7

7

It was not until they were making their way through the streets toward their new home that Aimee’s excitement started to wane. She and Lord Kentigern were following along behind the first lot of attendants who, with many arms, supported her two wedding chests above their heads.

Trooping along behind them were at least eighty men carrying mattresses and chairs and tables and goodness only knew what else she had chosen in the last month for their comfort. She was far from a sensitive soul like Ursula, but even Aimee felt more than a twinge of embarrassment at these proceedings.

It felt rather as though she was flaunting her father’s wealth with all the fine new items being paraded through the capital for all and sundry to see. She felt her cheeks start to turn hotter and hotter at the shouts and calls of the people who stopped to stare at their progress as the minstrels piped them on their way.

Originally, of course, her wedding procession was not intended to be this long, for half of the followers would have been for Ursula. Her sister’s indisposition meant that Renlow and his bride would now spend the night under her father’s roof and so avoid the clamor and fuss that Ursula found so abhorrent.

This meant that all the acrobats and musicians had now accompanied Aimee and Kentigern from her father’s house and out into the streets. It was now late afternoon, and the sun was blazing down from the blue sky. Amy’s heavy veil did not so much as shield her from the sun as smother her. She clung to Lord Kentigern’s arm and wondered if the house would be much further. She was surprised that her father had not picked a house nearer to his own, but they seemed to be heading away from the busy town center toward quieter quarters.

The second time her slippered feet stumbled on a cobble, Lord Kentigern’s arm wrapped around her back and she found herself hoisted up into his muscular arms. A cheer went up, and Aimee blinked up at him, her heart hammering in her breast. Finally, she knew what it felt like to be embraced in Lord Kentigern’s arms!

Though she knew herself to be substantially built, the way he had swung her up had made her feel as light and dainty as any princess. For once, her ready tongue failed her, and she gazed at him feeling quite tongue-tied and shy.

“It will be quicker if I just carry you,” he told her coolly, somewhat dampening her enjoyment of the experience.

“Oh, I quite agree,” she answered rather breathlessly, as she tried to get her rioting senses under control. Her new husband seemed to have tidied his beard a good deal for the occasion which distracted her at closer quarters. His one eye, she noticed, was a sort of green which turned amber near the center. Hazel, she believed the phenomenon was called.

“What is it?” he asked abruptly, and she thought he tensed under her gaze.

“Who trimmed your beard?” she asked impulsively.

He looked surprised by the question. “Jakeman,” he responded.

“Jakeman?”

“My manservant.”

“Oh. Well, he made a very nice job of it. It was a good deal bushier when you came to dine with us before. I can actually see your jawline today. You look a good deal younger.”

He frowned at her and grunted. Realizing her scrutiny at such close quarters was making him uneasy, Aimee turned her gaze to look back over his shoulder instead. Her new vantage point meant she could see her sister-in-law’s haughty expression of disdain as she picked along the route.

“I think your sister must be quite fatigued,” she commented anxiously. “It has been rather a long day, has it not? And the sun is rather fierce to go traipsing now through the streets.” He made no comment, and Aimee’s gaze wandered over to his cousin Freda who had an absent smile on her face as she hummed along with the musician playing at her elbow.

“Your cousin seems a most amiable woman.” He made a rumbling noise which she decided to take for assent. “It will be nice to have female relatives about the house in any event.” His expression turned decidedly skeptical at this. “Why do you look like that?” she asked. “I am used to the company of my sister, you recollect.”

“You and your sister do not seem much alike,” he commented after a heavy pause.

“In looks, do you mean? Or temperament?”

“Both,” he answered abruptly.

“Well, I look like my mother,” she explained. “But apparently, her nature and ways were more akin to Ursula’s.”

“Hmm.”

When he made no rejoinder, she felt a stab of disappointment which was blunted when she realized the men in front of them had come to a halt.

“Have we arrived?” Aimee asked, turning her head to face forward and take in the large gabled townhouse before them.

Her new husband pushed forward with her still in his arms until he had reached the front of the group. “Is this the house?” he asked the pole-bearer.

“It is, my lord,” he responded promptly.

Lord Kentigern grunted and reached for the key which was about his neck on a string. Unlocking the door, he threw it wide open and stepped through. Aimee wasn’t entirely sure if he was complying with tradition of crossing the threshold with her in his arms, or if this was just a happy circumstance. Either way, she rejoiced at her good fortune and gazed about at the well-appointed entryway.

“It has handsome proportions,” she commented.

