Page 18 of Fortress of Snow

“You missed the midday meal,” Berenger reminded him. “Why don’t you come back with me and get some food? We will be doing more jousting practice this afternoon. That’s always amusing to watch, is it not?”

Sir John sometimes ridiculed the young squires’ uncoordinated attempts at tilting with their undersized lances. Berenger did not approve of that, but at least it might make Sir John come back with him and not drink himself into a stupor.

“I’ll be there shortly,” Sir John said and sat down on a boulder with both hands wrapped around his flask.

Berenger walked away. He’d done what he could. Hopefully Sir John would remember what he’d said about taking care of siblings.

There were many things in Sir Berenger’s life that he was glad about, and one of them was that he and his siblings had banded together and fought against those who were trying to destroy them. His greatest fear had been that he would not be able to save his brothers and sister when their enemies attacked them. He’d not been there to save his own father, and consequently, his father had been murdered in a most cowardly way.And he had not been a good enough fighter to save his oldest brother, Edwin, from losing his arm to a guard’s sword. And that was a regret he would carry with him always.

Berenger loved his brothers and sister more than anything or anyone. He hated not being able to do his duty to save those under his protection. To save the needy and innocent seemed the highest calling for any man, especially a knight.

Now he needed to ensure, if he possibly could, that Sir John understood that his highest calling was taking care of his sister, Mazy. She was an innocent young woman with a kind heart, and Berenger couldn’t bear to think of anything bad happening to her.

“I would like to do something to help your household.”

Mazy stood before Lady Delia and prayed silently that she would understand. She needed something to take her mind off of her anxious thoughts, grieving her father’s death and worrying what would become of her now that Warin had cast her off. And she needed to repay Lady Delia’s kindness and earn her keep.

“Something to help the household?”

“Some kind of job that I could do. I’m not good at sewing, but I know I could do something—cooking or cleaning or taking care of the sheep or...”

Lady Delia’s mouth fell open, her knitted brows making her look slightly horrified. “But why? You are the daughter of Baron Wexcombe. You do not need to do any work of that sort.”

“My father is dead and my older brother, the new baron, has disowned me.” The words made the tears flood her eyes.

She did not want to cry in front of the duchess. She could not bear to let the lady think she was trying to manipulate her into feeling pity for her. But as hard as she tried to blink them away, scold them away, think about something else, the tears would not stop. She kept her head down to hide her face from Lady Delia’s view.

“Disowned you? What do you mean? Surely he could not have done that.”

“He wrote a letter to my brother, Sir John, and said that he would no longer provide for me or help me find a husband because I left home and came here in the company of a farmer’s son, who was only with me to act as my guard. So I wanted to know if I might do something for you to earn my food and shelter.”

“Perhaps my husband can reason with Lord Wexcombe, persuade him to change his mind.”

“I thank you for kindly wanting to help me. But I am not sure I can trust Warin to find a husband for me, even if he does accept me back home.” Truly, she had never trusted Warin, and she would certainly never trust him now.

“You poor child.” Lady Delia’s voice was soft and kind. “But how can I ask you to work?”

“I want to work.” She spoke quickly, trying to remember the speech she had practiced to persuade Lady Delia. “I am used to training with my father’s guards, going hunting and fishing. And I took care of my father—reading to him, since his eyesight had dimmed, and playing games with him and writing his letters forhim. I also did his books, listing the expenses and income and accounting for livestock and crops. He lost his steward a few years ago, so I took on those tasks. I do not mind working. I don’t like being idle.”

Just then Lady Delia’s baby began to cry from his crib a few feet away.

“Shall I get him for you?” Mazy asked.

“Yes, if you would like. He’s probably hungry.”

Mazy bent and carefully picked up the baby from his crib. This was one domestic task she knew a little about. She had often visited with a couple of the servants who had babies, enjoying holding and cuddling the newborns.

She handed the baby to Lady Delia, who smiled at the crying child.

“Do you mind if I feed him? You are welcome to stay if it does not bother you.”

“I don’t mind. I have seen a woman nursing a child before.” She felt rather proud that she was so worldly and experienced.

Lady Delia unlaced the bodice of her dress. “Do you mind turning the key in the lock?” She nodded at the door.

Mazy locked the door so no one could come in and disturb the duchess while she fed her baby.

“I am so very sorry that your brother did that to you. But you will always be welcome here, and if I can do anything... I will ask my husband to speak to the baron anyway, or at least send him a letter, if that is all right with you. No one should be able to take away a child’s birthright. You are the rightful daughter of a baron and he should not be able to say otherwise.”