Page 39 of The Daughters of Avalon
Who the hell are you, Elspeth of Llanthony?
Chapter
Sixteen
Stifling a yawn, Elspeth opened her eyes, slightly disoriented.
Having slept so soundly for the first time in two days, it took a moment to register where she lay. The curtains were still drawn, and it was impossible to say what the hour might be.
“My lady?”
Startled by the whispered voice, Elspeth bolted upright as a torch swept into the room.
Malcom was gone. Two women approached the bed—a lovely fair-haired woman with a sweet face and kindly brown eyes, joined by another with hair much the same color as Elspeth’s—only curlier—and eyes the color of a bright blue flame. Both women were young, or at least younger than Elspeth, and their auras were not threatening—shades of pink, green, orange and silver.
Seeing that she was awake, the second woman, the one holding the torch, proceeded across the chamber to set her flame to each of the cressets, before putting the torch—the one she held—into a brace by the door. Afterward, she returned to stand behind her mistress, her hands crossed before her submissively.
“Art awake?” asked the girl with the fiery hair and disarming smile.
“Aye,” Elspeth said. “Where is Malcom?”
“Your lord husband?”
Elspeth hedged, furrowing her brow. But then she nodded, blushing, surmising that one of these women must be Beauchamp’s sister. The lady that addressed her smiled wider. “He’s belowstairs, in the hall, speaking to my brother. As it has been many hours since you laid down to rest, my lord was concerned.”
Malcom was concerned?Elspeth scooted to the edge of the bed, casting her feet over the side. “I… I am fine,” she reassured the ladies. “I am but wearied from travel.” And, it was true, although she didn’t know why, though she was far more tired than she had ever been in her life—as though, body and soul she’d suffered some great ordeal, and perhaps she had.
“I thought as much,” the girl said, smiling still. “But you should be up now, or you’ll miss the feast we’ve provided in your honor.”
“Feast?”
“Aye, my lady. Alyss and I have come to help you dress.”
Realizing belatedly that she was still wearing the Llanthony tunic and breeches, Elspeth laid a hand atop her breast and gasped. “Oh,” she said in consternation.
“You need have no cause for worry, Lady Aldergh.”
The epithet startled Elspeth so much that she blinked.
“Your lord husband already explained… you lost your gown in the burn when you stopped to wash.” But she hid a shy smile as she peered at her lady’s maid, and their private exchange left very little doubt as to what they truly believed she and Malcom had been doing by the burn. Just to make it clearer, both their cheeks flushed so darkly that Elspeth thought they looked like poppets with painted cheeks.
“I am Dominique,” said the girl with the flame-blue eyes, and she came forward to rummage through a pile of garments laying at the foot of the bed. She lifted up one of the pieces, unfurling it to show Elspeth what it was. It appeared to be wool, but a wool so fine that it could have been silk, with tiny gold threads woven into the material around the sleeves, neck and hem.
“If this one suits you, I will be pleased to gift it. ’Tis made of scarlet, dyed crimson, fully done by my lady Alyss.” She turned to address the woman standing behind her, and the woman smiled diffidently, bowing her head. “She has a fine skill for such things, and I count my blessings to have her.” Elspeth stared at the red gown, stunned over the generosity of the gift. She blinked again. Not since she’d spent time in her father’s court had she ever seen wool so fine, and certainly none of its caliber had ever been wasted on her. The closest she’d ever come to owning something so lovely was thetiretainewool she’d worn as a child. Alas, she’d long since outgrown that dress, and not in all the years she’d spent at Llanthony had she worn anything else so fine—neither had her sisters.
Like a moth to a flame, she found herself drawn to the dress, lured from the bed, if only to play her fingers along the length of it… so, so soft. And the color… it was as rich as any dye Elspeth had ever encountered. “Scarlet?” she asked.
Dominique nodded. “Dyed with the grain of the kermes.” Without any reservation, she handed the sumptuous gown over to Elspeth with both hands, then reached out for the whitechainsethat had lain folded beneath it. “That surcoat is scarlet, but thechainseis sendal. I trust it will flatter you well.” And then, once again, she looked to her lady’s maid with such a fierce look of pride that it warmed Elspeth to her cockles. “I was told you had my coloring, and dear Alyss has perfected her crimson. It shows well with my color and I thought you might like it, too.”
Indeed, it did,thought Elspeth. The color was rich and dark, with no yellow in the pigment at all—perhaps, blue.
Smiling still, Dominique handed Elspeth the sendal as well, and Elspeth didn’t know what to say… so she said nothing… merely stood agape.
Dominique’s face fell. “Oh, no! You do not like them?” she asked. “I beg your pardon,” she rushed to say. “I thought to give you something finer, but I hoped the wool would serve you best for travel. It’s soft and malleable.”
“Oh, nay!” Elspeth said, realizing the girl must have mistaken her silence for displeasure. “In truth, Lady Dominique, I have never seenanythingso fine.”
Amazed, Elspeth ran her hand over the material again, beguiled by the texture. The sendal too was exquisite and so sheer it made her blush over the thought of wearing it.
