He looked up sharply at that. “Don’t sulk. I’ll fetch someone now.” He strode over to the door, flung it open and bellowed for assistance. She gaped at him. No one had ever accused her of sulking before! There was the sound of feet thudding against the floorboards beyond, and she heard male voices in the corridor. There was a murmuring and then the sound of someone running off in search of a maid, no doubt.
Linnet quickly busied herself finger combing her hair. Mason gave her a wary glance before approaching his pile of clothing and starting to dress. A swift knock on the door was followed by Gertrude, the maid from the previous day, barging in.
Linnet pressed her lips together as the sturdy maid crossed the room, her gaze lingering on Mason’s bare back as he tugged his tunic over his head. Gertrude had an appreciative gleam in her eye that made Linnet feel quite out of temper.
“You must tarry a moment after you knock at the door Gertrude,” she heard herself say with an unaccustomed edge to her voice. “As you can see, my husband is not yet ready to admit you.”
Gertrude looked for a moment as if she would burst out laughing, but she managed to school her expressions swiftly and bobbed a curtsy. “Your pardon milady,” she said forthrightly. “I’ve not been learned for above stairs work.”
With a sinking sensation Linnet noticed Gertrude had her copper, silk houppelande gown over her arm. It was a dress she always worried clashed vilely with her dreadful hair. “Very well, Gertrude,” she said with dignity. “I appreciate you are not accustomed to the role.” She wondered distractedly how many of the household servants would have left with her aunt and uncle. Gertrude laid the dress on the bed along with a fresh underdress, a pair of red stockings, and striped tie garters.
“A girl is coming now with some fresh water for your wash,” she said even as a soft tap was heard at the door.
“Come in,” said Mason, who was now fully clothed and strapping on his belt.
The same nervous-looking girl from the day before sidled in with a large jug. She averted her panic-stricken eyes from Mason as she hurried over to Linnet and busied about pouring water and soaking a small linen cloth for her to use.
“I will see you presently in the great hall for breakfast, Linnet,” Mason said over his shoulder as he exited the room.
The great hall? Why, I’ve never taken a meal in the great hall before, she thought with surprise. Aloud she observed, “How swiftly men rise in the morning,” and was astonished when both maids dissolved into fits of giggles.
VII
Linnet found her way to the great hall half an hour later without much obstacle. She paused at the threshold and spotted Mason, seated on the dais at the head table with his older brother, Oswald. They were tucking into what looked like plates of bread and fish with ale. Linnet grimaced. She hoped the kitchen would send up her usual breakfast of toasted bread and honey. She was in luck. Even as she seated herself opposite the two brothers, a plate was placed before her along with a cup of fresh milk. Oswald had sprung to his feet at her approach, but Mason merely nodded to her as her own page Cuthbert tucked her chair in behind her.
“Good morning,” she said, smiling at her brother-in-law. He hastened to seat himself again, asking politely after her health.
“I am very well, thank you sir. I trust you slept well?”
“Extremely, thank you. You are very hospitable, your Ladyship.”
“We are sister and brother now,” she reminded him. “I hope you will call me Linnet.”
He looked a bit taken aback by this and shot a look at Mason, but smiled nonetheless. “You are very kind, Linnet. Indeed, I hope you will call me Oswald.”
She smiled and nodded “Of course,” and he returned to his dish of pickled herrings. Mason, she noticed, was eating salted cod.
“This pandemain is very good,” commented Oswald, gesturing to the white loaf on the table. “You do not partake of it, Linnet?” He looked curious.
“Um, no,” she said, lowering her butter knife. “I prefer darker bread made with oats and rye.”
“Linnet has very unusual tastes for a fine lady,” cut in Mason drily. “She prefers vegetable soup to roast meat.”
“You mean low tastes,” she replied sweetly. “But indeed I much prefer this to wheat bread. It is much more flavorsome with lentils, acorns, and chestnuts added to the dough.”
Mason gave a grudging laugh.
Oswald merely looked surprised. “I have heard that some vegetables can be poisonous,” he said with concern.
