“Very good, my lord. Marjorie will see to it. Enjoy your meal.” His mother-in-law swept from the room, leaving Jeremy blessedly alone.
Chapter 22
Alys dished out bowls of pottage and set them on the table before Will and Bess, then served herself. Will lifted a spoonful of pottage to his lips and blew on it before tasting the food. He hadn’t had much of an appetite since the illness, but he was getting stronger every day. Bess stared mournfully into her bowl.
“John Selby was buried on Monday,” Will said, lifting his eyes to look at Alys.
“I know.”
“Praise the Lord his children have survived,” Bess said quietly. “Now the poor mites have lost both their parents.”
“John’s sister will look after them,” Will said. “She’s a good woman.”
Bess nodded.
“Matthew Gage is to wed Widow Baker this Saturday,” Will went on.
“I know that too,” Alys replied bitterly. “My prospects have dwindled. Is that what ye’re trying to tell me, Will?”
Will sighed. “Many men have lost their wives, but they won’t be ready to wed for some time. A period of mourning must be observed. Six months, at the very least.”
I don’t want any of those men, Alys thought miserably. She knew exactly who’d been widowed, and they were no better suited to her than John Selby had been.
“Alys, they need servants up at the manor house,” Will said, watching her for a reaction. “Most women in the village are married, with multiple children to look after. I’m afraid ye’ll have to go, being unwed as ye are.”
“It might not be so bad,” Bess piped in. “The new lord will have visitors, who’ll bring manservants to attend on them. Someone might take a fancy to ye.”
Alys didn’t bother to argue. What did it matter? She was a servant now: cooking, cleaning, and laundering for Will and Bess. The closeness she’d developed with Bess during the sickness was quickly dissipating, Bess once again lording it over her as she had in the early days of her marriage. Perhaps getting away from the village wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Mistress Ashcombe had a reputation for being fair and paid the servants a wage on top of the room and board they received. The new master might put an end to that, though, Alys speculated as she spooned the pottage into her mouth without tasting it. They had yet to lay eyes on the man who’d married Marjorie Ashcombe. Perhaps the newly married couple would begin to attend services at St. Botolph’s, now that the sickness had passed.
“Ye’re to go to the house tomorrow morning,” Will said, still watching Alys. “I’m sorry, Alys. I did so want to see ye settled. I promised Father I’d see ye were suitably wed.”
“Ye did yer best, Will,” Alys replied. She had no doubt Will would try to arrange a match for her as soon as the mourning period was over, but she was free of his matchmaking efforts for the foreseeable future, which was a relief.
Alys finished her supper, bid Will and Bess goodnight, and climbed up to her loft, lying down on her cot without getting undressed. It was Bess’s turn to wash up, so Alys was free for the remainder of the evening. Perhaps she was being foolish in resisting marriage, she thought as she stared at the darkened beams above her head. What was she hoping to accomplish? There was no other path for a woman, unless she wanted to be branded an old maid and live out the rest of her days with her kin. At least if she wed, she’d have children to love and a home of her own. She hadn’t realized how much she wanted a home until Bess had moved in and usurped her place. Well, there was nothing to be done now, so she may as well go up to the big house. It’d be a change of scene, at least, something she desperately longed for. Once the subject of marriage came up again, she’d see who Will had in mind for her.
The following morning, Alys tied her spare chemise, gown, and shawl into a bundle and set off for the manor. She wondered, in a detached sort of way, where she’d sleep and with whom, and what her duties would entail. Nothing seemed quite real these days, her life limited to household chores and endless worry. As she climbed the hill, her spirits lifted, however. Whatever happened, she had survived the illness, and life was full of possibilities.
Chapter 23
Kyle
Unable to concentrate on writing, Kyle grabbed his jacket and left the house. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go but found himself heading toward the reservoir. The world around him was silent and still, the changing leaves ablaze in the golden haze of autumn. The reservoir shimmered in the afternoon light, the aquamarine sky reflected in its mirrored surface.
Looking at it now, it was impossible to imagine that not so long ago, sleepy villages dotted the lush green of the valley, people going about their lives as they had done for generations, never suspecting that one day it would all be gone, replaced by this placid lake that had obliterated their very history. The tower jutting above the water looked almost picturesque today, an image that would grace the cover of a travel brochure and paint Derwent Valley as a romantic destination rather than an underwater graveyard.
Kyle spotted Len before Len saw him. Len was strolling unhurriedly, his expression thoughtful but not anxious or guilty, the sort of look he had when he was trying to work out a plot twist. If Kyle knew Len, Len considered his part in this afternoon’s drama over. Since Yvonne had
