She sighed and stretched. Her shoulders grumbled, but didn’t scream, so she stretched them again as she sat, then clambered out of their snug little nest of blankets.

Cadan’s grin made her blush, worse when she realised he was barely even half dressed. She scurried to where she’d left her clothes the previous evening, in a pile on the floor. Scrambling into them, she tied on the apron, then turned to find her pillow case. It was nowhere to be seen; had Sarah put her things away for her?

“Where are my clothes?”

Cadan dug into the open chest he stood next to and pulled out her bundle. She took it and began to rummage in the improvised linen sack. Everything was crumpled and muddled. She plumped down on the bed and tried to sort through the mess.

Cadan said. “No time for that, you can tidy them into the chest later. I’ll push my things over for room.”

She sighed. Why couldn’t they have even just one household helper?

There wasn’t much choice to be had in her selection. The sleeveless kirtle would be too cold, so she shook out the brown one, then added red woollen stockings, and a fresh smock to the pile, she’d have to re-use Sarah’s apron, they weren’t part of a merchant’s daughter’s wardrobe. As an afterthought, she added a long, soft shawl Master Fang had given her as a reward for diligent study last winter.

She left the other clothes on the bed. She’d have time to sort them before laundry. Cadan shook his head at her. “Sarah comes through like a gale off the plains on laundry day, get them into the chest now or they’ll all end up in the wash.”

Normally, Eleanor would be quite happy with that idea, it would freshen them up and remove the creases. Now, however, she’d be doing the freshening and de-creasing. Everything was scooped up and dumped in the chest, book on top. “I’ll fold later.”

Cadan’s look said he didn’t quite believe her. She ignored him and bundled her day’s clothes into the shawl, then picked it up and opened the door just enough to slip through into the main room.

Sarah was already there, dealing with bread dough. She asked. “Are your arms feeling better?”

“Much better, thank you. You should sell that salve in Gandry. Everyone would be clamouring for it.”

Sarah shrugged. “I’ve enough to do here, and it’s easy enough to make, anyone can do it.”

Eleanor doubted that.

Sarah continued. “Put your clothes on the table next to the door, then get a cloth and fetch the bread, the tray will be hot. It’s in the hollow at the side of the fireplace.”

It felt like Sarah was instructing a small child, but Eleanor couldn’t protest, she had about as much experience as one in this sort of work and would not have remembered the cloth to protect herself from burning.

She nearly collided with Cadan on her way back to the table with the bread. Her squeak of shock made him jump back, apologise, then scramble around her and out of the front door.

Eleanor stared after him. “Is he late?”

Sarah chuckled. “No, Matthew’s still abed, the lazy man. Your lad’s off on some quest of his own and I daresay we’ll discover it soon enough.”

The scent of the warm bread, crusty and golden, set Eleanor’s stomach to growling loud enough for the other woman to hear.

Sarah slid one of the loaves off the tray and picked up a large knife. “Fetch the pot of honey in the pantry, and the crock of butter next to it. A quick bite before bathing, then proper food when we’re back. There’s much to be done today and a good meal is the wood for our fire.”

Eleanor opened the pantry door. She knew the butter crock. Was that honey in the jar next to it? Or was it the larger one on the other side. Stepping sideways, she sighed in relief as the light from the main room fell on a wobbly bee, painted on the smaller jar.

She put both pots on the table and went to fetch mugs, a little thrill of warmth at knowing what to do spiralling down her. Sarah shook her head. “We won’t have tea yet, not enough time. Matthew will put the kettle on when he comes down.”

Eleanor slumped, it was silly, but she wanted to feel like she knew something. The things she did know were dismissed here, and she hated being ignorant and uncertain.

Sarah waved her knife at a generous slice of bread. “Help yourself.”

That she did know how to do and was soon biting into bread and honey and deciding she wanted to start every day with it. Sarah’s bread was so much better than the loaves the baker had delivered each morning to the house in market square.

Cadan returned as Eleanor was finishing the last bit of her slice. “The bath house fire’s on and the water pumped in for heating.”

Sarah frowned. “Was it not already done?”

He sat next to Eleanor. “No. I had a feeling Master Smith would find some way to let everyone know his opinion on events and it’s usually Maggie arriving first. It’s not fair to ask her to put her shoulder to that pump because Evan’s put out over something again.”

Sarah sighed. “Is someone keeping an eye on it then?”

Cadan nodded. “Maggie and a few others were coming in as I left.”

He slathered the generous slice of bread Sarah handed him with butter and honey and bit into it with much the same expression Eleanor thought she’d probably had a few minutes before.

Sarah finished her food and stood. “I want the beds stripped, and dirty clothes and cloths all in the big basket by the time we’re back. I’ll be checking the rooms for dropped items.”

She said to Eleanor. “When your husband first arrived, he’d be constantly leaving clothes on the floor, or kicked under the bed and then have nothing to wear.”

Eleanor returned the smile with a guilty one of her own. It seemed Cadan had just saved her from Sarah’s displeasure. The idea that disappointing Sarah mattered brought Eleanor up sharp. Why? She’d barely known the woman more than a day. It was there though, and true as true. She squeezed Cadan’s arm in what she hoped he knew was thanks, and followed Sarah to the two bundles of clothes by the door.

Sarah asked. “Do you have everything? Stockings? Comb?”

“I’m to brush my hair in the bath house?” How long was she going to have to endure the place?

Sarah shooed her back into the bedroom. “Of course. And the younger girls will be dying to hear the latest braiding fashions from town so you might want to bring some fancy things as well.”

She’d not yet pinned up her braid from sleep, so she twisted it up, stabbed a couple of pins through, then picked up her comb. It had an old yellow ribbon would around it. That would do.

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