The Perfect Wife by Sands Lynsay

Author:Sands, Lynsay [Sands, Lynsay]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The Perfect Wife

Chapter Eleven

Paen had just come in from overseeing the men’s training and had settled himself at the trestle table to enjoy some mead when the sound of a woman’s soft step made him tense and glance toward the stairs. He relaxed the instant he realized it was his mother. For a moment, Paen had feared it was his wife. He wasn’t in the mood for her sad face just then.

“Oh, Paen.” His mother moved a little more quickly when she saw him. “GoodI wanted to talk to you.

Where is your father?”

“He’s just coming up from the stables now. He shall be here shortly,” Paen answered, then arched an eyebrow. “Where is my wife?”

“She is in the solar, sewing.”

“Of course she is,” he said dryly. His wife seemed ever to be sewing, but he had yet to see any results from it. Paen assumed it was a new gown she was working on. The few she possessed seemed all to be dark, drab and too large for her. He’d been hoping she was producing a new one that would be more colorful and fit properly, but surely it didn’t take this long to make one.

She had been sewing in their tent the few times he’d peered in to check on her on their journey, and it was all she’d done in the three days since arriving at Gerville, that or sleeping. Or weeping. Sometimes she even wept in her sleep.

While Avelyn had seemed a happy chatterbug during the journey to collect his squire, all had changed on the last day of the journey to Gerville. Since the night of the fire, she’d been walking misery. Paen missed her cheerful chatter, but more than that, he couldn’t stand to see her so weary and unhappy, especially since he didn’t have a clue what to do about it. He’d hoped she was just missing her family and would get over it, but rather than recover her good cheer, she seemed to get more melancholy each day.

“You need not sound so put out. She is making new braes and a tunic for you. Again,” his mother added testily as the hall doors opened and Wimarc Gerville entered.

“A new braes and tunic? For me?” Paen asked with amazement. “Whatever for? She is the one who needs new clothes, not I.”

“Aye,” Lord Gerville agreed as he approached the table. “The girl does not have a single gown that fits her, and every one she has seems to be dark and drab.” He paused to kiss his wife on the cheek, then settled on the bench next to Paen. “I suppose the blue one that burst at the wedding dinner and the red one that went up in flames were the only colorful gowns she possessed.”

Lady Gerville frowned at her husband, then turned to glare at Paen. “Your wife stayed up nights during our journey sewing you new clothes to replace those ruined in the fire. Tis why she was always in the tent of a night, and always exhausted during the day.

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