The Lady in the Tower by Marie-Louise Jensen Read Free Book Online Page A

she said anxiously.
    ‘I will be in a few moments,’ I said firmly. ‘This milk is giving me new strength already. Oh, and Betsey, I promised Alice some milk. Her baby is ailing and her other children are suffering hunger.’
    Betsey nodded and bustled away to get the provisions together.
    It was a struggle to walk to the village, but I was well rewarded by Alice’s joy in seeing me safe and in receiving the gifts of bread and milk for her family. She also tended some of my cuts with vinegar. It stung greatly, but gave some relief.
    ‘We wondered what in the world could have happened to you, Mistress,’ Alice said. ‘I knew you’d never stay away on purpose. We took your mother some water last night, but we had no food to spare but a crust of bread.’
    ‘Bless you for your help,’ I told her gratefully.
    Sir Walter sent a message to me that very night: one of the kitchen maids knocked on the door of my attic room.
    ‘Begging your pardon, Mistress Eleanor, but master says you’re to dine in the hall with the guests tonight,’ she said nervously, bobbing a quick curtsey.
    I heard her with dismay, and merely nodded a silent dismissal. I did not want to set eyes on my father. It was repugnant to have to show him smiles and obedience. Moreover, I was still so sore, it was hard for me to move about. But I knew I had little choice.
    So I was ordered to dine with the guests. I was to be a part of the Hungerford family once more, no longer banished to the servants’ table. I felt anxious about this, quite apart from my bodily hurts. I no longer felt sure I knew how to dine in polite company. I also feared it meant my betrothal was approaching. Perhaps my future husband was already in the castle.
    Moreover I had a practical difficulty. What was I to wear? While my brother had had clothes and gifts aplenty from Sir Walter, I had had nothing in four years.
    I pulled all my old clothes from my linen chest and searched through them for a kirtle or a gown that might still fit me. One by one, I pulled them on, wincing as they chafed my maltreated body. I shook my head in despair. Here was nothing that would not shame me before visitors. No fifteen year old can look presentable in dresses made for an eleven year old, and to make things worse, I had grown tall for my age. My skirts did not cover my ankles, my sleeves were strangers to my wrists, and my breasts pushed uncomfortably against the too-tight fabric of the kirtles. Finally, and with great reluctance, I pulled on the green kirtle and cloth of gold gown I had worn for my previous betrothal, covered it with a shawl, and sought my father. He was in his office, giving audience to a long line of tenants who doubtless had many complaints and requests to make of their landlord. He had been little enough at Farleigh over the last four years.
    I went to the front of the queue. The steward stopped me at the door.
    ‘Mistress Eleanor?’ he asked, a questioning lift to his brows.
    ‘I must see Sir Walter about an urgent matter,’ I explained in a low voice. He nodded and soon ushered me into my father’s presence. I was met with a hefty frown.
    ‘What is it, girl? I have much business to conduct today.’ He shifted impatiently in his seat. I dropped a curtsey and kept my eyes lowered. This was the room where I had been beaten so recently. It was not pleasant to be here again.
    ‘Sir Walter. I am sorry to intrude. I received your message about dinner tonight and I find myself in a sad difficulty.’
    I did not wish to argue or provoke him today either. I was safer if he believed me to be compliant.
    ‘What?’ he barked. ‘Spit it out!’
    I lifted my eyes briefly to his face to gauge his mood then cast them humbly down once more. ‘I have nothing to wear that will not shame you, my lord,’ I said apologetically. You mean, traitorous dog, I added silently.
    I lifted my arms to show him the shortness of my sleeves and saw his eyes wander over my ill-fitting