Again, Lord Kentigern merely grunted and then threw open another door to peer inside. After glancing about at the empty reception rooms, he made for the staircase and set Aimee down on the bottom step.

Reaching into his tunic, he extracted a purse of coins and handed it to her. “Get rid of them,” he said succinctly. “Do not let any of them above stairs.” He then turned about and went striding back out of the door. Aimee stared after him a moment before rousing herself to untie the strings of the purse. Luckily, she had one her father had given her, for there were surely not enough pennies in this one alone. Not when there were at least eighty bodies crowding their front door!

“Thank you so much,” she enthused, seeing three men struggle into the hallway bearing the first of her wedding chests. “Could you please set that down in that room over yonder?” She pointed to the first of the doors. “I would be so grateful.”

She had just directed the second chest in the same direction when Lord Kentigern reappeared with his sister and cousin on either side of him. Without another word to Aimee, he swept past her, escorting his kinswomen up the staircase toward the private chambers on the first floor.

Aimee’s spirits faltered a moment, but she could not think she had done anything to cause him displeasure. Likely, he just wished to get his womenfolk away from the general tumult, she reasoned. Taking heart, she asked the ceremonial pole-bearer to unbolt the back door and to direct the thoroughfare out through that exit.

Then she stood smiling and nodding and dispensing with her pennies as their well-wishers trooped in through the front door of their new dwelling and then out of the back. Any bearers of furniture were directed to place the items in one of the two empty storerooms off the passageway whose true purpose she fancied were the pantry and buttery. Aimee saw with some trepidation that both rooms were soon full to bursting.

“Thank you,” she said loudly and repeatedly. “Lord Kentigern and I are so grateful for your well wishes. You are very kind,” she said firmly, stepping in front of one reveler who would have been happy to take his harp upstairs. “But I’m afraid the celebrations are now over for the day.”

If, during the first twenty or so times she repeated this, she thought her bridegroom would soon reappear, by the time she had dealt with forty or so, she had given up on that forlorn hope. No, he had left her here to dispense with the alms alone. She did her best to manage the stab of disappointment she felt at being thus abandoned on her wedding day.

She was being unreasonable, she told herself heartily. His sister and cousin must have traveled at least a week to reach Caer Lyoness. They had probably been wearied before the day had even commenced. It was only right that he should now see to their comfort as his first concern.

As for herself, she was no shrinking maiden who needed to be forever propped up by her spouse. She could see to this side of things very well alone. He paid her a compliment, she told herself staunchly, in recognizing that she, Aimee, was a capable wife who could deal with household matters without aid.

She was reaching the bottom of the second purse by the time the last of the attendants trooped through. She was just watching the disappearing back of one fellow in blue and wondering if she had not already paid him a penny once before, when the pole-bearer shut the back door after him and threw the bolt across. “That’s the last of them, my lady,” he said. “You must now bar your door after me or the first will be sprinting back around to the front for readmittance.”

Aimee accompanied him to the front door without voicing her suspicion this had already happened at least once. “Wait,” she called after him, as he stepped out the door. She emptied the last of her pennies into her palm before extending her hand to him. “Thank you kindly, good sir, for your services. You must allow me to give you some payment.”

He shook his head. “Your father hath already paid me,” he said. “I return there now to let him know you have safely arrived.” He nodded to her and turned with a stern frown to address the latecomers now approaching her door.

“Nay, you must not send these away, for it is my maid,” Aimee said, pushing the door open and greeting Golda who was weighed down with baggage and accompanied by a young lad of about ten years. “I am right glad to see you, Golda,” she hailed her servant as she shut the door behind her. “And who have we here?” she asked, turning to the young boy.

“This is Unwin,” Golda explained briefly. “He is the nephew of one of your father’s groomsmen and in need of a situation.”

“Which one?” Aimee asked with interest. Unwin shot a frightened look at Golda.

“Dickon,” Golda said naming the worst tempered of her father’s stable hands.

“Well, I am sure we can find you plenty to do here, Unwin,” Aimee said, her sympathies engaged at once. She could not imagine that Dickon was a fond uncle. Wordlessly, she passed the boy the three leftover pennies with a wink. Unwin’s eyes widened, but he clutched them in his palm without a murmur. “He seems a bright boy. I am sure he will do well here.”

“He’d better,” Golda said direly, and Unwin lowered his face, his shaggy brown hair falling across his eyes and hiding his expression. “Which way is the kitchen?”

“I think it’s through here,” Aimee said, feeling foolishly ignorant about her own residence. Together, they discovered the kitchen with its large fireplace and wide table. Golda set some sacks down on it at once and set Unwin to untie the strings.

