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like
something he would do, having already learnt much of his careful, decisive
nature.
    “We have no kitchen
in the guest quarters but we shall have a servant bring some food across to
you. We dine before Vespers. You are our only guest at present so you shall
have a peaceful night. The abbess asks that you remain in the guest quarters
until mass.”
    Annabel blinked at
the young girl as the words tumbled awkwardly out of her mouth and she
suspected that Margaret had rehearsed her little speech, mayhap unused to
visitors. She gave the girl a smile and was rewarded with a faint one in
return.
    “Good day,” the nun
almost whispered before closing the door.
    Wrapping her arms
around herself to provide some kind of solace, she studied the small room. It
was basic, with only a straw mattress and tallow candles for comfort. Annabel
had envisaged herself huddled on the floor with pilgrims and travellers so she
was grateful for the seclusion at least, but she felt incredibly lonely.
    Resolving not to
feel sorry for herself, Annabel helped herself to the bowl of water that
awaited her on the floor and cleaned herself up as best as she could, before
stepping out of the chamber and taking the stairs down to the small hall. A
fire pit stood beneath the opening in the roof and had been lit. Annabel felt
it a bit of a waste just for her but she appreciated the comfort it brought to
the room. A scarred trestle table sat at one end and Annabel shuddered as her
feelings of solitude compounded while the benches sat empty.
    She was used to the
lively atmosphere of Alderweald Castle, which was never empty. In truth, it was
rare Annabel was ever alone and now, with Nicholas gone, she felt entirely out
of sorts. With one more glance around the hall, she decided that her room was
the best place for her and she marched back up the stairs, determined to get
some rest while she could.
    ***
    Sensing someone was
watching her, Annabel dragged her eyes open. Focusing slowly on a pair of worn
shoes, she followed the legs up to see an older woman standing over her. A
servant, Annabel assumed, as she wore peasant clothing. A coif covered her head
so she could not tell the colour of her hair but her eyebrows were greyed and
her face was harshly lined. Age had slackened her jawline so it was hard to
tell what sort of face she had, but her blue eyes sparkled and Annabel imagined
she must have been an attractive woman once.
    The woman smiled
down at her. “Forgive me, milady. I did knock but ye didn’t answer. Ye must
have been sleeping heavily.”
    Rubbing at her
gritty eyes, Annabel pulled herself up to standing. “Aye, I must have been more
tired than I realised. I intended only to rest before supper.”
    She motioned to the
door. “If ye’ll come down to the hall, milady, I’ve set out yer supper.”
    “I thank you. Pray
tell, what is your name?”
    “Edith, milady.”
    Annabel followed
Edith down the stairs and into the hall where she discovered the long table had
been laid with linen. Edith motioned for her to sit and offered her an ewer to wash
her hands with before setting her food in front of her.
    Inhaling the smell
of the warm potage, Annabel fidgeted as Edith stood to one side. She felt
foolish eating on her own at a table built for at least eight and she motioned
to the bench opposite.
    “Will you not sit
with me, Edith? ‘Tis too quiet here for my liking and I would enjoy the
company.”
    Edith hesitated,
wringing her hands in her apron before placing herself precariously onto the
bench.
    “Is it normally this
quiet here?” Annabel asked as she tore up the hard bread, dipping it into the
potage in an attempt to soften it. She was famished, so she made light work of
the tough bread.
    “Nay, milady,
though we see few ladies such as yerself. ‘Tis normally pilgrims that seek
shelter ‘ere. I think it likely that people are not travelling for fear of
leaving their homes unprotected. We have ‘eard much of the rebel’s