Three French Hens

by Lynsay Sands

  "Marvelous!" Grabbing her hand, Joan dropped the coins into her open palm, then folded her fingers closed over them and squeezed firmly. "Now, the first thing we must do is--"

  The three of them froze, gazes shooting guiltily to the door, as a knock sounded. At Joan's muttered "Enter," the door opened and Lady Christina peered in.

  "Mother sent me to see that all is well with your maid."

  "Aye. She will do fine," Joan said quickly, a panicked look about her face. Brinna realized at once that the girl feared that seeing them together, Lady Christina might notice the similarity in their looks and somehow put paid to her plans. There was no way to reassure her that the other girl wasn't likely to notice such things. It was well known at Menton that Lady Christina paid little attention to the world around her unless it had something to do with her beloved books. Which was the reason Brinna was so startled when the girl suddenly tilted her head to the side, her deep blue eyes actually focusing for a moment as she gave a light laugh and murmured, "Look at the three of you. All huddled together with your heads cocked up. You look like three French hens at the arrival of the butcher. Except, of course, only two of you are from Normandy and therefore French. Still ..."

  Brinna felt Joan stiffen beside her as an odd expression crossed over Christina's face. But then it faded and her gaze slid around the room. "They have not brought your bath up yet? I shall see about that for you." Turning, she slid out of the room as quickly as she had entered, leaving the women sighing after her.

  "Why ye've made me as beautiful as yerself," Brinna breathed in wonder as she was finally allowed to peer in the looking glass at herself.

  It was dawn of the morning after Brinna had stepped through the door of Lady Joan's room as her temporary maid. The hours since then had been incredibly busy ones. While Sabrina had carried Joan's message that she was too tired to dine with the others to the dinner table, Brinna had reported to the kitchens, informing Cook that the lady required her to sleep on the floor in front of her door in her room as her own maid usually did: She had then grabbed a quick bite to eat from the kitchen and spared a moment to assure herself that all was well with Aggie before preparing a trencher and delivering it to the lady, only to find her in the bath Lady Christina had had sent up. After tending her in the bath, then helping her out, Brinna had found herself ordered into the now-chill water.

  Ignoring her meal, Joan had seen to it that Brinna scrubbed herself from head to toe, then again, and yet again, until Brinna was sure that half of her skin had been taken off with the dirt. She had even insisted on scrubbing Brinna's long tresses and rinsing them three times before allowing her to get out of the water. Once out, however, she had not been allowed to redon her "filthy peasant's clothes," but had been given one of Joan's old shifts instead. They had dried their hair before the fire, brushing each other's tresses by turn.

  The situation had become extremely odd for Brinna at that point as the boundary between lady and servant became blurred by Joan's asking her about her childhood and life in service, then volunteering information about her own life. To Brinna, the other girl's life had sounded poor indeed. For while she had had everything wealth and privilege could buy, it did seem that Joan had been terribly lonely. Her mother had died while she was still a child and her father seemed always away on court business. This had left the girl in the care and company of the servants. Brinna may not have had the lovely clothes and jewels the other girl had, but she'd had Aggie, had always known she was loved, had always had the woman to run to with scraped knees or for a hug. From Joan's descriptions of her childhood, she'd never had that. It seemed sad to Brinna. She actually felt sorry for the girl.... Until their hair was dry and the actual "lessons" began. Brinna quickly lost all sympathy for the little tyrant as the girl barked out orders, slapped her, smacked her, and prodded and poked her in an effort to get her to walk, talk, and hold her head "properly." It was obvious that she was determined that this should work. It was also equally obvious to Brinna that it would not. Lady Sabrina had not helped with her snide comments and dark predictions once she had returned to the room. By the time dawn had rolled around, Brinna was positive that this was the most foolish thing she had ever agreed to....

  Until she saw herself in that looking glass. She had thought, on first looking into the glass that Lady Joan held between them, that 'twas just an empty gilt frame and that 'twas Lady Joan herself she peered at. But then she realized that the eyes looking back at her were a soft blue gray, not the sharp green of the other girl's. Other than that, she did look almost exactly like Lady Joan. It was enough to boost her confidence.

