Edris folded the woolen coverlet once along its length and then twice crosswise.

Edris folded the woolen coverlet once along its length and then twice crosswise, across one arm and then the other, but she paused a moment then, holding it against her belly and listening.

She called it listening, to herself, since it felt as if she were expecting to perceive something from afar, although of course she was not really listening, and of course it was not really far at all. She was feeling, and what she hoped to feel could not have been closer. She was waiting to be touched.

Nothing, just then.

Nothing, just then.

She hadn’t taken the coverlet out for her nap. She hadn’t meant to nap at all – only rest her back a little. But someone had covered her while she slept. She could not know whether it had been her husband or a thoughtful maid. She would have liked to have thought of him coming into the bedroom, finding her asleep, and covering her up, though the afternoon was not cold. Perhaps even a little tenderly. She would have liked to.

But that would not have been consistent with what she knew he did do: he had gone to dinner at the castle without her.

Colburga would not be there, but then neither would she be.

It must have been a relief for him to have found her sleeping. He could go alone – he could enjoy an evening with his old friends – Colburga’s friends – and things could be almost as they had been years ago, and for many years. Colburga would not be there, but then neither would she be – Edris, this newcomer, this nobody, this nervous, naive, unneeded, and unwanted girl.

She opened the chest and slipped the coverlet inside, but her back hurt so that she didn’t care to lean, and the heavy lid slipped from her hand and slammed shut.

She winced and leapt backwards at the sound.

She winced and leapt backwards at the sound, but then she relaxed and smiled to herself as the tiny mouse paws scrabbled inside of her. Had he heard? Or had she merely startled him awake with her jump?

She relaxed and smiled to herself.

Once he had settled, she called her maid and changed into another gown. It was an old gown, but it was softer and looser. Her gowns were growing uncomfortably tight around the middle, and it did seem pointless to dress for supper when there would only be she and Baldwin. Perhaps they would simply eat in the sitting room. Baldwin always found that amusing.

She decided to take down her hair as well. Why not? Her husband would be home long after she was in bed, and she wasn’t likely to have any visitors. Any who might come would be at the castle.

She had just finished brushing it.

She had just finished brushing it when she heard boots hurrying up the stairs outside the bedroom. They were boots for riding, and not the soft shoes of the steward, the valet, or the other house servants. She was alarmed at the idea of a groom coming up into the private part of the castle – had the maid gone too far already to hear her if she screamed? And then the door opened suddenly, without even a knock to warn her.

In the first instant she jumped forward to push it closed again, and in the second she leapt away, trembling. The tiny mouse feet pattered about.

But it was only her husband, and he looked nearly as white and frightened as she felt. “Edris! I didn’t think – ”

'It was only her husband.'

“Oh!” she cried in dismay. “My hair!” Maud often wore her hair loose, and Matilda always did, but Edris had been trained that wearing one’s hair unbound was as good as going naked – or at least in one’s nightgown.

'My hair!'

“Your hair,” he repeated, and he came forward and took a great handful of it and studied it intently, as if he had never seen such stuff before.

“I tought you – dey told me you had already left for de castle.” She was doubly humiliated to hear herself pronouncing her th’s as t’s and d’s, as she still did when she was upset.

He dropped her hair and took her hands. “I came home to see how you were. How do you feel?”

'How do you feel?'

“I feel fine,” she said, trying to smile.

“Tell me – have I done or said something to make you fear me?”

“Why do you think so?” She tried to pronounced her words carefully, for she was growing very upset. What did this mean? Why had he come home?

“I fear you do not trust me.”

'I fear you do not trust me.'

She opened her mouth to deny it, but he interrupted her.

“If you do not, it is surely because of something I have done. I fear that I am… somewhat…”

“You are very kind,” she assured him.

He smiled ruefully. “You have said the same of everyone from the King to the kitchen maid.”

'You have said the same of everyone from the King to the kitchen maid.'

She blushed. That was true… but it was the truth. “You are,” she whispered.

“If I do not frighten you and if you find me kind, I wonder why you…”

She could not hold his gaze, and it seemed he could not hold her hands, for he dropped them and turned away to the window, looking out towards the northern hills.

“Are you angry with me?” she asked after a long silence.

He turned back to her, looking surprised. “No,” he said. “I should be angry with myself. I have been rather dreadful.”

“I don’t understand.”

I don't understand.

He took her hands again. “I have a habit of letting my mind wander while you talk to me. Perhaps you have noticed, and no longer wish to tell me things. Is that it?”

What did he mean? Did he know? Oh, of course he knew! He knew more about these things than she did. He could surely tell by looking at her, or some other way she could not even guess. And now he was unhappy with her because she had not told him. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but he held both of her hands tightly, and she could not wipe it away.

“Edris.” He freed her hands but pulled her closer.

He freed her hands but pulled her closer.

“You look so unhappy,” he murmured. “I feel as if I am torturing you. I didn’t want you to know that I knew, but if it is so difficult to tell me, I shan’t oblige you. I begin to believe that thou art simply shy.”

She nodded eagerly, and giggled at his awkward attempt at her dialect.

She nodded eagerly, and giggled at his awkward attempt at her dialect.

He laughed. “Poor girl. And what a beast of a husband thou hast. He is not even clever enough to guess for himself, but Matilda had to tell him, for he thought thou wert gravely ill. He might have been spared some worry,” he scolded gently.

“I am sorry.”

“Thy news redeems thee. Art happy?”

She nodded, and he kissed her suddenly, unexpectedly, as he had never kissed her during the day, and she nearly lost her balance – but he did not let her fall.

She nodded, and he kissed her suddenly, unexpectedly.

“Then I am happy,” he said. “Now, I asked Matilda to tell them to wait a while for us. If she didn’t break her neck on the way, it may not be too late for us to have dinner with our friends.”

'It may not be too late for us to have dinner with our friends.'