“I supposed I could put a piece of fabric that would make it so she is not so exposed,” Mistress Bron finally said unhappily. “But it will ruin the lines of the dress. The bodice is perfect just the way it is.”
Meggie was a friend of Mistress Bron, but she served Susanna, so that was where her loyalty lay. “But if the lady wishes it, you will do it?” she pressed.
Mistress Bron folded her arms stiffly. “If she wishes it.”
Meggie smiled triumphantly, looking to Susanna. “Do you want her to put a piece of fabric to cover the swell of your bosom, my lady?”
Susanna did. But Mistress Bron was clearly unhappy with her and, given that the woman knew fashion, Susanna didn’t want to look foolish. The garment really was beautiful and if adding a piece of fabric to it would ruin it, Susanna didn’t want to do that. Reluctantly, she shook her head.
“I suppose not,” she said. “If Mistress Bron believes it will look better this way, then I will trust her.”
It was Mistress Bron’s turn to smile triumphantly as she turned back to the hemming. Meggie simply shrugged and headed over to the big bed with its overly-stuffed mattress.
“You may as well keep the dress on, my lady, because your brother has visitors,” she said as she put the linens on the bed. “I saw them coming through the gatehouse as I came in from the kitchen yard.”
Susanna turned to look at her with surprise. “You are sure they are for my brother?”
Meggie nodded. “Already, he was being sent for. I could hear the men shouting.”
Susanna’s heart fell a little. “Who are they?”
Meggie shook out one of the freshly washed sheets. “I do not know,” she said. “But I am sure you can wear that lovely garment to the great hall and find out for yourself.”
Susanna looked down at herself, greeted by the tantalizing view of her white cleavage. She wanted to go into the hall to see who the visitors were, hoping beyond hope that it might be Achilles in spite of what Meggie said. But she was vastly uncomfortable venturing out of her chamber clad in what she considered a revealing dress. For a woman who had dressed in tunics and breeches for most of her life, dressing in feminine finery was going to be more difficult than she thought.
Still, she’d spent the money on the garments.
Better not to waste it.
“Is the hem nearly finished?” she asked Mistress Bron.
The woman peered down at the hem of the skirt, elaborately finished in tiny stitches. “It looks to be,” she said, running an expert hand along it as her assistant cut the final thread with a sharp knife. “Aye, it looks just fine.”
Susanna came down off the stool, looking at herself in a bronze mirror positioned near the hearth. The mirror used to belong to her mother and she’d had it brought down from a storage chamber. Now, with her new dress on, an entirely different person was staring back in the reflection.
Susanna turned from side to side, looking at the way the dress draped over her figure. It was rather pleasing, even if it was uncomfortably revealing. Meggie had dressed her hair that morning, so the usually untamed curls had been brushed and brushed again, oil applied to smooth them out, and then braided in a thick braid that draped over one shoulder while a smaller braid looped around her head. It was an elaborate style, but the more Susanna looked at herself with her groomed brows, groomed hair, and new gown, the more she began to see just how far she’d come from that rough Blackchurch warrior.
In fact, the plunging neckline didn’t look so bad to her now.
“Well?” Mistress Bron came to stand next to her, also looking at the reflection. “What do you think of it?”
Susanna smiled faintly. “I think it is very pretty,” she said. “And I think I need to have more clothing made, only make it clothing that is not so elaborate. Something simple that is durable and easily worn, and I do not have to fret if it becomes dirty.”
Mistress Bron nodded in agreement, seeing more coinage in her coffers in that request. “I can make you two or three simple gowns from linen or a light wool,” she said. “Tell me, my lady – is there any of your mother’s old clothing left behind? Mayhap packed away in trunks somewhere?”
Susanna cocked her head thoughtfully. “I do not know,” she said. “She died when I was so young. I do not know what has become of her clothing.”
Mistress Bron smoothed at one of her sleeves. “If there is something left, mayhap I can look at it and see if it would be serviceable to you. If not, then mayhap you will sell it to me for other women to wear.”
