and sewing her wardrobe for her eventual freedom. When she had plucked up the courage to ask for materials, she had been sent brocades and satins and velvets enough to make her gasp with delight. Wymer, unlike her father, had not seen anything amiss with such a request. He had made no comments, at least to her face, about making silk purses out of sow’s ears.
In the privacy of her own room, she had sewn surcoats and tunics and kirtles aplenty. She had pieced together hats and hose and sleeping caps until she could turn her attention on her future bridegroom’s wardrobe. She felt gratified when she remembered the fine figure Sir Armand had cut in the burgundy and gold outfit she had made him. She had never made a garment for a man before and had been a bit worried she had overestimated the proportions. After she had sewn it, she had definitely thought she had cut the tunic on too generous lines, but Armand had no problem filling out the shoulders to perfection.
Her thoughts dwelt on Sir Armand de Bussell a moment, with mingled feelings. In some ways she could wish he was a little less striking, if truth be told. The contrast between them would be all the clearer when the groom was so handsome. Still, once he had abandoned her on his estate, the difference in their looks would make no odds. Maybe then, people would start to finally take her on her own merit.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts and she hurried to answer it, to find it was the servant bearing their supper on a tray. Una took it with thanks and explained that she did not know what time her husband would return, so not to bother clearing it until morning. She then set it down on the small table and placed a cloth over it. As for herself, she had no appetite, for her stomach roiled with unease. Besides, she had eaten well at the palace at midday and did not need anything now. Luckily it was good plain fare, a meat pie with bread and cheese. When her husband did return, he could eat it as his leisure.
Una braided her hair into one single plait down her back and undressed to her shift. Climbing into the bed, she left one candle burning and closed her eyes. Finally, she allowed herself to contemplate what action she could take if her husband did not return. The most obvious course would be to return to the palace. It would be humiliating, of course, but she had likely suffered worse embarrassments.
Then again, she thought, her pulse picking up, maybe she could just disappear? She wondered how much gold exactly she had left in her purse. Enough to flee Caer-Lyoness doubtless, but was it enough to buy a small place in some obscure corner of the kingdom where she could conceal herself for the rest of her days? She doubted it somehow. She was only four and twenty. There would be years and years she would need to support herself for. Then again, there was her dubious marital status. Could a marriage be so easily overlooked when it had been consummated? She wasn’t sure.
Then, just to comfort herself, she allowed herself to imagine a completely unrealistic future where she could support herself by her own wits alone. Perhaps she could stay here, right under King Wymer’s nose, in his summer capital? She could return to The Stone Crow tomorrow and ask Bess to advise of cheap quarters where she could set herself up as a seamstress, plying her needle to earn her bread.
A smile curved her lips even as a tear trickled down her cheek. It was a nonsensical dream, but it did give her some respite from the harsh reality of her situation. In her fantasy, there were no guilds or restrictions on women’s means of earning a living. There was no prejudice against Northerners to drum her out of business. It was a lovely place where everyone would welcome her as a neighbor and a citizen, and she would never be found wanting again.
Her husband woke her in the early hours, hammering on their door. Una, a light sleeper, woke at once and found the candle still burning in its holder. She picked it up and crossed the room to let him in. For a moment, she thought he was drunk again, for his appearance was certainly disreputable in the candlelight. Then