Page 71 of The Favourite

“Just how long do you expect me to remain in these rooms, my lord?” she asked, setting down her knife.

Oh, so it was “my lord” again and not “Alisander.” “A few days only,” he assured her. “The tailor will attend you on the morrow.”

“But it will surely take weeks before the new gowns will be ready!” she protested. “There is always an inordinate wait for court clothes.”

“Not at all, for I mean to pay an exorbitant amount. My tailor always makes my orders his priority. He will rush it through, never fear. Besides, you are not missing much about the palace. Court has been very dull and stagnant without us this past week, I find.” He hesitated. “The King is—er—anticipating a sad event. It has cast quite a pall over proceedings. Several celebratory banquets have been canceled.”

Jane looked up at him blankly. “What do you mean, a sad event?”

“His nurse Bathilde is very sick, apparently, and not expected to last the month out.” He avoided her eye, only too aware of the stark contrast in Wymer’s behavior when it came to the death of his mistress and that of his childhood nurse.

“How sad!” Anne commented artlessly. “Poor King Wymer!”

Ayleth gave a hollow laugh. “He can mourn, then?” she asked waspishly. “This King? When it suits him.”

Jane pushed her plate away practically untouched, and Alisander felt irritated. It was damnably crowded at table when they all ate together like this. He had thought he could stand it, for a few days at least, as in the future, he and Jane would take the majority of their meals in the banqueting hall. Now, he wasn’t so sure.

If Anne wasn’t chirruping away, then Ayleth was sniping at all and sundry. He never had these problems when it had just been Robert and Wat serving him. Oh, and Davis, though Davis generally ate his meals below stairs. Alisander sipped his wine and gazed around with displeasure.

In one hand, Wat had Bertrand balanced precariously on his knee, and in the other, he brandished a chicken leg. As for Robert, he was not even making a pretense of eating. Instead, he held Celestia in his arms and was crooning an old Lasconian lullaby in her ear.

For once the baby had her eyes wide open and she was gazing up at the old man, her face bearing an almost comical expression of concentration. It had to be a trick of the light, he decided. She was far too young to have actual thoughts.

Alisander cleared his throat. “We have much to discuss, wife,” he said breezily, “about your conduct over the next couple of weeks.”

“What about my conduct?” Jane asked.

“I have decided, you must adopt a new manner around the Queen,” he responded crisply. “If you act meekly, she will feel obliged to play the tyrant. It stands to reason.”

Jane picked up her ale, an obstinate expression spreading across her face. “I did not know that I was acting meekly,” she muttered.

Alisander sent her a quelling look. “When you left Aphrany, you were out of favor, lowly in order, and despised among her ladies.” Jane spluttered but failed to find the words to refute this. “Now you return, an adored bride,” he continued, ignoring the disruption. “You will be newly arrayed in gorgeous gowns and precious jewels will hang about your person.”

Anne set down her hunk of bread and applauded with gusto. “Thank you, Anne,” he said, “I am pleased there is at least one among us who appreciates my vision.”

“So, you expect me to act like a spoiled wife, and this apparently will win the Queen over?” Jane asked with open skepticism. “Despite the fact she has made it known to one and all that she prefers the status of her ladies-in-waiting to be unwed?”

“Coo, fancy her bein’ so particular,” Anne commented, her eyes as big as saucers. Ayleth glared at her across the table and Anne relented into a chastened silence.

Alisander picked up the bottle of red wine, turning pointedly to his wife. “Shall we take our fruit and cheese into our private chamber?” he suggested, “and finish our discussion there? It is somewhat crowded and noisy in here.”

Bertrand backed him up at this point, tipping his head back and starting loudly to howl.

“I had better light a fire in your bedchamber, my lord,” Wat said, hastily handing the child back to his mother. Anne abandoned her plate with a regretful sigh.

Jane acquiesced to his suggestion readily enough, although, once inside their room, she looked about, a bowl of walnuts in one hand and a bowl of figs in the other. “Your table is covered in trinkets and there is no room for the refreshments,” she pointed out. “Shall I set them on the dresser?”

“Just set them down on the bed,” he recommended, sitting on the edge of it and removing his shoes. She hesitated a moment before spreading a cloth out in the middle of the bed and placing the dishes on it. Then, she set about following his example, removing her slippers and winding a mantle about her shoulders.

“Cold?” he asked, replacing his tunic with a dressing robe and pouring them both a goblet of wine.

She shook her head. “The fire will soon warm the room.”

Wat straightened up from before the fireplace. “Will you be retiring so early, my lord? I only ask,” he added hastily, “as I was not certain whether to fetch the water already for your evening wash.”

“Fetch it in an hour’s time,” Alisander suggested, loosely tying the cord about his hips.

“Very well, my lord.” Wat shut the door quietly behind him, and Alisander settled back onto the bed.