The Wolf of Harrow Hall (Tales of the Latter Kingdoms Book 7) Read online

  These words were not terribly reassuring, but at least he had made no mention of throwing me out to the mercies of the wild weather. It seemed I was safe here for now, or at least as safe as an unaccompanied young woman could be in a strange place.

  I nodded, and murmured something of thanks. After that, the room began to blur as my eyelids slipped shut. Master Merryk let himself out, then closed the door. And once again I fell into darkness — only this time, I thought I had a chance of awakening on the morrow.

  * * *

  Which I did, into a room dimly lit by a single candle sitting on the same small table where Lorn Merryk had set my empty cup of broth. The fire had been expertly banked, which meant either he or someone else had come in while I slept to attend to that task. I found I did not particularly like the idea of someone creeping around in the chamber while I was deep in sleep, but then I scolded myself.

  And you would not have particularly liked having the fire die down to nothing whilst such a storm raged outside, either. So tend to it now, before it dwindles to nothing.

  Shivering, I slipped out of the tall bed and made my way over to the hearth. A goodly pile of logs waited in the metal basket there, and I pulled out several and set them in the fireplace, arranging them with the tongs that hung from a little bracket bolted into the wall. Soon enough, warm yellow flames began to lick along the wood, sending a welcome wave of heat into the room.

  Now that I had attended to my most immediate need, I turned to survey the chamber where I had been ensconced. My previous impressions of it from the night before held true — it was very large, and held not only the enormous canopied bed where I had slept, but a little sitting area with a divan and a plumply upholstered chair, along with what I guessed must be a writing desk, although I had never seen one before. A matching chair was placed up against the desk.

  Heavy velvet curtains covered the windows. I went to the nearest one and pushed the draperies aside. As soon as my eyes took in the scene outside that window, my heart sank. The snow showed no sign of letting up; if anything, the storm appeared to have increased in ferocity overnight, the world beyond almost completely obscured by heavy blowing veils of white. I could make out no details of the landscape. There was no sign of the path I had taken, and nothing of the forest beyond, even though I knew it must be only a mile or so from Lord Greymount’s castle.

  It seemed that Master Merryk had been correct in his assertion that the storm would prevent me from traveling today. I tried to tell myself that it did not matter, that clearly the steward intended to provide shelter for me for as long as proved necessary, but worry still clutched at my insides. I had come here to state my case, not to be an unwelcome house guest for possibly days at a time.

  No, I told myself. Surely it will not come to that. A storm that is blowing so fiercely will blow itself out in no time. It is entirely possible that you will be on your way by this afternoon.

  Assuming, of course, that Lord Phelan Greymount would even deign to give me an audience.

  If he did, then best that I be ready for it. On one wall was an enormous wardrobe, and I went to it, thinking that my clothes must have been hung in there to dry. But when I opened the large carved doors, a jumble of rich color met my wondering eyes. Not the modest brown and rust of the bodice and skirt I had worn on my journey here, but elegant gowns of velvet and silk in all the shades that were far too expensive for me to have ever worked with when I dyed our rough-spun wool, let alone worn — deep blue, and warm red, and lush green.

  As I ran a hand down the sleeve of one gown, I realized that, despite their colors and fabrics, these dresses were cut in a style which had gone out of fashion before I was even born, and did not consist of a boned bodice and matching skirt, but were all one piece, fashioned to skim the body. Had they belonged to the previous occupant of this room?

  A knock at the door made me turn around, heart pounding. In that instant, I realized I stood there in my bare feet and my chemise, certainly not a state for receiving visitors. As quickly as I could, I hurried back to the bed so I could draw the covers up over me and hide something of my deshabille.

  Not a moment too soon, for Lorn Merryk entered the room, a tray in his hands. On that tray sat what looked like a pasty of some sort, and a chubby brown pot of tea, along with a mug fashioned of the same thick pottery.

