CHAPTER 14
It was the day after my lesson with Will, and two days after the run in with Sir Guy that I found myself sharing a private smile with Jemma, the white goat Sir Guy had given us. She was a sweet creature whom we bore no ill will. She cleaned up the weeds in the yard and some parts of the barn for us. Today she had gotten hold of a sock I had darned and left hanging out to dry and decided that was a good breakfast. One of the goatherds nearby had warned me that goats will eat anything, but Jemma appeared to have a taste for wool, of course. It only fit.
She'd finished most of the sock when I found her so I had my hand halfway down her throat when I felt myself smile faintly. Only Sir Guy could be responsible for this predicament. Between breaking my heart, his unpredictable moodiness and sock eating gifts, what else could he do to us? Perhaps I was finally recovering from him. I tapped Jemma fondly on the nose. "Troublemaker," I told her. She rolled her eyes at me and reached for the slimy sock in my hand a second time. I batted her nose away, and got up to go into the house.
"Nyssa!" Father called. He looked concerned. "I have to go to the black market today, but I need you to make some deliveries. One of them is very important; it's for Mr. Morrison, and he said it has to be there in an hour. It's for a wedding client."
I frowned, rolling my eyes. "You just don't want to do the delivery yourself." Mr. Morrison ran the most expensive clothing shop in town, and while he charged his clients top prices he rarely passed the earnings on to his suppliers. He was an intemperate man who put on airs around other tradesmen and was extremely proud of his snobbish noble clientele. Unfortunately even at the prices he paid us, he was still one of the higher paying clients in town. And, he was nicer to young pretty girls than their older fathers.
"It won't take long, and then you can come to the market later," Father aid. "I hope Will has recovered from your lesson yesterday."
I sighed. "Oh, all right," I said. "How much to we need to deliver?"
"I'll pack it onto Gwynna. It's three cloaks, and that beautiful wedding headdress you made." I smiled, remembering how I had enjoyed embroidering that headdress. I was proud of it; a pale green color with beading around the edges of very fine merino wool. I hoped to make one like it for myself one day. Ten minutes later, Gwynna and I were headed into town and to Morrison's clothing shop. It was a short walk, and I moved her quickly along now that winter had come. It was raining lightly when we arrived. I tied her up to one of the posts outside Morrison's shop, noticing the fine white horse next to her. This must belong to the client, I thought absently.
I walked into the store carrying the heavy wrapped package, skillfully opening it with my foot and maneuvering my way inside. "I have your delivery, Mr. Morrison," I said, then stopped abruptly as I looked up.
Morrison was standing next to to a woman I had never seen before. She was older than me, perhaps by five years, and striking with yellow hair that was left unbound to her waist. Her slim figure was aided by an expensively cut dress in rose-colored French silk. The waist nipped savagely in to reveal an hourglass figure and the bodice was cut almost half an inch too low, lifting her breasts up and forward. I had never seen such a fine and scandalously made dress in my life. She sniffed as she regarded me, speaking in heavily accented English,
"Your shop smells, Mr. Morrison."
"Oh, pay her no mind, Lady Sabine," Morrison said. "She's my woolmaker's daughter. I told him your headdress had to be delivered today," he said proudly.
Lady Sabine did not appear impressed. As she spoke again, I realized that she must be French and that was why her accent had sounded odd to me. "Quelle horreur! In Paris the merchants always enter through the back door, not the front."
"Well, we are a bit less formal here," Mr. Morrison said. "but you will be very pleased with her work, Lady Sabine. Show her the headdress, Nyssa."
I hurried to place the package on the table. Lady Sabine sniffed again as I passed her, to let me know that I should not come any closer. I stood by the table, eyes cast down as Father had taught me in the presence of a noble. Morrison unwrapped and removed the headdress. "See, as I told you, Lady Sabine. The finest quality."
Sabine examined the headdress, clucking her tongue. "Well, it is certainly not Parisien work, but I suppose it will have to do. I must get used to these things."
Arrogant cow, I thought, but was not surprised to find such a client in Morrison's shop. She was one of many that we served and would forget later, only to be replaced by another. Keeping my eyes cast down, I said,
"Many salutations for your wedding, my lady."
Sabine's icy gaze fell on me again. "Is it common, Morrison, for common merchants to address nobles in this way in England? Mon Dieu, this I may never get used to." She turned back to the mirror, preening as she put on the wedding headdress. "Yes, it fits well. I suppose it will do. How much for my order?"
Morrison looked at me. I hated this girl, and I was going to make sure she felt the bite of business in her fantastic rear end. "One hundred and fifty crowns for the cloaks and the headdress."
"Ah, mon Dieu! Well, I carry no money, but my fiancé will be here to pay for it all at any moment. It is my trousseau, you know," Sabine said, as if to teach me something I could never understand. I refused to look at her, keeping my eyes to the floor. Sabine sighed, as she got no reaction from me. "I suppose merchant girls have no trousseau to speak of. But is very important in France." I nodded, still keeping my eyes away.
She turned back to look at me, suddenly interested. "I like her cloak, Morrison," she said. It was the sea foam colored one that I always wore to expensive shops, and was decorated with embroidery around the edges and hem. "Girl, did your father make that too?"
"Yes, my lady," I said. "It is the only one of its kind."
She clapped her tiny hands. "Excellent! Tell him I want one just like it. You can add it to my order," she said to Morrison.
