Page 13

A s anticipated, Gunnilde slept excellently and woke to find herself alone in the marital bed.

She sat up and gazing about, promptly realizing she had none of her own things to make ready for the day.

The bedchamber was cold, for no fire burned in the grate, yet the idea of redonning the finery of the previous day held little appeal.

Instead, she slid off the bed and grabbed the embroidered coverlet, wrapping it about her to conceal her scanty shift.

With some ingenious folding she managed to fashion a sort of robe and after casting about for something to secure it with, borrowed a decorative gold braid from one of the wall hangings, tying it about her waist.

Clothing dealt with, she made for the ewer and jug in the corner. She found the bowl empty, but the jug was half-full with lukewarm water. Sloshing this into the basin, she took a hurried wash and patted herself dry with the damp cloth she presumed her husband must have used before her.

To her surprise, James apparently did not possess a looking glass, unless he had a dedicated dressing room in the vicinity.

Considering the cramped nature of courtiers’ quarters, she rather doubted this.

Borrowing his comb, she detangled her hair and pinned up the sides with her hairpins from the previous evening.

Her appearance dealt with, she squared her shoulders and made for the door. As soon as she lifted the latch and pushed it open, the low-voiced conversation in the adjoining room abruptly halted.

“Good morning,” Gunnilde said, spotting her husband and brother-in-law sat at a table next to the window. After a moment’s pause, both stood from their seats and gave their muttered greetings. She fancied James stared rather hard at her choice of clothing.

“May I join you to break my fast?” Gunnilde asked brightly when no invitation was forthcoming. James flushed and moved to pull out a chair for her next to his own, indicating she should be seated.

Finding the table bare apart from a jug of ale and a few scattered sheets of paper, she looked around in surprise. “Have you already eaten this morn?” she asked.

“Er, no,” James answered distractedly, drawing the sheets of paper into a loose pile. “I don’t usually, and as for Neville...” He glanced pointedly at his brother as he poured a tankard of ale for her and slid it across the table.

“If I’m hungry, I usually nip over to the Ashdowns’,” Neville piped up.

“They’re just across the corridor and we share a servant with them.

” He leaned forward. “The truth is,” he said confidingly, “Bennett doesn’t like running up and down to the kitchen more than strictly necessary.

He’s a disobliging fellow at the best of times. ”

“I see,” Gunnilde replied, accepting her ale and taking a sip.

Doubtless the disagreeable servant that had to be shared was all part of their straitened circumstances.

Once again, she could not help but contrast this with the fare she would have received at Payne Manor after a wedding the night before. Father kept a good table.

Still, that was the country, and she knew it was unfashionable to break your fast early here in town, so mayhap that was part of it.

Only two meals were served in the Great Hall, a midday meal and evening supper.

Though several of the palace kitchens were staffed during morning hours, courtiers were expected to make their own arrangements to have any food collected and brought to their quarters.

“Did the Portstanleys lay on a full table at break of day?” Neville asked curiously. He sounded a little envious.

“A full table? No,” Gunnilde replied. “Merely some fresh bread and cheese, mayhap a little cured meat if we were lucky.”

James stood up. “I’ll go and see if I can find Bennett,” he said shortly. Neville looked across at her as though expecting her to refuse this offer. When Gunnilde simply thanked her new husband, his brother seemed rather surprised.

Really, though, Gunnilde could not at all see why. For all her new brother-in-law knew, Sir James might have kept her up all night with husbandly demands. She might be in dire need of sustenance! The door closed behind him and Neville Wycliffe settled back in his seat.

“So,” she began, “you are my new brother-in-law. We were introduced yesterday at the wedding.”

“We were,” he agreed cautiously. “Though I am flattered you remember amid all the excitement.”

Ignoring his wry tone, she asked, “You are my husband’s younger brother?”

“I am,” he repeated. “By some three years. I am but two and twenty.” So, he was the same age as her. He looked younger to Gunnilde’s eye but then he did not have his brother’s height, so his slim frame seemed a good deal more boyish. Her own brother, at sixteen, had a far more strapping build.

“You have been knighted?” she enquired politely, though in truth this was a given fact.

“I have.” He winced. “Though it was quite the ordeal and delayed twice due to my delicate constitution. Mercifully my mentor, Sir Raymond, was an understanding sort and not terribly warlike himself.”

