Not that the cottage we were to be given probably had anything as grand as a dining room. We would be lucky to have an alcove with a small table and a few chairs.
Then I chided myself, for I knew we were lucky indeed, that Marric’s Rest would have an opening for Corin, and that we would have a place to live, and food on our table. True, if I were the one responsible for preparing that food, our meals might not be the most edible, but….
We came to a corral where several sturdy-looking horses cropped at the grass within. Master Brinsell opened the gate, and Corin took off the donkey’s lead rope so she might go in and join them. None of the horses appeared terribly bothered by this new arrival, which I hoped was a good sign.
Our livestock thus disposed of, we continued along a path that led past the cottages I had spied earlier, all of them appearing well-tended, with tightly thatched roofs and fresh whitewash on their walls, some with bright flowers still blooming from their window boxes. Perhaps Lord Sorthannic did not worry overmuch about his own grooming, but he certainly seemed to make sure that the people who worked his lands were well taken care of.
At the end of the path was a cottage that stood a little ways off from the others, with trees clustered around and open fields stretching beyond it. By that point, the sun was only a handspan above the horizon, and the entire scene was flooded with a warm, mellow light. Something tense and fragile within me suddenly seemed eased, as though seeing our destination and realizing it was nothing to fear had released a knot of worry I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.
“Here you are,” Master Brinsell said as he opened the door. “No one has lived here these six months, for Halic Trensly and his family, who were the previous occupants, left for the capital when his father passed on and left him a tidy sum. They left it in good enough repair, but it will still need some tending-to.”
“That will not be a problem,” Corin replied at once. “My lady wife and I will put it right in no time.”
“I have no doubt you will.” A small smile touched the corner of the overseer’s mouth, but then he appeared sober enough as he added, “We will be going into the fields at first light. Meet me at the corral, and we will head out from there.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“I have no doubt of it.” Master Brinsell’s gaze moved to me, and he nodded. “A very good evening to you, Mistress Blackstone. I will see that some prepared food is sent over, so you will not have to attempt to make dinner while you’re tidying the cottage. In the morning, you shall also have your week’s allotment of supplies.”
“That is very good of you, sir,” I said, relieved beyond measure that I would not have to prepare any food this evening. Yes, it was only one night’s reprieve, but better than nothing.
“Then I will leave you to get settled. Have a very good evening.”
He closed the door behind him, leaving Corin and me alone in our new home. I glanced around, noting that there was a good-sized room with a stone fireplace at one end, and an alcove not really large enough to fit the round table and four hard-backed chairs that had been set there. An opening in one wall showed a bit of the kitchen, with another hearth and counters of bleached wood, while a short corridor opened off the opposite wall, presumably leading to the bedroom, or bedrooms. It had been difficult for me to accurately gauge how large the cottage actually was just from looking at its exterior.
The place did seem sturdy enough, with real glass in the windows and a good roof, but there was dust everywhere, and cobwebs in all the corners.
“I’ll look in the kitchen for a broom and some rags,” Corin offered, perhaps noticing that I did not appear quite as pleased with my new home as I might be.
“Yes, I suppose we should get started on that,” I said. Even though my enthusiasm for housecleaning was somewhat lower than my desire to cook our meals, I knew I had to try to help. I would be no bargain at all as a wife if I did not at least give the appearance of domesticity.
“Why don’t you look at the rest of the place first?” he asked, then eased the pack of his shoulders. “Here, take this and your valise, and find the bedrooms.”
I noted that he used the plural, although I thought that might have been more due to wishful thinking than any true knowledge. Still, I supposed I should go find out. I took the valise with one hand and his pack with the other, trying my best not to stagger under the weight of it. How on earth had he walked so many miles carrying something so heavy?
Giving him a nod of acquiescence, I took our luggage and went down the short hallway I had spied earlier. Yes, it seemed there were two rooms on this side of the house, one of them a good bit larger than the other, and with a sturdy wooden bed and a wardrobe up against one wall. In a corner was a basin for washing-up, and a largish window hung with muslin curtains took up another wall.
I set my valise and Corin’s pack down on the wooden floor, and went to open the wardrobe. Inside were stacked sheets and blankets, leading me to wonder how much of their belongings the cottage’s previous occupants had taken with them. Or perhaps the bedding came with the house, and so they had been compelled to leave it behind.
The smaller room contained two narrow beds, with a plain table between them. No wardrobe here, although there was a small chest set under the window. Clearly, this had been the children’s room.
And perhaps now it should be yours, I thought. With two bedrooms, there is no need for poor Corin to take his place on the floor. These beds are far too small for him, but you should fit well enough.
But…certainly I would be doing him a disservice to insist on separate rooms. We were husband and wife, after all, and I might as well face up to the situation.
I turned around and saw Corin standing there, a broom in one hand and a folded white cloth in the other. “I thought perhaps if you dusted and I swept, we should make short work of the place.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I said, taking the cloth from him. True, I had never dusted anything in my life, but how difficult could it be? I had seen the maids go about the castle with their cleaning cloths, wiping down everything in sight, and once a month using beeswax to awake a warm glow from within the carved wooden furniture. Somehow I doubted there was any beeswax here, but at least I could get rid of the dust. As best I could, I pushed aside the resentment which rose in me then, that I should be reduced to doing the kind of work that had been relegated to Silverhold’s chambermaids. No matter what my personal feelings on the subject might be, it certainly would not be fair to expect Corin to perform all the work. “Let us do the main room first, since we don’t know when our food will be arriving.”
