"Better?" Matilda asked solicitously. Odel nodded.
"Aye, but--"
"But?"
"You have to put this back the way it was."
Matilda frowned. "Do you not like it? I could--"
She shook her head, her eyes opening and scanning the room. "I like it, but what will the servants think? They will know something is amiss."
"Oh, ta-ra," Matilda laughed and waved her cane in a vague circle. "There! They shall all now believe that my servants did it."
"You have servants?"
Matilda stilled and frowned at that, then peered down at the cat she had set down. "Vlaster?"
In the blink of an eye, the cat was gone. In its place stood a man. Tall and thin, dressed in a frock and brais of black, he wiggled a black mustache at her then ran one hand through his hair as black as the cat's fur had been.
"Oh, no no no." Odel began to back slowly away, her head shaking.
"Aye. It is perfect," Matilda said gaily. "My dear, meet my manservant, Vlaster. Vlaster, my niece, Odel."
"Manservant?" There was a touch of irritation in the man's voice, but Odel was too busy shaking her head to notice.
"Nay," Odel repeated faintly and Matilda hesitated, frowning.
"Aye, I suppose he alone could not have achieved all this, could he?" Turning, she marched to the door, peered out into the bailey, glanced around briefly, then stilled suddenly and smiled in satisfaction. Putting her hand to her mouth, she began making the most god-awful quacking sounds.
"What are you doing now?" Odel hissed, hurrying to her side. "You sound like a--" Her eyes widened, and she stepped back from the door abruptly. Six of the brown female ducks that had been penned by the stables, came waddling through the keep door. "--duck," she finished in amazement, then frowned and closed her eyes, waving her hand impatiently in front of her face as Tildy unleashed another cloud of glittering dust.
Despite having seen some wholly inexplicable events in the past few moments, Odel was not at all prepared to find six women of varying ages and sizes suddenly standing where the ducks had been but a moment before. Each of them was wearing a gown the same dull gray-brown as the ducks' feathers. The ducks were no longer in sight.
"Oh," Odel groaned. Her hand went to her forehead in horror as her own thoughts rolled around in her head.
"Mayhap you should lay down, my dear. You appear to have gone quite white."
"Nay, nay. I . . ." Odel forced her hands down and her eyes open, but the moment her gaze took in the new room, the furniture, the six maids, and the tall, dark Vlaster, she closed her eyes again. "Aye, mayhap I should."
"Aye, I think so," Matilda said gently. The older woman took Odel's arm to urge her toward the stairs to the upper floor. "A nice little nap will do you the world of good. I will wake you when it is time to sup. No doubt you have been sitting up by your father's bedside since he fell ill, and are exceedingly weary. A little nap, then a nice meal, will set everything right."
"Aye," Odel grasped eagerly at that explanation of the odd things happening in her home; she was hallucinating. "I am just over-tired. A little nap, then something to eat and everything will be back to normal."
"Well, I hope not," Matilda muttered a little wryly. She opened the door to Odel's room for her.
"How did you know which room was mine?" Odel asked curiously, but as she entered, she had a sneaking suspicion. At what she saw, she quickly turned her back to the room.
"What is it?" Matilda asked with alarm, peering past her. Understanding crossed Tildy's face as the woman took in the large comfy-looking bed, the cushioned chairs by the fire, and the lush rose-colored curtains that hung above the bed. The chamber looked warm and cozy. It had not looked like that when she had left it this morning. Roswald had been too mean and cheap to see to his daughter's comfort.
"Hmmm," Tildy said with a shrug. "I did use quite a bit of dust . . . but this just saves me from having to tend to it now. Are you not happy with your new room?"
Eyes still squeezed firmly shut, Odel merely began to chant under her breath. "This is not happening, this cannot be happening."
"There, there," Matilda murmured, turning Odel back around and steering her toward the bed. "A nice nap is just what you need."
"This is not happening," Odel said under her breath, collapsing onto the bed when Matilda pushed her against it. "This cannot be happening."
Chapter Two
It was happening all right.
