Page 26

“What time will the new staff be arriving, Golda?” Aimee asked, thinking a change of subject was in order.

“The gods alone know!” Golda huffed and stalked out of the room.

Aimee took a bite of her bread and butter and hoped devoutly that they would be more even-tempered than the servants they currently possessed. She tarried a while over her simple meal before moving across to the large window. The sky was blue and the sun already shining high in the sky. It felt pleasant to bask a moment in its warmth.

The street outside was quiet, though some folk were already out about their business. Aimee spent a few moments in contemplation before turning from the view with a sigh. Eyeing the brightly wrapped packages on the table, she pondered her next move. What would Ursula advise? She already knew her sweet, grave sister would tell her she had to give Magnatrude and Freda more time. There was still the chance it was mere awkwardness or an excess of formality that had led them to shun her this morning.

After all, they were northerners, and their habits and ways were as foreign to her as her own would be to them. Picking up the packages, she took a deep breath, went out into the hallway, and mounted the stairs. When she reached the first floor, she paused briefly outside the parlor room and knocked. The flow of conversation abruptly halted as she pushed open the door.

“Good morning,” she greeted them politely.

“Oh! Good morning,” Freda twittered. “I – that is – we, hope you are well this morning, Aimee?” she faltered, her eyes darting nervously to Magnatrude.

“I am, thank you. I hope you spent a pleasant night’s sleep?” Aimee enquired.

“Oh, I did! Most pleasant!” Freda enthused, but her anxious gaze was still on her cousin and not Aimee. “Such a comfortable house, I have never slept under the eaves of one so newly built. Such large chambers,” she exclaimed. “Konrad is to be congratulated.”

“Did you see him this morn?” Aimee roused herself to ask when she realized that Freda’s babble of conversation had dried up. “Before he went to practice for the tournament?”

“Oh no!” Freda looked shocked. “I am sure my cousin is far too busy for womenfolk before midday.”

Aimee forced herself to walk into the room without waiting for an invitation which would not come. This was her house, she reminded herself. To feel like a trespasser in it would be foolish. “I have here a token for you both,” she said with a smile, setting a package down first by Freda’s plate and then one next to Magnatrude’s. “My mother hailed from Samare,” she explained. “Among her people, it is a custom for the bride to give gifts to the womenfolk in her new family. I hope you like them.”

Freda’s mouth formed an unspoken ‘oh’, but she did not speak it, merely sat with a look of frozen embarrassment. Aimee wondered if that lady started every sentence with the same exclamation. It certainly seemed that way. She glanced at Magnatrude, realizing that proud lady had not uttered so much as a word to her so far.

Magnatrude roused herself at this point, seeming to realize some conversation was required of her. “You are quite the bountiful lady, are you not?” she said in her deep, low voice, and Aimee felt herself coloring. The way Magnatrude uttered the words seemed vaguely accusatory.

Freda coughed. “Your mother’s people hailed from Samare, you say?” she said nervously. “That would explain your black hair, my dear.”

“Yes,” Aimee agreed.

“And Ursula is your full-blood sister?” Freda continued rattling on. “Only she does not seem so dark in her coloring as you.”

“She is, yes,” Aimee answered, though she suspected Freda’s chatter stemmed more from a desire to fill any awkward silences than a real interest in her family. “She takes after my father whereas I favor my mother’s side.”

Freda nodded. “So interesting!” she said, nodding her head. Aimee lingered a moment hopefully, but as nothing more was forthcoming, she set her hand on the door.

“I will bid you good morning, then,” she said. “I believe I will spend a good deal of today unpacking, but you should be able to find me easy enough if you should desire my company.”

“Oh, yes, my dear!” Freda said in a rush. “I’m sure we wish you a most pleasant day!”

Aimee made her way downstairs feeling a little baffled. It seemed the ladies of the household were not keen to merge into one party. She wondered for a moment what they intended to do with themselves all day and then banished the matter from her mind. After all, she had made it plain she would welcome their company, and it was now up to them to take her up on her invitation, or not, as the case might be.

As she approached the foot of the stairs, she heard voices in the hallway she did not recognize. Quickening her step, she glanced down to see Golda having a spirited conversation with a burly looking man in a yellow tunic.

“Milady,” Golda called. “This is the new servant your father employed on your behalf. His name is Matthews.” Matthews shuffled about to face her and performed a clumsy bow.

“Good day,” Aimee greeted him. “We are glad you have come, there is much furniture to cart about the house. Has Golda showed you where it is all piled up?” Without waiting for his reply, she made her way to the first of the two doors and threw it open, showing the abundance of furniture within. “You see?”

Matthews cleared his throat. “I see, milady.”

She opened the second door to show him, and he nodded again, rather mournfully.

“I’ve sent the new cook along to the kitchen to make a list of all his needs,” Golda told her. “He won’t be pleased to see it so poorly equipped, but he’ll have to make do!”

“What was his name?” Aimee asked.

“Stirling, milady.”