“My brother is currently undertaking the training.”

“He has my sympathies.”

Gunnilde smiled. “Hal is a healthy, outdoor type. He loves horses and dogs and exercise, though not always the early mornings.”

“Ah, he is rather like you perhaps? Someone who embraces the chances life affords.”

Gunnilde’s surprised eyes flew to meet his. What exactly did he mean by that? Before she could ask, the door opened again, and James was back.

“Bennett is fetching some repast,” he said, sitting back down beside her. He turned to look at her and cleared his throat. “I have told him you are accustomed to eating at this hour,” he said. “Let me know if it slips his mind.”

Neville pulled a face. “And it will slip his mind,” he warned.

“Our laundry is ever a source of contention. He lights our meagre fires twice a day and that is practically all he does.” Gunnilde’s eyebrows rose.

It all sounded most dissatisfactory, but before she could comment as much, Neville rubbed his hands together.

“Now tell me, for my friends will be positively agog to hear the news. How is it that the two of you intend to spend your first day as newlyweds? I must have some small fillip of gossip to toss their way.”

James frowned. “Why, I mean to spend it as I usually do,” he answered. “How else? I have a long-standing engagement on the second Wednesday of every month.” He cast a look at the window and Gunnilde guessed this meeting was outside of the palace.

“Fie and tush! This is no ordinary second Wednesday of the month!” Neville objected. “Surely you do not mean to abandon my sister-in-law on her first day as a wedded wife? Such behavior would set tongues wagging, make no mistake.”

James glanced at her uneasily. “I am sure... Gunnilde,” he pronounced her name after the faintest of hesitations, “has plans of her own and is accustomed to her own routine.”

“Well, not really,” she replied apologetically. “For you see, today marks the start of a new era in my life.” Both brothers stared at her. “I am now a lady-in-waiting,” she reminded them, for ’twas plain they thought she attached too much importance to the role of wifehood.

“Ah, of course,” Neville replied, recovering first. “Though I am surprised the Queen expects your attendance on her today. Not very considerate of your wedded status, is she? Still, everyone knows the Queen is no lover of the institution of marriage.”

“Neville,” James said heavily. “Kindly guard that wayward tongue of yours.”

“Why should I?” his brother responded. “Not going to repeat any irreverent thing I say at large, are you...ah?” He paused uncertainly.

“Gunnilde,” she supplied with a ready smile. “And no, of course not, Sir Neville.”

“Just Neville will be fine,” he responded with the hint of an answering smile.

James opened his mouth but the door swinging open prevented him from speaking his thoughts.

“Got your victuals,” announced a thin, reedy voice, and a servant stepped over the threshold with a tray, which he set down with a thud. “I trust it is to your liking, sir.” Bennett’s tone was injured, as though he had been forced to perform some act against his will.

“I told you, it is for the lady,” James responded tetchily. He turned to Gunnilde. “Will this suffice?”

She looked down at the tray which held only two plates. One was piled high with buttered bread while the other held three wedges of cheese. Most likely all the cold meats had been grabbed first thing. “Amply, thank you,” she responded.

Bennett sniffed and retreated, with a reproachful look back over his shoulder. Gunnilde drew the plates toward herself. “Won’t you have some?” she asked politely.

“No, it’s for you,” James replied shortly, but she thought Neville looked a bit disappointed.

“There is plenty for the three of us,” she assured them. “Here.” She removed two thirds of the bread from the first plate and plunked it on her own, then transferred one of the cheese wedges from the second plate and slid it over to Neville. “Take this. James can share my plate.”

“Well, if you are certain...” Neville said, brightening. “This is a rare treat, though it’s a shame it is not toasted.”

Gunnilde glanced over at the fireplace. The feeble thing looked on the point of extinguishing. “We should get a toasting fork,” she recommended. “Then we could toast our own.” She nudged the plate closer to James, but he ignored the gesture, leaning his elbow on the table.

“Did the Queen request your attendance today?” he asked.

“Not outright,” she admitted. “But I am keen to commence my duties and learn what is expected of me.”

Neville laughed. “The Bartree has all the choicest tasks and will not willingly relinquish any of them to you, my girl. As for the rest of them, they sit on the fringes, waiting for the chance to shine.”