The Duke's Pawn

Chapter 9: A reluctant guest

Fenton's Manor, 22nd of February 1474

"Ouch!"

Alienor winced as Isobel painfully tightened the laces of her new dress. Her maid clearly didn't know her strength.

"I'm sorry ma Dame, I didn't expect the bodice to be so narrow."

"Could you just loosen the strings a little, I can barely breathe."

"Here, ma Dame, any better?"

"Aye, perfect."

Alienor held out her arms, holding them stiff while Isobel pulled up the tight sleeves over her chemise and kirtle, attaching them at the shoulders.

"Will you arrange my hair now, we are running out of time."

The girl busied herself creating an elaborate coiffure, and Alienor allowed her mind to wander on the events of the past couple of days.

Their arrival had been triumphant, all the servants aligned in the yard waiting to meet their new mistress. There were at least four dozens of them, and more had been recruited to help with the wedding festivities. Fortunately, the manor was spacious enough to accommodate the higher-ranking guests, and a few hostels had been booked in Canterbury to lodge the others.

Time had fled so fast it had been a blur. Alienor had barely managed to unpack, in the room Richard had attributed to her until the ceremony. Mere hours later she was already in her role, supervising deliveries, menus, floral arrangements and placement of the guests. As she had no knowledge of the English court, she had to take Richard's advice regarding who would be at the high table and who could be relegated at the bottom of the room in the lower section.

Today was the day; Alienor had to vacate her room early this morning and was getting dressed in Richard's chambers, her chests spilling their contents around her. An old Lord would be sleeping in her bed tonight, while she would be in her husband's arms.

Blushing at the idea, she sipped on her cup of herbal tea to ease her nerves. She wasn't worried about the ceremony, she was already married after all, but she feared the banquet that would follow. What if she made a fool of herself in front of members of the English gentry and Lords of the Royal Court?

Despite her husband's reassurance, she wasn't sure that she would be up to the task. Two days were far too little to get acclimated to foreign etiquette, but they couldn't delay; today was Shrove Tuesday and no wedding could be celebrated during Lent.

She tried to focus on something else and picked her new abodes. A big, solid rectangular stone building with a tower in the left corner, encased in a vast yard and protected by high walls and a moat. She felt comfortable and safe in it. The walls in Richard's room were covered in carved wood, and the beams painted in coloured geometrical patterns. A large stone chimney kept it warm, although not as big as the gigantic ones guarding both ends of the main hall. A private garderobe was attached to the room, accessible through a hidden door and a short corridor.

When Richard had bought the place it was abandoned, as were many manors and villages after the great plague. He had restored and embellished it to make it his home, and that's how it felt to her, homely.

"Do not move, ma Dame, I am attaching your headdress!" Isobel warned, placing the headband and loop, the black coif, and the truncated velum cone covered in gold brocade on her hair. She held it in place with long pins and fixed the sheer veil over it.

"You are radiant, ma Dame, your husband will be proud," she stated, satisfied with the results of her efforts.

Alienor looked down at her gown and nodded. It was a special gift from the Duke, destined to show off his generosity and good will.