Marjorie.
“I would go home now, Severin.”
“Only if the Healer says you are well enough.”
The Healer agreed but told her to remain in her bed for the remainder of the day, to eat a light broth, and to sleep for as long as she could.
“Be patient, Hastings,” the Healer called after her, Alfred weaving in and out between her legs.
Hastings had wanted Severin to hold her, but not like this, not when her head was aching more ferociously now, and her belly wasn’t all that calm now with the swaying of his mighty war-horse, despite the Healer’s potion.
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He was holding her in his arms, her head against his chest. Her belly quieted. She sighed and, surprisingly, slept the short ride to the castle.
She awoke to see Lady Marjorie standing on the top stone step of the keep, Eloise at her side. “Ah, my lord, you have brought her home. Carry her immediately to her bedchamber. That’s right. Be careful now.”
She sounds like the mistress of Oxborough, Hastings thought, feeling strangely detached. Then she drifted away again from another potion the Healer had given her to drink just before she and Severin left her cottage.
When she awoke, Dame Agnes was seated beside her bed, sewing. There were three lit candles casting slivers of light through the shadows in the large room.
“My little pet, you’re awake. Good. I will send for your broth. MacDear was very worried that it would not be exactly as the Healer wished it to be.”
Hastings said nothing. She was here alone in the bedchamber with Dame Agnes. Where was Severin? Where was Marjorie?
When she finally swallowed the delicious broth, flavored lightly with chicken and almonds, she heard herself ask, “Where is my lord?”
“He is in the great hall with all his men.”
“And Lady Marjorie.”
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“Aye, I suppose so. What does that matter? All that is important is that you mend.”
“Why would Severin’s saddle fall from a window onto my head, Agnes?” Slowly, she continued eating the broth. Her stomach remained calm. She knew she had to eat. She had to regain her strength.
Dame Agnes straightened the sleeve of her gown. She studied the thumbnail on her left hand. She frowned at the brown spots on the back of her hands. She would have to see the Healer. “No one knows, Hastings. Lord Severin questioned everyone. The window from which the saddle fell was in the leatherer’s shop, but you knew that. It certainly wouldn’t fall from the baker’s house. That second floor is a sleeping area
for Thomas’s three apprentices as well as a storage place for goods waiting to be mended, and raw materials. All believe it was an accident. That sweet Ellen ran all the way from the village to the keep. She is a good girl.”
“I would go downstairs now, Agnes.”
“You are not yet well enough, Hastings.”
Hastings ignored her. She rose slowly, very carefully. Pain bolted through her head, but it wasn’t too bad. Her shoulders were knotted and stiff. She could bear it.
She was wearing only her night shift. She smiled at Dame Agnes. “Please help me with my clothes. I must go to the great hall, I must.”
Dame Agnes nodded.
Six bells were ringing when Hastings stood at the base of the solar stairs and looked over the great hall. She knew what she would see, but still, seeing Lady Marjorie seated in her chair next to Severin, Eloise beside her, nearly brought her to her knees. Marjorie was laughing at something Severin said. Everyone was laughing, arguing, eating with great appetite. No one seemed to find anything amiss. Everything was perfectly normal save that the mistress of the castle wasn’t in her rightful place.
Marjorie was.
Hastings weaved where she stood. She felt Dame Agnes’s hand beneath her elbow.
“She has taken my place,” Hastings said.
“No. It seems that the smaller chair where she has sat had a broken leg. There was no choice but for her to sit in your chair. It means nothing, Hastings. You are ill and not thinking clearly.”
“No, I suppose I am not thinking at all.” Ah, but the pain she felt. It was bowing her inward, threatening to bring her to her knees.