Susanna nodded. “I will see what I can discover about it,” she said. “Meanwhile, return next week and bring me some samples of fabric for dresses that are more durable.”
“I will, my lady.”
With that, Mistress Bron went to pack up her things as her assistant brought Meggie the remaining two garments to be hung on a peg. Susanna spent a few more seconds watching her reflection in the mirror before turning for the door.
“Meggie, I will be down in the hall,” she said as she lifted the latch. “And Mistress Bron, I thank you for your hard work. I am quite pleased with it.”
Mistress Bron smiled humbly. “Thank you, Lady Susanna.”
With that, Susanna left the women in her chamber and headed to the narrow steps that led to the floor below. She almost forgot to gather her skirts so she wouldn’t trip, remembering at the last moment and taking the steps rather quickly. She was thinking that her brother was going to be quite surprised to see her in feminine attire for the first time, but as she headed out of the apartment block, she inevitably passed by the chamber where she and Achilles had made love.
In fact, she came to a halt because the door was open. The very bed that they had used was in front of her and she stared at it a moment, reliving those moments, feeling her chest swell with the lush memories of the man and his touch. A smile played on her lips at the lingering recollection until she finally pulled herself away, continuing from the apartments.
The courtyard outside was dusty and dry, and she quickly realized that the dust was gathering on the bottom of her skirt as she walked. Frustrated, she hiked her skirt up but then realized it was too high and she was showing most of her legs. Dropping the skirts, she tried not to kick up the dirt as she walked all the way to the hall. Being a lady in a fine dress was more difficult than she realized. By the time she reached the hall, she was literally tiptoeing and she stepped inside to immediately brush off the bottom of her skirt.
She heard a voice.
“Susanna?” Samuel was all the way over by the hearth, now coming towards her. “God’s Bones, Susanna… is that you?”
Susanna stood straight, facing her brother with a somewhat shy smile on her face. “It is me,” she said. “I told you I was having dresses commissioned. Did you not believe me?”
Samuel’s expression told of his answer before he even spoke a word. “I confess, I did not,” he said, looking her up and down. “I did not believe a word of it, but now… look at you. I have never seen you look like this. You are actually lovely.”
Coming from Samuel, that was quite a compliment and Susanna blushed, both embarrassed and flattered.
“Thank you,” she said, noticing a man over by the hearth. Realizing that it was not Achilles, she tried not to let her disappointment show. “I see that you have a visitor. I will not trouble you.”
Samuel reached out and grasped her hand. “No trouble,” he said. “Come with me. I should like to introduce my beautiful sister.”
Susanna let him drag her across the floor, but as they neared the visitor, she tripped on the long hem of her gown. Chagrinned, she lifted up the skirt slightly, trying very hard to behave as if she knew what she was doing. The last thing she wanted to do was make an arse out of herself in front of her brother’s guest.
“Witton,” Samuel said. “I do not believe you have ever met my sister. Susanna, this is my dear and close friend, Witton de Meynell.”
De Meynell. Susanna we
nt into full warrior mode as she heard that name. Outwardly, she didn’t react but, inwardly, she stiffened as if preparing for the battle to come. The same man whose knights had challenged her back at The Horse’s Arse, the same knights she and Achilles and Alexander had summarily defeated. She began to wonder if one or more of the survivors had accompanied their liege to Aysgarth and she was well on her guard.
She had to force herself to be polite to the man.
“My lord,” she greeted evenly. “It is an honor to meet you.”
Witton de Meynell was a son of a very old family. Tall, with a crown of thinning red hair, his dark eyes raked Susanna in a way that made her skin crawl. She was looking right at the man as he focused on her exposed cleavage.
“My lady,” he greeted in a voice that was dripping with filth. “I had no idea that Samuel even had a sister. God’s Bones, Sam – where have you been hiding her?”
