In Bed With A Stranger (2 page)

Warwick Castle, 1602

“H
urry up with you, Anne. The mistress is in a snit today.”

“As if that’s any change.”

Joyce shot a stern look at her charge, her nose wrinkling. “Mind that tongue, miss. She is your better, above you, placed there by God.”

Anne lowered herself, while balancing a tray of morning offerings for the lady of the house. She did need to mind her tongue. However, not for herself. She had little care for her own comforts yet it was a poor child that heaped burdens on her mother. Lady Philipa wouldn’t punish only her. The lady would cheerfully lay her wrath on Anne’s mother as well.

With a sigh she followed Joyce toward the west wing, hurrying so that the tray would still be warm when the mistress was roused. Polished silver domes covered the mistress’s morning meal. Each was ornately carved with flowers and birds, the precious metal heated over the fire before being placed on top of each plate to retain the heat.

She, herself, had risen with the first rays of dawn in order to be present when the lady of the house was ready to be woken. That duty had been hers since she began her woman’s flow. The first few months, her wrists had ached from the weight of the tray with its silver, but now she was steady as she moved. Philipa had ordered that Anne dress her each morning to ensure that Anne slept in the maid’s chamber behind the kitchens under the eye of the housekeeper. There would be no trysts. Her body was expected to remain virgin.

The reason was simple. Even bastard born, her blood was too blue. Philipa might detest the very sight of her and her siblings but she was also a keen mistress of the house. She wasted nothing, overlooked not one single resource. Anne’s blood might be useful in some marriage negotiation. There were lesser knights who valued noble, blue blood in a wife. It was also just as likely that Philipa would see her as a courtesan, serving on the whims of some fat merchant. Whatever the lady had in mind, she had yet to unveil it.

So, Anne stood silently as the bed curtains were opened and Philipa turned her head to look at the assembled staff. Her eyes roamed each of them, inspecting their uniformed livery from pressed cap to skirt hem. Philipa missed nothing. Her lips never seemed to smile and her face bore the wrinkles to prove it. A painting in the lower hall showed her in her youth when she had been a bride, but there was little of that sparkle left in the woman before her. Anne watched Philipa through her eyelashes as the line of maids lowered their heads in deference.

“My feet were cold last night.”

The covers were drawn back as the lady sat up. Plump pillows were moved behind her back as she adjusted her position.

“The fire was not laid correctly; the coals lost their heat.”

None of the maids said a word. They lowered their heads each time Philipa spoke as they moved in a practiced team around the chamber. The heavy tapestry curtains were pulled aside with a care for how expensive such fabric was. The huge fireplace was quickly cleaned of its ashes and another fire built to warm the chamber. Anne waited until the lady looked settled before placing the tray across her lap. She was careful to make sure that the small brass legs of the serving tray didn’t touch either of her mistress’s legs but slid smoothly onto either side to hold the tray above Philipa’s thighs.

The lady began to inspect what was hidden beneath the polished silver domes on her morning tray. Her lips pressed into a hard line as she dropped one dome back over whatever the cook had prepared.

“Tell the cook to present herself at noon.”

Every maid tensed just the slightest amount because they had all been the unfortunate recipients of the lady’s displeasure before. The cook would not have a pleasant day. Philipa began eating one of the offerings while she watched the servants with a critical eye. Every one of them had learned to move on carefully soft steps, so as to not bring notice to themselves. All eyes were kept downcast for fear that the mistress might single them out.

“I am ready to rise.” Philipa dropped her eating wares with a clatter. The tray was removed almost in the same instant. Another maid pulled the covers down to the foot of the bed.

Anne joined the maids bringing in water to begin dressing the mistress. Depending on Philipa’s mood, it might take up to two hours to dress their mistress. The maids flowed around Philipa cleansing her feet and hands before easing the knitted stockings up each of her legs. A fine chemise was lowered over her head and a quilted petticoat followed. It was a lovely garment, the harsher wool covered with expensive cotton from India and thousands of tiny stitches worked in pleasing designs to hold it together. Even in early spring it was needed to keep the lady warm. Warwickshire was the last estate under English rule before the land belonged to Scotland. The lord of the manor was constantly being summoned to court because of his importance as a border lord.

