Cinderella Spell - Laurie Lee Page 0,45
it has the best prospect of the gardens and woods.”
“Agreed. Send me Delsea, and then nab a pair of boys in the hall. Show them the proper desk so they can bring it up.” Mrs. Rowley settled back in the chair. “You may return tomorrow afternoon to review our progress.”
Marissa found herself dismissed, standing in the hallway, no longer needed. The sun had not crossed its midpoint. She trekked to the lower floor for Delsea, arranged movement of the desk, and overheard Robert arguing with the king.
“My duty is to my bride. I must ride out and meet them.”
Marissa knocked on the opened office door. King William waved her in, gratitude lightening the tension in his face. “Perhaps you could persuade him otherwise.”
“What has she to do with it?”
The familiar sting of his words cut. Marissa smiled anyway. “We are all anxious for Cinderella to arrive. Mrs. Rowley will have her room refreshed. I will accompany her luggage once she arrives and make sure everything is set in place.” Marissa took a seat across from the heavy desk. “We need something to do in the meantime.”
“Like what?” King William asked.
“Tenants still need to be assessed.” Not something she could do on her own. She glanced at Robert. “Together?”
His shoulders drooped. “My desire is to be with Cinderella.”
“And you will be,” the king reassured. “Day after tomorrow you can wait for them at the edge of our lands. Your people deserve your attention as well.”
The slight reprimand had its impact. Robert nodded.
25
The mild winter had most everyone in good spirits. An older farmer with a harsh cough struggled to rise when his son brought Robert and Marissa inside their home. Marissa knelt beside him, taking hold of his hands. “Remain seated.” She touched his forehead but felt no fever in his skin. “Has the cough ailed you long?”
“Much of the winter. Don’t seem to bother the missus much.”
“I have a jar of honey syrup. I’ll give it to your son. Add a spoonful to tea with breakfast and before you go to sleep.”
Robert came through the open door. “The stock of hay held up well through winter. When do the animals go to the field?”
“Still too cold at night, sir. Another month perhaps?”
Marissa grinned. “He spends too much time sparring with soldiers. Hasn’t learned enough about the farms.”
“Plenty of time to learn.” The old man coughed.
“Get some water, Robert.”
He did not question the order but stepped outside. In a moment, he returned with a metal mug filled with water. Marissa stood to the side. He handed the cup to the farmer. Marissa nodded. “Let me get the syrup.”
The son, looking almost as old as his father, was outside chopping wood. Marissa lifted the satchel hanging on Soliloquy and grabbed a small jar. She took it to the son. “This should help.” She handed him the jar. “Warm tea in the morning and night. Stir in a spoonful.”
He nodded. “Thank you, Miss.”
Robert joined her soon after, but Marissa stood beside her horse looking back at the tiny house and its growing pile of firewood.
Robert looked from her to the house and back. “What?”
“I don’t know their names. What of their wives?”
“It is not your place.”
“Isn’t it?” Marissa gave him a hard glare. “I’m treated as a princess. Shouldn’t I have a care for the people around us?”
Robert studied the farm another moment. “I attended rounds with father when I was young. He knew them. Sat and listed to tales of winter. Had gifts for them during the festivals.”
“What makes us less than he?”
Robert had no answer to give, so they both mounted. The son waved. “Is everything alright?”
Marissa pulled Soliloquy around. “What is your father’s name?”
“Nelman. Salter Nelman.”
“Are you named for him?”
“More often called Salterson.”
Robert nodded. “Speaks to the value of your father. Will you need help during spring planting?”
“We come together, my Lord. Trumpkins to the west and Penseys are north of us. Me missus is visiting her sister in that direction. Word is Ballins to the south has damage. You may want to meet with them before day’s end.”
Robert had a vague notion where the southernmost farm lay, so Marissa followed. Shoots of green were already marking the coming of spring.
The Ballins’ property appeared deserted. One corner of the thatched roof had caved, and the front door didn’t close properly. Robert dismounted but waved for Marissa to keep her seat.
“What is it?” Marissa looked around. She patted Soliloquy’s neck as she felt the horse tense.
Robert knocked on the door, waited