Mirrie squeezed her fingers in sympathy, but before she could say more, footsteps beyond the solar had Frida leaping out of her seat.
Has Tristan returned?
Frida thought her heart might jump out of her chest, but when the door finally opened, it was Agnes who appeared. The cook bobbed into a small curtsy.
“Beg pardon, milady. Miss Mirrie.”
Frida turned around to hide her distress and Mirrie waved Agnes forward.
“Come in, Agnes. You know we don’t stand on ceremony here.”
“I don’t like to interrupt. But I need to know how many to cook for tonight.” Agnes pulled at her sleeves, nervously. “We were not expecting such an influx of guests.”
Frida felt a jolt of shame. She had neglected her duties around the hall in these last days, and it had never even occurred to her that the servants might struggle to accommodate the newly arrived Wolvesley army.
“Do what you can with what we have, Agnes,” she said. “Mayhap a soup or a stew that can be reheated? We know not what time the men will return, but we must feed all who serve us.”
Agnes did not look convinced. “For the family too? E’en Lord Tristan?”
“Lord Tristan will eat what the rest of us eat,” Frida replied swiftly. “If he doesn’t like it, he can go back to Wolvesley Castle.”
The cook hid her shocked expression by bobbing her head in acknowledgment. “Very good milady.”
Mirrie and Frida exchanged a look as she left.
“Methinks Agnes does not share your poor opinion of your brother,” Mirrie commented mildly. “She would prefer to serve him some special dish rather than see him supping stew.”
Frida allowed herself to smile. “Tristan charms e’en the birds from the trees.” She rubbed at her arms, crossly. “I oft think I am the only one immune.”
“I would not say that,” Mirrie replied.
Frida snorted. “Do not try to tell me that you are immune to my brother’s smile.”
Mirrie’s cheeks flushed pink but she shook her head steadily. “I was thinking of Jonah.”
“Ah yes. Well then, you are right.” Frida grasped Mirrie’s wrist. “I am sorry for teasing you.”
Mirrie’s expression softened. “I was glad to see you light-hearted for a moment.”
Frida let out a deep sigh and sank back onto the settle. Aye, for a moment she had put her worries behind her. But nowthey were back with a vengeance. Her head throbbed and her stomach churned with nerves.
“Just think,” Mirrie continued. “’Twas not more than a sennight since that you vowed to live a life free of men.”
Frida covered her face with her hands. “I do not think I can speak of this now.”
“I only meant it as an example of how things can change.” Mirrie’s voice was gentle. “We know not what the future holds. We may think we do, but surprises wait at every turn.”
Frida rested her elbow on the arm of the settle, but did not lower her hand. “I cannot deny the truth of your words. But nor can I find the strength to hope just now.”
“All I ask is that you do not close yourself off from what the future could hold.” Mirrie rubbed her back comfortingly. “Hope may yet come and find you.”
They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sound being the occasional hiss from the fire and footsteps coming from the kitchen. Frida’s distress began to subside, replaced with fatigue and even a flicker of suspicion that Mirrie might be right.
Who knows what the future may hold?
If Callum had got clean away, as she hoped with every fibre of her being, then all of this furore would die down soon enough. Tristan would return to Wolvesley. Frida and Mirrie would return to their chores. Who was to say that Callum would not one day return to Ember Hall?
He knows well enough where to find me.