He nodded, and we went out to the living chamber, where I ran the cloth I held over the dusty furniture, and along the windowsill, while Corin used his broom to knock down the spiderwebs and then clear the debris from the floor. No doubt the cottage’s wooden floors could also do with a good mopping, but that would have to wait until the next day. Or possibly longer than that. I somehow doubted that I would enjoy cleaning the floors any more than I liked dusting the furniture.
Partway through this work, my feet did begin to ache again, but I ignored them, knowing that this task had to be accomplished before we retired for the evening. The light grew dimmer, and Corin paused to fetch several beeswax tapers from a kitchen drawer, along with a wooden box of matches. Perhaps I had been wrong about the beeswax, then. I had been expecting tallow candles, for they were so much less dear, but possibly Lord Sorthannic also raised bees on his estate and shared the wax with his tenants. At any rate, the candles’ illumination warmed the place, making the cottage feel as if it might one day be home.
We were just finishing up when someone knocked at the door. Corin went to answer that knock, the open door revealing a young boy probably no more than twelve, carrying a basket that seemed almost as big as he was.
“From the kitchen at the castle, sir,” he said, handing the basket over to Corin. “Your supper, and some cold pie for breakfast tomo
rrow.”
“My thanks to Master Brinsell, and to the cook.”
The boy grinned. “Can’t have our new under-overseer starve, can we? A very good night to you, sir.”
Then he scampered off, as I stared at Corin in surprise. “‘New under-overseer’? I thought you had only been brought on as an extra hand in the fields.”
“So had I,” he said, with a grin as bright as the boy’s own. “I think our luck is changing.”
“I hope so,” I replied.
Gods, did I hope so.
CHAPTER 6
We had a merry dinner that night, for, as promised, we had been sent a hearty meal of chicken in a deep wine sauce with root vegetables, butter and a loaf of fresh bread, and a bottle of the estate’s wine, along with the promised cold chicken pie for breakfast. Corin and I sat on our newly dusted chairs in the little alcove off the living chamber, and toasted each other with the quite excellent wine.
“To our future,” he said, and I clanked my stoneware goblet against his. Luckily, the kitchen had been fully stocked with plates and cutlery and drink ware, so we lacked for nothing to make our meal a pleasant one.
“To our future,” I echoed, then drank. Yes, it seemed that Lord Sorthannic — or at least his overseer — knew something about making good wine. It was rich yet smooth, tasting of fruit without being sweet at all. It went so well with the chicken dish we had been sent, I wondered whether some of it had been used to make the sauce…although that seemed rather like a waste of fine wine.
“If I acquit myself well, then perhaps I will be able to stay on after the four weeks Master Brinsell promised me are done,” Corin went on. His dark eyes shone in the candlelight, and once again I thought how handsome he was, how any woman who looked upon him must think me lucky to be his wife.
And yet there I had been, contemplating sleeping in the children’s bedroom.
“Is there a great deal of work to be done when one makes wine?” I inquired.
He chuckled. “Oh, yes. We have come here at harvest, which means first the grapes must be plucked before there is any danger of the first frost. The grapes are stored in large bins, but then they must be crushed and the juice drained away, and put in vats to begin the fermentation process. Later, the young wine will be moved to barrels, and yeast will be added to continue the fermentation. After it has aged for a year — or possibly longer, as I do not yet know how long this estate barrel-ages its wines — then it will be decanted into bottles. And all along it must be tested, and tasted, to make sure that it is developing in a pleasing manner.”
“Goodness,” I said, somewhat shocked at the intricacy of the process. “No wonder you hope to stay on much longer. It sounds as though your skills would be needed here year-’round.”
“That is my hope. While I do not wish ill on anyone, I would be lying to you if I did not say that I rather hope the under-overseer will decide this work is not for him and will take himself off to better pastures, perhaps where he will not have to worry about breaking a leg again.”
How could I fault Corin for thinking such a thing, when much the same notion had entered my mind as well? Yes, forty silver coins each week was not precisely a princely amount, but it should add up quickly enough, since our housing and our food would be provided for us. We had indeed come to a safe haven…now all we had to do was hope it would last.
And that my path would not cross Lord Sorthannic’s. I thought the chances of such an eventuality were rather small, for I did not believe his Grace would have much reason to come down here to this settlement where his workers lived, and certainly there would be no reason for me to go up to the castle. My place would be here, in this cottage — keeping it neat and clean.
And trying to learn how to cook so I do not poison the both of us, I thought with some trepidation. Since I had not set foot in my own home’s kitchen since I was child — and only then to steal cookies — I did not expect to have much success in such an endeavor. However, I would have to try. Corin would have much the worse of the situation, since he would have to be up before dawn every day to ensure the grape harvest was brought safely in.
