have sought your advice.”
“Still, I am here to listen, should you want to voice what seems to be bothering you.”
Gwen, eyes fixated on the necklace, said. “We . . . we have much to discuss about the workings of Camelot.”
Mary attempted to bow out, but Isabel refused to allow her leave. “Please brush my hair, Mary. And then braid it as before. Plus, I would like your thoughts upon matters.”
Mary glanced nervously at Gwen, apparently fearing punishment at the mere idea that her thoughts should be voiced or desired. In truth, Gwen herself was rather shocked at the concept. Servants being asked their opinions? ’Twas such a foreign concept. However, she could not, in truth, find a single reason to demand otherwise. She nodded her agreement to both the countess and Mary.
As Mary began to use the unusual brush Isabel owned, Gwen turned her attention back to her own beliefs. That Isabel would allow a servant to stay as they spoke about intimate details was not so unusual. Yet loyal servants were much like a comfortable piece of furniture. To be appreciated, but silent. And deaf.
“No wonder Arthur is so taken with you,” she blurted.
Both Isabel and Mary went still.
“I understand, Isabel.”
“I do not know what you believe you understand,” Isabel said, although the color rising on her cheeks was a bit of a tell.
“I believe you understand very well. You were the one to talk Arthur into”—Gwen glanced at Mary, no longer seeing her as a silent piece of furniture, but as a young girl who soaked up knowledge as she attempted to grow into womanhood—“discussing matters with me he has obviously been avoiding for some time.”
Isabel wrapped her dressing robe closer around her body. “Honesty is always best.”
“Honesty betimes stabs, do you agree?”
“It often does,” Isabel said, nodding. “But secrets often stab much deeper.”
Gwen felt herself blush, but she could not bring herself to look away from Isabel’s probing, yet somehow sympathetic eyes. “I do understand that, this morn. Yester morn I may have had a very different answer.”
Isabel reached out and laid a hand over hers. “I am so sorry if I have turned Camelot upside down. It was not my intent. My only suggestion to Arthur was to be as honest with you as he would have you be with him.”
Mary cleared her throat. “Pardon my interruption, your hair is done, mum. Unless you require further assistance, I will very happily take my leave.”
Isabel sat back with a chuckle. “You are a good soul, Mary. I believe that many of your fellow workers would want to stay and listen to as much as possible.”
Mary’s freckles bloomed red. “I could not say, mum.”
Isabel stood. “Well, I was hoping you’d help me get into one of those gown contraptions, but I suppose I can find one I will be able to lace up myself.”
Mary lit up. “I know just the one, m’lady. ’Tis one of my favorites.” She almost skipped to the wardrobe and, after shuffling around, brought out and laid a teal-colored gown on Isabel’s bed. Although Isabel doubted the word teal had even been invented yet, just like pink.
Mary beamed even brighter as she turned in triumph. “I know not from whence this color comes, but with your hair and fair skin, I feel it will look beauteous on you, m’lady. And ’tis also easy for you to lace up yourself.”
Gwen hid a grin. “You very much wish to escape Isabel’s chamber, do you not, Mary?”
“Oh, yes, me queen. Overly much.”
Isabel frowned. “Have I upset you, Mary?”
“No, Countess, no!” Mary said, wringing her hands. “You have been nothing but kind to me. I would wish for all guests to be such.”
“But you do not want to stay to help us in the discussion of how to make the working women find a bit of joy?”
Mary pursed her lips. “Have you, perhaps, moved further in your discussions than secrets and such? I truly do not want to be part of that. ’Tis not my place.”
Gwen stood and locked eyes with Isabel. “We have, Mary. That is a discussion for another time. I now have need to listen to Countess Isabel’s discussion of joy for the women of Camelot. And the countess, it appears, would very much appreciate what you would have to opine in the matter.”
“Countess?” Mary whispered.
“Very much, Mary. As a matter of fact, I fear we cannot do this without your counsel and help.”
Mary looked back and forth worriedly, but then smiled. “I am honored. But first, Countess, serious discussion demands serious dress. Please allow me to help you.”
The thought of dressing, or worse, undressing in front of a queen was a little discomforting. Isabel glanced around the room, but there wasn’t a single private space in sight.
Her necklace warmed.
Isabel sucked in a breath and removed her robe, tossing it onto her bed.
She pulled the gown over her head as fast as she could, covering her butt, her breasts and her “stuff” as fast as possible. But it wasn’t cooperating as much as she’d like. This was the most embarrassing moment of her life. Well, this life. She had a more embarrassing story in her older, or newer, life. That streaking incident in ’85, for example. And the first time she allowed Jimmy Zwersky to partially undress her in fifth grade so they could compare.
Gwen laughed. “You are a shy woman, Isabel.”
Isabel turned, even as she was still struggling to get the dress over her head, so her voice was muffled. “I prefer to dress alone.”
“Would you prefer I leave, Isabel?”
“No, I’m good now,” Isabel said as she finally got the freaking gown down over her body. God damn, she did
“May we please continue to discuss other matters?” Isabel asked, as Mary began working on the damn lacing process.
“Most assuredly, Countess,” Gwen said. “You seem to feel discomfort in your gowns.”
Isabel gritted her teeth. “In my land we allow women to wear much more comfortable clothing.”
“Truly? Such as?”
“Well, because we enjoy gaming, we allow our women to wear pants, such as men do. We do not force ourselves to wear gowns at all waking hours.”
“You wear men’s breeches?”
“Yes and no. They are made for women. For the comfort and sporting fun of women. They are not so tight. But they allow the freedom to engage in events that they could not possibly do in gowns.”
Gwen smiled and clapped. “So intriguing! I must learn more of this women sporting idea. And these ‘pants,’ did you say?”
“Show me the women who make the clothing, and I will be happy to guide them on how to create them. I realize many will not be comfortable in even trying them on, but they may warm to the idea once they have a chance to try them.”
“Yes, yes! And guide us in the sporting?”
“Here’s how we do it, Gwen. We allow all women at least an hour to play in whatever sport they choose to
