Chapter 60
CHAPTER SIXTY
ROSAMUND
I walk away from Valen after the dance, looking for Lord Eorl. I have to talk to him. Make up. Discuss the future. The past. There is so much I want to tell him and ask him.
But I can’t see him anywhere. I ask one of the guests if she has seen him, but she only stares at me as if I’m some new and interesting animal brought in for her to gawk at.
Next, I ask a maid who informs me that Lord Eorl has retired with his friends for drinks and games. Only men.
“What about the women?” I blurt out.
She curtsies. “Some of them like to gather in the green parlor upstairs, my lady, but only by invitation.”
And I was not invited. I mean, they don’t even know me yet. As for Lord Eorl, I can’t expect him to change his habits for my sake, although… although shouldn’t he?
That’s fine. I’m grateful, really. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Not being invited is excellent news. It means I can just go to bed.
That’s the sensible thing to do, instead of fretting over this man getting upset with me over my exhaustion and lack of grace in eating or dancing. There is no rush. I’ll talk to him tomorrow.
I make my way out of the hall and up the stairs, dragging my feet. Oil lamps are lit at intervals, but the place isn’t familiar. I panic a little when I can’t remember which is my room, but another maid comes along holding a candle and, when asked, offers to take me there.
“Here it is, my lady,” she says, opening a blue door and entering. She places the candle in a candleholder on the console. “Shall I turn down your bed? Bring a warming pan?”
“I’m fine.” I enter the room and stand in the middle, trying to calm myself. “I don’t need anything else. Thank you.”
She leaves, closing the door behind her, and leaves me alone in the enormous room. The curtains have been drawn over the window and I yank them open to stare out into the night. The land is dark around the manor, stars twinkling in the sky. One streaks down, leaving a white trail.
Inexplicably, nostalgia swamps me. I wish I were out there with Valen, I wish I still had my hope of a bright tomorrow. I never realized how that hope protected me through the years, how it kept me going when the nightmares had me up all night, and my stepfamily mocked me and neglected me.
I sit on my bed and put my face in my hands. Everything feels like it’s too much. Worry sits like a stone on my chest. Fear is back. I barely shed it by arriving here, and it’s now clawing at the inside of my head.
Lord Eorl is a good man. I only need to get used to him, get to know him, learn his habits. Everything will be all right.
I can’t give up on that hope. Not so soon. You may know a man from the first moment you see him, but you also may discover a man over days, weeks and months. Not every encounter works the same way.
I’ll find the goodness in Lord Eorl. And I’ll make him fall in love with me. I’ll have that happy fairytale ending. After coming this far, I won’t let first impressions stop me.
Morning finds me struggling back into my dress, which thankfully I had the presence of mind to remove last night and avoid wrinkling it. I didn’t find a nightgown, but I did tell the poor maid I needed nothing more. I have to learn to voice my needs. To recognize them.
Valen helped me with that, I think as I pull on the laces, which are thankfully at the front. He helped me listen to myself.
The thought of seeing him has me impatient to finish dressing and go downstairs. I look at myself in the mirror, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair pulled back in a hasty bun, the neckline of my dress low, showing more skin than I’m used to.
I’m young, about to be married, finally safe, and with my whole life before me.
I grin at myself, wink as Valen would. Let’s do this.
Light spills through the windows as I hurry out the door and down the stairs.
It’s a fine day, and everything will be perfect.
This is the first day of my new life, I think, where I take control of it, at long last, where I break out of this miserable shell where I spent most of my years and become the woman I want to be.
A happy, wanted, desirable, and cherished woman.
People hurry to-and-fro, carrying trays and platters from the kitchens to the great hall. It’s time to break my fast, and the aromas of fried dough, eggs and smoked meat make my mouth water. I burst into the hall and find the long tables occupied, people eating, drinking and talking.
They didn’t wait for me. But I’m used to that from home. Smiling, I hurry past them, heading for the end of the table where…
Someone else is seated beside Lord Eorl.
Another woman.
I stop, staring in disbelief. She’s talking and laughing with my future husband, her blond head bent toward him in a way that feels intimate and familiar.
The conversations around me hush for a moment, then pick up again as I walk toward the end of the table.
“My lord,” I say, my voice shaking a little. “Good morning.”
“Oh. Lady Rosamund.” He nods at me, a bland smile on his face. “I trust you’ve slept well?”
“Yes. I…” I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Is that your sister?”
“I don’t have a sister,” he says, taking a bite of eggs and swallowing. He gestures at an empty chair further down the table. “Be seated, Lady Rosamund. The food is getting cold.”