“We’ve brought food and drink for supper. Your father’s engaged a cook and a servant for you, but they won’t come along until tomorrow.” Aimee nodded. “Where’s his lordship?” Golda added as an afterthought.

“He has gone to explore upstairs and assign rooms for his sister and cousin,” Aimee responded.

“Oh,” Golda looked askance. “He let you pick out which room you wanted first?” she asked. “After all, it is your house.”

“I’m sure there are plenty of rooms for all of us,” Aimee murmured, avoiding her servant’s shrewd eye.

Golda sniffed but directed Unwin to go out to the back in search of the well. “For all its so warm, we need to get the fire lit and get some water on for washing. I see we’ve one good sized pot at least,” she said glancing around the bare kitchen. “You’d better get along upstairs, miss,” Golda urged. “I mean, milady,” she corrected herself with emphasis. “I’ll send Unwin up with some refreshment for you presently.”

Aimee’s feet dragged as she crossed the kitchen to re-enter the passageway. Almost, she wanted to stay below stairs with Golda. It wasn’t like her to be so faint-hearted, she thought with surprise. Still, she could not help but reflect that her errant bridegroom had not once come in search of her. Banishing such melancholy thoughts, she peered curiously into the large dining chamber with its high ceiling and large fireplace. It was a fine, big room. In the center, a long-carved table sat ready and waiting for use, while the rest of the room remained bare.

Walking back along the passageway, she noticed the front door was now unbolted. Aimee reflected that at one point when she and Golda were talking, she had thought she had heard the front door open and close. On impulse, she tried the door and found it was locked. Did that mean her husband had gone out somewhere? As far as she knew, the two of them possessed the only keys. Her father had given her, her own without any attendant ceremony that morning.

Mounting the staircase with slow, thoughtful steps, Aimee reached the first floor and peered into a front-facing parlor which looked a pleasant room, for all it appeared rather bare, containing no wall-hangings or so much as a stick of furniture. There was a fine window seat looking out onto the street below which would do very well with some cushions on it.

Passing down the corridor, her steps slowed as her ears picked up the murmur of conversation.

“… Such pleasant, airy rooms,” a voice was prattling on. “So kind of dear Konrad to see us settled in.”

That was the cousin, Aimee thought recognizing her tones. She could not hear Magnatrude’s replies, but her new sister-in-law had a low, deep voice that likely did not carry so well as the more shrill-voiced Freda. Guessing that the next two doors down this corridor were their bedchambers, she passed swiftly on without disturbing them.

She had seen no beds carried through the front door, so she hoped her father had, had them at least delivered directly to the house. Trying the fourth door along the corridor, she was pleased to find an empty bedchamber that did indeed include a bed. It looked a little forlorn though, stood in the center of the room without any bedclothes.

Quietly closing that door, Aimee passed on to the final door and found it concealed a staircase which carried up to a third floor. After climbing this flight, Aimee was pleasantly surprised to find another floor of large sized chambers. She had thought it would be attic rooms for the servants.

Then again, she had been too busy gawking at her husband on their approach to take a good look at her new house. It must be four-storeys high, she realized. Her father had done them proud. Only the best for Gerold Ankatel’s daughter.

The first room she came across was a large bedchamber which looked down directly onto the street below. Aimee thought this would be a good candidate for Lord Kentigern’s chamber. The bed was large and set high on a platform. Above it, a wooden frame hung suspended from the ceiling ready for the curtains to be hung from it.

The next room was smaller and would perhaps do for storing his clothing, armor, and swords, she thought vaguely. Or did knights keep such things elsewhere, such as near the stable? Surely, they would be at risk of being stolen if they were left unsecured in an outhouse. Dismissing these ruminations, she drifted on and found two more good sized rooms.

One of these would do well for her own use, she thought as both contained beds and would be near to her husband’s. When Lady Wycliffe had given them a tour of Wycliffe Hall, she and Ursula had learned that husbands and wives of the nobility usually maintained their own bedchambers and did not share as commonfolk did. Still, she would like to be on the same floor as her husband at least. That way, if he should decide to come in search of her company, she would not be too hard to find.

Aimee idled a moment at the window, gazing down at the passersby in the street below. Watching them scurry by on their business, she reflected how funny it was that none of them had the first clue it was her wedding day today. A noise at the door had her wheeling around with a hopeful look on her face, but it was not Lord Kentigern. Instead, Golda stood at the doorway with her arms full of linen.

