The Brat(24)
Author: Lynsay Sands

Once dressed, Juliana said, "Thank you, Murie. ‘Tis a beautiful dress. I have never owned anything so lovely."

Murie smiled and shrugged. "I thought it would be nice to bring my new sister a gift, to show I am glad to be a member of your family."

"We are sisters, are we not?" the girl said happily. "I think I shall like having you for a sister. I am glad Balan married you." Juliana hugged her quickly and then turned to flee, pausing with a start when she spotted her brother.

"Good eve, Balan. Murie is nice," she announced as she skirted him for the door. "I have to go tell Gatty about my dress." Balan watched his sister go running down the hall with a light step he’d not seen since his return from France. Once she’d disappeared down the stairs, he shifted the trenchers to one hand, closed the door with the other and turned to face his wife. Much to his amazement, she was watching him almost warily. He understood why when she spoke.

"I did punish her. She helped me make the bed and hang the furs and find herbs for the fire," she said quickly. "The dress was a reward for her hard work."

Balan smiled faintly and, moving forward, pointed out: "You commissioned the gown ere you ever met her or knew there would be something to reward."

"Aye, well, I thought she might like it."

Balan paused before his wife and started to reach for her, only to come to a halt when he recalled the trenchers in his hands. He peered at the roast fish with a frown and then glanced at Murie.

"I brought you food."

"I am not hungry right this moment, I – " Her words ended on a gasp of surprise as he suddenly dropped the trenchers on the fur next to them and caught her in his arms, his mouth covering hers, hard and demanding.

Her kindness to his sister had touched him, and as he’d watched he could imagine her with their own children: teaching them, comforting them, mothering them. It had made his heart ache with a sort of yearning that he did not understand but that he wanted to express. He wanted to devour her; he wanted to hold her so tight that she became a part of him he was never without.

Saying so would probably alarm the woman, however, so he expressed himself the only way he knew how. Mouth covering and filling hers, he ran his hands up and down her body, pressing as close as he could get while they were dressed. Of course it wasn’t enough, and he soon swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Unwilling to be parted from her for even a moment, he let her feet drop so that she hung in his arms and then tumbled them both onto the bed, his mouth breaking away on a shout of surprise. The bed had collapsed beneath them!

Eyes wide, he peered around at the buckled frame and then down at his wife in surprise. She shook beneath him with silent laughter.

Sobering as his eyes met hers, she murmured, "I think we may need a new bed, my lord husband."

"Aye," he agreed on a husky growl. Then he kissed her again, his hands beginning to remove her gown. They could worry about a new bed on the morrow. He had other matters to attend tonight.

Chapter Thirteen

Murie opened her eyes and found herself staring at an empty expanse of bed. Sitting up, she peered around the room. Her husband had already risen and started his day… and without waking her.

Scowling, she pushed the linens and furs aside and climbed to her feet from the collapsed bed. She’d hoped to talk to Balan about perhaps getting some livestock and more servants for the castle, but he’d quite distracted her last night and now had slipped away while she slept. It wasn’t a good start to the day. Muttering under her breath, she crossed to her chest of clothes and began pulling out gowns and surcoats until she settled on something she felt like wearing. Murie had a rather large selection, thanks to living at court, where fashion was nearly a religion and becoming more so all the time since the plague. It was almost as if everyone were insisting on vast variety and color to make up for the misery they’d gone through.

Settling on a deep red gown with a black surcoat that should manage for a busy day of cleaning, Murie began to tug the clothes on, pausing when the door opened and Cecily looked in.

"Oh, you are up." The woman smiled but raised her eyebrows at the fact that she was already dressed. "Are you not going to wash up first? You always wash in the morning."

Murie opened her mouth to say she couldn’t be bothered this morning, that she was just going to get filthy cleaning and thought it better to just take a bath that night, but the woman stepped into the room with the customary basin of water.

"Oh, bother!" She promptly tugged off the gown she’d just put on and stomped over. "Where is my husband?"

