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After finding a footman to show her to Nessia’s room, Juliet knocked on the door.
Nothing.
She knocked again, cocking her ear toward the thick planks of wood bound bylong, heavy straps of iron hinges.
Sudden soft footsteps shuffled toward the door and it opened a slight crack. A woman in a black maid’s uniform with dark circles under her eyes peeked out of the room and her look went wide when she spied Juliet.
Juliet smiled at her. “Hello, I am a guest of Evander—Lord Hedrun. We just arrived and heard about the loss of the babe. Is there anything I can do to help?”
The maid nodded, slipping through the crack in the door and pulling it closed behind her. “Oh, miss, ye don’t know how relieved I am yer here. There be so few women in the castle and I fear to leave my mistress alone.”
“Is she recovering?”
The maid shook her head. “She won’t eat, won’t sleep. I fear for her sanity. But I am so tired.”
Juliet’s lips drew inward and she nodded. “You should go and rest…your name?”
“Gertie.”
“Please, go and rest, Gertie. I will go in and sit with her.”
“Oh, bless ye, miss. Bless ye.” Gertie scooted around her and disappeared down the corridor in the opposite direction from where the footman had led Juliet up the main staircase.
With a deep breath, Juliet opened the door and moved into the room.
The light of the fire and the lit lamp by the bed showed the sparse furnishings in the room to be the first things in the castle that showed any hint of a womanly touch. Two plush chairsupholsteredin light peach damask. A delicate rosewood writing desk by the window in the room. Lush drapes of peach pulled closed in front of the window, but leaving a crack between them, enough to see a sliver of the half-moon hanging low in the night sky.
Juliet looked to the bed. The four tall posts extended high into the room, and a canopy of peach gossamer silk hung a cozy distance from the mattress.
In the middle of the bed, Evan’s sister-in-law lay on her back, her arms straight by her sides, her dark brown hair tucked to the side of the pillow in a long braid, her eyes open, vacant, staring up at the canopy.
Had there not been the slightest lift of her chest with each breath, Juliet would have thought her dead.
She moved toward the bed and Nessia offered no movement—not the tiniest twitch of her eyes toward Juliet. She shifted the fat upholstered chair beside the bed to face Nessia directly, and sat down, her back straight and her hands folded in her lap.
“Nessia, my name is Juliet Thomson. I’ve come to Whetland Castle with your brother-in-law, Evander. I understand you’ve suffered a terrible loss and I was hoping to sit with you. Do you need anything? Tea, broth?”
Silence.
Juliet let the quiet of the room sit in the air between them for a long stretch. She was fine with silence. Silence oftentimes brought healing.
Unless Nessia was close to dying. She hadn’t considered that thought.
Evan’s brother hadn’t mentioned the possibility, nor the maid.
She stood, leaning over the bed and placing the back of her hand across Nessia’s brow. Cool. Thank the heavens. At this angle, she could see the wide swath of the tear stains that ran down along her temples.
Nessia’sunusual amber eyesshifted to her, unfocused. “Who are you?”
Juliet smiled down at her. “My name is Juliet. I offered to Gertie that I would sit with you so she could get some rest.”
She stared at Juliet for a full silent minute, her eyes going in and out of focus as her voice shook. “You are not a maid. Why are you here?”
“I came here with Evander, your brother-in-law.”
“Why? No women come here.” Her voice was wooden, each word an effort.
Juliet moved backward and sat on the chair. Nessia’s look followed her, more focused than it had been. “I am to marry Evan.”
