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Quietly closing that door, Aimee passed on to the final door and found it concealed a staircase which carried up to a third floor. After climbing this flight, Aimee was pleasantly surprised to find another floor of large sized chambers. She had thought it would be attic rooms for the servants.

Then again, she had been too busy gawking at her husband on their approach to take a good look at her new house. It must be four-storeys high, she realized. Her father had done them proud. Only the best for Gerold Ankatel’s daughter.

The first room she came across was a large bedchamber which looked down directly onto the street below. Aimee thought this would be a good candidate for Lord Kentigern’s chamber. The bed was large and set high on a platform. Above it, a wooden frame hung suspended from the ceiling ready for the curtains to be hung from it.

The next room was smaller and would perhaps do for storing his clothing, armor, and swords, she thought vaguely. Or did knights keep such things elsewhere, such as near the stable? Surely, they would be at risk of being stolen if they were left unsecured in an outhouse. Dismissing these ruminations, she drifted on and found two more good sized rooms.

One of these would do well for her own use, she thought as both contained beds and would be near to her husband’s. When Lady Wycliffe had given them a tour of Wycliffe Hall, she and Ursula had learned that husbands and wives of the nobility usually maintained their own bedchambers and did not share as commonfolk did. Still, she would like to be on the same floor as her husband at least. That way, if he should decide to come in search of her company, she would not be too hard to find.

Aimee idled a moment at the window, gazing down at the passersby in the street below. Watching them scurry by on their business, she reflected how funny it was that none of them had the first clue it was her wedding day today. A noise at the door had her wheeling around with a hopeful look on her face, but it was not Lord Kentigern. Instead, Golda stood at the doorway with her arms full of linen.

“This the room you picked out for yourself?” her servant asked, looking about critically. “Well, it’s nice enough, but it’s not the biggest of the bunch, is it?”

“No,” Aimee agreed. “But the largest on this floor should go to his lordship.”

Golda shrugged and turned back to look over her shoulder. “Don’t dawdle there, child. Fetch in those bedclothes.” Unwin sidled into the room, one spindly shank after the other, his skinny arms wrapped around a bundle of bed linens and red damask.

“Set them down on the bed,” Golda instructed him, but here Aimee interrupted.

“Not those ones,” she said hurriedly, crossing the room to where Unwin stood. “Those are intended for Lord Kentigern’s bedchamber.”

“What?” Golda squawked. “But those are the finest of the lot! Why would my lady squander those on one such as his lordship? He won’t appreciate such quality linens, I assure you!”

Aimee eyed her maidservant in exasperation. “I embroidered those ones with his crest especially, Golda,” she pointed out feeling a little self-conscious.

“I know that, milady,” Golda replied, plunking one hand on her ample hip. “But now you’m married, that’s your crest now too!”

How funny, she had not really considered that. “Well, yes,” she agreed. “But I can always embroider my own at some later point. These are my wedding gift to him.” Well, one of them anyway, she amended silently. She made no mention of the many other items she had picked out for him which were tucked away in one of the chests.

Golda pursed her lips but said no more as Aimee took the large pile of bedlinens from Unwin. “You can help me set up the master’s bed now, Unwin,” she said to the boy. “Follow me.” She noticed the boy looked first to Golda before falling in step behind her. Golda jerked her chin at the boy, and he scurried after Aimee at once.

“Shall you miss the stable work, Unwin?” she asked conversationally as they proceeded down the passageway. When he did not answer, she turned back to give him a smile. “You must not be so shy around me, for I am sure we will see a lot of each other. In a townhouse such as this one, there is not much room for stables or a garden,” she persisted. “I do not think there is even a central courtyard like the one in my father’s house. No doubt my husband will keep his destrier elsewhere, so it will be housework you will be expected to help out with.”

Unwin gulped and did the trick of letting his hair fall forward over his face again. Aimee swung open the bedchamber door and led the way inside. “I suppose you are not used to working in the house with women,” Aimee observed as she threw the first sheet over the mattress. “But you will soon grow accustomed to us. Catch that corner and pull it over.” The boy scrambled to help smooth out the creases and tuck the cloth under.

“Did my father’s grooms not expect an answer when they spoke to you, Unwin?” she asked gently as she fetched the next sheet. The boy’s lips quivered, and he seemed to grow short of breath. Aimee frowned, for he seemed almost afraid of her questioning. “Catch that side,” she said, flinging out the scarlet damask covering. He was obliging enough, in any case, she thought as she watched him catch the bedspread and bring it down over the mattress.

“We will need to stand on chairs to hang the canopy and curtains,” she commented, gazing up at the canopy frame. “Neither of us will ever reach it otherwise.” Unwin looked about the room, noting the lack of chairs. “There are plenty stacked in the storeroom downstairs off the passageway.”

The boy did not need telling twice. As he darted from the room, Aimee set about pulling the scarlet cloth straight, smoothing it flat and folding over the sheet to display the embroidered insignia of the Kentigerns. She had spent many hours toiling over the tiny stitches until they looked as perfect as she could ever achieve. She ran her fingertip lightly over the intricate gold stitches of the portcullis motif and smiled. She hoped such small attentions would persuade her new husband of her sincere attachment and hopes for their union.

Next, she laid the fine white pillow bearers at the head of the bed. These, too, were delicately embroidered. Indeed, so many times had she repeated the process that she fancied she could surely produce that gold portcullis perfectly now, even blindfolded.

When Unwin appeared with two chairs, they set about fixing the damask drapes about the hanging structure. Aimee felt herself break into a sweat as she craned, pushed, and pulled the fabric until it hung just as it ought. When she finally hopped down from her chair and surveyed the results, she felt deeply gratified.

“Does it not look quite splendid, Unwin?” she asked, clapping her hands together. “Why, it is already quite ten times as magnificent as the Wycliffe’s best bedchamber.” Unwin nodded obligingly as though he knew who the Wycliffes were. “And the rest of the furniture has not even been fetched up yet. Only imagine how it will look when it is fully furnished.”

She would even have one of the magnificent wedding chests set down in his bedchamber, she reflected happily as they made their way back to her room. After all, it would hardly be fair of her to hog them both for her sole enjoyment.

When they reached her bedchamber, they found Golda was putting the finishing touches to her bed with pretty coverings of green and gold. Golda looked up as they entered the room. “We can’t hang the curtains until you get a canopy set up,” she said with dissatisfaction, nodding to where the curtains lay folded on the floor. “I reckon as that room on the floor below was meant to be yours, not this ’un.”

“It is of no matter,” Aimee assured her. “We can send for a carpenter on the morrow. This will do very well for now, Golda.”

“The water really should be getting hot by now,” Golda observed. “You’ll need to wash up before taking your supper. Unwin,” she said addressing the boy. “You’ll need to light this fire too before it starts going off cold.” She nodded toward the fireplace, and the boy scuttled from the room.

A sudden thought occurring to her, Aimee turned impulsively toward Golda. “The boy can speak, can he not?”

Golda gave a short laugh. “Aye, miss, he speaks. It takes him a while to warm up to a body, that’s all.”