"He rode out with Osgoode hours ago," Cecily informed her. "I have no idea where they were headed. He simply told me to let you sleep as long as you liked, as you are still recovering from the poisoning, then left."

"Hmm." Murie scowled at the linen cloth as she ran it quickly over her body. She supposed it would be fish to break her fast, as well as at lunch and sup. Not an appetizing prospect, she thought, then chided herself. She had naught to complain about. The people here had been eating fish at every meal for months, and she’d not yet eaten it once: They had never got around to eating the fish Balan had brought up with him last night.

"I suppose everyone else is up and about their duties,as well?" she asked.

"Aye, though little Juliana has been hanging about in the hopes that you would rise and hem her dress," Cecily said with amusement. "You have won a heart there."

"She is a sweet child," Murie murmured, her face softening into a smile.

"Aye, I sensed that the moment she kicked you," her maid commented.

Murie merely chuckled and finished her ablutions, then crossed the room to re-don the red dress. As she pulled on the black surcoat, she asked, "Lord Reynard’s wagoneer has not yet left, has he?"

"Aye, he was gone almost on Lord Gaynor’s heels." Murie tsked at this. "He left without Emilie’s furs and pillows."

"He said she would not need them returned for a while, as they have plenty at Reynard, and they could stay here." Cecily picked up Murie’s gown from the night before and clucked over the state of it. Murie flushed, but otherwise ignored the reprimand; Balan had been a bit impatient removing it and had left it a tangled heap.

"So? What completely unsuitable task are we going to perform today?" Cecily asked as she straightened and folded the dress.

"Shall we clear and scrub the great hall floor, or chop wood for the fire?"

"You have been spoiled by too much time at court," Murie said with gentle amusement. "Do you not remember life at Somerdale? Surely it was not all gentle ladylike pastimes there?"

"Aye, I remember," Cecily said quietly. She put the dress away.

"I wonder how Somerdale fared through the plague," Murie said, suddenly worried. She had been so distracted with the happenings at court and in London that she hadn’t given her childhood home a thought since the plague struck. But then, it had been so long ago, and the people there were all just fuzzy images and echoes in her mind.

"They fared no better than anywhere else," Cecily informed her. "One third to one half of the villagers and servants were taken by the plague, including William the steward."

"William the steward," Murie murmured, a faded image of the man coming to mind along with a memory of Cecily giggling at something he said. She seemed to remember that all the maids had found him handsome and giggled in his presence. "I wonder if the king has replaced him, or if it is something Balan need tend to."

"I would not know, my lady. I only heard how Somerdale fared secondhand from one of the maids of the neighboring castle. Her lady was visiting court and passed the news to me."

"I had best mention it to Balan then," Murie decided, and headed for the door.

"What do you wish me to do today, my lady?" Cecily asked, trailing along.

Murie paused at the door to consider. There was so much to do; it was difficult to decide where to start. She really needed to tour the castle again – more slowly this time so that she could sort out what needed doing most. But there was no need for Cecily to waste time trailing her around.

When Murie realized she was absently scuffing her toe against a hard bit of something long-ago spilled on the wooden floor, her gaze swept the bedchamber and she nodded. "Why do you not gather rushes for the floor to start with?" she suggested, opening the chamber door. "If you do not think you can manage the task on your own, take one of Gatty’s daughters with you."

"Aye, my lady," Cecily said, and the two left the room. Leaving Cecily to go about her own task, Murie started a tour of the upper floor before going below to break her fast. Truly, the idea of fish was not tempting.

And a more thorough going-over of each room on the upper floor simply reaffirmed what she’d noted the night before: They all basically needed as much effort as her bedchamber. The last two chambers of the four could wait, but she would definitely like to see Juliana’s room made more hospitable.

As if thoughts of the child brought her running, Balan’s sister was the first person Murie saw as she descended the stairs to the great hall. The girl rushed to greet her, Frederick on her heels and questions on her lips.

"Are you going to cut my hair today, Murie? Are you going to hem my dress?" she asked excitedly. The girl’s eagerness was enough to decide Murie on her first tasks.