  “Feeling better this morning?” he inquired as he set the tray down on the table nearest the bed.

  “Much,” I replied. Since he had already seen me in the chemise and with my hair tumbling over my shoulders, I did not feel quite as shy in his presence as I might have around yet another stranger. Still, I did find it rather odd that the castle’s steward would lower himself to wait on me in such a way. I could not admit to any great knowledge of how a castle’s household operated, but surely a chambermaid would have been better suited to that particular task?

  He poured some tea into the mug and then brought it over to me. “Let us see how this suits you.”

  I took the mug from him and allowed myself a sip. The liquid was strong, and strange, and yet I thought I could come to enjoy the flavor. “That is tea?” I asked, and then paused, embarrassed. I did not wish for him to think I had been criticizing the drink.

  But he only smiled. “Yes, truly tea, brought all the way from Keshiaar. What you are no doubt used to drinking is actually a tisane, a brew of local herbs and flowers.”

  Well, that was true enough. We often drank mixtures of chamomile and rose hips, or mint and wild licorice. My grandmother had always called it “tea,” and so had everyone else I knew, but clearly we had been misinformed. And to think the tea I now drank had come all the way from Keshiaar, that wild, exotic land thousands of leagues to the south and east. Or at least, I believed that was where it lay. I had only seen a map of the continent once, when a tinker passed through the village and had one among his wares. Oh, how I had wished that we had the coin to purchase it, so I might hang it from the cottage wall and pore over it until I had memorized all the strange names of those lands and towns that seemed so very far away.

  But of course we could not afford such a frivolity, and the tinker had rolled up the map and stowed it among his things before driving his wagon away from the village. Off to the east, toward Farendon. I recalled that much, even though I could not remember exactly how many miles he would have to travel before he reached that country’s borders.

  I offered Master Merryk a smile and said, “Thank you. It is very good.”

  “I’m glad to hear that it pleases you.”

  His aspect seemed pleasant enough, and so I said, “Forgive me, but have you inquired of his lordship as to whether he will speak with me?”

  At once the old man’s dark eyes shuttered, and he shook his head. “I told him of your presence here — for of course the lord of the castle should know such things — and of your wish to see him. He said it was not possible, and that you should deliver your message to me so I might pass it on to him.”

  I had feared such a response, but that did not make Lorn Merryk’s words any easier to hear. My fingers tightened around the mug I held. “I know I am but a lowly village girl, and perhaps Lord Greymount feels it is beneath his dignity to speak to me. However, I — ”

  Master Merryk raised a hand. “His lordship’s dignity has nothing to do with it. I told you already that he does not receive visitors.” His expression softened, and he went on, “Truly, Mistress Sendris, you need not fear telling me the reason for your journey here. I will bring your concerns to Lord Greymount, and I have no doubt that he will help you if he can.”

  Oh, so he is willing to help, but not willing to extend the simple courtesy of seeing me face to face? I thought then. I knew better than to say such a thing to the stately old man who stood before me, however. Rather than responding directly, I slanted the steward a sideways look through my eyelashes and said, “I must thank you for such personal attention, Master Merryk. Surely it is not usual that the steward of a castle wo
uld bring an uninvited guest her morning meal?”

  At that question, his back went rigid. “We have very few servants here. His lordship leads a modest life.”

  Not even a chambermaid? I thought then, wondering at such austerity. My question must have shown in my face, for Master Merryk spoke again.

  “We have no women servants at Harrow Hall. I thought you would be more comfortable if I brought you your breakfast, since we had already met last night. But if you wish for one of the other men to attend you — ”

  “No, thank you,” I said hastily. How odd that they would have no women working in the castle! However, it was not my place to question Lord Greymount’s quirks more than I already had. If truly I was the only woman here, then of course it was far more comfortable to have the elderly steward see to my care, rather than a strange man, one who possibly would be younger and not as circumspect around a woman who was far from the protection of her friends and family. “I am honored to have you come and look in on me, Master Merryk.”

