Osbert bowed deeply. “As you wish, Lady Eleanor. You have but to speak, and I shall carry it out.” Had his eyes held hers for a moment longer than necessary?
“Well-done, Osbert,” Eleanor said. “You may take your leave. I shall meet with you Thursday. William of Litchfield arrives tomorrow, and I shall find my hours occupied otherwise for several days, but I shall make time for our meeting at nones in two days’ time.”
She inclined her head; Osbert bowed again, and left the Great Hall, striding through the clusters of servants cleaning the rushes from the floor. Did he cast one last glance back at her, before disappearing through the great doors? Eleanor sighed in frustration. What was she going to do about Osbert’s apparent attraction to her? It would cause more problems than she wanted to solve.
That afternoon, Gilbert the Steward and the marshal were admitted to the Great Hall to meet with Eleanor. Seated in her ornate chair, she bade them come forward, and she held back a sigh. She wasn’t looking forward to the tedium of having to make ready for William of Litchfield and his crowd of retainers and courtiers and knights.
“Milady,” Gilbert the Steward said, bowing, one hand grasping several parchment papers.
“Milady,” her marshal Charles followed suit, a set of papers in his hand as well.
“Lady Eleanor,” Gilbert said, holding out the papers to her, “here are the lists of items we are providing for William of Litchfield. Charles has set up a list of stable duties and transport for provisions and scheduling.”
Eleanor took the lists and the two men watched her as her eyes scanned the words.
“It’s unconscionable how many people we have to feed and house when William comes to Strathcombe,” Eleanor said. As her liege lord and an earl, William always flaunted his wealth and power, bringing far more people than were necessary, taxing the larders and gardens of Strathcombe and forcing the servants and cooks into a frenzy.
“’Tis good that the Earl’s wife will not be accompanying him, since she is lying-in, waiting for the birth of an heir to Litchfield,” Gilbert said. “Her attendants would no doubt double what is required for the Earl.” He wanted to shake his head at the thought, but chose to remain imperturbable, for Lady Eleanor’s sake.
“Aye,” Eleanor said. A thought flitted through her mind. How horrid to be carrying William’s child! And how equally horrible to be William’s wife! ‘Twas enough to make one nauseous. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and scanned the last list of provisions and instructions.
“You have done well, Charles and Gilbert, as always,” she said. “All in the castle and in the stables are ready for William and his retinue. Or, should I say, his army,” she jested.
“Thank you, Milady. You are more than kind,” Gilbert said, with a smile. The two men bowed and left the Great Hall. Eleanor watched them go, glad that she had such trustworthy gentlemen to depend on. She couldn’t afford to antagonize William with a poor showing of hospitality, so Gilbert’s and Charles’s acumen and experience were treasures indeed.
But—was she ready for William? Eleanor wondered, as she walked through the antechambers and climbed the stairs to her solar after the evening meal. The dinner’s entertainment of a juggler and a lute player hadn’t been able to lift her anxious mood. What was the real purpose of William’s visit? He must have heard of the poachings, hadn’t he? So, was this visit the usual taking-stock of his estate, or was it about the forest poachings, or was there some other, hidden motive?
Indeed, at the beginning of the dinner, Mary had whispered to her that she had heard talk again from Agnes of William’s making marriage arrangements for her to an aging French count. Eleanor frowned. Nay, Mary would stay in England, Eleanor promised her, and she should not worry.
But worry she would. Eleanor sighed. William of Litchfield would be a formidable opponent in any negotiations, for he held all power over her, as her liege lord. She would have to use everything at her disposal to ensure that her beloved sister would stay in England and not be condemned to a life in the court of France, so far across the channel. It could not happen! Eleanor clenched her fists in resolve.
Eleanor spent a restless night, rumpling her coverlet and sheets and waking her little dog by her fitful stirring. Dreams again accosted her of Hugh, in which she’d asked him to dance after all, and he took her by the hand, guiding her in and around the other couples, his strong, muscular hand pulsing with warmth. Then he put his hand on the small of her back, and Eleanor was sure its heat had singed her gown. She’d looked up at those intense, blue eyes and felt their gaze pierce directly through her. Unsmiling, he took her hand and led her from the hall, and, alone together in an antechamber, folded his arms around her, gently bending her backward, insistently seeking her mouth with his. Dizzy with longing, Eleanor shut her eyes and gave in to the rush of exhilaration that overwhelmed her.
Suddenly Eleanor awoke to a blazing fire built by Agnes and to Lady Anne, who stood smiling at her bedside.
“William of Litchfield has sent his messenger with this letter,” Anne said, holding out a scroll of parchment to her. “He will be here by noontide.”
Eleanor sat up in bed, hunching her naked shoulders against the cold, and pulling up the counterpane. She shook her head to clear it. Whatever was she doing in that dream? How could she? “Aye,” she said. “I’d best make myself ready.”
“We shall have a glorious time dancing and riddling and all, shall we not?” Anne asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Yes, dear Anne,” Eleanor said, with a smile. Dancing…Hugh… Enough, she scolded herself. Indeed, Anne was always eager for the feasts and festivities and
