“Talking is fine,” said Nika, “but don’t you think this matter would be best saved for another time? Sir Geoff, your loyalty and sense of justice are commendable—I rate them both highly. However, the care of your master comes first, no? His Highness has shown you great kindness, and I daresay that now is not the time to bring up such conversation.”
“I understand that, I do, but—”
“I do not mean to make light of what you speak, but consider for a moment the circumstances,” continued Nika, “and the danger His Highness put himself in—knowingly—in coming to aid you personally.”
At that, the carriage fell into a deep silence. Eventually, the horses came to a stop. Whateley and Martina were waiting at the front door of our home, their faces taut with worry and uncertainty.
“We are beyond relieved to see you both safe,” said Whateley.
Even Reinald noticed the steward’s stilted tone. Something was amiss. Whateley did not even have it in him to offer the usual greetings, and he made no attempt to hide his shame as he went on.
“Men claiming to be Arrendle knights arrived without word and forced their way inside. They said it was an investigation... They turned the place upside down...”
I entered the house on shaky feet as I heard what happened. Martina called for me to stop, but I found it rather difficult. Wendel and Emil noticed me as I staggered through the halls.
“Karen,” uttered Wendel.
“Sis,” said Emil at the same time.
Both were safe and unharmed. I had to assume that Hil and Humphrey, standing by their sides, had kept them well protected. Still, the house was a mess. You could still see where the knights had been stomping around in their search. Paintings that once hung on the walls had fallen to the floor, and everything on the shelves and in the drawers lay scattered around them.
“They came in without notice,” said Wendel. “They practically ransacked the place. They claimed all our magical items suspect and took everything in Ern’s room with them.”
It was then that I noticed the lamps missing from the hallway. Ern’s room was in the worst shape, just as Wendel had alluded to. Her thicker items of clothing had been torn to pieces. Her bedsheets and blanket, too, had been cut open, the stuffing pulled out and left on the floor. Her small collection of jewelry was gone, and there was no sign of the safe she’d brought with her.
“Karen, are you hurt?” Wendel asked.
I picked up the remains of a pillow in the middle of the room and held it tight. The slightest scent of Ern’s hair tickled at my nostrils. In the corner of my eye, I noticed the hat I’d bought her, just like my own. The accessories that once decorated it lay scattered across the floor, the hat itself having been trampled under some knight’s foot. Nobody would wear that hat ever again. In the end, even Ern herself had never truly worn it, only tried it on briefly just to make sure that it fit. I still remembered the taut line of Ern’s lips—together with a slight flush of embarrassment—when I’d declared we could go out in matching hats.
“Maybe if the mood strikes,” Ern had said, though it had been my earnest intent to create that very mood.
Jill nudged me from behind with her nose, but I remained entirely still. Wendel seemed to understand then, and with a lonely sigh, he took my head in his hands and wrapped me in a hug.
“I’m glad you’re home,” he said.
But I had returned alone. One of two. The tears that I had fought so hard to tamp down bubbled up and exploded from me like a burst dam. I wailed like a child. I do not remember how long I cried, but at some point I realized I was in bed, in my own room. Not taking a bath beforehand had been a horrible mistake—the bloodstains under my fingernails a cruel reminder of the nightmare that was my reality. I abhorred the very idea of thought and felt no desire to move in the slightest, so I simply stayed in bed.
I dropped in and out of sleep, always hoping for a gentle, comforting slumber that never came. I felt the presence of those who checked up on me occasionally, but I lacked the will to reply to anything they said. Charlot and Jill were often by my side, and surprisingly even Blacky too. Ordinarily, I would have seized the opportunity and buried my face in the cats’ soft fur, but as I lay there in bed I felt strangely as if I was no longer the person I had once been.
“Please, you must at least drink some water, my lady,” pleaded Martina. “You’ll collapse if you don’t.”