“This the room you picked out for yourself?” her servant asked, looking about critically. “Well, it’s nice enough, but it’s not the biggest of the bunch, is it?”

“No,” Aimee agreed. “But the largest on this floor should go to his lordship.”

Golda shrugged and turned back to look over her shoulder. “Don’t dawdle there, child. Fetch in those bedclothes.” Unwin sidled into the room, one spindly shank after the other, his skinny arms wrapped around a bundle of bed linens and red damask.

“Set them down on the bed,” Golda instructed him, but here Aimee interrupted.

“Not those ones,” she said hurriedly, crossing the room to where Unwin stood. “Those are intended for Lord Kentigern’s bedchamber.”

“What?” Golda squawked. “But those are the finest of the lot! Why would my lady squander those on one such as his lordship? He won’t appreciate such quality linens, I assure you!”

Aimee eyed her maidservant in exasperation. “I embroidered those ones with his crest especially, Golda,” she pointed out feeling a little self-conscious.

“I know that, milady,” Golda replied, plunking one hand on her ample hip. “But now you’m married, that’s your crest now too!”

How funny, she had not really considered that. “Well, yes,” she agreed. “But I can always embroider my own at some later point. These are my wedding gift to him.” Well, one of them anyway, she amended silently. She made no mention of the many other items she had picked out for him which were tucked away in one of the chests.

Golda pursed her lips but said no more as Aimee took the large pile of bedlinens from Unwin. “You can help me set up the master’s bed now, Unwin,” she said to the boy. “Follow me.” She noticed the boy looked first to Golda before falling in step behind her. Golda jerked her chin at the boy, and he scurried after Aimee at once.

“Shall you miss the stable work, Unwin?” she asked conversationally as they proceeded down the passageway. When he did not answer, she turned back to give him a smile. “You must not be so shy around me, for I am sure we will see a lot of each other. In a townhouse such as this one, there is not much room for stables or a garden,” she persisted. “I do not think there is even a central courtyard like the one in my father’s house. No doubt my husband will keep his destrier elsewhere, so it will be housework you will be expected to help out with.”

Unwin gulped and did the trick of letting his hair fall forward over his face again. Aimee swung open the bedchamber door and led the way inside. “I suppose you are not used to working in the house with women,” Aimee observed as she threw the first sheet over the mattress. “But you will soon grow accustomed to us. Catch that corner and pull it over.” The boy scrambled to help smooth out the creases and tuck the cloth under.

“Did my father’s grooms not expect an answer when they spoke to you, Unwin?” she asked gently as she fetched the next sheet. The boy’s lips quivered, and he seemed to grow short of breath. Aimee frowned, for he seemed almost afraid of her questioning. “Catch that side,” she said, flinging out the scarlet damask covering. He was obliging enough, in any case, she thought as she watched him catch the bedspread and bring it down over the mattress.

“We will need to stand on chairs to hang the canopy and curtains,” she commented, gazing up at the canopy frame. “Neither of us will ever reach it otherwise.” Unwin looked about the room, noting the lack of chairs. “There are plenty stacked in the storeroom downstairs off the passageway.”

The boy did not need telling twice. As he darted from the room, Aimee set about pulling the scarlet cloth straight, smoothing it flat and folding over the sheet to display the embroidered insignia of the Kentigerns. She had spent many hours toiling over the tiny stitches until they looked as perfect as she could ever achieve. She ran her fingertip lightly over the intricate gold stitches of the portcullis motif and smiled. She hoped such small attentions would persuade her new husband of her sincere attachment and hopes for their union.

Next, she laid the fine white pillow bearers at the head of the bed. These, too, were delicately embroidered. Indeed, so many times had she repeated the process that she fancied she could surely produce that gold portcullis perfectly now, even blindfolded.

When Unwin appeared with two chairs, they set about fixing the damask drapes about the hanging structure. Aimee felt herself break into a sweat as she craned, pushed, and pulled the fabric until it hung just as it ought. When she finally hopped down from her chair and surveyed the results, she felt deeply gratified.

“Does it not look quite splendid, Unwin?” she asked, clapping her hands together. “Why, it is already quite ten times as magnificent as the Wycliffe’s best bedchamber.” Unwin nodded obligingly as though he knew who the Wycliffes were. “And the rest of the furniture has not even been fetched up yet. Only imagine how it will look when it is fully furnished.”

She would even have one of the magnificent wedding chests set down in his bedchamber, she reflected happily as they made their way back to her room. After all, it would hardly be fair of her to hog them both for her sole enjoyment.