  "You see?" Joan laughed, lowering the mirror and moving away to set it on her chest before turning back to survey Brinna in the dark blue gown she had made her don. "Aye. You will do," she decided with satisfaction. "Now, one more time. When you meet Lord Thurleah you ...?" She raised a brow questioningly and Brinna, still a little dazed by what she had seen in that glass, bobbed quickly and murmured, "Greetings, m'lord. I--"

  "Nay, nay, nay." Joan snapped impatiently. "Why can you not remember? When you first greet him you must curtsy low, lower your eyes to the floor, then sweep them back up and say--"

  "Greetings, my lord. I am honored to finally meet you," Brinna interrupted impatiently. "Aye. I remember now. I only forgot it for a moment because--"

  "It doesn't matter why you forgot. You must remember, else you will shame me with your ignorance."

  Brinna sighed, feeling all of the confidence that the glimpse of herself in the looking glass had briefly given her seep away like water out of a leaky pail. "Mayhap we'd best be fergettin' all about this tomfoolery."

  "Mayhap we had best forget all about this foolishness," Joan corrected her automatically, then frowned. "You must remember to try to speak with--"

  "Enough," Brinna interrupted impatiently. "Ye know ye can't be makin' a lady of me. 'Tis hopeless."

  "Nay," Joan assured her quickly "You were doing wonderfully well. You are a quick study. 'Tis just that you are tired now."

  "We are all tired now," Sabrina muttered wearily from where she sat slumped on the bed. "Why do you not give it up while you can?"

  "She is right," Brinna admitted with a sigh. " 'Tisn't workin'. We should give it all up for the foolishness it is and--" A knock at the door made her pause. She moved automatically to open it, then stood blinking in amazement at the man before her.

  He was a glorious vision. His hair was a nimbus of gold in the torchlight that lit the halls in the early morning gloom. His tall, strong body was encased in a fine amber-colored outfit. His skin glowed with the health and vitality of a man used to the outdoors, and his eyes shone down on her as true a blue as the northern English sky on a cloudless summer day. He was the most beautiful human Brinna had ever laid eyes on.

  "Lady Joan? I am Lord Royce of Thurleah."

  "Gor," Brinna breathed, her eyes wide. This was the backwoods oaf? The country bumpkin whose clumsy attentions they wanted her to suffer? She could die smiling while suffering such attentions. When his eyebrows flew up in surprise, and a pinch of her behind came from Joan, who was hiding out of sight behind the door, she realized what had slipped from her lips, and alarm entered her face briefly before she remembered to curtsy, performing the move flawlessly and glancing briefly at the floor before sweeping her eyes up to his face and smiling.

  "My lord," she breathed, her smile widening as he took her hand to help her up, but that smile slipped when she saw his expression.

  He was frowning, not looking the least pleased, and Brinna bit her lips uncertainly, wracking her brain for the reason behind it. Had she muffed the curtsy? Said the words wrong? What, she wondered with dismay, until he shifted impatiently.

  "I arrived but a moment ago," he said.

  Brinna's eyes dilated somewhat as she tried to think of what she should say to that.

  "I hope your journey was pleasant." She glanced around at those hissed words, her wide eyes blank as they took in J
oan's impatient face peeking at her from behind the door. "Say it. I hope your journey--"

  "Who are you talking to?"

  Brinna turned back to him abruptly, stepping forward to block his entrance as he would have tried to peek around the door. The move stopped his advance, but also put them extremely close to each other, and Brinna felt a quiver go through her as she caught the musky outdoors scent of him. "Just a servant," she lied huskily, ignoring the indignant gasp from behind the door.

  "Oh." Royce stared at the girl, his mind gone blank as he took in her features. She was not what he had expected. His cousin, Phillip of Radfurn, had spent several months in France in late fall, had traveled through Normandy on his way home, and had stopped a while at Laythem on his travels. He had then hied his way to Thurleah to regale Royce with his impressions of his betrothed. He had spoken a lot about her unpleasant nature, her snobbery, the airs she put on, the fact that she ran her father's home as similarly to court as she could manage....

