Page 52 of The Tempest
Pulling herself away from the hearth where things were cooking, she went out the back door. Behind the cottages were gardens, cluttered ones, with wood or discarded items that probably belonged in the repository. There were also trees, small ones, and she went to the nearest one to strip off some of the lower branches with their leaves. When she had an arm full of them, she went back into the cottage and spread the rushes out in front of the hearth in the larger common room, but also under the table to catch crumbs and other rubbish falling from the table. That was customary. The green leaves also gave the cottage a fresh smell, something she inhaled deeply.
It was comforting. In fact, the clean cottage and the baking bread were both comforting. Payne had mentioned his wife making a warm home for him, and she hoped that this was what he’d meant. It was true that this was an unexpected marriage, but now that she was entrenched in it, she wanted to do it the best way she could. The way Payne wanted it.
When he came through the entry door a short time later, the expression on his face told her that, indeed, it was the way he wanted it.
And that was a surprisingly good feeling.
“Well?” she said. “What do you think? Is it clean enough for you?”
Payne was looking around the room, his jaw slack with surprise. “Yedid this?” he said in awe.
Astria nodded. “I did, but I wasn’t alone,” she said. “Your friends Lady Munro and Lady de Reyne are the ones to thank. They worked very hard for this. I just did as they instructed. Are you pleased?”
Payne was looking at the two chairs facing the blazing hearth in the large sitting room. “My God,” he breathed. “Am I pleased? It is more than I had imagined. Areyepleased?”
Astria looked around at the room that smelled faintly of vinegar and rushes. “I think we did a good job of it,” she said. “It looks much better than it did.”
He nodded firmly. “I would agree with that,” he said. Then he turned to her, grasped her by the arms, and planted a kiss right on her lips. “Well done, lass. I’m proud of ye.”
Astria was shocked by the kiss, overwhelmed by the kind words.I’m proud of ye. Over something like this? A clean house? It seemed so trivial.
… wasn’t it?
Dumbfounded by his reaction, she stood there with her tongue tied, unable to respond as he went over to the chairs in front of the hearth and inspected them.
“Where did ye find these?” he asked.
Astria cleared her throat and found her tongue. “In the outbuilding that has old things in it,” she said. “Lady Munro told me that this little village used to be an actual village, with people and businesses, but Blackchurch purchased it, so old furniture and things were cleaned out and put into a storehouse.”
He nodded, lifting up the chair and looking at the sturdiness of the legs. “A very long time ago,” he said. “But these seem steady enough.”
Astria pointed into the kitchen. “We found other things, too,” she said. “Enough to start a home with, anyway, but there are a few things we may need to purchase.”
“Like what?”
“A bed frame,” she said. “Unless you intend that we should sleep on the floor.”
He set the chair down. “Nay,” he said. “It doesna matter much tae me, but I dunna want ye on the floor with the colddrafts. There’s a wheelwright in Exebridge who can probably build us a proper bed.”
“Speaking of bed,” she said, pointing toward the stairs, “we cleaned yours and put clean linens on it.”
He grinned. “Good,” he said. “It needed it.”
“Aye, it did.”
She didn’t hesitate in answering, and he snorted. “Ye agreed with me too quickly,” he said. “Ye could at least be… What’s that smell?”
He suddenly started sniffing the air. Astria sniffed, too, realizing it smelled like smoke. With a gasp, she ran into the kitchen and tried to grab one of the pots off the coals, but she nearly burned her hand. Payne was right behind her, using the bottom of his tunic as a barrier against the hot handle of the iron pot. He swung it onto the table and went in for the second pot as well. With both of them on the table, Astria used a spoon to remove both tops, trying not to burn herself again.
What she saw distressed her.
“Oh… no,” she said sadly. “It is burned, all of it.”
Payne was peering into the red-hot pots. “Nay, it’s not,” he said, trying to be positive. “Look—what’s this? ’Tis not burned in the middle. I can simply eat the middle.”
To prove his point, he grabbed one of the spoons on the table and dug into the eggs, which were cooked very hard. The bottom and sides were burned. But he took a big bite of the mostly undamaged middle.
“Delicious,” he said. “Did ye make this yerself?”