Odel stared around the redecorated great hall and shook her head for at least the hundredth time since Matilda had arrived. She had taken her nap, but things had not changed back to normal--and it had been a day and a night. The walls were still a smooth bright white, decorated with colorful tapestries; the floor rustled with rushes; and furniture filled every corner of the room. More than that, now the furniture was full of people. There were the usual servants at the nooning meal, the soldiers, and so on, but now the keep also had several guests. At least two dozen men lined either side of the head table. There had been half a dozen of them at sup last night--all young, wealthy, and single lords who had arrived while she slept. Another twenty had arrived since then, riding gaily into Roswald as if by invitation.
Matilda called them suitors; Odel called them pains in the arse. She had no intention of getting married. Worse, she felt extremely uncomfortable under their obvious flattery. Even the lovely new gowns they praised--she had woken up to find her chests overflowing--had not eased her discomfort. Odel was not used to the presence of others. She had spent so long restricted to the company of her father and his servants, she had no idea what to say to these preening visitors--handsome though they might be.
"Are you all right? You look flushed," Matilda leaned close to murmur.
Shifting where she sat, Odel sighed unhappily. "I am just a bit warm." It was true. Frowning slightly, she glanced toward the doors leading outside and announced, "In fact, I think I shall go for a short walk once the meal is over."
"What a lovely idea," Tildy said cheerfully, which immediately made Odel suspicious. She didn't have long to wait before her suspicions were borne out. Matilda added, "I am sure that Lord Brownell or Lord Trenton would love to join you."
"Do please stop trying to push those men on me, Tildy. I have no interest in them," Odel said wearily.
Matilda's face fell like that of a child who has been refused a treat. Odel felt guilt pinch at her and she sighed, but she did not retract her words. She really had no interest in marrying. The sooner Tildy accepted that, the better.
"There is Roswald up ahead, my lord."
Michelle blinked the snowflakes out of his eyes and glanced up at Eadsele's words. His gaze narrowed on the castle rising out of the stand of trees ahead. Yes, Roswald would suffice. The mounts were tiring and he needed to find a place to rest them. It was an unexpected occurrence, seeing as it was only past midday and they had only set out for the last leg of their journey home several hours before, but the horses were definitely blowing and Michelle wasn't the sort who would run his animals into the ground. They would stop here until morning.
"Aye. So it is, Eadsele," Michelle agreed, vaguely amused by the boy's excitement. No doubt he was getting sick of traveling after these last two weeks trudging through the snowy landscape of England. Michelle really should have collected the lad in early autumn, but had been kept busy at Suthtun, the impoverished estate he had inherited this summer. He'd had little time to think much about his new squire, let alone chase down to southern England to collect him. If Eadsele's father hadn't been a friend and asked him to train the boy as a favor--
"Do you think they will have room for us?"
"I do not see why not. I have never met Lord Roswald, but I have heard that he does not entertain much." Michelle frowned to himself as he tried to recall what else he had heard.
His neighbor was wealthy, he had known that, but even if he hadn't, he would have realized it rather quickly as they rode through Roswald's main gates a
moment later. Prosperity showed in the round rosy cheeks of the children, and their pets. Poorer castles and their attending villages often could not afford pets, or had ragged hungry-looking animals--not the shiny coated, muscular beasts at play in the courtyard.
A hollow sound drew his attention to the keep's main stairs as the cloaked figure of a woman exited the great hall. As she closed the door behind her, she turned. Her face was hidden by a fur-lined hood, but a scarlet gown peeked out from under her cloak with each step she took. She briskly descended the snow-laden steps.
Was this Lord Roswald's wife, his daughter, or merely a guest? Michelle wondered as his horse came to a halt at the foot of the steps. Realizing he would have to ask to find out, he dismounted, moving inadvertently into her path.
"Excuse me, my lady," Michelle began politely. He found his words waved away impatiently as the woman did her best to move around him.
"Just leave your horse with the servants and go on in," she instructed without even a glance. "Vlaster will show you to your room."
"Ah," Michelle turned as she hurried past him, his confusion plain on his face if she had bothered to look. "Are you--"
"Aye, my lord. I am Lady Roswald. And I will surely be pleased to make your acquaintance later. In the meantime, Vlaster will see to your comfort."
