Denys turned to one of Lord Draven’s servants and instructed the man to show them the way.
Stupefied, Emily watched the men struggle up the stairs with her new headboard.
“What is going on?” she asked Denys when he returned to her side.
He smoothed his sleeve meticulously, then met her gaze. “Lord Draven woke me an hour before sunrise and had me start preparations for your stay. He said the donjon was to look as if the king himself were staying with us.”
Denys ran his finger down the list of items he’d written in his book. “I was told to find a housekeeper, a better cook, a baker, another brewer. There were shrubs and flowers to be ordered and a gardener. More cattle and hens,” he said, frowning as he looked up from his list. “I was told to get a lot of hens.”
“Hens?” she asked, confused as well.
“Aye, red ones, his lordship said. Nothing but red hens for the lady.”
Emily laughed at the very thought. It’s been a red hen she’d used against “the” terror.
For all his bluster, Lord Draven did have a keen sense of humor.
Denys looked back at his notes. “The housekeeper is named Beatrix and said that she could be here this afternoon. She’s a widow-woman who seemed very nice. If you have any problems with her, let me know and I shall deal with her forthwith. Now, what other items do you require?” Again, he positioned his quill for her orders.
Emily sat perplexed. When she’d spoken to Lord Draven the night before she’d assumed she would be the one to put things in order. The best she’d hoped for was a housekeeper and maybe a village girl or two to help with the cleaning. Never had she expected an army of helpers to descend on the keep, let alone all the other items Lord Draven had ordered.
“I can think of nothing.” She looked to her maid whose face mirrored her own amazement. “Alys?”
“Nay, milady. ‘Twould seem his lordship thought of everything.”
Satisfied, Denys returned his vial of ink to his satchel and closed his book. “Very good, then. You and your maid may relax and know that I have everything in hand. Should you think of anything you need, please let me know.”
“Thank you.” Emily glanced about at the bustle, overwhelmed by Lord Draven’s generosity.
Denys had started away from her table when a thought struck her.
“Wait, Denys?”
He literally hopped back to her side.
Thinking what a peculiar man he was, Emily gestured toward where the lord’s table should be set. “Did his lordship perchance order a table and a dais?”
She could swear the steward’s face lost some of its color. “Nay, milady, he did not.”
“Then perhaps you should add that.”
He hesitated. “I don’t think that would be wise, milady.”
“Whyever not?”
“Draven has little use for the pompousness of aristocracy.”
Emily looked over her shoulder to see Simon standing behind her with his hands behind his back.
How long had he been there?
Emily gestured to where a dais should be. “‘Tis not pompous, Lord Simon. ‘Tis expected.”
“In other halls, mayhap. Not here.” Simon surveyed the activity. “As usual, Denys, I am impressed by your meticulousness.”
“My pleasure is to please you, milord.”
Simon laughed aloud. “And so you have. Draven on the other hand...”
