Chapter 2: The Stranger
Mother soon descends the stairs and reclaims her position as the hostess of the establishment. Her eyes are still blood shot, and her face looks more warn than I have ever seen it.
"Mother, what can I do to help?" She looks at me with a sad smile. It as if I have received a death sentence with only a day to live. She will indulge me for the little time I have left.
"Go finish what you need to. You have a two-day journey ahead of you." I nod but decide to procrastinate packing. I need to process what is happening.
I return to my window and use the afternoon light to finish embroidering my handkerchief. I reflect on the news, and what I need to do. What should I pack? All my dresses? My favorite books? Sewing supplied? I have no direction to judge on for what I will require. I will just have to try to make everything fit in a chest. The letter did say that I could pack a chest and that the messenger he had sent would handle the shipment of it to my fiancé's home. Father had tried to get the messenger to divulge his master, but to no avail. The servant remained tight lipped about who was behind the mystery.
I hold it up my finished work, examining its quality. It turned out well. I smile at the simple yet elegant design of blue blossoms and vines in the corner.
The last piece that I will make here, in my home. The thought hits like a punch, taking my breath away. A small tear escapes my eye, but I bite my lip to be brave. I can't break yet. I heave a sigh, and stand, tucking my handkerchief in my pocket. I need a distraction.
"Jeanne-Marie, how can I help you?" I peek my head into the kitchen, asking our maid, and server.
"Shouldn't you be packing?" She looks up from dishing the evening meal on the guest's plates.
"I have already finished." I lie. I can pack tomorrow before the house wakes up.
She pauses, knowing that I have just lied, before speaking. "I do need the help. Cécile has come down with something." Cécile is the young wench we have hired to help prepare the evening meal and aide Jeanne-Marie serve the nourishment and ale.
"You should have said so earlier." I cry and take an apron from off a peg. I grab two plates filled with food, and duck through the doorway. I scan the filling hall and find some guests. I place the steaming food in front of them with a smile. "Here is your food." With thank you's I rush back to the kitchen to gather more plates.
I serve all patrons, including the locals who have come for a drink. At this time of day our main floor serves as a tavern and restaurant. There are several groups of merchants conversing around the large central table. Father has joined them, creating ties and reconnecting with friends. Several women dance around the various tables, chatting and laughing. I recognize most of them from the local brothel. They are scouring our inn for lonely men. We, as a family, have chosen to ignore their presence here. Prostitution is legal, it gets them business and satisfies our customers. In truth it is none of our business as the women always take the men back to the brothel for any indecent behavior, and they pay for their own drinks here. We aren't too haughty to deny any customers.
I make the rounds supplying customers with more ale. A man in the corner catches my eye. Most our customers are merchants or locals, but this man appears to be some kind of warrior. We have warriors in often enough that it isn't surprising, but this man appears to be of higher status, with finer cloths and an ornate dagger on his hip. He has defined facial features with dark brooding eyes. His apparent wealth and obvious good looks have attracted the attention of a pair of prostitutes. They are on either side of him, touching him and vying for his attention. He brushes off each of their advances, a grimace on his face. The young women ignore his discomfort and displeasure.
I clench my teeth at the scene. We have no problem with these women being here, but they are not allowed to pester the guests. I am not in the mood to deal with them but know that I must. I scan the room to spot another target for the women.
I march to scene with a fake grin plastered on my face. "Good evening, would you like some more ale?" I offer to the man, holding out the pitcher in my hand. He gives a nod but doesn't open his mouth. All his visible muscles are tensed. My smile turns genuine for him, wanting to ease his distress.
One of the women leans over, exposing herself to the man's view. "Mister, if your tired of ale I have some expensive wine back in my room. I am sure you will enjoy it." Her voice is honey coated. She places a hand on his shoulder, demanding his attention.
He jerks his shoulder and mutters "The ale suits me just fine." This is the last straw for me. He is clearly disinterested in their proposition. Why insist?
"Ladies I understand that you have to make money, but I can't have you harassing my guests. You will just waste your time and ruin my business." I look them both in the eye, demanding their departure. The gentleman looks up for the first time since my arrival. His eyes are wide with surprise at my actions.
"Camille, we are only having fun." They are indignant but I will remain firm.
"It might be fun to you, but this gentleman appears to be ready to use that extravagant dagger of his. I don't need the hassle of scrubbing blood from the floor. Why don't you go over to Guy, or another regular? I am sure that adventure will be more fruitful." The both harrumphed but complied with my demand.
"Sir I am sorry for that. This last drink is on the house." He tilts his head, resting his chin on his hand.
"It this another ploy? Get me to let my guard down to seduce me?" His dark brown eyes are filled with loneliness, and curiosity mixed with his brooding nature. The collage of emotions puzzles me, but his words lite my rage.
"Sir I have no need to sell myself, and I have no desire for intimate relations." I turn to leave, vexed at his insinuation. I feel his eyes track my movements as I serve others, But I make sure to keep my back to him. I know eventually I will need to return to the brooding figure, but I try to find other tasks to complete.
Once my irritation has cooled enough for me to see how annoyed he must have been at the time, I approach to fill his glass. He is the first to speak. "I am sorry I spoke out of turn." My lips soften and turn up at his sincere and short apology. I have nothing close to a heart of stone.
"I knew you were frustrated. Would you like more?" I lift my pitcher indicating what I am referring to.
"I don't want to get too drunk." He shakes his head with a wry smile. Again, a sadness fills his being.
"What has got you in such a mood?" I sit across from him. There is something about him that I feel compelled to discover.
"What mood?" He asks, with a smirk. For the first time I see him smile. It brings a warmth and tightness to my chest I wasn't expecting.
"You are brooding." I raise my eyebrows, challenging him to deny my words.
"So are you." His response astonishes me. I have hidden my pensive state behind my usual politeness all night. I thought at most only my parents and Jeanne-Marie, who are aware of what is happening, would see through it.
"How did you know?" I am suspicious but know that I am not the toughest person to read.
"The same way you did." I ponder his words before choosing mine. We both seem to be able to see through the lies of the other. Maybe I need to be honest with someone for once in my life.
"I heard it helps to understand things when you talk. I need that right now, and it seems like you do too."
"Go ahead then." He extends his hand, gesturing for me to proceed.
"I am the one who asked first." His eyes dart around the room. I understand without words. He doesn't want anyone else to hear.
"Let's go on a walk. I need to clear my head in the fresh air." I offer.
His eyes meet mine, and for an instant an emotion I can't read or pin down flashes through them before he asks, "Is that appropriate?" I shrug.
"I am leaving tomorrow. It won't matter what others say."
"What if I take advantage of you?"
"You won't" I leave without saying another word. Returning the pitcher to the kitchen I let Jeanne-Marie know I am taking a break before heading out of the front door.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone