why the mistress of the manor was rarely at any of locations visited.
After seeing the linen storage, buttery, kitchen, and even where furs were kept in the garderobe to keep them safe from moths, Eleanor had had enough and found a way to extricate herself. Taking advantage of a momentary intake of breath, Eleanor quickly thanked Constance for her trouble and hurried away, climbing the steps to the solar and the room where Mariota lay. It was there she actually found Mistress Luce, in the company of Mistress Maud.
***
When she pushed open the wooden door, however, both women cried out, alarmed by the unexpected arrival.
Maud was the first to bow her head in greeting when she saw the prioress. Luce remained rigidly still, face pale and eyes narrowed as if resentful over the intrusion.
What have I interrupted? Eleanor asked herself, noticing the pallor in each woman’s face.
Maud begged leave from the prioress to depart, then disappeared without any word to Mistress Luce.
Walking to the edge of the bed, Eleanor decided the wisest course would be to ignore any tension between the two women. “How does the patient fare?” she asked mildly.
Mistress Luce raised her eyebrows as if surprised at the question, then followed the prioress to the bedside.
Mariota still lay on her back, eyes shut, covers tucked up around her chin. When Eleanor touched her forehead, however, she realized the fever had eased. “God be praised!” she whispered. “She is better.”
“The widow does have some skill with the sick,” Luce replied, her tone mocking. “Moreover, she has decided which of my servants should sit by this girl’s side when you need respite.”
The prioress stepped back and silently studied Master Stevyn’s wife.
Luce’s expression was both defiant and scornful. Her lips twisted into a thin smile.
Although Mistress Constance had described this woman as a young and flighty creature, Eleanor saw only anger, perhaps resentment, but no immature petulance. In addition, Mistress Luce was as possessed of as much passion as Ranulf’s wife was devoid of it. “I am happy to have found you, Mistress,” she said aloud. “Expression of my gratitude for your charity is long overdue. I fear our arrival has settled a great burden on your household.”
“I had little to do with giving you shelter, my lady. My daughter-in-law may have been of service, although she usually succeeds only when others with greater ability grow impatient with her incompetence and do the tasks themselves. The woman who just left often forgets her place here, but she is probably more worthy of your thanks. As mistress of this manor, however, I must take the blame when things go ill, so perhaps I should take credit as well in balance.” There was no warmth and little grace in her smile. “You are most welcome to our poor hospitality until your charge is strong enough to travel. My husband would have it no other way.”
Eleanor replied with due courtesy, all the while amazed at how different Mistress Constance and Mistress Luce were. If she had cause to wonder at the rigidity and lack of any joy in Mistress Constance, she was equally surprised at Mistress Luce’s angry soul—and the dangerous passion she had shown for a man not her husband.
Was Master Stevyn such a brutish spouse that resentment had bloomed like gangrene in her heart? Was she truly deficient in her duties, as Ranulf’s wife had suggested? Was she so ruled by lust that she let others, like Mistress Maud, take over what she herself should do? And why allow an outsider, a physician’s widow, perform a wife’s duties and not some longtime servant? Yet this adulterous wife did not strike Eleanor as a frivolous or even a lazy woman. Her wiry, albeit short, stature almost vibrated with energy.
She realized she had remained silent for too long. “I will add you to our prayers for this profound generosity,” the prioress said aloud. Although she questioned much in this manor,
After seeing the linen storage, buttery, kitchen, and even where furs were kept in the garderobe to keep them safe from moths, Eleanor had had enough and found a way to extricate herself. Taking advantage of a momentary intake of breath, Eleanor quickly thanked Constance for her trouble and hurried away, climbing the steps to the solar and the room where Mariota lay. It was there she actually found Mistress Luce, in the company of Mistress Maud.
***
When she pushed open the wooden door, however, both women cried out, alarmed by the unexpected arrival.
Maud was the first to bow her head in greeting when she saw the prioress. Luce remained rigidly still, face pale and eyes narrowed as if resentful over the intrusion.
What have I interrupted? Eleanor asked herself, noticing the pallor in each woman’s face.
Maud begged leave from the prioress to depart, then disappeared without any word to Mistress Luce.
Walking to the edge of the bed, Eleanor decided the wisest course would be to ignore any tension between the two women. “How does the patient fare?” she asked mildly.
Mistress Luce raised her eyebrows as if surprised at the question, then followed the prioress to the bedside.
Mariota still lay on her back, eyes shut, covers tucked up around her chin. When Eleanor touched her forehead, however, she realized the fever had eased. “God be praised!” she whispered. “She is better.”
“The widow does have some skill with the sick,” Luce replied, her tone mocking. “Moreover, she has decided which of my servants should sit by this girl’s side when you need respite.”
The prioress stepped back and silently studied Master Stevyn’s wife.
Luce’s expression was both defiant and scornful. Her lips twisted into a thin smile.
Although Mistress Constance had described this woman as a young and flighty creature, Eleanor saw only anger, perhaps resentment, but no immature petulance. In addition, Mistress Luce was as possessed of as much passion as Ranulf’s wife was devoid of it. “I am happy to have found you, Mistress,” she said aloud. “Expression of my gratitude for your charity is long overdue. I fear our arrival has settled a great burden on your household.”
“I had little to do with giving you shelter, my lady. My daughter-in-law may have been of service, although she usually succeeds only when others with greater ability grow impatient with her incompetence and do the tasks themselves. The woman who just left often forgets her place here, but she is probably more worthy of your thanks. As mistress of this manor, however, I must take the blame when things go ill, so perhaps I should take credit as well in balance.” There was no warmth and little grace in her smile. “You are most welcome to our poor hospitality until your charge is strong enough to travel. My husband would have it no other way.”
Eleanor replied with due courtesy, all the while amazed at how different Mistress Constance and Mistress Luce were. If she had cause to wonder at the rigidity and lack of any joy in Mistress Constance, she was equally surprised at Mistress Luce’s angry soul—and the dangerous passion she had shown for a man not her husband.
Was Master Stevyn such a brutish spouse that resentment had bloomed like gangrene in her heart? Was she truly deficient in her duties, as Ranulf’s wife had suggested? Was she so ruled by lust that she let others, like Mistress Maud, take over what she herself should do? And why allow an outsider, a physician’s widow, perform a wife’s duties and not some longtime servant? Yet this adulterous wife did not strike Eleanor as a frivolous or even a lazy woman. Her wiry, albeit short, stature almost vibrated with energy.
She realized she had remained silent for too long. “I will add you to our prayers for this profound generosity,” the prioress said aloud. Although she questioned much in this manor,
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