by MJ Haag
Invitations typically went to those of wealth. Those equal to Lord Ruhall’s standing. For two heartbeats, happiness filled me. It was impossible to do, just as my father had suggested. The beast would return.
Guilt killed my brief joy. No matter how much I missed the beast, I could not condemn Alec to a fate he did not deserve. He had paid for his past sins and truly seemed to have learned from them. He didn’t chase after women, drink, or gamble; and he was working hard to amend the poor affairs of his estate. He had suffered enough. Rose’s game needed to end. And my father deserved steady employment without the threat of enchantment.
I tapped the letter against my palm with resolve and started to consider options. The three hundred gold currently noted in the ledgers needed to remain there for the estate to endure over winter and prosper once more in spring. Could a feast be hosted without spending estate gold?
“We need more information to know exactly what this feast entails. I’ll find Mr. Crow; you keep searching for Lord Ruhall.”
With purpose, I strode from the room.
* * * *
Mr. Crow proved as hard to find as Lord Ruhall. His usual post by the door was vacant as were the library and study. I left Father in the study to wait for Lord Ruhall while I continued my search. Near the kitchen, I heard voices.
“If the food preparation is complete, then use your time to polish the silver. Idle hands will not be tolerated here.”
“Yes, sir,” Mrs. Wimbly said with a bob of her head as I entered. Her gaze met mine, and I suspected we had the same thought. My hands, when idle, seemed tolerated well enough.
Looking away, I spotted a kettle on the block and realized I’d missed breakfast and the midday meal. My stomach rumbled hungrily but I knew I would not be welcomed to eat just then. After Mrs. Wimbly turned away to find an appropriate task for herself, I moved toward Mr. Crow.
“May I speak with you?”
“Certainly, Miss Hovtel,” he said formally.
He walked me to the cook’s personal room. The cookbooks that the beast and I had combed through were missing, the floor was scrubbed, and the window was open to let in the fresh air. Mr. Crow sat behind the desk.
“Is this your study now?”
“Yes. I made the mistake of ignoring the day-to-day activities of the staff in the past and will not repeat it.”
I wondered how an office in the kitchen helped that, but didn’t ask.
“Can you tell me about the harvest feast that used to be held here?”
“Large affairs that stopped long before Lady Ruhall left for the South, just after the current Lord Ruhall invited several...unsavory guests.”
That explained Rose’s note about appropriate guests.
“How many guests usually attended? Were certain families typically invited?”
“The harvest feast wasn’t as formal as the winter feast. The doors opened to whichever locals Lady Ruhall saw fit to invite. Music and dancing filled the ballroom, and the tables groaned with food in the dining room.” He sighed and looked out the window for a moment. “So many looked forward to the harvest feast. It was a time when the Lord and Lady did not stand above the rest. They joined them, listened to their problems, made merry with them. From Konrall to the Water, everyone looked forward to seeing an invitation delivered to their door.”
I withheld my cringe. Though inviting locals meant a less grand affair, it also possibly meant a larger number of guests.
“An estimate, Mr. Crow. How many guests do you recall hosting?”
“As many as would fill the ballroom.”
I sat in the chair across from his desk and set the letter before him. Sharing the information was necessary as it affected them all.
“Mr. Crow, Rose is placing a condition on the estate’s continued freedom. The tradition of the harvest feast must renew. When does the feast typically take place?”
Mr. Crow paled.
“After the harvests are complete. Another three or four weeks, perhaps.”
Four weeks. Three hundred coin. I bit my lip, thinking.
“How many servants did you have then? Twenty, wasn’t it?” I said, answering myself.
“Yes. That included the cooks, livery men, housemaids, and myself.”
The hopelessness in his tone caught my attention.
“Mr. Crow, do not give up before we start. We need an accounting of the stores. Every last thing from milk to wine, from wilted carrots to salted pork,” I said, standing.
“Where will you be, Miss?”
“The ballroom.”
I left the room and called for Egrit.
“I sent her to milk the goats,” Mrs. Wimbly said, sounding impatient.
“Please send Swiftly or Tam to milk the goats and have Egrit meet me in the ballroom,” I said as I walked toward the hall. I stopped, suddenly. “Oh, did Lord Ruhall say anything about the excess milk?”
She raised her nose a notch in the air.
“I have not yet approached him. Who are you to say—”
“Mrs. Wimbly,” Mr. Crow said, walking from his study. “Afford Miss Hovtel the same respect you would afford Lord Ruhall or you will find yourself without employment.”
His words surprised me. I wasn’t the only one. Mrs. Wimbly looked shocked, and it took a moment for her to give the barest of nods.
Mr. Crow turned his attention to the assistant cook.
“Kara, show me the cellars. We need an accounting.”
I was glad he wasn’t giving up.
“Mr. Crow, have all the milk from the cellar loaded into a wagon. Let me know when it’s done.”
“Yes, Miss,” he said.
Mrs. Wimbly still hadn’t moved from the cutting board.
“Get Egrit, please,” I said.
She nodded stiffly and left the room.
