Sarah looked between the two of them, mouth agape. “Your wife? When? How long have you been courting? Why didn’t you say anything?”

She paused for breath, then laughed. “Well, and you probably didn’t say anything because you knew I’d put you through every question known, and then some.”

Cadan’s returning smile was shy and sweet and made something suspiciously close to Eleanor’s heart spin in circles.

He said. “We met yesterday and were married in the same meeting. Tis a complicated story.”

Sarah’s jaw dropped again, but she held up a hand when Eleanor went to speak. “Let’s leave it ‘til morning. If it’s complicated, you’re going to have a horrible time keeping it straight after what I’m sure’s been a long and tedious day. For now, sit and rest, I’ve stew keeping warm and enough for both with a bit of bread, so you can eat and tumble straight into bed.”

She paused, and turned red. “Erm, are you sharing a bed?”

Cadan nodded, then said. “I should help unload the cart, fetch your things for you, Nora.”

A clean smock sounded like the world’s greatest delight at that moment, along with the promise of a seat by the fire and warm food.

Sarah herded her towards the wide, welcoming hearth. “I have to admit I’m afire with curiosity, but you’re barely upright, you poor thing, and still with your pretty wedding ribbons in your hair.”

Eleanor couldn’t remember when the hood on the oversized cloak had come down. The rain had eased as the sun left so probably then. She undid the wooden toggle at her throat, then froze. Where would she put it? There was no Betsy, or Mrs Fisher to tut and pick it up when she left it on the floor behind her.

Her hostess read her expression correctly. “Oh, you just hand that to me. It can go on the peg here, beside Cadan’s forest coat.”

The cloak was hung next to a long jacket of the same fabric, well-patched and shiny with wear.

Sarah waved her to a wooden chair with a thick cushion at the far side of the fire. “Sit, sit. I’ll just cut some bread and then we can dish you up some dinner.”

Watching her bustle about the kitchen brought back memories of the old house, the one by the river, watching Mrs Dorin in the kitchen and being allowed to stir the pudding bowl if she was extra good.

She said. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Not that she’d have any idea what to do unless there was a pudding basin available.

Sarah smiled. “No, I’m used to my own kitchen and fall over anyone else in it. Gwen, that’s my daughter, would complain I was worse than the castle commander when it came to preparing dinner. She’s up at the castle now, apprentice seamstress, and doing well enough to sew for the Duchess we hear.”

Eleanor looked down, then took a deep breath. “Would you be able to teach me?”

Sarah handed her an empty wooden bowl. “That’s for your husband, keep hold of it while I fill yours. Now what do you mean by ‘teach’?”

Eleanor spoke to the bowl. “I’m a merchant’s daughter. I’ve been taught to read, write, calculate, and embroider, but not how to cook, clean, mend, or do any of the things that’s necessary in a village. I don’t even know what’s necessary.”

She winced and waited for the scorn.

Instead, she was handed a bowl full of delicious-smelling stew as Sarah took the empty bowl from her anxious grasp, then patted her on the back. “How did Cadan ever… never mind, you can tell me in the morning. But I would be happy and honoured to be your teacher. And as to what’s necessary, let’s see what you prove to be good at.”

Eleanor began to breathe again, and even found a smile. “Thank you. What sort of things will I need to learn?”

Sarah shrugged as she filled Cadan’s bowl. “A little basic cooking won’t go awry, especially once you two are in your own place. Your lad’s a good hand in the forest but cannot even look at a pot without burning whatever’s in it. Beyond that, we’ve need of a trainee healer, an apprentice to old Maggie, the weaver, and someone to take over management of the guard weasels from Samuel.”

“Guard weasels. You have cockatrices here?” Eleanor’s voice went up into a squeak.

The second bowl of stew was put on the table and Sarah returned to the fire with a spoon and a thick slice of bread. Eleanor juggled all three, then abandoned manners, dipped the bread into the stew and bit. Bliss.

Sarah’s reply brought her back. “Oh they’re not full ones. We never keep cockerels in the forest, so they’re hatched out of hens’ eggs and barely more than a nuisance.”

Eleanor decided she didn’t want to know what ‘barely more than a nuisance’ meant quite yet, and applied herself to the stew.

She’d half-finished the bowlful when Matthew and Cadan returned, laden with assorted goods. They dumped them onto the large wooden table near the kitchen area then kicked off their boots and tucked them by the door.

Matthew said. “All deliveries done. That rain’s set up a proper swamp along Castle Path though, we’ll need to lay branches in the morning.”

Cadan spotted the waiting bowl and scooped it up, along with a spoon and the bread sitting bedside it. He carried the lot over to where Eleanor sat and dropped to sit on the floor beside her chair. He smiled up at her when she looked around, there were only three chairs in the room. “I usually sit on the hearth’s edge, it’s warmer.”

She gave him a shy smile back and went back to her food.

He leaned against the chair, his shoulder resting against her knee. “Your pillowcase is on the table with your cloaks – not sure how much use they’ll be if the weather keeps up like this though.”

Eleanor looked at the one she had been wearing. Of course it wasn’t a spare, someone would be waiting for it. “Who’s is that one?”

“It’s for the family at the smithy. Smith burned a hole in the last one past repair.” Sarah shook her head. “He’s a good smith but a mite careless with his fire at times.”

Matthew grunted agreement.

Eleanor finished her stew and set the bowl down by the chair, on the other side from Cadan, and sat back. Warm, mostly dry now, and comfortably full, the exhaustion washed over and she let it carry her away. The gentle lilt and flow of the others’ conversation faded to a soothing lullaby and she gave in to the urge to close her eyes.

She was unlikely to be woken by a rude farmer here.

She roused a little when someone, it felt like Cadan, picked her up, then put her down on a bed. She thought it was Sarah who gently removed her boots and stockings, while saying. “I do wonder what you’ve gone and done.”

In a dream filled with swirls, Cadan replied. “Made either the best or worst decision of both my life and hers. Only time, and my mother, will tell.”

And dream Sarah said. “You’ll be visiting your Ma tomorrow then?”

“Aye.”

Blankets were pulled over her and she sank through the swirls into soothing black.

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