"Of course, my lady. And will this be paid for today as well?" Morrison asked happily.
"Certainement," Sabine said. Her head suddenly flew up as she heard the sound of hoofbeats. "There is my fiancé now."
I stiffened. No, it could not be. No. My heart began to race and I felt color draining from my cheeks, and my stomach filling with bile. "Mr. Morrison, perhaps I can have my Father collect later today. I really must go." Morrison began to protest, but I put my hood up and stumbled resolutely towards the door, to see the rider arrive and swing himself off of his stallion, which he tied up next to the white horse. I backed away from the door, trying to keep my face covered. He was coming to the door, and if I was careful I might be able to pass by him as he entered. As I felt the door swing open, I tried to duck past him, but heard him bark at me,
"You wait! I have business to attend to!"
Obediently I stepped backwards inside, and stood by the door, as Sir Guy of Gisborne strode into the shop, looking more irritated than I had ever seen. "Morrison. What has the order come to?" He pulled his gloves off and tossed them on the wooden counter, then slung himself into a chair nearby, one long leg draped over the side.
Sabine clapped her white hands again upon seeing him. "Mon chere! You are in perfect time! The merchant girl was about to leave, but you stopped her. My handsome knight," she purred, sashaying over to him. He looked up at her, still seeming annoyed, and then glanced at me.
I took a moment to put my cloak hood back and let my red hair spill around my shoulders. I felt as though I might be sick at any moment, but I would not be sick in front of Sabine. I looked Guy straight in the face, which Sabine murmured over, displeased. To hell with her, I thought. "My apologies, Sir Guy. I have urgent business elsewhere today. If you could but pay the one hundred and fifty crowns owed, I will leave you to celebrate the happiness of your upcoming wedding with your fiancée."
Guy's face was white, and I saw sweat break out on his brow. Somehow, this gave me the courage to continue. "And Lady Sabine would like a cloak that is a direct copy of mine. We shall work on it straight away, but I cannot guarantee when it will be done as I do not know the date of your wedding." The last I said with a quaver in my voice, and then dropped my eyes so that he would not see my tears. I would not cry in front of them.
"You do not mind, do you, beau?" Sabine cooed, leaning into him and boldly caressing his hanging leg. He appeared completely unaware, his mouth slightly open, still staring at me. "Mon chere?" she asked, now sounding a bit frustrated by his lack of attention.
"Sir Guy?" I said, looking at him again. "Did your hear your fiancée? Is the sale appropriate?"
"Mon grand gentihomme," Sabine said, pressing herself against Guy again, "I know it is much more than we agreed, but I love this cloak. Perhaps," she said, her voice dropping low, "I will wear it for you, and only it. We shall experiment, like last night, oui?"
At this new information, it took everything I had for the bile in stomach not to erupt onto Morrison's floor. I bit it back, slamming my jaws shut and dropping my eyes once more. I heard Sir Guy get up from his chair and move towards me. I could not look at him, so kept my eyes cast downward, but extended my hand for the payment that he owed. "One hundred and fifty crowns, Sir Guy," I said.
"Look at me," he commanded. I shook my head. His voice dropped dangerously low. "This is much more than was agreed upon, merchant's daughter."
"I am sorry, Sir Guy," I said, raising my head and allowing myself to look him in the eye, "but I simply cannot take less."
"Oh, please give it to her, Guy," Sabine prompted happily. I hated the way she pronounced his name, though I supposed it was correct.
Guy glared at me, his blue eyes unreadable. He reached into his doublet, removed a small money purse and spilled the coins into his hand. Then, he reached out took my wrist and opened my palm to count them out. I winced, feeling singed, but allowed it. He began slowly counting the coins in a low voice, his hand brushing my palm as he did so. I looked away, determined not to cry.
As he kept counting, his voice dropped lower in between saying the numbers, so that I could barely hear him. "I want to see you."
"No," I whispered back, still refusing to look at him.
"I must see you." It was not a request.
"Guy, are you nearly finished?" Sabine called out. I could tell she did not like how long he was taking to pay me.
Guy whirled around and snarled at her, "I though you wanted me to take care of this. Vous n'avez pas plein du patience? C'est beaucoup du l'argent!" I didn't understand the last, but Sabine immediately quieted, looking piqued.
He was nearly finished counting out the coins, which meant my torture was almost over. "Nyssa," he said slowly, "I must speak with you."
"Go back to your French whore," I said, smiling sweetly as he deposited the last coin in my hand. "I'm sure she would love to speak with you." Guy did not miss the implication of my last jibe. The shock on his face was almost comical, before dark clouds descended upon it. Raising my voice to a normal level, I said, "Thank you all for your business, and my best wishes for a beautiful wedding. I will take my leave now." I moved away from then three of them, feeling Guy's gaze burning into my back like a firebrand.
As I passed through the door, and hurried to Gwynna's side, I touched her soft fur, and she whickered obligingly at me. It was then that I allowed the tears slip down my face. I didn't want them to see, so I mounted Gwynna and clicked my tongue for her to trot to the main road. I urged her into a gallop as we got further away from the shop, and managed to keep my head up as sobs ripped their way from my throat. I slowed her as we neared the house, leaning my weight on her neck and holding her as I wept, remembering an afternoon in a lily grove that seemed a lifetime ago, and man's voice saying,
"You have my heart, Nyssa. I love you."