My hands curl in the folds of my dress. “My place is by your side, my lord.”
“You are up late,” he says, his gaze pinning me, flat and reproving. “If you want your place beside me, you’d better not laze in bed in the mornings.”
Mortified, I curtsy to hide my burning face. “My lord, surely I’m not that late.”
He gives me a long, level look. “Everyone is here. You’ve just arrived. What does that tell you?”
He’s talking to me as if I’m an infant. Nobody came to wake me up. I was never told I had to come down early. This was my first full night’s sleep in weeks. But something tells me that explaining all that won’t make a difference. Fighting in front of everyone feels ignoble and improper.
So I head to the indicated seat. I feel… insulted. Demeaned in front of everyone. Last night, he announced our impending wedding, and this morning, he reprimanded me at the same place.
And guilty. I feel guilty, as if his choosing another woman to sit beside him is really my fault.
This is a misunderstanding, I think, though I can’t fathom what I may have misunderstood. We can clear it up. I seem to have indeed overslept without realizing. It won’t happen again.
But he still hasn’t told me who the woman beside him is, and I find her gaze on me more than once, a smile on her face that feels cold and calculated.
I must be imagining it in my embarrassment. Lord Eorl will explain this to me, later. There has to be a perfectly good explanation for her place beside him.
I can’t wait to hear it.
Valen isn’t in the hall, I realize after a while, once the heat in my face and the buzzing in my ears has gone down enough to let me think more clearly. My appetite is mostly gone, but I nibble on some bread and bacon, washing it down with a dark, strong brew.
My stomach churns.
The people on either side of me go on talking. A woman on my right eventually leans closer to ask, “Are you really Lady Rosamund?”
I start. “Yes. Did you think I lied?”
She shrugs. “It could have been a ploy constructed by Lord Eorl to get those estates he’s been eyeing for years.”
“Those estates… my estates?”
She nods, but her eyes are on Lord Eorl who is chuckling at something the woman by his side is saying. “We were told you died, so your… rebirth has raised some eyebrows.”
“I never died! That was the lie.”
“If you say so. It’s no skin off my nose.” She picks up her cup and takes a sip. “Nor would it matter whether you were the real Rosamund or an impostor. He will get his wedding, anyway, and might be even better off.”
“What are you talking about?” I breathe.
“Well, the rumor mill has it that the real Rosamund is an ugly, unsociable little thing, terribly scarred and disfigured, gone mad due to a wolf attack years ago. You seem to be sane, if you’d agree.”
“I do agree. This is all very weird.” I clench my chilled fingers around my cup. I can’t seem to get warm despite the fire roaring in the huge fireplace at the end of the hall. “Not as I thought it would be.”
“It never is,” she agrees. “It just never is.”
Eventually, after an eternity, the meal draws to an end, and one by one the guests get up to go rest, refresh themselves, or walk in the gardens.
I see my betrothed also rise from his seat, and, pushing my chair back, lifting my skirts, I run after him as he turns toward the staircase.
“Lord Eorl! May I have a word?”
He barely slows down, and I can’t help noticing that the woman he’d sat with is still by his side. “Not now.”
“Why not? And who is she?”
“That doesn’t concern you.” He starts climbing the stairs, the blond woman grabbing her skirts to follow him. “We have… business to discuss, she and I.”
Dismayed, I stop and watch him disappear from view around the stair bend, the blonde casting me a quick look and another arrogant smile before following him.
My eyes burn. What is happening? This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“What did you expect, girl?” An old maid approaches me, reproval in her watery gaze. “You need to start acting as a lady of this manor, as a noblewoman. Not a wanton village girl.”
I frown at her. “Wanton village girl? Mind how you speak to me. I’m his future wife!”
“Ah, but you aren’t married yet. Until then, your position is precarious. Careful not to shift it.”
What does she know about it? I shake my head. “He’s so cruel,” I breathe. “I didn’t think he’d be so cruel.”
“Cruel?” She cackles. She’s sharp-eared for an old woman. “You haven’t met bad men. My husband used to beat me with his belt every night. Just for fun.”
I shudder. “Why did you stay with him?”
“Not all of us have a choice.”
“I don’t have a choice, either,” I whisper.
Don’t I, though? We aren’t married yet. What stops me from leaving now?
Everything. Where would I go? Who would I be? How would I run through the smoking ashes of the life I’d imagined for myself?
Patience, I tell myself. Remember, this is a misunderstanding. You only need time to talk and clear everything up. Don’t listen to rumors, don’t let insecurity force you into the wrong conclusions. He said he has business with this woman. What if he’s telling the truth?
He’d better be, because the alternative is unbearable.