Samuel looked at Susanna as he fumbled for a reply. No man wanted to tell a friend that his sister was a fully-trained knight and had been off following manly pursuits. There was something quite shameful in that.
“She has been in Norfolk,” he said simply. “But she has returned home and I am very happy to have her back. Do we look alike? She is my twin, you know.”
Witton shook his head. “She is far more beautiful than you are,” he said, reaching out to take Susanna by the elbow and direct her over to the feasting table. “Come, my lady. Sit and tell me of yourself. I want to know everything.”
Susanna looked at Samuel with a bit of apprehension as she allowed de Meynell to lead her to the table. Samuel followed and the three of them sat, although Susanna was forced to sit bolt-upright because the bodice of her dress was rather tight and fitted. She felt as if she were in a vise, resisting the urge to tug at it.
“There is not much to tell, my lord,” she said. “I have lived an uneventful life.”
De Meynell waved her off. “I do not believe that,” he said. “Tell me of your life in Norfolk. What did you do there? And surely you brought your husband back with you to Aysgarth?”
The man was probing her and she didn’t like it. “I am not married, my lord,” she said. “And my life at Norfolk was rather dull. It is a wild place, as you know. Nothing as exciting as London or even York. I lived at Castle Rising and served Lady Summerlin.”
De Meynell seemed to be listening intently. “No husband? I find that shocking.”
He was focused on one thing and one thing only. Susanna was trying very hard not to flush with shame. She wanted very much to blurt out that she would soon have a husband when Achilles returned, but she kept her mouth shut.
Now was not the time.
“Please,” she said. “Let us not speak of me. I am much more interested in hearing of you and your family. I seemed to remember that, as a child, Whorlton Castle belonged to the de Meynell family. Samuel, do you remember that Father even took us there once?”
As Samuel nodded, de Meynell spoke up. “I was born at Whorlton, but I do not recall ever seeing you there as a child,” he said. “I would have remembered you. It is possible that I was already fostering at the time.”
“Where did you foster, my lord?”
“Gotha,” he said. “My maternal grandmother was from Thuringia, so in my early years, I fostered at Wartburg Castle. Have you ever been to Thuringia, my lady?”
Susanna shook her head, but as he spoke, an idea occurred to her. All of those foreign soldiers in the training grounds below Aysgarth were Teutonic. In the weeks she’d spent at Aysgarth, she’d done a bit of reconnaissance of her own in the form of daily walks down to the field, pretending only to be mildly interested in where the men were from and being told by one of them, who spoke her language, that they were from Gotha. In that same conversation, she had asked the man why he was in England and he’d been coy in his response. He told her to ask her lord.
But she hadn’t.
Susanna didn’t want Samuel to know she’d been wandering, even though he surely must have known. She passed in and out of the gatehouse daily and the soldiers there had seen her. But she’d kept it all very casual, only making it to the field after she’d wandered into the trees and picked flowers. She had to make it seem as if she really wasn’t interested in what was going on when the truth was that she was gathering as much information as she could for William Marshal.
Once a spy, always a spy.
But she hadn’t sent the man any information as of yet. She truthfully felt as if she didn’t have enough to send him, only enough to tell him what Achilles and Alexander had probably already told him – that there were foreign mercenaries at Aysgarth. She’d told Achilles that she believed her brother was part of something bigger, that the gathering of mercenaries wasn’t something he had masterminded, and when de Meynell mentioned that he’d fostered in Gotha, the light of understanding gleamed in her mind.
They mercenaries were coming from de Meynell.
“I have never been beyond France, my lord,” she replied belatedly to de Meynell’s question. “Is it beautiful at Wartburg?”
If de Meynell sensed that her mind was elsewhere, he didn’t give any indication. He simply smiled at her and moved closer.
“Quite beautiful,” he said. “There are great mountains and great rivers. You would belong in a place like that because there is such wild beauty. The men there would appreciate you greatly.”