  The faintest twitch of his lips, a twitch which seemed to deepen the lines that ran from his nose to his mouth. “I thought perhaps you might see it that way.” He turned so he could retrieve the plate which held the pasty, then laid it on my lap. “I fear my predictions were accurate — the storm shows no sign of letting up.”

  “Yes, I saw that,” I replied.

  At once his gaze strayed to the window where I had drawn back the curtains, and from there to the wardrobe, whose doors still stood open. In my haste to scramble back into bed, I had quite forgotten to close the wardrobe back up. “The gowns should fit you, I think.”

  “Oh, no,” I said at once. “I couldn’t presume to wear anything so fine.”

  He shook his head. “You must dress yourself in something, for the garments you were wearing when you came here are quite ruined. I assure you, she who once owned those gowns is long gone, and will not care if someone else has their use.”

  I didn’t know if I should be dismayed that my skirt and bodice had been muddied and stained beyond repair, or excited at the prospect of wearing one of those beautiful dresses. Never in a hundred years could I have imagined that I might be able to dress myself in something suited for the court at Tarenmar — or rather, suited for that court as it might have been some thirty-odd years ago. We did not follow fashion in Kerolton, but even I knew those gowns were several decades out of date.

  “‘She who once owned them’?” I ventured.

  “His lordship’s late mother, the gods rest her.” An expression of sorrow passed over his face, but he grew stern immediately after. “She has been gone longer than you have been alive, Mistress Sendris, so do not worry that you are overstepping your bounds. And now you should eat that pasty before it is completely cold. I will check on you at midday.”

  He gave me a slight bow then before heading out the door. As it shut, I caught a glimpse of a corridor of grey stone, with a faded tapestry covering part of the wall in front of the entrance to my room. That single glimpse was all I got, however, and offered very little to tell me of how large the castle really was, or how far that corridor extended.

  Perhaps that was all I’d ever get to see, until the storm broke and Master Merryk escorted me from this place. Certainly nothing he had said so far seemed to indicate that I would ever get to see the master of the castle.

  I told myself to be patient, then lifted the pasty from its plate and took a bite. It was good, filled with chunks of venison and potato, and with a savory sauce. After that first mouthful, I realized how hungry I really was, and made short work of the rest of it, wishing that the steward had brought two. Perhaps, since there were no other women in the castle, he didn’t understand that a young woman could have just as healthy an appetite as a man.

  Once I was done, I decided I should do what I could to get myself cleaned up and presentable, just in case Lord Greymount might relent and agree to see me after all. Master Merryk had made no mention of a bath, but there was a basin of water sitting on a stand near the fire, along with some clean cloths. I went over to it and washed my face and neck as well as I could, then opened a drawer in the stand and found a hairbrush and comb.

  Since my hair had become quite knotted during my journey to the castle, I knew getting it presentable again would take some effort. I sat down on the stool in front of the dressing table and began working through the tangles. The mirror above the table was age-blackened in spots, but still far better than anything I had to work with back at my grandmother’s cottage. I stared at my reflection, gratified to see that my ordeal of the day before didn’t appear to have taken any lasting toll. True, I looked a little pale, but my dark eyes had no shadows beneath them, and the color had returned to my lips, which had always been naturally rosy pink.

  Once my hair lay smooth and glossy over my shoulders — in truth, it had never looked so fine, as I had never before had the luxury to groom it so thoroughly with such a good brush before — I got up from the dressing table and went to inspect the gowns in the wardrobe. The most elegant of them all was a dress of dark blue velvet with silver embroidery and a collar of soft white fur, but I didn’t quite have the courage to put it on. Instead, I reached for a gown made of finely woven dark green wool and pulled it out, draping it over one arm. In a drawer at the bottom of the wardrobe, I found neatly folded chemises and other underthings, cut more narrowly than I was used to because of the form-fitting nature of the gowns they must be worn beneath.

