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Authors: Anna Markland
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maidservant.
Carys glanced at her daughters, then looked back at the open door.
Ballustre spoke to someone inside the carriage. “Ready, Demoiselle ?”
He braced one foot on the step and reached up to lift down his charge. He turned and set a beautiful young woman on her feet. She clung to his shoulders, looking exhausted and scared to death.
Carys almost swooned with relief. Everything was going to be alright.
~~~
As Peri swayed, a woman rushed forward to grasp her hand and embrace her. “ Bienvenue , croeso i Ellesmere, Peridotte, I am Carys de Montbryce.”
Peri could scarcely believe this friendly person was the Earl’s wife, her future mother-by-marriage.
The woman laughed, evidently sensing her confusion. “Yes, I am the Countess of Ellesmere, and these are my daughters, Fleurie and Isabelle.”
Two young women launched themselves at her, babbling effusive greetings. She was whisked into the Keep and settled into a comfortable chair before a hearty fire. A servant peeled off her boots and hose, and rubbed warmth back into her frozen toes. A tumbler was thrust into her hand.
“Sip it,” the Countess admonished.
The golden liquid tickled her nose and burned her throat, but its warmth seeped into her veins.
“It’s the famous Montbryce apple brandy,” Fleurie explained with a grin.
Peri could only nod, having no idea what that meant. As the trio talked on, she gazed around the Great Hall in which she sat. Despite its size and grandeur, it was comfortable, the banners hanging from the rafters telling of the family’s proud history. Now she would be part of that history when she married—
She frowned. Her betrothed had not come to welcome her.
“Gallien and his father and brother had to leave the castle to attend to an estate matter.”
Again, the Countess seemed to have sensed what was in her mind. It was disappointing that he had not welcomed her, though she had dreaded meeting him. But it was an insult nevertheless, and did not bode well. Why had he not come?
Fleurie and Isabelle had stopped talking. Both averted their gaze. Peri felt uncomfortable in the sudden silence, wondering what it was they were not telling her. They too had secrets.
It came to her suddenly that she had yet to speak a word to these Normans. They must think her an imbecile. She took another sip of the aromatic liquid. “ Merci . I am warm now,” she murmured.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Peri paused before the arched wooden door to the Chart Room of Ellesmere Castle. It had been left ajar. “A moment,” she whispered to the Comte d’Anjou’s emissary.
Ballustre bowed, stroking his pointed beard. A tight smile flickered for only a moment, betraying his nervousness.
She smoothed her hands over her skirts and carefully adjusted the veil that threatened to slide from her braided hair. Alys had worked her usual magic with the wrinkled gown, barking orders at the maidservant sent by the Countess as if she were the lady of the castle. They had chosen the gown of forest green wool because it suited her skin and hair color—and her mood. This was not the festive occasion she had dreamed her betrothal ceremony would be.
She had not slept. None of the Montbryce men had returned by the time she had retired to her chamber the previous evening.
She raised her chin, then turned to her escort. Despite the dread churning in her belly, she said, “I am ready.”
He laid his palm against the door. It swung open without a sound and he ushered her inside. Her knees threatened to buckle as she stepped over the threshold into a new life she did not want. She was to be bound to a man who had not welcomed her and who had failed to appear this morning in the Great Hall.
She had broken her fast in uncomfortable silence with Fleurie and Isabelle, nibbling on a crust of freshly baked bread, feeling like a prisoner condemned to the gallows.
Determined to appear unruffled, she thrust out her chin. Her gaze fell on two heads of white hair, both
Carys glanced at her daughters, then looked back at the open door.
Ballustre spoke to someone inside the carriage. “Ready, Demoiselle ?”
He braced one foot on the step and reached up to lift down his charge. He turned and set a beautiful young woman on her feet. She clung to his shoulders, looking exhausted and scared to death.
Carys almost swooned with relief. Everything was going to be alright.
~~~
As Peri swayed, a woman rushed forward to grasp her hand and embrace her. “ Bienvenue , croeso i Ellesmere, Peridotte, I am Carys de Montbryce.”
Peri could scarcely believe this friendly person was the Earl’s wife, her future mother-by-marriage.
The woman laughed, evidently sensing her confusion. “Yes, I am the Countess of Ellesmere, and these are my daughters, Fleurie and Isabelle.”
Two young women launched themselves at her, babbling effusive greetings. She was whisked into the Keep and settled into a comfortable chair before a hearty fire. A servant peeled off her boots and hose, and rubbed warmth back into her frozen toes. A tumbler was thrust into her hand.
“Sip it,” the Countess admonished.
The golden liquid tickled her nose and burned her throat, but its warmth seeped into her veins.
“It’s the famous Montbryce apple brandy,” Fleurie explained with a grin.
Peri could only nod, having no idea what that meant. As the trio talked on, she gazed around the Great Hall in which she sat. Despite its size and grandeur, it was comfortable, the banners hanging from the rafters telling of the family’s proud history. Now she would be part of that history when she married—
She frowned. Her betrothed had not come to welcome her.
“Gallien and his father and brother had to leave the castle to attend to an estate matter.”
Again, the Countess seemed to have sensed what was in her mind. It was disappointing that he had not welcomed her, though she had dreaded meeting him. But it was an insult nevertheless, and did not bode well. Why had he not come?
Fleurie and Isabelle had stopped talking. Both averted their gaze. Peri felt uncomfortable in the sudden silence, wondering what it was they were not telling her. They too had secrets.
It came to her suddenly that she had yet to speak a word to these Normans. They must think her an imbecile. She took another sip of the aromatic liquid. “ Merci . I am warm now,” she murmured.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Peri paused before the arched wooden door to the Chart Room of Ellesmere Castle. It had been left ajar. “A moment,” she whispered to the Comte d’Anjou’s emissary.
Ballustre bowed, stroking his pointed beard. A tight smile flickered for only a moment, betraying his nervousness.
She smoothed her hands over her skirts and carefully adjusted the veil that threatened to slide from her braided hair. Alys had worked her usual magic with the wrinkled gown, barking orders at the maidservant sent by the Countess as if she were the lady of the castle. They had chosen the gown of forest green wool because it suited her skin and hair color—and her mood. This was not the festive occasion she had dreamed her betrothal ceremony would be.
She had not slept. None of the Montbryce men had returned by the time she had retired to her chamber the previous evening.
She raised her chin, then turned to her escort. Despite the dread churning in her belly, she said, “I am ready.”
He laid his palm against the door. It swung open without a sound and he ushered her inside. Her knees threatened to buckle as she stepped over the threshold into a new life she did not want. She was to be bound to a man who had not welcomed her and who had failed to appear this morning in the Great Hall.
She had broken her fast in uncomfortable silence with Fleurie and Isabelle, nibbling on a crust of freshly baked bread, feeling like a prisoner condemned to the gallows.
Determined to appear unruffled, she thrust out her chin. Her gaze fell on two heads of white hair, both
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