I strode through the halls, my heels striking the floor with determination. Rose would not win.
At the ballroom, I pushed open the doors. It wasn’t as I remembered it, and I wondered if Rose’s magic had enhanced it. Now, dust drifted in the thin streams of midday light that filtered in from the curtained windows. The large room echoed with my footfalls as I crossed to the windows and pulled back the drapes, one by one. Two sitting rooms opened from the ballroom, and balcony doors led to a tangle of vines. A dust rag wouldn’t be enough to set the rooms aright. It would take a shovel, several scrub brushes, and an army of help to fix fifty years of neglect.
“Benella?” Egrit said from the doors.
I pulled the balcony doors closed and turned to face her.
“Egrit, Rose expects the estate to host a harvest feast within four weeks.” I held out the letter to her.
Her shocked, pale expression matched Mr. Crow’s as she glanced down at the brief note. I looked around, and the same hopelessness crept up my spine.
“It will take us a week just to get this cleaned and polished.”
“The men are making good progress on the barn. Perhaps we could have two help in here,” Egrit said.
I shook my head and rid myself of any thoughts of futility.
“I have another idea. Where did the servants stay? The room off the kitchen has only four beds.”
“There’s room for three pallets on the floor. There are also rooms in the attic. That’s where I stay.”
“Will you show me?”
She nodded and led the way to the third floor. Once there, she pushed against a panel that matched the wall, and a door swung open.
“How do I keep missing these staircases?” I asked.
Egrit laughed. “They’re meant to be missed.”
She led me up a narrow staircase to an equally narrow hall lined with little rooms fitted with two beds each. At the end of the hall was a locked door.
“The attic?”
She nodded. The rooms were small and dusty but otherwise serviceable. Each had a small round window for airing. I reached for a window and opened it.
“Egrit, it’s time for us to v
isit the Water.”
* * * *
The wagon rumbled past the market district. No one paid us attention until we turned onto the narrow path lined with the rundown homes of those who worked in trade. Children stood aside and watched us with wide eyes as we stopped before the house where I’d found a garden and someone willing to trade.
“Egrit, start knocking on the doors. A pail of milk for each house that wants it. Find out which homes have children between the ages of eight and twelve. Swiftly, stay by the wagon and keep an eye on Egrit.” Both nodded and started working together to pour the milk. Children slowly drifted toward them.
I turned away and looked at the house I remembered. The soil in the side garden had been turned already. Nothing remained.
I knocked on the door, and it opened immediately. The woman looked a little thinner as did her children, and her eyes trailed to my hands. Her hopeful look faded when she saw them empty.
“Can I help you?” she asked, meeting my gaze.
“I think you can. May I come in?”
She nodded and held the door open. The children stood just behind her. Their neat clothes were well mended. Two rolled pallets sat near a cold hearth that was stacked with a few sticks of kindling.
“My name is Benella Hovtel. I’m here on behalf of Lord Ruhall.”
Her eyes widened at the name.
“I’m Mrs. Palant.”
“Pardon my question, but where is your husband?”
“We lost him last winter. He was a woodcutter.” She didn’t say more.
“How old are you two?” I asked, looking at the little boy and girl.
“Six and eight, Miss,” the little boy said. He was the older of the two and held his sister’s hand.
I looked at his mother. “The Liege Lord would offer your children an education in exchange for your work.” She gave me a wary look. Many children were forced into work at an early age. Only those families with funds could see their children schooled.
“This is no trick. The children would attend private teachings at the estate six days a week from just after breakfast until just before dinner. All meals for you and your children will be provided by the estate. The children can do whatever tasks you give them to help you in your duties but will not be given work by any other member of Lord Ruhall’s staff or by Lord Ruhall, himself. You would all live at the estate. There will be no other compensation for your labors,” I said clearly. It was more than a fair deal while the children needed schooling.
She looked at her daughter, and I knew her thoughts. Most of the women in nearby houses traded their bodies for coin. If she stayed without a husband, it wouldn’t be long before she found herself in the same position. What future could she then offer her daughter?
“There’s a wagon just outside with enough room to carry what’s needed. Take your time to think over the offer. I intend to return each week with the spare goat milk from the estate. It’s not much, but it could help if you choose to stay,” I said, standing and placing a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll not play games with you. If you choose to accompany me, your children will not be ill-used and neither will you.”
She nodded, still looking at her children. I let myself out.
A hand tugged my skirt, and I looked down at a girl no more than ten. Dirt dulled her pale blonde hair and streaked her left cheek. Her blue eyes darted to the wagon, then met mine.
“May I have milk?”
“Certainly. Did we miss your house?”
“I have no home.”
“Where are your parents?”
She shrugged.
“Is there anyone here to care for you?”
She shook her head, and I felt a surge of pity for her.
“How old are you?”
“Eleven, Miss.”
No one that age should be alone to fend for themselves.
“And your name?”
“Otta.”