Linnet shrugged. “None that our kitchen has ever served me,” she countered, taking a sip of milk.
“What is that on your head, wife?” asked Mason conversationally. He pointed with his knife to the linen rectangular veil covering her hair.
Her hand flew up to touch it. “Why, ’tis only my head veil, husband.” She responded with alacrity.
“You look like you’re about to take holy orders,” he said. “Take it off.”
“But . . . ’tis only seemly that I should wear it in company,” Linnet found herself squeaking.
“I don’t like it.”
“But . . . ” her words trailed off. Her gaze darted to Oswald, who was looking at Mason with surprise.
“To sit in company with my head uncovered, ’twould not be proper.” she argued uncertainly.
“Did you not just say that Oswald is now your brother?” asked Mason, raising an eyebrow at her challengingly.
“Well . . . yes,” she agreed lamely. With a sigh of defeat, she reached up to remove it. “I thought if I wore it without a wimple you would not object.”
“You thought wrong,” he responded, lowering his tankard of ale. There was a gleam in his eye and it occurred to her that Mason Vawdrey was in favor of confrontation at the breakfast table. What a strange man he was! She laid the veil down on the bench and smoothed her hand over her hair, flicking it over her shoulders.
Mason’s eyes followed her closely. “It appears that the Jevonses removed themselves with some ten servants last night,” he said.
“Five of them would have been my aunt’s ladies-in-waiting,” Linnet responded after a moment’s hesitation.
“And the other five?” he asked.
She shrugged. “The steward?”
He shook his head. “I have seen Robards this morning. He remained behind. I believe the man is honest. What was your impression?”
Linnet looked up, expecting his gaze to be on his brother, but found it trained instead upon herself.
“I . . . I never met him before yesterday,” she admitted with a stammer.
“And?”
“He seemed honest though somewhat uneasy,” she said slowly.
Mason nodded in agreement.
“I believe my uncle would have taken his groomsmen who look after his horses,” she said, feeling encouraged. “And the chamberlain who saw to his wardrobe. He was quite vain you know. I don’t believe he has a squire presently. He hasn’t had one for a few years. “
A smile tugged at Mason’s lips. “His outfit yesterday was certainly very colorful.”
Oswald agreed with a wince. “Green and red, so few men could carry off that combination.”
Linnet gurgled with laughter. “Certainly not my poor uncle.”
“I think your poor uncle was robbing you blind,” cut in Mason bluntly.
The smile wiped off Linnet’s face, and she drew in a sharp breath.
“Mason,” protested his brother.
“We shall see,” he responded with a shrug of his massive shoulders. He nodded towards one of the long tables in the hall where a pile of parchments and strong boxes had been put together. Looking up, she saw Robards and two male servants enter the hall carrying more coffers.
“The inventory?” choked out Linnet hoarsely. She felt slightly sick. “Can I help?”
Mason shook his head. “’Twill take at least a week. It’s quite an undertaking.
“Please?” she entreated on impulse. “If I’m sit
ting around unoccupied—” She broke off her words. “I’ll simply fall prey to fears the coffers are empty . . . ”
Mason sat back in his chair.
“Mason is quite right, Linnet,” said Oswald. “It would be far better if you would just sit comfortably and do some needlepoint instead of dragging yourself needlessly about the castle . . .
“You can help,” said her husband, dragging back his chair.
“Truly?” Linnet dropped her toast in her haste to join him. To her surprise, he waited at the end of the table and extended his hand to her. She hurried to take it and soon found her hand tucked in the crook of his arm.
“Has she even broken her fast?” asked Oswald with a plaintive sigh as he followed behind them.
“Indeed, I have eaten my fill,” Linnet assured him over her shoulder as she hurried to keep up with Mason’s long strides. He did not moderate his pace to accommodate her in any way she noticed without rancor.
He led her straight out of the great hall and down three flights of stone stairs to a massive, dim cellar. Oswald called out several warnings to Linnet to mind her step, but Mason’s grip on her arm, and even at times her waist, held her quite secure despite the encroaching gloom.
