Chapter Eighteen #2
Nothing more was said about it, and Ophelia was waiting for them when they arrived at the cottage a short time later.
She had changed into a lovely day gown made from muslin, a fine garment she’d made herself from fabric that Athdara had given her, and her lovely hair was braided and wrapped into an elegant bun at the nape of her neck.
Truly, Creston couldn’t have been prouder of her as she greeted Brenton and Myles, lovely and mannerly in every way, and invited them to sit.
She already had bread and butter and watered, warmed wine on the table, and as they sat down, she brought forth a big wooden bowl of the eggs that had been beaten with milk and salt, and then cooked with chives that the cook had given her.
But he’d also given her something else, as the men were soon to discover.
She gave each man a literal pile of the eggs and they dug in with gusto.
Creston was pleasantly surprised until he realized that she’d put garlic, which grew plentiful in the gardens around the kitchens, into the eggs. Nice, big chunks of raw garlic.
But he didn’t say a word.
Neither did Brenton and Myles. They ate all of the eggs she’d given them and asked for more.
She happily gave it to them, including her husband, until there was nothing left in the bowl.
Between the three of them, they had eaten about two dozen eggs and at least two loaves of bread.
Ophelia made sure their cups were full of the watered wine, and when all was said and done, they’d polished off a big meal and applauded Ophelia for the fine feast. She blushed at their praise, flattered and pleased, and when she collected the bucket and headed out to the well for some water, Creston finally grunted in pain.
“My God,” he muttered. “I am going to smell of garlic for the next month. Men will not even have to see me. They will smell me coming from a mile away.”
Brenton was grinning. Even Myles had a smirk on his face. “It was not that bad,” he said. “I like garlic.”
Creston cocked an eyebrow. “That much of it?”
Brenton abruptly waved his hand in front of his face. “Christ, Creston,” he said. “I can smell you over here. Your breath smells horrible.”
Creston started laughing. He couldn’t help it.
He put his hands over his face and giggled like a fool as Brenton followed suit.
Soon they were all laughing, and the smell of garlic filled the small kitchen from the sheer force of their breath.
Even the cats, who were sunning themselves in the window facing east, didn’t seem to want to be around it.
They both fled out the back door, which only made Creston laugh harder.
“We must stop,” he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. “I do not want Lia to return and find us in fits.”
Brenton’s eyes were watering because the smell of garlic was so strong. He wiped his hands over his face and stood up.
“I must find the privy,” he said. “Where is it?”
Creston pointed out the back door. “Out there,” he said. “It will be near the stables. There is a small one, but that is for the women in the village and is kept much neater than the other one, so do not use it or the women will know. They sense these things.”
Brenton snorted. “I will avoid it, I promise.”
Before he could get away, Creston put his hand on his cousin’s arm. “Wait a moment,” he said quietly. Then he looked at Myles. “De Lohr, will you please go with him? I must speak to my wife about the events of last evening and I would like to do it alone.”
Brenton’s humor faded. “You’ve not told her about our discussion yet?”
Creston shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “She was asleep when I returned, and I did not feel like it was right to do so when she was so concerned about making a meal for you, so the time must be now, before the day grows any deeper.”
“Then do it quickly,” Brenton said, patting his cousin on the shoulder as he headed for the back door. “De Lohr, attend me. Let us get a good look at the infamous Blackchurch and see what mischief we can get into.”
Myles obediently followed him and the pair reached the rear door just about the time Ophelia was coming through. She was lugging a bucket of water and Brenton immediately grabbed it.
“Let me help you with this, Lady de Royans,” he said, carrying it back over to the table where the dirty dishes were. “Your husband should be doing this for you. If I were you, I would give him a good scolding.”
Ophelia wiped her hands off on an apron that was lying over a chair. “I may scold him about other things, but not this,” she said. “He is a very busy and important man. Did you not know that about him?”
Brenton chuckled as he headed for the door again. “She is the perfect wife, Cres,” he said. “She believes everything you tell her.”
Creston cocked an eyebrow. “But I am a very busy and important man,” he said. “It is time you learned that.”
He could hear his cousin laughing as the two men walked away. Ophelia peered at them, watching them head off.
“Where are they going?” she asked.