“Otta, I’m here to offer employment at Lord Ruhall’s estate in exchange for an education. You would be required to attend school six days and work afterward. You will be fed, clothed, and given a warm place to sleep. You will be treated fairly and cared for. Does that interest you?”
“Very much, Miss.”
“Then into the wagon with you. Ask Swiftly for a cup of milk while you wait,” I said, pointing at the wagon.
Egrit met me by the wagon.
“There are three houses on this side with children those ages. Many more with younger.”
I nodded and mentioned Otta, who already waited in the wagon.
“She will be returning to the estate with us.”
Egrit nodded. I’d already shared my plan with her and Swiftly during our ride to the Water.
When she moved to the wagon to continue distributing milk, I went to the houses Egrit had indicated. To those houses, I offered the same opportunity I had Otta since the women already had a trade to support themselves. The children would be educated during the day but would be required to work before breakfast and after dinner.
Only two of the women agreed to release their children. The third woman intended to introduce her twelve-year-old daughter to her trade. When she told me the price a virgin would fetch, I thought of the baker and struggled not to hit her.
I walked away from the house, not seeing the road I trod. Egrit caught my arm and pulled me toward the wagon.
“Horrid woman, that one,” she said quietly.
“Quite,” I agreed.
Two children already sat in the wagon. Mrs. Palant and her two children were working together to pack their belongings.
Watching them gave me an idea, and I stopped Mrs. Palant.
“What happens to your home when you leave it?”
She looked up and down the road at the other houses.
“One of them will claim it most likely.”
Her house was in much better repair. All of the wood was solid, no rot, and there were no gaps between the boards.
“With your permission, I’d like to try trading it with the woman in that house,” I pointed, “in exchange for her daughter.”
“Meg has had plans for her daughter since she flowered. She’s just waiting for the right buyer,” she said quietly.
“Do you think your home might tempt her?”
“Not when all she needs to do is wait for me to leave.”
“Yes, but so is everyone else.”
Determined, I walked to Meg’s door and knocked again. She answered with a surly expression.
“The house for the girl,” I said without preamble.
Her eyes drifted behind me, and she laughed.
“I have no chance at that place. As soon as you leave there’ll be a fight for who gets it.”
“Unless we help the new owner move her belongings there and make it official.” She glanced at the structure, her interest plain. “The girl will only be pure once,” I said, the words souring my belly. “But that home will keep you warm for more than one winter.”
“Retta, come here.” A young woman stepped into the light of the doorway. A little girl held her hand. “You’re going with this woman. Go.” She waved her hand at me. The little girl started crying.
“Want both of them?” the woman asked, looking at the younger child with no obvious affection.
“Yes.”
* * * *
While Egrit led everyone to the top floor to air the rooms and settle in before dinner, I went to find Mr. Crow.
He sat behind his desk, staring down at a piece of parchment. When he saw me, he wilted a bit and without a word handed me the paper. Scanning the list, I understood his despondency. We did not have enough to feed us for the winter, especially with the additional staff I’d brought.
Absently, I sat across from him and stared out the window. Surviving with meager supplies was familiar to me. But would that knowledge help produce an excess of food for a feast? It had to. I turned to Mr. Crow, who watched me expectantly. I gave him a reassuring smile.
>
“There are plenty of fish in the rivers to the northwest and southeast. On the estate land, a skilled hunter could also find more large game.” We just needed the men to fish it and hunt it. “We will succeed.” I stood. “I’ll speak with Lord Ruhall about having three of the men hunt and fish every day for the next several weeks. It will keep the cooks busy. Meals will need to be simple. See if you can recall any of the families who may have attended in the past. We’ll need to create a guest list quickly.”
Leaving Mr. Crow, I went to search for Father or Lord Ruhall. As I approached the library, I heard them both.
“What good could milk possibly do?” Lord Ruhall’s angry voice rang through the room.
“I’m sure her reasons are sound,” my father said.
I caught a glimpse of Alec, pacing in his study. His wide shoulders were hunched and his head bent as he worked his path. I could imagine his expression. No doubt the news of Rose’s letter had upset him.
“My reasons are quite sound,” I said, walking into the study. His tense face swung in my direction. “Lord Ruhall, I’m sure Father’s explained Rose’s letter.” I handed him the note I still carried. “I left with the milk and returned with several additional servants.”
He studied me for a long moment, his anger fading to frustration.
“We can’t afford to employ more,” he said, bracing his fisted hands on his desk. “You, yourself, suggested trimming their numbers.”
“Their wages will not be paid in coin. You have a teacher who is not teaching. So I brought a mother who could never afford an education for her two children and several older children who are willing to work in the morning and evenings in exchange for their education. It’s a fair trade.”
“Children, Benella?” my father said with shock.
“Father, here we will not ill-use them. They will have the sleep they need, a warm bed, food in their bellies, and an education in exchange for four hours of work a day. It is a far brighter future than what waited for them where they were.”
Though Father continued to look troubled, he nodded.
“Benella, servants aren’t enough.” Lord Ruhall straightened away from the desk and began to pace behind it once more. “What she’s asking is impossible for three hundred coins.”