Susanna was uncomfortable with the way he was looking at her, so she smiled weakly. “And your wife, my lord?” she asked pointedly to get him off her scent. “Is she from Gotha?”
That took some of the lascivious gleam out of de Meynell’s eyes. “What makes you believe I am married?”
“Because you are a great lord from a great house. Surely you would be married.”
“Samuel is not married.”
She glanced at her brother. “He should be.”
As Samuel cocked a disapproving eyebrow, de Meynell spoke up. “In answer to your question, my wife is indeed from Wartburg,” he said. “Her father is the Count of Gotha. A very powerful man who rules his people with a firm hand. He is not unlike a king, in fact.”
“Is Wartburg a big castle?”
“The biggest,” de Meynell said. “I was there for several years. I suppose it is in my blood, given that my grandmother is part of their family. But I returned to England and spent time at Nottingham and Lincoln before assuming command of Whorlton when my father died. And now you know everything about me and I no longer wish to speak of myself. I wish to speak of you.”
Perhaps he did, but Susanna wasn’t finished with him. She sought to play the naïve conversationalist, wondering if she could play it convincingly even though she fully intended to interrogate him.
“It is interesting that you mention Gotha,” she said thoughtfully. “I have taken many walks since I have returned home and I have spoken to the soldiers in the training field. They told me they were from Gotha. Are they your soldiers, then?”
De Meynell didn’t hesitate. “From my father-in-law,” he said. “Whorlton is not big enough to house them all, so some have been moved here to Aysgarth.”
“I have watched the men train and they seem to fight differently from English troops. They wear different clothing, I mean.”
“A little.”
“Are they here to help train my brother’s English troops in different warfare methods, then?”
De Meynell lifted his shoulders noncommittally. “There are always little wars going about in England,” he said. “That is what they are here for.”
Susanna played the wide-eyed innocent. “Are there wars going on here? I had not heard that.”
“Silly girl. We must always be prepared for a hostile neighbor. Or subdue a king who must be tamed. Has your brother not told you that?”
“I suppose that is true. You are not the hostile neighbor we must be prepared for, are you?”
She said it laughingly, as if teasing him, and he rose to it. “You never
know,” he said. “With the size of Gotha’s army, I could be king of the north someday. But no more talk of business. Let us speak of pleasure. Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows, my lady. I wish to hear a secret.”
With that, he put his hand on her leg, mid-thigh, but his long fingers were pointed towards her Venus Mound. In fact, they were quite close, and Susanna wasn’t going to tolerate that kind of aggressiveness, not even from a friend of her brother’s.
Especially not from de Meynell.
The mood of the light conversation between them plummeted and with a cold smile on her lips, Susanna leaned towards him as if to whisper. He eagerly leaned forward, as well. Her lips were near his ear when she murmured.
“If you do not remove your fingers, I have the skill to break every bone in your hand.”
De Meynell’s eyes widened as the hand was quickly removed. “What?” he demanded, incredulous. “Did you threaten me? Samuel, did you hear what she said?”
Susanna was finished with the conversation, disgusted by the company and by de Meynell’s vulgar behavior. She stood up rapidly, practically shoving de Meynell aside as she did so. Samuel, who hadn’t heard what she’d said, stood up as well.
“Susanna!” he said. “What did you say? Tell me immediately!”
She looked at her brother with absolutely no patience. “Is this how you allow a guest to treat your sister?” she fired back. “Tell him to keep his hands to himself or I am most capable of breaking them. Mayhap you had better tell him the truth about me, Brother, so he will not mistake me for an easy target in the future.”
Samuel looked at de Meynell. “Did you touch her?”
De Meynell was outraged but he could see that he might not have Samuel’s support in the matter. “An innocent touch, I assure you,” he insisted. “But she threatened to break my hand.”
Samuel sighed sharply. “I will not tolerate lewd behavior towards my sister,” he said. “She will not tolerate it, either. And she is fully capable of breaking your hands and your neck, so you may wish to apologize for your forwardness, Witton.”
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