“That would be the best outcome,” I agreed, and took another bite of chicken in wine sauce. If this dish was any indication, the cook in Lord Sorthannic’s castle was very good, even better than Linsey, who had presided over the kitchen in my father’s castle ever since I could remember. But then, of course the duke would have an outstanding cook. He was one of the peers of the land, of such rank that the Emperor himself might come here for a visit.
Or would he? I could not help but think that relations must be strained between them, what with the Crown Princess throwing over Lord Sorthannic to sail off to Keshiaar and marry that land’s ruler.
At any rate, I found myself wishing that every evening could be like this, with a basket of delectable dishes delivered to our door…and with as little time spent in the kitchen as possible.
“You seem rather pensive, my lady,” Corin said. His fingers were wrapped around the thick stem of his goblet, but he did not appear inclined to lift it to his lips to take a drink.
“Oh, I suppose I am only trying to adjust to all these alterations,” I replied. “For remember, just yesterday morning, I awakened in my own bed in my father’s castle, and had no thought that my life was about to change forever. It is all rather much to take in — being here, away from everything I have known, realizing that this is my home.” For now, anyway, I added mentally. It was good to hope, of course, but we had no concrete assurances that this pleasant little cottage would be anything but a temporary way station.
“Yes, of course.” He put down the goblet and reached across the table so he might take my free hand in his. “I understand. And I will do everything in my power to make sure this life is not too hard for you.” A pause, during which I was all too aware of the pressure of his fingers on mine, the warmth of his flesh. “And I want you to know, Marenna, that I do not expect you to do anything you do not wish to. There are two bedchambers here, and I saw how you were standing in the one and appearing to ponder the situation. I will take the smaller room, and you the larger, and when you are ready…well, you can tell me.”
“Oh, I can’t possibly do that to you!” I burst out. At once his eyes filled with a terrible hope, and I realized he had misunderstood me. “That is,” I went on hurriedly, “you are far too tall to fit in one of those tiny beds. I will take the smaller room. You deserve your comfort, for it is only because of you and your skills that we were given this home at all.”
He went very still. Slowly, he removed his hand from mine. When he spoke, his tone was still pleasant, but I thought I had come to know him somewhat, and I could hear the strain in his voice. “What kind of man would I be, to take the better room?”
“One who was acceding to my wishes,” I told him. “For that is my wish…for now, anyway. I do want to be your wife, Corin. But this is all so new, and I hardly know you at all. Can you please give me the time to accept this change in my life?”
A long silence, during which I could hear the thudding of my heartbeat echoing in my ears. His face still bore that stony expression, so I could not begin to guess what he might be thinking. Or rather, I did not want to guess. I knew that many men would have said I certainly was not the first bride to have met her husband on her wedding day, and such a remark would only have been the truth. However, I had spent some time with Corin and had already seen that he was a good man, honest and considerate. All I could do was hope that he would find the forbearance to put up with me and my whims.
If not…well, I would also not be the first bride who was forced to the marriage bed, although I sincerely doubted Corin would behave in such a way.
“Very well,” he said at last. “I do not wish to argue with you, and I understand your hesitancy. I can only hope that you will change your mind, given time.”
“I know I will,” I said stoutly. “Time is all I need, Corin…truly.”
He r
eached for his goblet again, this time draining its contents. “I can only hope that is the way of things. For now, though, I am weary. It has been a long day, and tomorrow starts very early. I think I shall retire for the evening.”
“I am sorry,” I said, and did not attempt to hide the worry in my tone.
To my surprise, he smiled and got up from the table so he might come over to me. His hand touched my hair, and he bent and placed a very gentle kiss on one cheek. “There is nothing to be sorry about, my lady wife. But would you do me the favor of clearing the table, so I might go directly to bed?”
“Of course,” I replied, although I had only a hazy idea as to what I should do with the leftover food. There must be a pantry, mustn’t there? And a larder of some sort? Despite my inner worries, I did my best to keep my doubts from revealing themselves in my face and added, “Sleep well, Corin.”
He did not answer, but only nodded and left the room. I sat there and stared at the uneaten food, and did my best not to sigh.
Even though I had been following my heart, I could not help but think that I had just made a very great mistake.
Corin was gone when I awoke the next morning. I did not know why this should have surprised me so much, for I was utterly weary by the time I laid my head on the pillow the night before, and I had never been in the habit of rising with the sun. Its rays were what woke me, streaming in through the thin curtains at the window, rousing me to an empty house.
In a way, that made matters easier. I could rise from my narrow bed and wash my face and hands, and get dressed in the linen gown I’d worn the day before — even though its hem was still dusty and the entire garment quite wrinkled — all without having to worry about whether Corin might interrupt me as I finished my toilette.
But the little house felt achingly empty without him. I went into the kitchen and saw that he had cut himself a slice of bread but left the cold chicken pie untouched, and had washed not just his own plate, but our dirty dishes from the night before, which I had been unable to clean, for there had been nothing to wash them with. Now a large earthenware jug sat at one end of the wooden counter, filled nearly to the top with water. He must have gone and gotten water from the well and brought it back here, all while I slept like the spoiled child that I was.
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