“Where are we? It’s huge down here!” exclaimed Linnet. There were already lighted torches in the sconces, and she guessed this must be where the already retrieved strongboxes must have come from.
“This undercroft lies directly under the great hall,” Mason told her. This is where most of your worldly goods are held.
She peered about at the numerous locked trunks and chests.
“This part alone will take at least three days,” said Oswald with a sigh.
Linnet groped about her waist for her chatelaine and lifted up the bunch of keys. “I suppose we should get started,” she said, squaring her shoulders.
Both brothers turned to look at her with some surprise. It occurred to her that they had thought she would take one look at the amount of work involved and cry off.
“You are sure?” started Oswald hesitantly, but Mason just gave a short laugh.
“Let her make a start,” he said with a shrug. He cast a quick appraising look at her. “We’ll see how long her resolve lasts.”
Linnet felt herself flush at being spoke of as if she was not even there! She cleared her throat. “Would it not make more sense to have a table and parchment brought down here, rather than bidding the servants carry it all above stairs?” she asked.
“Are you suggesting you would be willing to sit down here in the dark and damp,” asked Mason with faint scorn.
“Certainly husband,” she said. “If parchment and light were brought down, and an abacus, I would very happily, I assure you.”
“With the rats and spiders?” he asked, eyebrows raising in challenge.
“Even with them,” she agreed firmly. “I am not as afeared of them as they are of me, poor creatures.”
He gave a short nod, even as his brother protested.
“Very well,” he looked over his shoulder at a hovering servant. “Paper, ink, and a table for Lady Linnet. Also,” he added thoughtfully. “A warm cloak.”
“Where are you going?” asked Linnet as Mason started back up the steps. Her voice sounded more panicky than she would have liked. His voice came back strong and even.
“To ask Robards about the hidden casemate room under the ramparts. I am sure it is another strong room.”
“Do not be afraid, I shall remain with you,” said Oswald but she noticed the slight shiver he gave.
“That is very kind, Oswald, but I believe you would be better served accompanying my husband to access the strong room.”
He shot her a grateful look. “Is there anything else I can send down for you?”
She shook her head with a smile, then reconsidering added “My page?” Cuthbert’s childish prattle would brighten up the cavernous room, and he would enjoy clambering over the trunks, trying out the keys until he found the right one. It would appeal to his sense of adventure.
It turned out she was right, Cuthbert took to the enterprise with enthusiasm, slipping and sliding over the piles of boxes while Linnet wrote long, laborious lists and counted out piles of different coins. She started with gold florins; moved onto silver groats; and then pounds, schillings, and pence. By the time these had been duly counted and recorded they had spent three whole days in the undercroft.
On the fourth day Linnet descended to the undercroft and turned her attentions to the large chests stuffed full of fabric. Whole lengths of taffeta, velvet, and damask silk were contained therein. She marveled over the beautiful jewel tones and imagined that the Jevonses must have stowed them away for future gowns and capes to furnish their fancy wardrobes. Not that Linnet did not have gowns aplenty of her own, but she was surprised at the stash they had hoarded away. She’d seen none of these costly fabrics listed in any inventory in her household book. Her heart sank a little at the thought of any other discrepancies they might discover.
On the fifth day, she inventoried all the silver plate, on the sixth, the gold plate, and on the seventh day the castle’s brass.
“But we have not yet found the Cadwallader jewels,” lamented Cuthbert in his high childish voice. Linnet had just locked shut the last of the trunks. She looked up. “Perhaps they are in the casemate room Master Vawdrey mentioned. Besides,” she said, pointing to the large hessian sacks and wooden barrels piled high on the other side of the room. “We still have a few more days’ work counting up the grain sacks and salted meats and fish.”
Mason’s voice surprised them from the stair. “I will send Robards down to look at those household items later this week. They are not locked and do not require your keys.” He appeared at her side. “You have been coming down here for days now. Any longer below stairs and you will forget what the sun even looks like.” He reached a hand down to her, and she took it, straightening up.
