“I’m sick of resting,” she said. “I’ll go mad if I’m confined to that bedchamber another day.”
“You won’t, and it’s not worth it to push yourself if you only collapse back. Don’t you want to get to your son in Dorset? Think of him. I can’t escort you there if you can’t even walk from one floor to another.”
“It feels so far away.”
“Yes, but if that’s where you want to go, then that’s where I’ll take you. You didn’t hire me to sit around, after all.”
Was he annoyed by the diversion in their journey? Well, of course he was. He didn’t want to be at Cleobury. “If you wish to leave, Sir Rafe, you can. You can make a better living if you return to fighting tourneys, or hiring out for someone else. I have no claim on you.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, then said, “Not many tourneys to fight in, once summer comes. That’s when the real battles begin again. Who knows what Stephen or Maud have planned for England? I don’t want to be in the midst of that.”
“So you’ll stay?” she asked, trying hard not to sound as if she were begging.
“I suppose,” he replied. “But you must rest. The second I hear you’re violating Cecily’s instructions, I ride out that gate.”
She smiled, unreasonably happy with that response. “Thank you.”
“Good. Now, I’m taking you to bed.”
“Rafe!” she warned.
He gave her a too-innocent smile. “So you can rest. What’s the matter, my lady? Did you think I meant something else?”
“Stop that,” she said in a low voice, though she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “This is hardly an appropriate time.”
“But eventually it will be, and we still have an agreement, don’t we?”
Wasthatwhy he agreed to stay on? Angelet doubted it, since Rafe could have any woman he wanted. Still, the idea that he was only interested in her recovery so they could resume their more intimate relations chilled her.
“Angelet?” Rafe took her hand. “You know I’m only teasing you.”
“Of course I know that. I’m just tired. I should rest after all.”
Rafe walked her back to her room, behaving perfectly the whole time. He’d always been able to do that, she recalled. Proper in public, and very improper once they were alone. She wished he wasn’t so good at switching his demeanor. It made it impossible to judge his true feelings, assuming he had any feelings for her deeper than lust.
When she was alone in the bedchamber once more, sleep eluded her. Instead, she thought of Rafe, realizing how little she knew of his past actions or his future intentions.
* * * *
The days passed quietly. In general, Angelet was recovering well, and soon felt much closer to normal in a physical sense. She could move and walk and perform all her usual tasks just as well as she used to. She explored the manor’s house and grounds as her strength returned.
Cleobury was about the same size as Dryton, but it felt much busier, with steady traffic coming through the gates from the nearby village and the surrounding countryside. Some folk carried in goods that had been made by the town’s craftsmen. Others brought in food—a cart of grain in one case, several braces of rabbits in another, or a basket full of pungent mushrooms harvested from the forest to the west. Everyone seemed to know each other, at least to call out greetings or chat for a few moments. Laughter broke out frequently, and the whole mood was so different from the grim atmosphere of Dryton.
The reason had to lie with those who ruled here. Lady Cecily appeared to have business in every building and field at some point. If she wasn’t directing some effort, her lord Alric was. The man was on his feet from sunup to sundown. Angelet had to struggle to remember Otto when he wasn’t at ease. Apparently, the real lord of the manor—Cecily’s father—was away. But Alric seemed to be well prepared for the part. Cleobury would be in good hands for another generation. Or two, considering Cecily’s condition.
Watching the lady absent-mindedly put her hand on her belly made Angelet think of her own child. She had to reach Henry before Otto found her. And she couldn’t do that until she got well enough to travel. Everything was in the air till she recovered, so she dutifully swallowed every tisane and followed every command when it came to her health. At Cecily’s orders, she did not overexert herself, though she did not enjoy feeling useless.
She didn’t have funds to repay Cecily for all her charity, so she instead offered her labor. Luckily, she could mend, and the ladies of Cleobury had plenty of mending to do. There were so many people about, there was always a supply of things to be repaired or improved—clothing, linens, sacks, and more. Angelet joined the group of women as if she had every right to, and soon she was quite happily stitching away.
She sewed several items for Cecily’s expected child, and used her skills with embroidery to make those items special. The women who worked as seamstresses in Cleobury all cooed in approval, and several of them asked for advice. Angelet gave it happily. At last her few domestic skills were proving useful in a small way. As she worked, she listened to the ladies gossip around her.
“Have you met Robin yet?” one of the ladies asked one day, gesturing to a new face in the room. “She’s a ward of Lord Rainald, and we are attempting to teach her some of the skills of a lady.” The woman’s tone hinted at how difficult the task was.
Robin stabbed at her work with the needle, muttering every time she made a mistake, which was frequently. She huffed out sighs, and generally acted as though she’d rather be plunged in an icy river than make another stitch.
Angelet smiled. Robin was several years younger than Angelet, with a slim body that was nevertheless fully into womanhood. The way the girl’s eyes kept flicking to the window made it clear she wanted to fly out of the room.
“When the weather grows warmer,” Angelet said to her, “you can take your work outside. It’s pleasant to embroider in the sun, and never a worry about having enough light for the task.”