"I shall certainly cut your hair right now if you like," she assured the child, and then added, "and I shall certainly pin your dress directly afterward. Howbeit, I will not hem it until this evening when we are relaxing around the fire after sup."

"Oh," Juliana’s shoulders drooped with disappointment. "But then I shall not be able to wear it tonight."

Murie bit her lip and sighed. Some things were simply too important to be left, and an injured young girl’s feelings were far more important than cleaning this or that. "You are right, and so I shall hem it when we break for the nooning meal instead. How is that?"

Juliana brightened at once. "That would be wonderful!"

"Go sit at the trestle table while I fetch the items I need to cut your hair," Murie instructed.

"Aye, Murie. Thank you, Murie. You are the best sister a girl ever had, Murie."

The child raced off toward the tables with Frederick on her heels, and Murie watched them go with a smile.

"Bribery will get you far with her, I think. No one has ever troubled themselves to use it."

"Clement." Murie sighed as she turned to the speaker. "Is there something I can help you with this morning, or have you just come to devil me with your surliness?"

He blinked in surprise at her tone. Presumably, no one normally dared confront the man on his moods for fear he might spit – or worse – in their food. Come to think of it, Murie thought suddenly, mayhap hers wasn’t the smartest move.

"Actually, my lady," he said finally, in a much more amenable voice, "Cecily mentioned that you are touring the castle once more to see what needed doing, and I hoped you might see your way clear to touring the kitchens first so that you would be done and out of the way when it came time to make the nooning meal."

Judging the request to be perfectly reasonable, Murie gave a nod of assent and promised, "Directly after I deal with Juliana. Would that be sufficient?"

"Aye. Thank you." Clement gave a very formal bow and turned to walk away, then paused after several steps. "I shall bring you the implements needed to repair the child’s hair," he said, looking back.

"Thank you," Murie said slowly, perplexed as she watched him leave. It seemed snapping at him had a beneficial effect.

"You have taken Clement in hand as well, I see," Gatty said, making her presence known.

"Aye, it would seem so, though I am not at all sure how I managed it," Murie admitted.

"You did not toady," Gatty said simply. "Even the old Lord Gaynor tended to tiptoe around the man and let him get away with more than he should have. Clement grew too big for his britches because of that."

"Are you saying he was as surly before the plague as he is now?" Murie asked with disbelief.

"You thought his having nothing but fish to work with had caused his moodiness?" Gatty guessed. When Murie nodded, she said, "I suspect Lord Balan thinks the same, but it is not the case. He was cantankerous from the day Lord Gaynor lured him away from our neighbor Lord Aldous."

"Aldous is a neighbor?" Murie asked sharply.

"Aye, our closest, and Gaynor and Aldous have always been at odds. Balan’s father and the old Aldous both loved Lady Gaynor, but Lord Gaynor got her. Aldous never forgave him, and the two have been feuding ever since, though not openly. It seemed to transfer naturally to the sons. Malculinus and Balan both trained at Strathcliffe and were constantly at odds from what has been said. Though, as with the fathers, not openly. I gather Malculinus used to get a bunch of bullies together to harrass Balan, never actually doing the dirty work himself. But then, he was always a small, frail lad and would not have been able to stand in a fair fight."

"And Lord Gaynor hired Clement away from Aldous Castle?"

"Aye. More than fifteen years ago. Those were better days, of course. Lady Gaynor was still alive, and Gaynor was healthy and prosperous. ‘Tis only when Lady Gaynor died that things began to slip. Lord Gaynor seemed to lose interest in everything around him at that point. And then, the summer before the plague hit, he suddenly found a renewed interest in Gaynor and decided we needed a bigger, finer fish pond. He spent a great deal of money on the task, and it was fraught with difficulty. The moment the men started the project, the heavens seemed to open up and pound us with rain that simply did not stop."

"I remember that summer," Murie admitted. "Many lost their crops to the mud and damp."

"Aye, we did as well. So the pond ate a good portion of our income. Then the crops failed, and the plague hit. Had Lord Gaynor not built the pond, we would have been in a much better position to keep servants."