Page 10 of Suddenly a Bride
“No servants stay the night, Lady Blackwell. Not since—” He broke off and blushed.
“Not since…” Gwyneth repeated.
“Not since the last mistress died, milady.”
“Why is that?” She gave Lucy a puzzled glance and saw that the girl’s eyes were huge. “I see that the soldiers stay.”
“Oh, yes, milady, in the barracks. We all know there’s no truth to the rumors, although it be difficult to convince the villagers.”
“What rumors?” Lucy asked before Gwyneth could stop her.
Ranalf’s face was now a fiery red. “I be speakin’ when I shouldn’t. Forgive me, milady. I’ll go take care of the horses.”
He hopped up to his coachman’s box, grabbed the reins and guided the horses toward the stables. The women were left standing alone, because even the cart with their trunks had already gone lumbering by. A chill seemed to be rising from the ground and swirling about them, even though summer was not entirely over.
Gwyneth took a deep breath. “Well, shall we enter the castle?”
“Are ye certain ’tis safe?” Lucy asked, sliding her hand under Gwyneth’s elbow.
Gwyneth patted her hand. “ ’Tis perfectly safe, and our home now—well, my home at least. You don’t have to stay, Lucy.”
“Oh, nay, milady, I can be as brave as you.”
The two of them marched arm in arm to a large set of double doors that looked whole and sound. After they walked up three stone steps, Gwyneth knocked, but it sounded like only a tap against the hard wood. The second time she made a fist and pounded. Though she heard a satisfying echo inside, no one came to greet them.
She was becoming annoyed now, so she grasped the latch, lifted it, and swung the door wide. Inside was a massive old medieval hall, with sooted rafters high above her, and a hearth taller than she at each end of the room. There was even a set of rusty armor on either side of a dark doorway, as if standing guard. Two walls had tapestries covering them, but they were too dark and stained to make out.
“Oh my,” Lucy finally breathed with dismay.
Gwyneth was glad it wasn’t she who had expressed such an opinion first. But she shared it. Though there were fresh rushes on the floor and a large, clean table before one of the hearths, the hall looked unlived in. For one aching moment, she remembered the warm fire and happy laughter of her own home.
There was a sudden rustle of rushes from a dark corner, and to her horror several shapes rose up. With a shrill squeak, Lucy grabbed hold of her arm again. They heard the first low growls, and she realized with relief that it was a pack of dogs. But the growling continued, and the animals began to slink around both sides of the table, coming toward them. There seemed to be so many of them.
“Should we run, Gwyn?” Lucy cried.
In a calm voice, she said, “I think ’twould be the worst thing to do. Remain still. They probably just want to see who we are. They are Sir Edmund’s dogs, after all.” That sounded so foolish, but she could think of nothing else to say, not when her own fright was rising in proportion to Lucy’s.
They were still standing there, frozen, when one of the many doors opened and Sir Edmund limped into the hall. There were joyous barks all around, and the dogs dashed for him, circling him and nosing his hand and bumping his legs. While Gwyneth and Lucy sagged against each other, he rubbed the animals, saying “Good dog” over and over.
He stopped abruptly when he noticed the women, and Gwyneth couldn’t help wondering if he’d forgotten again that he was married.
“There you are, my lady,” Sir Edmund said, frowning. “I was wondering where you had wandered off to.”
She wanted to say they’d been abandoned and could have been attacked by wild animals for all the thought anyone gave them, but she restrained herself and instead gave him a tired smile. “When we saw no one in the courtyard, we decided to come inside, Sir Edmund. I hope you do not mind.”
He frowned. “Not at all. I assume the dogs did not startle you.”
She wanted to roll her eyes. Did all men think that a pack of smelly dogs was a welcome touch in a woman’s household? And there were ten dogs!
“I saw Mrs. Haskell before she returned to the village,” Sir Edmund continued, “and she said she’d left supper for us in the kitchen.”
“Mrs. Haskell?”
“The housekeeper.” He looked down at papers he held in his hand, even as he still absently petted the dogs. He gestured over his shoulder. “Follow this corridor to the end, and you’ll reach the kitchen.”
Gwyneth walked toward him, feeling Lucy cling to her elbow, as if the dogs had been the final insult to the girl’s idea of a proper welcome. Several of the large animals approached them and began to sniff at their skirts.
“Will you not eat with us, my lord?” Gwyneth asked, putting out a hand and sighing with relief when one of the dogs only licked it.
