Rowena sat in her solar, satisfied but nervous. The Dowager Duchess of Gransmere had arrived, and was getting settled, along with her various servants and adjuncts. She would be joining Rowena for herbal tea and sweet-cakes shortly.
Mistress Blackwood had quailed at the task of preparing for such a visit in less than a day, but after strong reassurance and clear direction, she had set to with a will, alongside the rest of the castle staff, and had the rooms, meals, and stables ready in good time. And to an enviable standard. Rowena was sure her own mother had never received guests with such beautifully cleaned rooms, or well-aired, lavender-scented bedding.
The Head Cook had also needed calming and clearly-defined expectations. In fact, she seemed to thrive on them. Even breakfast this morning had been better than usual, and the cakes on the table in front of Rowena looked and smelled so tempting.
Finally, the Dowager Duchess swept through the door. “Well, my dear, you seem to be doing well. Your mother’s housekeeper could do worse than to take some advice from this Mistress Blackwood of yours.”
“I’ll relay your approval, Grandmother, she was beside herself with nerves and will be so happy you’re comfortable.”
The older woman settled into the chair opposite Rowena’s and accepted a cup of mint and marigold tea. “And so, to you. Newly married, but I arrive to an absent husband, and that sweet smile of yours completely missing. What’s wrong, my love?”
Rowena bit her lip to stop it wobbling and took a deep breath, then a second. “It’s that, that, MAUDE.”
And with that, all the bitterness and loneliness came flooding out, along with the tears, and her grandmother was rocking her in her arms, and making soothing noises. But most of all, listening. For the first time, someone was actually paying attention to her frustrations and worries and fear.
Eventually, the storm eased, and Grandmother called for wine as Rowena composed herself.
“I’m sorry, it’s just been so… and I don’t know what to do.” Rowena mopped her eyes with a square of soft linen. “I was about to pack up and come to you when your messenger arrived.”
“Oh no, you can’t leave now. This is the perfect opportunity.”
“What?”
“With that woman out of the way, for several weeks at least, this is the perfect time to re-set things. Make this household yours.” The Duchess was wearing her determined expression, the one with the edge of viciousness that terrified both her children, and half the court, but gave Rowena hope.
The DNA of Stories 