Affrais finds nothing

Affrais had heard it all by this time. If the Duchess had not been seen in days it was because she had clawed her face to tatters, or because her baby had dropped out of her, or because she was gibbering with madness, or simply because she was dead, having either taken her own life or been killed by the Duke before he had turned his sword against himself in despair.

Even in her own manor, even in Leofric’s forbidding presence, it was whispered that the Lord retired early every evening because he had hidden the Duchess away in his room and was only pretending to repine.

Of course, this was all absurd, and Affrais would have said so were it not beneath her to contradict the scornful soliloquies of her maid.

The morbid imaginings of her husband’s uncle, however, would be more difficult to lay to rest.

“Good morning, dear Hetty,” she called softly. Leofric had told her not to let the merest hint of condemnation show in her words or voice – had told her to talk to Hetty precisely as she had always talked to Hetty, as if nothing had happened.

But perhaps Leofric had not imagined this.

Who could imagine a Hetty that did not immediately act to put one at ease? Who could imagine Hetty’s averted eyes or turned shoulder? Who could imagine Hetty without a welcoming smile?

“It’s Freya,” she added brightly. She realized too late that she was talking to the woman as if she had indeed lost her mind.

Affrais hustled over to the chair and dropped herself gracelessly into it, though she felt less awkward in her body than in her head.

Hetty finally seemed to acknowledge her presence by laying herself down on the bed at the same moment, neither awkwardly nor gracefully, but merely sagging back onto her pillow like a sack deflating.

Affrais bit her fingertip anxiously. What would she tell Leofric?

She noticed the plates and bowls on the table beside the bed – empty. She could at least reassure him that she was eating.

“Oh! You’ve just had your breakfast. That’s fine. Keeps your strength up!”

Hetty’s hands came together and stroked in parallel down the slight hump of her belly. Was it meant to be a reply?

“That’s right,” Affrais giggled. “When we’re eating for two…”

Leofric would think it a good sign, she thought. If she was eating, if she was thinking of her baby…

…or not. Affrais had once been unhappy enough to stop eating, but her animal body had not let her try the experiment long. Still, it had lasted long enough to prove to her that an empty stomach did not comfort an empty heart any more than a full stomach filled it.

What would she tell him? He was not afraid Hetty’s body would die. He was afraid Hetty would. This body seemed a Hettyless shell. Affrais began to see that Leofric had imagined very well.

“Hetty, I’m… glad to see you,” she gabbered. “We haven’t… all the way out there… heard how you were…”

What would she tell Leofric? What would she tell Hetty? Affrais had not wanted to come. She had not wanted to see; she had not wanted to say.

But who could imagine a Leofric who could be shaken by soundless sobs until he resorted to banging his fists on the table in his desire to be heard? Who could imagine a Leofric who would kneel before his niece to plead?

“Hetty, I have to tell you something,” she blurted. Her voice already had a higher pitch, as if it had been squeezed through a narrower opening.

Hetty did not seem to hear. If anything, she turned her face slightly away in the course of a sigh.

“Hetty, it’s – you must know – my uncle – Leofric – loves you.” She stopped and gasped. The forbidden words were said, and she hoped the rest would be easier. “More than… utterly. It’s– No!”

Affrais’s voice squeezed off to a sharp squeak of horror. She had tried to tell him she was not subtle enough to be a messenger! It was not enough to have once loved a man she could not have. It was not enough to understand.

“Oh no! Oh no!” she whimpered. “I said it wrong! Please forgive me! I was supposed to say, ‘You are loved!’ That’s all that matters, Hetty. That’s what he said. If you already have all the love you need from someone else, that’s fine. And if you don’t love him, that’s fine. He simply wants you to know, if you need love, or if you need to love, you have him. He loves you with all his heart, Hetty, and… and that’s a lot…” she concluded limply.

Affrais had been so nervous that she had not noted Hetty’s reaction throughout this speech. Something about the marble impassivity of her face now suggested that there had been none. What would she tell him?

“Please remember that,” she quavered. She had run out of Leofric’s words and was forced to fall back on her own. “He loves you, and Baldwin and I love you, too. And no matter what happens – ”

Affrais winced, having stubbed up against her own stupidity again. The “no matter what” wore the cloak and mask of a man’s death. Even that did not seem to move Hetty, however.

“Hetty, what shall I tell him? Tell me I haven’t done wrong!” she sobbed, finally crying the tears Hetty would not. “He said you needed to know you were loved, that’s all he wanted to do. Not hurt you, or – anyone… Oh, Hetty!”

She had tried to tell him she was not fit for the task. She had made a disaster of it – or perhaps it had simply been a disaster all along.

She turned away from Hetty: Hetty was gone. It was as he had seen in his darkest imaginings, at the moments when he beat not fists but head on the table.

“What shall I tell him?” she pleaded with no one. “What shall I say?”