Page 32 of Wed By Proxy

He needed to make reparation for his previous uncouth behavior. He wished he had some gift or peace offering to bring her. Would any of the clothes he had ordered for her in Wickhamford have been delivered yet? He had told Temur to specify the lodge for their delivery, and to impress on them the need for urgency.

On arriving at the lodge, he led his horse into the now snug lean-to, where Destrian and the bay mare—he had no idea if she’d named her yet—were stabled. They whinnied in welcome as he backed Bayard into a vacant stall. He rubbed him down and tethered him, noting someone had not been neglecting their duties as the floor was clean and fresh straw down.

Letting himself in through the kitchen door, he encountered Robin at the kitchen table sketching out a plan on a piece of paper, with a tabby cat upon his knee. Both turned to look enquiringly at him.

“My lord,” greeted Robin.

“Robin. Where is your mistress?”

“I laid a fire in the upstairs sitting room for them. She and Prudence are in there, adjusting some gowns.”

Guy paused halfway through the door. “She had a delivery from the tailor then?”

“Aye, my lord. Gowns and shifts and cloaks aplenty,” Robin assured him.

“And none of it fits?”

“Not to her liking,” Robin shrugged.

Guy supposed he should not be surprised. After all, a provincial tailor from Wickhamford would likely not be up to all the latest fashions. “The stable looks good,” he said, eyeing the boy. “You’ve been busy.”

Robin nodded. “Oh, I know how to take care of horses,” he said sagely. “As a squire, it’s part of my duties. Fowls however,” he said with a frown. “Are another matter.”

“What’s amiss with them?” Guy asked.

“One nearly got carried off last night,” Robin said darkly. “Did you hear nothing?” At Guy’s startled denial, Rob nodded his head. “Mabel woke me, but it seems the rest of the house slept on through the racket,” he stroked the tabby, and Guy deduced she was Mabel. “I opened my window and heard a terrible squawking and flapping. There was a fox. He’d got over the fence and was trying to prize the basket open.”

“They are cunning,” Guy agreed, remembering his own dream of a couple of nights ago with sudden clarity. He had been the fox. Mathilde, the little unprotected hen. “If he’d got in the basket, I doubt he would have stopped at one.”

“I threw a bowl down at him,” Robin confessed. “A blue one that was on my shelf. It smashed all to pieces. I hope it wasn’t valuable.” Guy shrugged. “I thought I’d raise the whole house! In any event, the fox ran off and I fetched the hens in for the rest of the night.”

“Fetched them in?”

Robin nodded. “They slept in there,” he said nodding toward the buttery. Prudence didn’t half make a fuss about it this morning,” he grumbled. “But most folk in the country live under the same roof as their livestock,” he said plaintively. “So she had no cause to take on so. I daresay she’d have been mad as fire to wake up to the prospect of no eggs!” He pointed to the paper he was so busy over. “I’m designing them a new home,” he explained. “But until I’ve built it, they’ll have to sleep in here of a night.”

Guy murmured some agreement which seemed to appease the boy, then started up the stairs in search of Mathilde. Outside the door, he paused a moment, hearing Prudence’s scandalized voice.

“Oh, you’ve cut that ever so low, my lady!” she protested. “T’isn’t decent, indeed t’isn’t!”

“Oh, well,” Mathilde answered airily. “I daresay it is a little low, but I shall only wear it at home, when entertaining my husband so it shan’t signify overmuch.”

Guy gave a soft knock on the door, and then opened it. Mathilde sat on a sofa with a gown of scarlet across her lap and a needle and thread in her hand. “My lord!” she said in startled accents, as if he was the last person she had anticipated seeing. All around her were strewn various garments and on the floor at her feet lay many scraps of multi-colors. It looked as though she had taken her shears to practically every item of her new wardrobe. He blinked.

Prudence was crouched with a mouthful of pins nearby. She also had a guilty, surprised look on her face, as if she had been caught doing something she oughtn’t. She spat out the pins and quickly gathered them up. “I’ll go and fetch some refreshment,” she said hurriedly jumping to her feet and scurrying from the room.

Guy watched the door close behind her with bemusement, and then turned back to Mathilde, who seemed to be trying to stuff the scarlet dress behind a cushion.

“The — uh — garments I ordered were not to your liking?” he asked awkwardly, as he came further into the room.

“Oh no! It wasn’t that! The fabrics were just lovely and the trimmings very tasteful,” she assured him tactfully.

“Then…?” he rose an eyebrow, as his gaze swept over the devastation surrounding her.

“’Tis only that as a married woman,” she stressed. “I would wish to have them cut in a style with a little more sophistication.”

“I see.”

“You do not mind?” she asked anxiously.