Anne missed her father greatly.

Times were good when the earl was in residence. Her lips twitched and she clamped them back into a firm line lest she offend Philipa. But her heart was happy as she thought about her father. Her mother was always filled with joy when he returned, even dancing at her age when the front riders burst through the gate to announce the approach of the lord of the manor. He had been at court all winter. Four long months of Philipa’s sour disposition to tolerate without his loving attention. He did adore her and her siblings but clung to tradition. Philipa was the lady of the house, so Anne fell under her direction.

Still, it was better than many others had. She had a roof over her head and food on the servants’ table below. There was a good wool dress on her back and shoes on her feet that had been made for her, not passed on from someone else. There was much she had to be thankful for. One unhappy mistress was less than many had to suffer.

At least Mary wasn’t at home.

Anne shuddered. The legitimate daughter of the house was a mean-hearted bitch and she didn’t feel a bit of shame for thinking it, either. Mary whined like a babe and could throw tantrums better than a madwoman. Even going so far as ripping good fabric because it was not as fine as something one of her friends attending court had. Philipa coddled such outbursts, finding money in the estate coffers to buy the things her daughter demanded.

Anne frowned as she faced away from Philipa. More rightly put, it was she who found the funds that made Lady Mary stop her howling. By tradition the ledger books should have been kept by Philipa and the duty taught in strictest detail to Mary. ’Twas not the case here at Warwickshire. After seeing to the duty of dressing Philipa, Anne would spend the rest of the daylight hours and even more into the night ensuring that the estate books were balanced. Her lord father had insisted that she and her siblings be educated. Yet Philipa was the one who directed where their education was put to use. Anne’s duty was the estate books and making sure that the budget was tight. Every time Lady Mary demanded more gold, it was Anne who was set the task of finding it where the lord would not notice. The funds were found either from the sale of lambs or from the cloth woven by the household staff. Anne hated seeing the waste. Warwickshire would be stronger if it wasn’t being plundered so often for vanity.

A heavy thud came from the door. A maid hurried to open it. As the wide wooden panel swung wide, the ringing of the wall bells became clear.

“The master returns, madam.”

Philipa scowled. “Well, finish dressing me you lack-wits.”

Everyone hurried while keeping their eyes lowered. Anne handed things to the other maids because she’d learned to keep out of the mistress’s reach when she was getting ready to receive her husband. Philipa was quick with a slap when she was anticipating a conversation with the earl. One of the girls fumbled a shoe and there was a sharp pop of flesh on flesh. “Get out.”

The maid lowered her head even as she backed toward the open doorway. A bright red splotch marked her face. Anne tightened her courage and knelt to take up the shoe.

“Why is it I am cursed with the worst staff in England? These Warwickshire families all breed idiots for daughters.”

No one spoke but a few stares met behind the mistress’s back. Disgruntlement was shared with silent glares. Anne stood up, grateful to have finished her task. Philipa eyed her when she failed to lower herself promptly upon standing in her eyesight.

“Bastard.”

Anne hurried to give her deference. Philipa sneered at her. “Bastard born means conceived in sin. Better be grateful that the church has pity, else you never would have been baptized.”

“Yes, madam.”

Truly the insult didn’t hurt. She had grown scars long ago from Philipa’s lashing tongue. It was much easier to endure than her slaps.

In a flutter of silk skirts, Lady Mary flew into the room.

“Father married me off! Oh, Mother, I don’t want to go to Scotland.”

Lady Mary flung herself at her mother, crying on her chest loudly. “Tell me I don’t have to go, Mother.
Please
.” She began wailing loud enough to wake the dead. Huge tears flooded her eyes as she tore at her mother’s dress.

“Tell him I won’t go to any Scot’s bed.”

“That’s enough out of you, Mary.”

Everyone in the chamber turned as the lord of the castle entered. Even crowned with silver hair, he was no less powerful, no less the master of the home. Even Philipa lowered her head in deference, dragging her daughter with her.