“Ouch,” she grimaced, finding herself stiff all over.
He frowned, chafing her hands. “You’re freezing,” he said. “In truth, I did not expect you to last even one day, let alone almost a week.”
“I’m not that cold,” she protested.
“You’ve a strong will for a weak, reclusive invalid,” he said drily.
She felt surprisingly warmed by his words.
“Let’s get you upstairs,” Mason said, sweeping her up into his arms without more ado.
“I can walk husband,” she gasped as he started up the stairs.
“This is quicker.” And indeed, she believed him. He was fairly bounding up the stairs and she marveled at the strength of his arms even though she knew there was not much to her. Touching the tip of her nose, she shivered. Her fingers felt stiff as well, as she clasped her cold hands. The cold had crept up on her gradually until it seeped into her bones. A couple of minutes later she found herself lowered onto a bench next to a window through which the sun streamed into the great hall. She only briefly thought of her complexion before settling into the sunny spot with a relieved sigh. “Oh that sun feels nice.”
“I shall go and fetch you a caudle my lady,” said Cuthbert, puffing out his chest. “I will go to the kitchen myself.” He deposited the pile of lists she had made on the table beside her.
“Thank you, Cuthbert.”
“A caudle?” asked Mason, who had dropped down on the bench beside her.
“’Tis like a posset made from egg yolks, almonds, and ginger,” she told him. “There is wine in it too,” she hesitated, biting the side of her mouth. “Mayhap I should not have it before supper?”
“Sounds like exactly what you need,” he murmured, levelling a direct look at her. He frowned suddenly. “I should have sent someone to check on you sooner.”
“All was perfectly well,” she protested. “Indeed, Cuthbert and I have inventoried all of the trunks and chests down there. If you do not want us to do the grain and meats then I can start on those strongboxes shortly,” she said, gesturi
ng to the boxes littering the far end of the table.
He shrugged. “As you wish. I would have thought you’d had enough exertion for today.”
“Have you finished your inventory of the strong rooms and vault?” she asked, her eyes trained on the fireplace, her voice sounded strained even to her own ears.
“Aye,” he responded grudgingly. “Oswald has compiled a list of what was contained therein.”
“Was there . . . was everything as it should be?” she asked, moistening her lips.
“Let’s discuss it later. After we have compared our lists with your books.”
Linnet’s spirits sank. His expression was grim, and after his words the other day, she had vague and horrible suspicions about the Jevonses and their treatment of her estate.
Cuthbert chose that moment to reenter the hall with a large steaming cup for her to drink all at once, as he instructed firmly.
Linnet took sips of the tasty beverage as large as she could manage.
“The kitchen’s buzzing,” said Cuthbert with satisfaction. “They’ve been falling over themselves to get a glimpse of you all week milady.” He turned a puzzled look upon her. “Only fancy, half of them thought you a hunchback with a squint and a limp.”
Linnet coughed, lowering her drink. “Indeed?” she asked with watering eyes.
“Cook says Gertrude said you are finely made with all the right limbs and only speckled, ’tis all, with lice in your hair.”
Her face fell “Lice?” she squeaked. “Whatever possessed Gertrude to say such a thing?” she asked in bewilderment. She felt hurt. It was bad enough the servants were talking of humpbacks and speckles, let alone spreading false rumors about her cleanliness.
It was Mason’s turn to splutter now. It had sounded suspiciously like a laugh for a moment. “Do you think she might have said ‘licentious’ hair, Cuthbert?” he asked gravely.
Cuthbert’s eyes wrinkled up. “Possibly,” he admitted. “What does it mean?”
“It means red, Cuthbert,” lied Linnet swiftly.
His frown cleared. “Oh. Yes, that’s probably what she said, alright.” He beamed at them both, oblivious both to Linnet’s discomfiture and Mason’s amusement.
Her Baseborn Bridegroom (Vawdrey Brothers Book 1) Page 6