"Thank you, but I think you may have mistaken me for someone else. I am--"
"I know, my lord," she interrupted again. At last, heaving a sigh, she stopped and whirled to face him. The impatient twist to her lips was all he could see beneath her cloak's hood as she spoke. "There are twenty more just like you inside. And no doubt, just like them, you are eager to inform me that you are the wealthiest, most handsome man for three counties. You find me beyond beautiful and exceedingly charming and want to vow you would willingly die a horrid and painful death if only I would smile in your general direction." Her words were a weary recitation.
Michelle blinked, then shook his head, a wry smile plucking at his lips. "Well, if you are comparing me to the village swineherd, I suppose I am all of those things. But I really had no plans to die today--not even for one of your undoubtedly beautiful smiles."
The woman stood still for a moment, then reached up to pull back her hood and peer at him. He suspected, by the way her eyes widened, that it was the first real look she had taken at him. Just as this was his first real glimpse of her.
Her hair was a deep brown, shot through with strands of fiery red. Her skin was pale and smooth, her nose straight, her eyes a pretty blue, and her lips were not too full, nor thin. She was pleasant to look on, but not so lovely that a man would die for a mere smile--at least not this man.
Michelle had too much to do and too little time to be bothered with the needs and demands of a woman. He would leave off having to burden himself with one until he had Suthtun up to snuff. Then, he supposed, he would have to take a wife to make an heir, but he really wasn't looking forward to the chore. In his experience, wives were more trouble than they were worth. His own mother had practically sent her husband, his father, to the grave with her demands for rich fabrics and glorious jewels. The man had died in battle, one of many battles he had hired himself out for in an effort to appease her. Nay. There would be no spoiled, demanding wife for him.
Startled out of her annoyance by his nonchalance, Odel lifted her hood off to peer at the man. Now she stared at him with some amazement. When she had first come outside, she had thought him yet another of the suitors Matilda had invited. They had, after all, been arriving one after the other all day.
Fair-haired men, dark-haired men, tall men, and not-so-tall men, they had paraded into Roswald like baby peacocks. Every single one of them was single, exceedingly handsome, and at least comfortably wealthy.
This man, though, he was different. He was tall and strong, like the others, but his dark, longish hair framed features too harsh to be considered handsome. Her gaze slid over the rest of him, noting that while his clothes were clean and of good quality, they had obviously seen better days. He obviously wasn't wealthy like the others. Still, the glint of amusement in his eyes made him somehow charming to look at. Forcing a polite smile, she said, "I am sorry, my lord. Obviously I have made an error. Who did you say you were?"
"The new Lord Suthtun."
"Oh." She recognized the name and a feeling of solemnity overtook her. "I was sorry to hear of your uncle's passing. He used to visit my father on occasion. He was a very nice man."
"Then you are Lord Roswald's daughter?"
"Aye."
He nodded briefly. "Aye, well, I am traveling home from collecting Eadsele here." He gestured to the young lad now dismounting behind him. "I realize 'tis only a couple more hours home to Suthtun and I dislike putting you out, but the horses are tired and I do not like to overtax them in such weather. Do you think your father would mind if we stopped for the night?"
"My father died several days ago," Odel told him distractedly, glancing over at the castle doors. Were there any rooms left? She suspected there were not. Truly the castle was full to its turrets with prancing dandies and--
"I am sorry." The man's words interrupted her thoughts, but when Odel glanced at him questioningly, he added, "For your loss."
"Oh, aye. Thank you." She looked away, still not comfortable with her own lack of grief at the loss of the man who for most of her life had treated her no better than a servant. Spying one of the stable boys waiting patiently a few steps away, she waved him forward. "Tend to his lordship's horses, please, Tommy." She gave the instructions, then gestured for Lord Suthtun to follow her up the stairs to the castle.
Odel didn't turn to see if he followed; she didn't have to, she could hear his footfalls behind her on the steps. This was no tippy-toed dandy who moved as silent as a cat. Nay, his steps were solid and heavy behind her as she led him into the castle.
