The Snow White Bride (15 page)

“And this is what Jeannie fears,” the cook said. “Few will go to her door now that you have questioned her abilities; fewer still if you provide the same counsel without threat or mystery.”

Eleanor granted him a sharp glance. “I was right to question the intent of any soul whose deeds threatened my husband’s life.”

The cook nodded as he fidgeted with the keys to the stores. “True enough, my lady, but I would not have old Jeannie casting her venom at my back, not for any price.” He showed her how the inventory was stored, then carefully locked the portals behind them. Eleanor was pleased to note that a number of effective herbs were kept in the keep proper, as well as a measure of spice. Once they were done, the cook offered Eleanor the keys. “These would be yours to govern now, my lady.”

Eleanor accepted the ring of keys, welcoming their weight in her hands. She was Lady of Kinfairlie in truth, her administration over its household assured by her husband as was right and good. She smiled at the cook, unable to hide her pleasure.

“I hope you will be happy at Kinfairlie,” he said.

“I hope as much as well,” Eleanor replied, then shook her head. “Though it has seemed thus far to be a place too good to exist in truth.”

“Oh, we have our share of warts in this burg!” he said with a laugh, then coaxed her back into the kitchens. Jeannie, mercifully had made herself absent, and Anthony was making the final preparations for the tray he intended to deliver to Alexander.

Eleanor hastened to the castellan’s side, ensuring that there was sufficient cheese and meat, then sniffed the wine. “It has faltered since last night. Were there not a dozen cloves in the inventory? I would see its taste improved for my lord with one or two of them.”

And so it was done, Eleanor taking the wine herself into the storeroom to add spices. She even mulled the wine slightly, thinking only of Alexander’s pleasure, and savored how Anthony sniffed appreciatively of its aroma when he lifted the tray.

She would show herself useful to her spouse, to be sure.

* * * * *

A
lexander wondered what mission kept his wife from his chamber. He had hoped that Eleanor would return with the repast, that they would share it, perhaps abed, and that he might unfurl more of her secrets. Instead, Anthony fussed over the wick of a lantern, clearly intent upon remaining in the solar.

Alexander, for his part, sat again before his ledgers, considering the merit of Eleanor’s suggestions. It was true that he charged many of the fees she noted, but they
had not been increased since his father had laid claim to Kinfairlie’s seal. If he added a half a penny to each of these fines charged by his court, for example, the sums worked much better. He did not wish to burden his people overmuch, but perhaps there was truth in her assertion that people would pay willingly for what they perceived to be advantages.

And he liked the notion of a fair very much. It could only be good to bring merchants from afar to trade upon his lands, to leave pennies in his coffers that did not come from the hands of his own tenants. He would have to ask Eleanor for more detail of how such matters were arranged.

Anthony cleared his throat and Alexander glanced up to find his castellan beaming. That man held a lantern filled with oil and, at Alexander’s nod, replaced the one before Alexander that was nigh empty. Anthony made a fuss about trimming the wick, as he never did, so that Alexander knew the older man had something to say. “And what troubles you this evening, Anthony?”

“Nothing, sir, nothing at all.” The older man smiled primly. “It is simply that I must congratulate you, my lord, upon your excellent choice of a wife.”

“I thank you, Anthony, for your felicitations.”

Anthony straightened, sparing a glance for the tray he had laid aside. He shook his head, as if marveling, and against all expectation, his smile broadened. “I never thought to have to ask you this, my lord, but might you put your ledgers aside, the better that I could lay out your repast?”

“Surely my lady intends to return and do as much?”

“I am not certain, my lord. She is quite busy in the kitchens.”

“But the meal has been summoned. There is bread and cheese and cold meat here to suffice for any man, and certainly more than ample servings for the lady and myself.”

Anthony’s eyes seemed to twinkle. “Ah, but the lady seeks to bring Kinfairlie beneath her administrating hand, which is clearly a competent one.”

“
Truly?” Alexander was intrigued by this.