Martina was often by my side, perhaps because we were both young women around the same age. I felt thirst itching at my throat and sipped at the cup she’d brought, then fell back into bed. My head was itchy, and I felt icky all over. But even then, I couldn’t bring myself to get up. It must have been awful for everybody else in the house.
The situation changed, however, when a certain young woman arrived.
“Ugh, talk about doom and gloom,” she uttered when she entered.
I heard her shoes clacking on the floor as she entered and saw that she was pinching her nose between her fingers. She lifted some of my hair from my head and snorted with disgust. That same disgust could be heard in every word that followed.
“Oh, come on,” she said to Martina. “Her hair’s so matted and sticky. Has she even taken a bath?”
“Er, no. I did lightly wash her body with a wet hand towel.”
“A wet hand towel? Nothing else?”
The young woman was clearly unimpressed, and the disgust in her voice quickly morphed into a thunderous anger.
“It’s gloomy enough in here as it is! What, would you have her plummet into the depths of depression while she’s at it?! Open the windows at once! We’re letting some fresh air in. Then we’re going to clean the room and give the girl a proper bath!”
“Oh, but, um, the clothing still has Lady Ern’s—”
“If you don’t want to throw it away, then wash it! Now, hurry up and help me!”
A few moments later, I was summarily dragged into the bath. It was an annoyance I didn’t want to deal with, but I was given no other choice and was told that if I didn’t get my act together, then Geoff would carry me into the bathroom himself. But even when I was seated in the bathtub, I wasn’t left alone. The young woman stripped off her own clothes and got in right along with me, where she took to washing my body and hair most thoroughly. Martina offered to help, but was shut down in an instant.
“No, I can handle this,” stated the young woman. “I’m well accustomed to bathing others, and besides, you still have the house to clean. And Martina, you still have your own work to see to as well, so make sure that Whateley’s business gets the attention it needs.”
“Oh, yes, erm, thank you ever so much. But, Lady Marie, whatever do you mean when you say you’re...accustomed to bathing others...?”
“Don’t get any weird ideas. When I remarried, my husband was prone to falling ill, so I got used to nursing him rather quickly!”
“Oh? You remarried, did you, Lady Marie?”
“Yes, but he’s dead now, so you need not let it worry you in the slightest. And who cares about me at this point in time anyway? It’s the other girl in the bath we should be focused on now!”
I wonder if it is an exaggeration to say that it was Marie’s fierce tone of voice that drove everybody into action.
“If your beauty and cleanliness are taken from you, then you’ll be just another bumbling potato farmer’s daughter and nothing more! Ugh! Are you trying to kill your own good looks, you idiot?!”
Marie’s rage had yet to subside, but in contrast to the ire written all over her face, the way she shampooed my hair and washed my body was nothing if not gentle and kind. Once she dumped a tub of hot water over my head, the bath was over, and Martina was waiting for Marie with her head bowed.
“We didn’t like the idea of leaving Lady Karen or Lady Ern’s rooms in the state they were, so they’ve been tidied. Also, Sir Whateley has left to visit Prince Reinald.”
“Could you brew some tea?” asked Marie. “And something to eat too?”
“It’s being readied as we speak. Shall I have it brought to Lady Karen’s room?”
“Serve it all where she usually takes her meals. We can go back to her room whenever she feels like it.”
I was dressed in what felt like an instant and sat at a table covered in food. There were grapes, apples, and other fruits along with a warm bread porridge.
“It’s a simple affair, I know, but it’ll be better for your stomach than anything oily or fried,” explained Marie, who swallowed a spoonful of porridge before shooting me a fierce glare. “Eat, Karen. Do not be rude to the people who went to the trouble of preparing all of this for you.”
I did as I was told. The porridge was indeed a simple meal, but its subtle sweetness was delicious. I had not actually realized how hungry I was until I saw that the bowl in front of me was empty. After that, there was nothing else in particular to be done—I was brought to the living room, where Marie plucked a book from the shelves and made herself at home.
“You can rest if you like,” she said, “but at least do it in the light of the sun.”