When they reached her bedchamber, they found Golda was putting the finishing touches to her bed with pretty coverings of green and gold. Golda looked up as they entered the room. “We can’t hang the curtains until you get a canopy set up,” she said with dissatisfaction, nodding to where the curtains lay folded on the floor. “I reckon as that room on the floor below was meant to be yours, not this ’un.”

“It is of no matter,” Aimee assured her. “We can send for a carpenter on the morrow. This will do very well for now, Golda.”

“The water really should be getting hot by now,” Golda observed. “You’ll need to wash up before taking your supper. Unwin,” she said addressing the boy. “You’ll need to light this fire too before it starts going off cold.” She nodded toward the fireplace, and the boy scuttled from the room.

A sudden thought occurring to her, Aimee turned impulsively toward Golda. “The boy can speak, can he not?”

Golda gave a short laugh. “Aye, miss, he speaks. It takes him a while to warm up to a body, that’s all.”

“He was not ill-treated in my father’s stables, surely?”

Golda shook her head. “Put that out of your head,” she said, gathering up the leftover curtains. “Nothing ails him, and he will be right enough, given time.”

Relieved on that score, Aimee turned toward the window where the sun was hanging low in the sky. “You will need to take some bed clothes along to Miss Magnatrude and Freda also,” she said conscientiously. “They will need their beds made up before long and water also to wash.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about them.” Golda pulled a face. “His lordship brought their servants along not half an hour ago. They’ve been seeing to their comfort alright. They’ve had the first lot of the hot water already.”

“Did he?” Aimee asked in astonishment. “Oh, I had no notion.” She remembered the unbolted door and realized that must have been his errand. “Should I go and check they are settled in, I wonder?”

Golda pursed her lips. “You’re the bride, Miss Aimee, and this is your wedding day. All you need worry about is taking your comfort now.” She walked to the door. “I’ll send Unwin up with a glass of wine for you and some hot water presently.”

“Thank you,” Aimee responded, but her capable servant had already closed the door after her.

Aimee sighed and, climbing the steps to the platformed bed, sat on the feather mattress, reaching up to the remove the jeweled pins that secured her veil to her head. She made a small pile of them on top of the bed coverings and then carefully folded the intricately decorated veil and set it down next to them.

Next, she removed the simple gold chain from about her throat and placed it on top of the veil along with the engraved silver ring that had been her mother’s. Now she was a baroness she could wear more extravagant jewelry, she reflected, and remembered the gifts she had bought for her new kinswomen. Her spirits brightened. She would set about winning their good opinion on the morrow.

A knock on the door had her starting up from the bed, but it was merely Unwin, carrying a small table into the room. Golda followed on his heels with a basin of water. She set it down on the table and removed a cloth from her shoulder to put next to it. “Come and wash, milady,” she said. “Unwin will light your fire as I fetch your supper.”

As Aimee vigorously washed her face and neck, Unwin set about laying the fire in her hearth. She was just drying her neck when Golda re-entered with wine and a tray of foods.

“Shall I take down your hair, Miss Aimee?” Golda asked. “I mean, milady,” she corrected herself painstakingly.

Aimee touched the elaborate arrangement of her hair. She felt oddly reluctant to lose the last vestiges of her bridal appearance. “Not just yet, Golda,” she prevaricated. “It is not so very late after all.”

Golda lifted an eyebrow at her but held her tongue. “It’s a shame we can’t manage your trunk up them stairs,” she said after a moment’s silence. “But it’s more’n the boy and I can manage between us.”

“You are not to even try,” Aimee responded at once. “I can manage well enough without it this eve.”

“Is there anything I can fetch from it that you might want?” Golda asked. “A comb? A clean shift?”

Aimee thought of how lovingly she had packed her bridal trunks and felt a pang at the thought of Golda rifling through it for her essentials. “No, thank you, Golda. I can unpack my trunks soon enough. Please do not fret on my account.”

The maid pressed her lips together and said no more. She and Unwin moved the table to position it nearer to the fire. As Golda set out the food, Unwin carried Aimee’s goblet of wine to her, and she took it from him with a smile. “Thank you, Unwin.” He bobbed his head and retreated.

“Will there be anything else, milady?” Golda asked, crossing to the window and glancing briefly out before she emptied the basin of water out of the window.

“No, that will be all, thank you both.”

When they had departed, Aimee moved to the window and drank her wine as she watched the sun go down on her wedding day. She wondered what Ursula was doing right now. Was she taking supper with her husband? Aimee glanced over her shoulder at the table which had been set with enough for two. And where oh where was her own errant bridegroom?