  He had never once mentioned the impish, turned-up nose she had, the sweet bow-shaped lips, the large dewy eyes, or that her hair was like spun sunshine. Damn. He could have prepared a body and mentioned such things. Realizing that he had stood there for several moments merely gaping at the girl, Royce cleared his throat. "I came to escort you to Mass."

  "Oh." She cast one uncertain glance back into the room, then seemed to make a decision and stepped into the hall. Pulling the door closed behind her, she rested her hand on the muscled arm he extended and smiled a bit uncertainly as he led her down the hallway.

  "Well?"

  Sabrina turned away from the door she had cracked open to spy on the departing couple and glanced questioningly at Joan. "Well, what?"

  "You are going with her, are you not? She will need help to carry this off."

  Sabrina's eyes widened in surprise. "But I am your companion. I am not to leave you alone."

  "Aye. And she is me just now. It will look odd if you leave her alone with him."

  Sabrina opened her mouth to argue the point, then closed it with a sigh as she realized Joan was right. Sighing again, she hurried out the door after Royce and Brinna.

  Chapter 2

  "The things I do for Joan."

  Brinna sighed inwardly as Sabrina continued her tirade. The woman seemed to have a lot to say on the subject. Brinna just wished she wasn't the one to have to listen to it. Unfortunately, she was rather a captive audience, unable to escape the other girl. Sabrina attached herself to Brinna every time she left Lady Joan's room, and did not unattach herself until they returned.

  It was the day after Christmas, the day after Lord Thurleah had arrived at Menton and come to Lady Joan's room to escort her to Holy Mass. And that was the last moment of peace Brinna had had. Mass had been longer than usual, it being Christmas Day, and Brinna had spent the entire time allowing the priest's words to flow over her as she had stared rather bemusedly at Lord Thurleah from beneath her lashes. He truly was a beautiful man, and Brinna could have continued to stare at him all day long, but of course, Mass had eventually come to an end and Lord Thurleah had turned to smile at her and ask if she would not like to take a walk to stretch their legs after the long ceremony.

  Brinna had smiled back and opened her mouth to speak, only to snap it closed again as Sabrina had suddenly appeared beside her, declining the offer. Using the risk of getting a chill as an excuse, she had then grabbed Brinna's arm and dragged her from the chapel and back to the great hall, hissing at her to remember to keep her head down to hide her gray eyes, and to try to slouch a bit to hide the difference in height.

  Brinna had spent the rest of that first day as Lady Joan, staring at her feet and keeping her shoulders hunched as Sabrina had led her in a game of what appeared to be musical chairs. She would insist they sit one place, spend several moments hissing about "the things I do for Joan," then suddenly leap up and drag her off to another spot should anyone dare to come near them or approach to speak to her. Eventually, of course, there had been nowhere left to hide in plain view, and Sabrina had stopped moving about, switching her tactics to simply blocking any communication with Brinna/Joan by answering every single question addressed to Brinna as if she were a deaf mute. Most of those questions she answered had been addressed by Lord Thurleah, who had followed them around the great hall determinedly, then had seated himself beside Sabrina at dinner. He had tried to sit beside Brinna--who he thought was his betrothed Joan--but Sabrina had promptly stood and made Brinna switch seats on some lame pretext or other that Brinna hadn't even really caught. She had been too distracted by the frustration and anger that had flashed briefly on Lord Thurleah's face at Sabrina's antics to notice. It had been a great relief to her when the meal had been over and Sabrina had suggested, meaningfully and quite loudly, that she looked tired and might wish to retire early for the night.

  Leaving Sabrina behind to beam obliviously at an obviously irate Lord Thurleah, Brinna had returned to Joan's room to find it empty of the lady who was supposed to occupy it. After a moment of uncertainty, Brinna had shrugged inwardly and set to work putting the room to rights, finding that she actually enjoyed the task. Working in the kitchen, and usually sleeping there as well on a bed of straw with the other kitchen help, made solitude a rare and valued commodity to Brinna. She had reveled in the silence and peace as she had puttered about the room, putting things away, then removing Lady Joan's fine gown and lying down to sleep on the pallet by the door in her shift. She had dozed off, only to awaken hours later when the door had cracked open to allow Joan to slip inside.