The noise and heat in the great hall rolled over them in a wave as they entered it, and that reminded Odel of her hope to escape, however briefly, from her suitors. Grimacing at the cacophony of laughing and jesting male voices she had been trying to flee only moments before, Odel sighed and peered about for Matilda or Vlaster. It only took her a moment to find them. In a room full of colorfully dressed men as tall and solid as trees, Matilda's short rounded figure, encased in another god-awful pink creation, stood out like a plump pink mouse in a room full of large and healthy gray rats. Of course, Vlaster wasn't far behind. His tall impossibly thin and dour black form was never far away.
Odel was about to raise her arm to catch her aunt's attention, when suddenly the woman was bustling toward them, Vlaster following her like a tall, dark shadow.
"There you are, my dear," Tildy cried brightly as she reached them. "I had begun to wonder where you had gotten to. I should have known that one of your handsome suitors had--" Her words died, her mouth opening soundlessly as she turned to peer at the man standing beside Odel. "Oh." Her gaze slid over his less-than-handsome face and worn clothes, her smile wilting like a rose cut from its stem. "Who are you?"
"This is Lord Suthtun, Aunt Matilda," Odel announced, glaring at the older woman for her rudeness.
"Suthtun?" Matilda's nose twitched, her forehead wrinkling with concentration. "Suthtun. I don't recall sending a missive to you, my lord," she announced unhappily, then turned to Vlaster. "Did I, Vlaster?"
"I do not recall one, madam," the man murmured, a dour look on his face.
"Nay, neither do I. Suthtun. Suthtun."
"He is a neighbor to the north," Odel said through her teeth. "And quite welcome here."
"To the north?" Matilda questioned with a definite lack of enthusiasm, then she sighed and nodded. "Oh yes. Suthtun; that poor little holding of that friend of your father's." Her face puckered up again with open displeasure. Apparently Tildy had set her sights on wealthier game. Embarrassed by her godmother's openly rude behavior, Odel hurried to intervene.
"He is traveling home from court and sought shelter here," she explained quickly
. "I assured him that would be fine."
"Oh. Aye, well of course, it behooves us to help a neighbor, does it not?" she said, but didn't look pleased at the prospect. In fact, she sounded decidedly annoyed. She turned to Vlaster to ask, "Do we have a room for his lordship? Or shall he have to sleep on the floor?"
"Aunt Tildy!" Odel gasped, giving Lord Suthtun an apologetic look.
"Do not be offended on my account, my lady," the nobleman murmured with the same good humor he had shown earlier. "I am an unexpected guest and would be pleased for even a spot on the great hall floor by the fire--if it is available."
Odel blinked at the man, amazed at his claim. Surely, had any of the other lords been asked to consider such a spot, they would have been wroth at the insult. They had all required a room from what she had seen, likely to house all their various clothing and finery. This man, however, appeared to travel light, a small sack dangling from his relaxed hand his only baggage. He also lacked the attendants the other noblemen seemed helpless without. Lord Suthtun had only a young lad with him--his squire, she supposed.
"I am sure that will not be necessary, my lord," Odel murmured, turning to her aunt. "Surely Lord Beasley and his cousin, Lord Cheshire, could room together for one night."
"Oh, nay," Matilda exclaimed at once with horror. "Lord Beasley has more gold than the king--and Lord Cheshire is quite the most handsome of your suitors. They are both most important men; I cannot think they will thank you for the insult."
Odel grimaced at that. Most handsome and wealthy they might be, but Lord Beasley was vain and Lord Cheshire was arrogant. Doubling them up could only help the two men's dispositions. "They shall survive the insult, I am sure," she said with a wry smile. "My neighbor is in need of a bed for the night."
"Aye," Matilda agreed reluctantly. "I suppose with the ague coming on his squire, his lordship could indeed use a bed. Very well, I shall see what I can do to smooth this over with the lords Beasley and Cheshire."
"Thank you," Odel muttered. She was grateful for her godmother's acquiescence, but confused by her words. Her gaze had moved to the boy in question. Much to her surprise, the lad did seem quite pale. He was also trembling as if with a chill. She had not noticed that outside. In fact, she thought she recalled him looking quite robust.