“And I’ll be damned if you will shame me, Daughter. It’s a solid match with young Brodick. He’s already a titled man.”

“Of Scots.” Mary’s lip protruded as she whimpered.

“Times are changing, Daughter. We’ll soon be a single nation, united under a Scot-born king. McJames will be a good match, better than many of your court friends will have.”

The earl looked at his wife but his attention strayed to Anne. Anne couldn’t stop her lips from curving upward in welcome even as she lowered her head. A sparkle lit her sire’s eyes but there was a low hiss from Mary as she noticed the exchange. Anne’s half-sister looked over her mother’s shoulder, hate glittering in her eyes.

Her father stiffened, his gaze returning to his wife’s. “The Earl of Alcaon’s retainers should be here within the week. I was only granted leave to escort Mary home. I leave for court at daybreak.” He pointed one thick finger at Mary. “You’ll take your place as I’ve arranged it and there will be no more tears. Childhood is finished. See to it, Philipa.”

“Must she marry?”

The earl scowled. “Good God, woman! She’s twenty-six years old. This child has turned up her nose at every match I’ve laid before her. There will be no more discussion. It’s my own fault for giving either of you a say in the matter. Mary should have been wed four years ago but I tried to wait until she agreed with a match or brought me one of her own thinking. Madam, it’s been eight years since we placed her at court.”

“But he’s Scots, Father.”

“He is an earl, madam.” Mary sank back as her father moved toward her. “A man whose land borders ours which makes him a fine choice as husband for you.”

Mary sobbed louder and her father made a low sound of disgust. He turned his displeasure on Philipa.

“You see there, Wife? This is the only child you had to see to and she is a whining whelp, ungrateful for the good match that’s been made for her. What would you have of me, Daughter? Would you be a spinster? Or one of those disgraced courtier friends of yours with bastards growing in their bellies? There are not many lords who will have you due to the fact that your mother never birthed a son.”

Mary shuddered and stood up, her eyes round with horror. Her head shook back and forth as her father glared at her. Anne did pity her half-sister; the world was most cruel to daughters because they carried the stain of their mothers. Because Philipa refused to give her husband an heir, Mary was suspected of being a poor choice for a wife as well.

“Aye, now you’re seeing the truth of the matter. Another year and who will have you? It’s time for marriage and children. ’Tis not an engagement, Daughter. You’ve been wed by proxy. Young McJames was not in the mood to be delayed by having to wait for a wedding to be arranged. The matter is sealed. You are now a wife with duties to attend to.”

The earl turned and left, his spurs clanking against the stone floor. His men followed, having witnessed the entire event. But Philipa was oblivious to the maids in the chamber with her. Privacy was an extreme luxury. As wife to an earl, Mary would have to learn to deal with the many eyes that would know her every movement. Better now than on an estate she was expected to manage.

“Mother, you must give me Anne. For the books. I don’t know how to keep them.”

Anne’s throat constricted as she caught the look her half-sister aimed at her. It resembled the way the lady looked at a new mare she was considering buying. Philipa turned to consider her and Anne lowered her head even as her temper began to simmer.

“Everyone, out! Except Anne, you stay.”

Joyce cast her a helpless look as she herded the rest of the maids out the door.

“Come here, Anne.” Philipa was in her element, her voice full of commanding authority.

Anne moved toward her without a scuff from her boots. She might be bound to serve the lady but she was not afraid of her. Fear was for children and fools.

“Remove your cap.”

The linen head covering was held in place by a thin strap running under her chin. There was a single button on the left side of it that kept the cap on her head and her hair out of sight. Removing it, she looked at the lady to see what she wanted. Philipa studied her for a long time, her eyes roaming over every detail.

“Leave.”

Replacing her cap, Anne made it halfway to the door before Philipa stopped her.

“Have you been attentive in your studies, girl?”

Turning back to face the lady, Anne answered, “Aye, lady.”

But not because of your dictates.

Her temper would be the worse for her but she couldn’t stop it from rising. Still, she studied hard because learning was something that was a skill. It resided inside her and could never be stripped away.