“To find the privy,” Creston said. “Thank you for the meal, sweetheart. It was much appreciated.”
She smiled modestly. “I hope it was good,” she said. “The cook gave me the chives and the garlic. Did it taste well enough?”
Creston nodded. “Delicious,” he said. “But may I make a suggestion?”
“I wish you would. Otherwise, I will not learn.”
He tried to be tactful. “Next time, mayhap a little less garlic would truly make the dish delicious,” he said.
“I seem to remember the cook roasting the garlic once and then adding tiny pieces of it to the bread. Mayhap you can do the same thing with the eggs. Like rosemary, just a little garlic is probably better than too much.”
She seemed quite interested in his suggestion. “I will ask the cook how he roasts the garlic,” she said. “Mayhap he will have other suggestions where I can use it. In sauce?”
“Verily.”
“What about soup or porridge?”
“Soup, I am certain, but have you ever had garlic in porridge?”
She giggled and shook her head. “I have not,” she said. “On second thought, it does not sound very good.”
Creston shook his head firmly. “Nay, lass,” he said. “Nay.”
He dragged the last word out, long and low, and her laughter grew.
He winked at her as she turned to the bucket of water with the intention of cleaning the bowls they’d used for the eggs.
Ophelia’s mood was light, her heart was joyful, and she felt as if she were walking on clouds.
Creston made everything brighter and sweeter.
Even when he told her that she had used too much garlic, it was still sweet.
But as she picked up one of the dirty bowls, something occurred to her.
“Why have you not gone to your recruits?” she asked. “The sun is up and the day has begun.”
He was sitting at the table, casually, one enormous arm draped over the back of the chair next to him. “I know,” he said. “Can a man not sit and watch his wife go about her chores?”
“Of course, you can,” she said as she rinsed out the bowl. “But who is with your recruits?”
“Two assistant trainers,” he said. “We are doing a few exercises this morning. I’ll join them in good time.”
She didn’t sense anything out of the ordinary with his explanation or the fact he was lingering around the cottage when he should have been teaching.
“When do you think we can go into Bampton or another town and purchase some items for me to use in the kitchen?” she said.
“We discussed it last night and I thought we would go this morning, but your cousin is here now and we cannot go. Brenton seems very nice. Also, I have just noticed something.”
“What?”
“That your name, and your brother’s name, and now your cousin’s name all end the same,” she said. “Brenton, Creston, Royston. Is there a reason for that?”
He gave her a half-grin. “It is a tradition among de Royans males,” he said. “All of our names end thus. My father’s name was Quinton. Brenton’s father’s name is Juston. It has always been that way.”
She looked at him curiously. “Does that mean our sons will have to have similar names?”
“If I want to hold my head up in public, it does,” he said. “Do you mind?”
She chuckled. “Of course not,” she said. “But we will have to think of some names in case the child in my belly is a male. Or do you already have a name selected?”
He shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I thought we would discuss it when the time came. Why? Do you?”
She thought a moment. “Not particularly,” she said. “But give me time. I will think of something you can be proud of.”
“Good lass,” Creston said. She turned back to her dishes with a smile on her face and he watched her for a moment, hating to dampen her good mood, but he knew he had to. It was time. “Sweetheart, put the bowl down and come over here for a moment. I wish to speak with you.”
Without hesitation, Ophelia set the bowl down and picked up a rag to dry her hands as she came over to her husband. He pulled a chair out for her and she sat, leaning back on the chair and putting her hands on her belly.
“It feels good to sit,” she said. “I fear that I am starting to become overwhelmed with this belly. He is becoming larger.”
Creston smiled at her, leaning over to kiss her on the temple. “That is good,” he said. “That means our son is growing healthy and strong. He will be here soon.”
“Not too soon,” she said, rubbing her stomach. “Now, what did you wish to speak of?”
The moment had come and Creston reached out, taking her hand and caressing her fingers. “I wish to discuss the reason my cousin and de Lohr are here,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve been wondering.”
Ophelia shrugged. “Not particularly,” she said. “I was simply glad to meet someone who is part of your family. Why? Has he come for a reason?”
Creston lowered his voice. “He brought news with him,” he said. “I wish to discuss it with you because, eventually, you will be involved.”