Page 21 of A Most Forgettable Girl

“No?” Gunnilde lowered her cup of ale. “What will you do instead?” she asked with interest.

“What we will do, madam,” he said sternly, “is set about moving you into these rooms. Then this afternoon we had better...make an appearance together. As a couple. Let everyone see we are...amicably wed.”

“Oh, I see!” She nodded slowly. “Yes, that would probably be just as well. Our sudden union is bound to cause quite a stir, and we should get ahead of the gossips as soon as we can.”

She fancied he winced slightly at her choice of words but aloud he voiced no objection to them. “Do you have much by way of possessions in the Portstanley quarters?” he enquired.

“Nothing that could not fit into one trunk.”

He looked relieved. “We should probably enlist their services.”

“The Portstanleys?”

“It would look better if they appeared to sanction the match. You were under their protection before our marriage.”

“Yes, that’s true, but you need not worry they will say anything indiscreet for they are quite scrupulous when it comes to their reputation. They would not dream of besmirching their family name with any implication of scandal.”

“I am glad to hear it,” he said, turning all proper again. Gunnilde suppressed a sigh. She had thought that no one could be stuffier than the Portstanleys but James almost managed it at times. A knock at the door interrupted these depressing thoughts. They gazed at one another in open dismay. Who could that be? “You had better go back into the bedchamber,” he recommended.

“Why?” Gunnilde glanced down at her covered body. “I am quite decent.”

He snorted, leaving his seat and making for the small hallway. Hearing muted voices, Gunnilde stood up, undecided whether to bolt for the bedroom or not. Suddenly she recognized Harriet’s voice, and, to her great surprise, felt a rush of gladness to hear it.

“Harriet, is that you?” she called impulsively. “Come in, and welcome.”

There was a moment’s silence before Harriet appeared in the doorway, looking extremely uncertain of herself. “I just came to—”

“I’m so glad!” Gunnilde cried, and strange to say, she really meant it. Leaping from her seat, she hurried forward to draw her old roommate in. “Will you sit and take some ale?” She seized hold of the jug before Harriet could make a reply. Looking rather dazed, Harriet sank down upon one of the hard wooden chairs. Really, they could use some cushions. The Wycliffe quarters were somewhat lacking in comforts.

“I brought your trunk with me. Or rather, Farson did,” she said, naming the Portstanleys’ manservant.

“That was good of you. I did not intend to put you the trouble of packing up my things.”

“Oh, it was...no trouble,” Harriet said, flushing. “Mother, well, she thought we had better do it, sooner rather than later.”

“It was very kind of you,” Gunnilde insisted. “I am very grateful for all you have done for me.”

Harriet could not meet her eye as she accepted the cup of ale and sat perched on the edge of her seat like a little bird prepared for flight. She sat gazing around the room, though truth to tell there was precious little to look at for it was sparsely furnished. Her eye fell on Gunnilde’s improvised robe.

“Is that the Wycliffe crest?” she blurted in stunned accents.

Gunnilde glanced down at the embroidered sheet. “I don’t know, is it?”

“Yes, it is,” her husband answered from the doorway. He and Farson were carrying her trunk through to their room.

“Oh, I did not realize.” She peered at the badge picked out in golden stitches. “What is it? A goat?”

“A unicorn,” James corrected her loudly as they crossed the room.

“Oh, that’s nice, but I think it could do with a bigger horn,” Gunnilde decided.

The Portstanleys’ servant muffled an amused snort. “Farson!” Harriet reproached him faintly, blushing a delicate pink.

Oh! Belatedly, Gunnilde realized the joke. “I have no complaints on that score, I assure you,” she said firmly.

“Right glad I am to hear that, milady,” he responded good naturedly, and shot James a wink. “No husband would like to hear such a sentiment, the morning after the bedding.”

Both James and Harriet looked like they did not know where to put themselves, but Gunnilde nodded, satisfied she had put that rumor to rest, and turning back to Harriet, she took a deep breath. “We were wondering if you and your mother would care to accompany us this afternoon,” she began.