“Truly,” Anthony said with satisfaction. “With a dozen kind but firmly uttered words, she has the cook contriving a new sauce for the venison, and he had been complaining just before her arrival that venison was a waste of his considerable talents. She has mustered the maids to begin a thorough removal of the strewing herbs, giving instruction this night for the task to be completed in the morning. The ostlers were yet savoring their holiday measure of ale in the hall, and she amiably persuaded them to muck your stables on the morrow to such cleanliness that one will be able to eat from the very floor.”

“Mercifully, we do not have to do so, as we have tables,” Alexander muttered, but his castellan did not laugh.

“The lady has a gift for lighting a fire beneath those who would do as little as possible, to be sure,” Anthony asserted. “Further, the meals are planned for the remainder of the holiday season. Should you or your guests choose to hunt, my lord, there is a list in the kitchens of what could be added to any given meal, depending upon your success.”

“That is well done.” Alexander deliberately closed one of the books of accounts and stacked it in his trunk with such apparent concentration that he hoped the older man would leave him alone.

Anthony did no such thing. “And—though surely I
need not convince you of the lady’s charms!—she has retrieved your ring, against all expectation.”

Alexander found his castellan shaking a finger at him, that man’s manner as admonishing as that of an affectionate grandfather. Alexander blinked, but the newly garrulous Anthony shook his head benignly.

“A man should be mindful of his treasures, my lord, that is what I have always been taught. You were careless, if I may say so, and have been fortunate, indeed, in having your ring returned. What a woman of resource you have wed!”

Anthony smiled broadly, a sight so rare that Alexander could not believe this was the grumpy castellan he knew so well.

“And further,” Anthony continued, “in a mere day, the lady has convinced you to willingly spend time at your accounting. I, as you well know, have spent a year endeavoring to achieve the same ends, my lord, and can only salute the lady’s persuasive abilities.” The older man winked most unexpectedly. “Of course, if you do not mind me saying as much, a lady has other weapons in her arsenal against her spouse than I could ever hope to wield.”

Alexander blinked. “Did you make a jest, Anthony?”

That man waggled his silver brows and winked again. “I confess, my lord, that I have not your experience with such matters, but I did indeed make an attempt at humor.”

“Then the lady has wrought a considerable change in this hall, to be sure.”

Anthony laughed, and Alexander was certain he had never heard the older man do as much. “She is a marvel, of that there can be no doubt. Would you care for wine, sir?”

Alexander shook his head in revulsion at the very prospect. “I have no taste for it, not after last evening.”

Anthony frowned. “But it is the last measure from the cask, my lord. My lady insisted that it be saved for you, as is right and proper.”

“Then it will be wasted, for I
cannot so much as think of drinking it.”

The older man pursed his lips and considered the pitcher. “But the lady Eleanor troubled herself mightily with seeing it spiced for your taste, my lord. I would not have you insult her efforts, however inadvertently.”

“Then I shall pour it from the window and compliment her upon it. I cannot drink it, Anthony. My innards roil at the very prospect.”

“Sir! To spill it would be a waste of considerable expense.” Anthony looked alarmed, but Alexander shrugged. “I did not bring ale, my lord, upon my lady’s instruction, but I would willingly return to the kitchens
and
…”

“There is no need, Anthony.” Alexander claimed a piece of bread and yawned mightily. “In this moment, I am so tired as to have little appetite at all.”

“That is a shame, my lord ” Anthony frowned at the pitcher of wine in his concern, clearly vexed.

“Did you try the wine last evening, Anthony?” Alexander asked on impulse. “It is a most excellent vintage and has kept beyond expectation.”

“You know, sir, that I never indulge my taste for wine.”

“It is Christmas, Anthony,” Alexander said kindly. “I insist that you lay claim to this pitcher and savor its contents for yourself.”

“Sir! I could not so forget my obligations. I pride myself upon ensuring that no foible troubles you, my lord,
and
…”

“By your own admission, Anthony, my lady has the administration of Kinfairlie well in hand. You might allow yourself one night of respite.”