  A few sprigs of lavender fell from the folds of a chemise as I shook it out, and the delicate scent wafted up to my nose. I breathed it in, thinking of warmer days when those flowers would bloom. But summer was months away, and I had to focus on my rather dire present. What I tried very hard not to think about was my grandmother’s worry over my fate. She must be distressed beyond measure, since of course she had no way of knowing that I had reached Harrow Hall safely, and was now enjoying its hospitality. I could only hope she fared as well as I did, and utter a silent thank-you to the gods that at least we had a good store of wood at hand, since one had been dropped off at the cottage only a few days ago.

  Getting into the gown proved more difficult than I had thought it would be, since it laced up the back. Clearly, it had been intended for a wearer with lady’s maids to help her with such tasks, but I had no such assistance. What I did have was plenty of time, and after struggling with the laces for what seemed like at least a half-hour, I got myself more or less securely fastened into the dress. I could only hope that getting out of it wouldn’t be quite as arduous an endeavor.

  On the floor of the wardrobe were several pairs of slippers. They were slightly large, but since they also laced on, I managed to tie them tightly enough that I thought I should be able to keep them attached to my feet.

  Not that walking in them would be much of a problem, considering that it seemed as if I wouldn’t be leaving this chamber anytime soon. Master Merryk had said he would be back to check on me at midday, but I had no idea how long that might be.

  Once again I went to the window, but although the world seemed marginally lighter, telling me it was later in the day, the sun was obscured by pale grey clouds, and the snow continued to fall. Indeed, it was very difficult to discern where the sky stopped and the storm began, or where the ground even lay.

  Because my grandmother had taught me to be neat, I went and made up the bed, and then placed my empty mug and plate next to the little teapot on its table. After that, I folded my discarded chemise and other underthings, and slid them into an empty drawer in the wardrobe.

  This industry was all very well and good, but it did not take up a great deal of time. I found myself wishing that the former inhabitant of the room had left some discarded needlework behind. Not that I was anything close to an expert at embroidery — it was far too time-consuming and frivolous, compared to the necessary tasks of darning and sewing and weaving — but at least I could have filled the empty hours with improving my skill at the Selddish kn
ot, or the silk stitch.

  Sometime later — how much later, I did not know — Master Merryk appeared with my luncheon, which was a hearty venison stew. I began to guess that Lord Greymount’s men did a good deal of hunting when the weather permitted.

  “So,” the steward said, after giving my freshened appearance a single appraising look, “you do look much improved, Mistress Sendris. Perhaps now that you have had time for reflection, you would allow me to take a message to his lordship?”

  I hesitated. Truly, did it make that much of a difference? I could not claim to know Lorn Merryk at all well, but so far he had comported himself like an honorable man. I doubted that he would mock my poverty, or refuse to disturb Lord Greymount with such a frivolous request.

  And yet…something inside me balked. I had fought my way through a blizzard to talk to the lord of Harrow Hall, and I did not want to admit defeat now and settle for using an intermediary. However, I also did not want to offend this dignified old man. I wrestled inwardly for a moment, but then decided I must press my case, no matter what the steward might think of my stubbornness.

  “I am afraid that is not possible,” I said. “My request is of such a personal nature that I feel I cannot in good conscience speak to anyone about it except Lord Greymount.”

  It seemed Master Merryk had been expecting such a reply, for he did not appear terribly surprised. “I am sorry to hear that.”

  “And I am sorry to impinge on your hospitality. That was certainly not my intention when I came here.”

  A nod, and he looked toward the window. I had left the curtains open, although the scene outside had not changed over the intervening hours. The snow fell as heavily as ever. I wondered if it had yet begun to block any of the ground-floor windows, for the drifts must have been feet high by that point.

  “Do not worry yourself on that account, mistress. At least you are safe here, and warm.” A shadow seemed to pass over his face, and he added, “But have you no family who will be worried on your account?”