‘Indeed.’
‘H-has he done anything since then to rouse your suspicions?’ she asked.
Adam folded his arms across his chest. ‘Not unless you call flirting with one of the village matrons suspicious,’ he admitted. ‘Though I expect her husband might have his objections.’
A look of puzzlement crossed her face and she looked away. ‘A mother with a babe? Not Gudrun, surely?’
‘No.’
‘Then who?’
‘Couldn’t say. I’ve not learned everyone’s names yet. She met him when she came to draw water from the river. Lives down beyond the mill, near the tumbledown cottage.’
‘Lady Cecily!’ Gudrun stepped into view round the corner of the Hall, carrying baby Philip over her shoulder. Matty was trailing after with the other baby, Agatha, on her hip.
Philip. What an odd name for a Saxon housekeeper to choose. It was so very Norman. Adam glanced at Agatha. It was odd, too, how close in age the two babies were…almost as if…He shot a look at his bride-to-be. There was some mystery here, and Cecily was in on it, but…
Cold fingers whispered over the back of his neck. His bride was relieved at the interruption. Yes, something was afoot—but she was not about to take him into her confidence. He sensed no hatred in her—disquiet, yes, mistrust, possibly, but no hatred. Inwardly he smiled. His little novice’s heart was too full of charity for hatred. And she disliked lying to him. And sometimes…sometimes…
Bustling over, Gudrun dropped a brief curtsey. ‘Lady Cecily, we need you in the Hall.’ Her homely face sobered. ‘Shall we be using your mother’s best linens on the trestle tonight? I…I wasn’t sure if you’d think it right, in the circumstances.’
‘I shall come at once,’ Cecily said, lifting the baby from Gudrun. Lovingly, she stroked his cheek and began to sway to and fro, rocking him.
‘And there’s the matter of your gown too, dear,’ Gudrun continued, a pleat between her brows. ‘Which will you wear? That blue one is far too plain, and it’s so big it drowns you.’ The housekeeper glanced sidelong at Adam and took Cecily’s arm. ‘You must excuse us, sir, but I need Lady Cecily’s help. Lady Philippa would not have wanted—’ She flushed. ‘I…I’m sorry, my lady, I know it’s awkward, but your mother would have wanted to see you gowned as a princess on your wedding day, however unhappy the circumstances.’ She flashed an inscrutable look at Adam. ‘I need to measure her up, sir, so I can alter her sister’s clothes.’ Barely taking the time to draw breath, Gudrun tugged at Cecily’s arm. ‘Will you come? We can’t manage without you.’
‘I’ll take my leave, sir,’ Cecily said, hugging the baby to her, rocking, rocking.
Adam nodded a dismissal. ‘Till three o’clock, my lady. By the church door.’
Attention fully on the babe, she murmured her assent and followed Gudrun back to the Hall.
Surrendering to Gudrun’s urging, Cecily left Matty in the mead hall in charge of the babies, and accompanied the housekeeper to the loft room. A garnet-coloured gown in a rich damask was laid out on the bedcover, alongside a cream silk undergown with an alarmingly low neckline. Reaching out, she examined the texture of the fabric. Silk, and somehow incongruous against the work-roughened skin of her fingers.
‘Oh, no, this is too fine for me.’
‘Nonsense!’
Would Adam like the gown on her? she wondered. Was it vanity on her part to hope so? Well, perhaps she might wear it—for if she did manage to please his eyes, and if he did develop a fondness for her, then surely she would be in a better position to speak for the villagers?
Gudrun had also found a gauzy cream veil, a fabric headband that matched the gown, and a pair of black leather shoes—fresh from the cobbler’s by the look of them.
Unable to resist the lure of new shoes, Cecily plumped herself down on the edge of the bed, yanked off her workaday boots and slipped them on. ‘They fit! Oh, Gudrun, feel how soft the leather is.’ These she would definitely wear.
Gudrun’s smile was warm. ‘Better than you’ve had in awhile, I’d say.’
‘They’re so beautiful I won’t want to spoil them by walking outside.’
Gudrun took a bobbin out of her workbox and snipped off a length of thread. ‘Get you out of that blue dress, my dear, and let’s measure you for the garnet damask.’
‘Gudrun, I…I’m not sure about the dress—’
‘You have to wear something, dear, it might as well be the damask.’
And thus, in no time at all, Cecily was standing self-consciously in nothing but her shift and the new shoes while Gudrun clucked about, oblivious of her embarrassment, slipping the thread round her waist, knotting it to mark her measurement.
‘You’re as tiny as you were when you left us,’ Gudrun said. ‘I thought you would grow, but you still have the smallest waist in the family.’
Cecily smiled. ‘Emma’s taller than me, so she would be bigger.’
Gudrun held the thread out again. ‘Now for your bosom…’
As Gudrun wound the thread round her again, Cecily’s face grew warm.
Gudrun’s eyes sparkled. ‘No need to be shy with me, dear,’ she said, briskly marking the size with another knot in the thread. ‘Who washed your clothes when Cenwulf chased you into the pigsty? Who bathed you when you were little? Who…?’ Gudrun gave her a sly look. ‘Such modesty is fitting in a convent, no doubt, but in a married woman…’ She clucked her tongue and shook her head. ‘He won’t like it.’
Thoughtfully, Cecily submitted while Gudrun continued taking her measure…the width of her hips, the length of her arms from wrist to shoulder, the length of her from waist to floor…As each measurement was taken, another knot was added to the string.
‘Let me see you in the silk shift,’ Gudrun said, reaching into the sewing box for the pin pad. ‘It laces at the back, which is a blessing as the seams will be easier to take in. The damask, unfortunately, laces at the side; it will be more tricky to alter that. I pray I can get it done for three o’clock.’
‘Thank you for doing this, Gudrun. I appreciate it, but you mustn’t worry if it’s not finished.’
‘It will be,’ Gudrun said, as Cecily dragged the cream undergown over her head. ‘Another day we can look to the other gowns. There’s also some fabric in the linen closet, waiting to be made up. It would do for Sir Adam. There’s enough stuff in there for his men too, if you’re of a mind to follow your mother’s tradition. As Sir Adam’s wife, it will be your duty to see your husband and his men well clothed. Your mother gave every man in your father’s household a new tunic, hose and braies at Yuletide.’
‘Yes, Gudrun, I do remember.’ Cecily bit her lip. She might not be the ablest of seamstresses, but she knew which housewifely duties would be expected of her. Today, however, it was the more physical aspects of marriage that concerned her. She wanted to know more about what happened between a husband and wife in the marriage bed, and Gudrun would seem the best person to ask. Gudrun had, as she had pointed out, known her since she was a child. She was a married woman herself, so…
The silk undergown was soft and warm, but the neckline—really, it was shamefully low. She pulled ineffectually at the bodice, trying to hide her exposed flesh.
‘Don’t do that, dear,’ Gudrun said, batting her hands away. ‘You spoil the fall of the skirt.’
‘Gudrun?’