley moved quickly through the manor, his soft, thin soled shoes were silent on the rough stone floors.
When he opened the door into Sir Devlin’s chamber, the well-oiled, iron hinges on the heavy oak door made his entry silent, so he thought.
He took two quiet steps into the room, but in an instant, the ice-cold edge of a dagger pressed at his throat.
“Sir! Sir Devlin, it is only I, Ridley! Please!” Ridley exclaimed.
“God’s teeth! What do you think you are doing—sneaking in here? I could have killed you!” Devlin growled.
Devlin lowered the dagger, and walked back to his bed, muttering what Ridley was sure were expletives, something about dawn and how no one was up at this hour except thieves and mad men with a death wish.
“So sorry, sir. Milady prefers that I build up everyone’s fires before they wake. The manor is quite drafty.”
“Hrmmph,” Devlin snorted, and he rolled back in bed.
Ridley moved to the fireplace and stirred the coals quickly. His hands shook when he picked up another log, and he dropped it to the floor. The wood thumped loudly on the stone hearth. A loud and very annoyed sigh erupted from Sir Devlin.
“Sorry, sir,” he apologized again quietly.
A pillow flew from the bed and whacked him square in the face.
Ridley quickly picked up the log, completed his task, and left the room.
Mr. Danby’s room was directly across the hall, and this time he knocked and announced his presence.
His only answer was Alden’s enthusiastic snores that reverberated throughout the room.
The large man never stirred while Ridley worked.
Finally, he came to Benton’s small room at the end of the hall.
Benton had served the Capell family for decades and had the privilege of a larger chamber.
A small sliver of light broke through the wooden shutters, signaling the coming of the dawn, and Benton was still abed.
Sometimes, the old servant woke as early as Marta, and he often sat and read in a comfortable chair by the fire—but not this morning.
As Ridley crossed the room, he could just see Benton’s body under the thick blankets on the bed. He looked very still.
“Benton,” Ridley whispered. “Sir…”
Benton never moved.
“Benton. Sir,” Ridley said again to see if Benton was awake.
Ridley stood for a moment. He crossed the room and grabbed a hand mirror hanging from a peg on the wardrobe. He carefully tiptoed back over to where Benton lay. He placed the edge of the mirror under Benton’s nose and waited, holding his breath. Condensation appeared on the mirror.
He’s alive! Ridley couldn’t wait to tell Marta he had to do the mirror test on old Benton again this morning.
Grinning, he completed his task at the fireplace and left the room.
Back down in the kitchen, Ridley was eager to eat the breakfast Marta had prepared.
Porridge and yesterday’s bread with jam awaited him.
The kitchen was warm and comfortable. Marta joined him at the table with a cup of tea, helped herself to a slice of bread, and added a generous dollop of the sweet fruit mixture.
The early morning was their time to chat before the rest of the household rose.
“Sir Devlin nearly killed me,” offered Ridley.
Marta’s eyes widened and she choked a bit while sipping her tea.
“Just now, when I stoked his fire. I must have startled him when I entered the room.”
Marta stared at him, unable to comment. “I never even heard him get out of bed, and I didn’t see him move either.
Like a dark, silent wolf waiting to pounce.
No, not a wolf…worse than that—a hellhound he was.
Couldn’t see ‘em, couldn’t hear ‘em. He was just…there. He could have slit my throat in a second.” Ridley put another spoonful of porridge in his mouth.
“Oh dear sweet Father,” Marta said as she crossed herself. “When Sir Devlin comes down, and you take the food out, you will apologize and ask him if he would rather you not enter his room in the morning. We cannot appear rattled, and we certainly do not want to rile this man.”
Ridley’s eyes widened. He frowned at the thought of talking to Sir Devlin, but he nodded in agreement.
“And I thought Benton was dead again this morning,” Ridley stated matter-of-factly. “Had to use the mirror again.”
“Ridley!” Marta exclaimed. “Don’t be so flippant.”
They ate in silence, but it wasn’t long before the light thump of small feet was heard on the stairs, and young Luella ran down.
She was a welcome distraction from the serious conversation that left the room quiet and heavy.
Her honey-blond hair looked like a comb had never touched it, and her tunic dress was worn backward.
Obviously, the child had not waited for Lady Rosalind or even her older sister to help her dress this morning.
At four years of age, she wanted to do everything herself.
“Child! Where are your house slippers? You’ll catch your death!” Marta chastised.
But no one could be cross with Luella, not for long anyway. Luella smiled, and her large brown eyes twinkled. She was a ray of sunshine in the room.
Marta, who was quite used to the little one appearing in disarray, grabbed a basket from the shelf next to the table and pulled out a comb.
“Come, little one, bring that tangled mess of hair here, and let’s see what we can do.”
Luella decided to comply with Marta’s request and the cook began to work through the tangles carefully.
The pounding of larger feet was then heard on the stairs, and down came Kaylyn.
She stomped rather unladylike towards Marta and Luella and, with a dramatic sigh, tossed her younger sibling’s house slippers on the floor.
Then, with a roll of her eyes, she went to the cookfire, spooned some porridge from the iron pot, and sat down to eat.
“Mama says your feet are going to freeze and fall off, you know.” With a slight grin, Kaylyn directed this tidbit of information toward her younger sister.
Kaylyn, four years older than Luella, was cranky most mornings and not one to waste the sour attitude, she enjoyed aggravating her sibling.
The younger child replied, “That’s not true!”
“Yes, it is,” Kaylyn shot back.
“No, it’s not!”
“It’s true! Your feet will rot right off!”
And from there, the two girls argued back and forth. Ridley listened and grinned but did not join in the fray.
“Girls, girls! Stop the bickering. We have much to do today, and we have guests. You must be on your best behavior,” Lady Rosalind implored as she entered the kitchen from the servants’ staircase.
Dressed in a practical long-sleeve white linen chemise with a dark blue floor-length tunic, she wore a simple rope belt around her waist. In spite of Lord Edmond never allowing funds for fine dresses and accessories, Lady Rosalind looked beautiful.
She wore her long chestnut brown hair in a tidy braid that trailed down her back, but curls escaped the braid at her temples and in front of her ears, framing her face.
The dark circles under her eyes showed that Rosalind had not slept well at all last night.
She filled a bowl with porridge and joined everyone at the table.
“Girls, I do not have the strength to endure such bickering this early in the morning. I barely slept a wink,” she said as she took a bite of the warm porridge.
With eyes downcast, Kaylyn and Luella whispered in unison, “Sorry, Mama.”
Rosalind looked up from her bowl and gave the girls a wan smile. The kitchen was quiet as everyone finished their breakfast. This morning the mood was quiet and filled with uncertainty and a feeling of dread.
The door that led from the kitchen to the great hall opened. Benton, looking unflappable as ever, entered the kitchen.
“Sir Devlin and Mr. Danby have taken their seats and look to break their fast,” he announced.
Benton then walked to the sideboard and placed a pitcher of water on a tray, and Marta added a pitcher of warm cider. She placed two bowls, a small pot of porridge, a round of bread, and then jam. Then because they were guests, some dried fruit and cheese were added to the breakfast offering.
Ridley picked up the tray and followed Benton out to the table in the great hall.
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