Eloise. Hastings herself walked up the solar stairs to visit the small bedchamber to see that Lady Marjorie had everything she needed. She paused a moment at the door, which was open just a few inches, hearing Lady Marjorie saying to Eloise, “My sweeting, I know that you do not like being here. I know that Hastings treated you so very poorly before I arrived. But I will be here with you to protect you. You have naught to fear.”
Hastings’s heart pounded hard. She couldn’t breathe. Eloise had told Marjorie that she had mistreated her? Mistreated her! Aye, Hastings had tried to force food down her throat. She had protected her from that awful woman, Beale.
“Nay, Marjorie, she was nice to me-”
“You do not remember correctly, Eloise,” Marjorie said in a soft, soothing voice. Hastings could picture her lightly stroking her hand over Eloise’s hair. “Aye, I remember your night dreams, how you woke up sobbing, your face all sweaty, tears streaming down your cheeks, crying of how miserable you had been here, how no one was kind to you. I will take care of you, no one else. Worry not.”
“Aye, Marjorie. I love you.”
“And I you, sweeting. I am the only one who loves you.”
Hastings slowly backed away from the door. She did not know what to thinkT AH she knew was that she wanted Lady Marjorie away from Oxborough as soon as possible. And she, damn Saint Oscar’s knees, had told Severin it would not be safe to return to Sedgewick for at least two weeks.
She would go ask the Healer.
She prayed the Healer would have a shorter answer.
How did Severin and Marjorie know each other?
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“~ Thy did you not tell me Lady Marjorie was Eloise’s new guardian?” VV Severin’s words hung heavy in the air as he drank deep from his goblet of ale, his eyes never leaving her face. He looked hard and remote, like the man she had married, the man who had stood in Oxborough’s great hall saying nothing, just observing all of them. He was no longer the Severin she’d known since she had followed Dame Agnes’s and Alice’s advice and run down the keep steps and hurled herself into his arms many weeks before. She just stared at him, wondering what was in his mind.
“I did tell you,” she said finally, leaning over to pat Trist, who was stretched his full length on the trestle table next to Severin’s arm. He was washing his chin. “Do you not remember?”
“You should have said that she was young and the fairest lady you had ever seen. You should have told me that her hair is like spun silver and glitters in the sunlight. Then I would have known who she was. Why didn’t you tell me, Hastings?”
It was her turn to pull back. “You believe I should have told you this woman had hair like spun silver? Would that not sound strange coming from my mouth? I remarked upon her beauty, but it wasn’t my first concern.”
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He waved his hand at her. Trist mewled softly. Severin began stroking the marten’s shining coat, long strokes, just like he had done on her back, from her neck to her thighs. Such long, soothing strokes. She stared at his hands. What was going on here?
“Who is this woman with hair like spun silver? I gather that you know her?”
“Aye, I have known her all her life. When I was seventeen I wanted to wed with her but I was only the second son and her father needed a rich man for her. When she wedded the old man, Baron Lipwait, I went crusading to the Holy Land. That is where I met Graelam and the king.”
“Then that was fortunate, was it not? Because you met them, because they believe you honorable and strong, you are now one of the richest men in England.”
He said nothing to that, merely continued to stroke Trist’s fur.
“So you have not seen her for eight years. That is a long time, Severin. People change. Their feelings change. Haven’t yours changed?”