Page 42 of The Consolation Prize

Otho rocked back on his heels looking much struck by this argument. “There is something in what you say,” he admitted grudgingly.

“So good of you to say so,” Armand muttered as Otho strode purposefully out of the stable. Arturo whickered as though in sympathy. He patted his horse. “Exactly so. I’m glad I may depend on you at least.”

Their midday meal was another haphazard affair. Armand made his way into the great hall without great hopes of sustenance, but it seemed that word had spread in the village of Lynwode’s occupation. Several tradesmen had presented themselves at the kitchen door that morning and Una had purchased a keg of ale, a baked ham, and three loaves of bread.

He and Una sat at the head of the freshly scrubbed table, on a raised dais, under a high vaulted ceiling and a minstrel’s gallery and ate their simple meal with relish. If it seemed incongruous to be sat eating bread and ham in such an impressive setting, neither of them saw fit to mention the fact.

It seemed Una did not pass as many morsels of ham down to her little dog as he would like, for at one point, he timidly cast a glance in Armand’s direction, smacking his lips. Discreetly, Armand dropped some meat at his own feet and the dog darted forward to retrieve it before returning to his mistress.

Once Abelard had settled again at Una’s feet, Armand let his eyes travel up her skirts appraisingly until he reached her face. She was gazing at the decorated wooden screen that concealed the three doorways to the kitchen, pantry, and buttery, no doubt thinking about furniture polish or some such thing. Armand found his thoughts wandering to less practical matters.

He rather liked her height he decided, with surprise. He certainly appreciated her long legs when they were wrapped around him last night and he liked that she could kiss him like she had that morning, without struggling to reach his lips.

“I wonder that the others do not join us,” Una frowned. “Is that not something that is done in the South?”

“What’s that?” asked Armand, who had been distracted with his inventory of her charms.

“In the North, the servants join their masters at table for their meals, only we would sit at the head and they would be further down. Is it not the same here in the South?”

Armand shrugged. “Depends on the household. If that’s what you want, then I’m agreeable. You may have to run it past your brother first though,” he added.

Una looked surprised. “Why do you say that?”

“Otho seems to think some order needs to be restored at Lynwode,” he answered. For a moment he debated telling her of Otho’s plans to oust Rose from the housekeeper’s quarters, then realized he could not be bothered. “Has he told you he thinks he has found us a cook?” he asked, sticking to important matters.

“He mentioned giving someone called Mr. Beverley a trial in the kitchen for tonight’s supper,” she agreed. “Though at present there is precious little for him to work with.”

“Maybe you’ll receive more visitors plying their wares this afternoon?” Armand replied.

“I hope so. What a good thing it was that you announced our arrival yesterday.” She smiled at him and Armand was tempted to bask in her approval a while. He suppressed the impulse but it was a struggle.

7

Armand retrieved the attic key from their room after they’d done eating and headed up to peruse his newfound wealth at his leisure. Meanwhile, Una walked through to the kitchen and found Otho, Rose, and a large young man sat around the kitchen table partaking of the same simple meal she and Armand had shared. When the young man went to pull back his chair and hastily stand, Una begged him not to trouble himself in the midst of eating.

“This is Peter. He’ll tend the garden and help out in the stables,” Otho said, swiftly glancing up.

“I am pleased to meet you,” Una said. “In future, Sir Armand and I would like the household to take our meals together in the great hall,” she asserted, though Otho scowled and Peter looked terrified at the notion.

Abelard danced up to Rose and pawed her knee with a familiarity that astonished Una. Rose smiled at him and promptly gave him the entire portion of ham from her plate. When Otho opened his mouth to reprove her, Una gave him a stern look and he bit back his words unspoken.

“Would you like some more ham, Rose?” Una asked her, as the girl watched Abelard fall upon the bounty with enthusiasm.

“Oh, no thank you, milady,” she said with a shake of her head. “In truth, I do not care to eat the flesh of animals at all.”

Otho lowered his knife and looked at her with even more disapproval, if that were possible, but to Una it explained perfectly the mystery of the empty pantry. She nodded and left the kitchen to inspect the buttery, which she had overlooked so far. To her surprise there were several dusty casks of what looked like wine, but the only barrel of ale was the one she had purchased that morning. They would certainly need more delivered, she thought as she pulled back a piece of sacking and discovered a supply of candles.

Wondering if the wine would be quite sour by now, she left the buttery and returned to the kitchen. “We need more ale delivered,” she told Otho, “As soon as possible now our household is expanding. She turned curiously to Rose. “What did you drink throughout the day, Rose?”

“Water, my lady,” Rose answered absently.

“Water!” Otho burst forth disgustedly.

Rose nodded. “It’s clean and fresh from the well.”

Otho looked forbidding as the girl rose to her feet. “You needn’t think you’re prancing off now,” he said witheringly. “You can wash these dishes before you run after your mistress.”

Rose looked crestfallen but started collecting the empty platters obediently enough.