  Brinna's eyes had widened in amazement as the dying embers from the fireplace had revealed her own worn clothes on the girl and that the strip of cloth she usually wore on her head was now hiding Joan's golden curls. But she had not said anything to let Joan know that she had seen her return dressed so when Joan had removed the tired old rags. It wasn't her place to question the lady as to her goings on. Besides, the stealthy way she had crept about and crawled into bed warned Brinna that her questions wouldn't be welcome. Pretending she hadn't seen her, Brinna had merely closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

  Joan had still been sleeping when Lord Thurleah had arrived at the room that morning, but Brinna had been up and dressed and ready to continue the charade. Once again he had escorted her to Mass, and once again as they had prepared to leave the chapel, Sabrina had whisked her away into her game of musical chairs. Until the nooning meal, when Lady Menton had announced a need for more mistletoe. Christina had quickly arranged a party of the younger set to go out in search of the "kissing boughs." Most of the guests, Lord Royce included, were on horseback, but a wagon had been brought along to put the mistletoe in and Sabrina had managed to make some excuse to Lady Christina as to why she and "Joan" would rather ride in the wagon. So here Brinna sat, trapped in the back of a wagon with Sabrina, stuck listening to her rant about her cousin.

  Who would have thought that being a lady could be so boring, she thought idly, her gaze slipping over the rest of the group traveling ahead of the wagon. Well, at least she was just bored and not miserable like that poor Lady Gibert, she thought wryly as her gaze settled on the other woman.

  Eleanor was the girl's name. She had tried to introduce herself to Brinna/Joan the day before, and Sabrina had blocked her as she had everyone else. It was one of the few times that Brinna had been really angry at Joan's cousin and not just irritated. Eleanor was obviously terribly unhappy and in need of a friend, and Brinna felt Sabrina could have been a bit kinder about it.

  Her gaze slid to the man who rode beside Lady Eleanor, and Brinna grimaced. James Glencairn. He was the girl's betrothed and also the one to blame for Eleanor's misery. The man had come to Menton as a boy, and had had a chip on his shoulders as wide as Menton's moat since arriving. Not surprising perhaps since, despite being treated well, he had been and still was a virtual hostage, kept and trained at Menton to ensure his father's good behavior in Scotland. Sadly, it appeared he was makin
g the unfortunate Lady Eleanor just as miserable.

  "You are not even listening to me," Sabrina hissed suddenly, elbowing Brinna in an effort to get her attention.

  Taken by surprise by that blow to her stomach, Brinna swung back in her seat on the edge of the wagon, lost her balance, and tumbled backward out of the cart to Sabrina's distressed squeak. She landed on her back in the hard-packed snow of the lane and was left gasping for the breath that had been knocked out of her as Sabrina's assurances caroled in her ears. "Nay, nay, all is fine. Lady Joan and I have merely decided to walk. You keep on going."

  "But--" the anxious driver's voice sounded before Sabrina cut him off.

  "Go on now. Off with you."

  Sighing as she was finally able to suck some small amount of air into her lungs, Brinna lifted her head slightly to see that the riders on horseback had not noticed her mishap and only the wagon driver was peering anxiously over his shoulder at her as he reluctantly urged his horses back into a walk. Sabrina was trudging back toward her through the snow, glaring daggers.

  "What on earth are you trying to do? Kill me with embarrassment? Ruin Joan?"

  "Me?" Brinna squealed in amazement.

  "Aye, you. Ladies do not muck about in the snow, you know."

  "I--"

  "I do not want to hear your excuses," Sabrina interrupted sharply, perching her hands on her hips to mutter with disgust, "Peasants! Honestly! Get up off your--"

  "Is everything all right, ladies?"

  Sabrina's mouth snapped closed on whatever she had been about to say, her eyes widening in horror as Lord Thurleah's voice sounded behind her. They had both been too distracted to realize that he and his man had taken note of their predicament and ridden back to assist. Forcing a wide, obviously strained smile to her lips, Sabrina whirled to face both men as they dismounted. "Oh, my, yes. Everything is fine. Why ever would you think otherwise?"