The older man considered the wine, a yearning in his eyes. “I once had quite the taste for a fine wine,” he said.

“Then go, I insist upon it. No one will be the wiser that you savored this delight instead of myself. You might be so kind as to advise me in the morning as to its flavor, the better that I might compliment my wife.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Leave the meal as it stands, Anthony. I shall either eat alone or await my lady’s company. You need not trouble yourself further with me this night.” Alexander stood and yawned again. “Indeed, I may be asleep before long.”

Anthony wagged a finger at him. “And rightly so. I entreat you to recall, sir, that you must preserve your strength for your accounts.”

Alexander laughed at that, thinking that he could grow accustomed to his newly amiable castellan.

The older man departed with the wine as if it were a trophy, and though Alexander ate a measure of the food, he did not linger long at the table. His lady did not come, and though he could not imagine what occupied so much of her time, he did not doubt that she mustered his resources in ways he had not thought possible.

He yawned again, unable to fight the exhaustion that claimed him, and returned to bed.

Still, Eleanor did not come, and the quietude of the keep began to lull Alexander to sleep. A single day in Eleanor’s presence and he knew that he made great
progress in dispatching the
lady’s fears. She might not
have confided fully in him as yet, but she had defended him in his hall, retrieved his signet ring, and ensured that their marriage could not be annulled.

On the verge of slee
p, Alexander smiled. His new
bride liked him, he knew it
well, whether she admitted as
much or not. He would wi
n her heart before spring burst
upon Kinf
airlie, that was beyond doubt.

* * * * *

E
leanor yawned in her turn as she climbed the stairs to the solar. It had taken some time, but she was confident that all in Kinfairlie would be more perfect on the morrow. Alexander would see her merit soon, and even if she dared not love him, he would surely perceive that she was not worthy of being put aside. She would perform every deed to perfection, so that he could find no fault with her, and perhaps he might even come to care for her.

And she would give him a son within the year, which would guarantee both his affection and a full treasury for Kinfairlie. She liked this abode well, liked its people as well as its laird.

She paused on the threshold outside the chamber shared by Alexander’s sisters and smiled at the sound of their slumber. Their maid clucked over them, her shadow visible even in the darkness as she muttered to this one and that, tucking them in and keeping a vigilant eye upon the portal. Eleanor might have frightened them with her own tale, but she was as determined as Alexander to see his sisters wed happily. With some effort, it could be done.

She yawned again and began the next course of stairs, though she never reached the summit. Feet pounded behind her and she turned to find the cook’s wife racing toward her. Rose was red in the face, her eyes wide with alarm.

“What is amiss?” Eleanor asked. Vera, the girls’ maid, came out onto the landing, her kind face showing concern even as she pulled the portal closed behind her.

“It is Anthony! He came into the kitchen, complaining that his heart raced like a wild thing; then he fell upon the floor.”

“God in heaven!” Eleanor picked up her skirts and hastened back down stairs. To her astonishment, the cook’s wife put a hand upon her arm to halt her.

“I mean you no disservice, my lady, but there are those who would not have you summoned.”

“What is this?”

“There were those who said that you knew too much of poison, and that Anthony looked to be poisoned.”

“But why would I poison Kinfairlie’s castellan?” Eleanor pushed aside the notion with impatience. “The man has been good to me, and I rely upon his counsel.” She hastened down the steps, not waiting for the cook’s wife to lead the way.

“But all know that Anthony drank the wine that you prepared for your lord husband,” Rose said, her voice carrying with clarity.

Eleanor spun to face her and saw the condemnation in the woman’s eyes. Vera stepped back, fear in her expression.

Rose lifted her chin, bracing herself for her own audacity. “Is it not whispered, my lady, that you are over-
fond of burying husbands? What scheme have you for
our
laird Alexander?”

“None!” Eleanor replied. “What scheme have you to keep a healer from Anthony’s side?” With that, she fled down the steps to be of what aid she could. She only hoped it was not too late.