Gwynn says too much

“Where are… we going?” Britamund murmured in confusion.

Dunstan leaned his head over her shoulder and whispered, “To bed, beloved.”

He did not squeeze her hand, but his fingers moved slightly, reminding her that he was holding it.

“But we…” she protested feebly.

Gwynn and Ana giggled behind her.

They had just passed the door to his bedchamber, and now they were heading for the stairs to the third floor. Surely he was not taking her to the narrow little room where she always slept when she visited Dunellen. There was scarcely room for one in that bed, and Dunstan had warned her that he liked to sprawl.

Unless he meant for them to sleep separately.

Perhaps he meant it for a kindness, but – oh! She could not bear it! She had spent the afternoon and evening nauseated with dread, and by now it had nearly reached its overwhelming peak. She could not put it off and draw out all that dread for days or weeks. It had to be tonight. But she could not tell him so before all these people!

She squeezed his hand, hoping that their hours-​​old marriage would have already endowed them with some special link that would permit him to understand. He squeezed hers.

However, she soon felt that she was lost in this familiar castle – her new home, she reminded herself – for the hallway that should have opened onto a sitting room instead ended in a door.

When they stepped through it, she saw the familiar red glass windows and the doors that led onto the balcony, but everything else she knew was gone, or at least hidden behind heavy drapes, ruby-​​red and richly embroidered, magnificent enough that she knew she had never seen them before.

Everyone was grinning at her, and Gwynn was squirming with glee. “Surprise!” she squealed.

Only the Abbot was unaffected, and he slipped unsmiling through the drapes and disappeared beyond.

“They’re… beautiful,” Britamund said weakly. Were they a gift? Did he mean to lead her down to bed now?

“What?” Emma asked. “The curtains? They’re a gift from Margaret Queen of Scots. But they’re not the surprise.”

“We made you a bedroom!” Gwynn said proudly.

“We did!” Dunstan laughed.

“Yes! I told you where everything should go, didn’t I? Everyone knows you have no taste.”

“And you knocked down the walls, too?” Caedwulf asked.

“I didn’t do that! Meggie and Emmie did that!”

“What?” Emma howled.

“Meggie pulled out the nails with her teeth, and you huffed, and you puffed, and you blew the walls down!” Gwynn nearly fell over herself, so convincingly had she imitated the dismantling of a house.

Also, Britamund had already noticed that in the absence of watchful adults, Gwynn had had entirely too much to drink at their little wedding supper downstairs.

“Why don’t we let Brit see,” Dunstan proposed, “instead of frightening her with tales of your female demolition crew? She will be wondering what’s left.”

“That’s a good idea!” Gwynn cried. “Come on, Brit.” She took Britamund’s hand and dragged her through the curtain. “Here’s your bedroom!”

Ogive told her, “Your sitting room is almost the same as ever, except we took down the walls and added the two small bedrooms to make one big bedroom out of it all.”

Gwynn laughed. “So now you will never need to leave it, except to eat!”

“She could have a small table brought in and eat up here,” Bertie suggested.

“She could!” Gwynn gasped. “We shall look to see you two lovey-​​doves again in a few weeks.” She laughed wickedly and jabbed Ogive with her elbow, for lack of a better target.

Dunstan ignored her and took Britamund’s hand. “I knew how you liked to rise in the morning and go out onto the balcony to watch the dawn. Now you won’t even need to leave your room.”

“Or look at the stars before bed,” Britamund murmured, surprising herself.

He bowed his head and kissed the back of her hand, in a gesture of gallant agreement that he had learned or inherited from his father. When he looked up at her and smiled, she felt herself alone with him again, despite the company of four grinning young men and four giggling young ladies and one dour priest.

She felt herself breaking into the first real smile she had smiled all day. It had not merely been sweet and thoughtful of him: he had done it out of love for her. He had wanted to please her. For an instant – perhaps through that special link she had imagined – she was able to see through to him, and she saw he was frightened he would not know how to please her.

Then Gwynn spoke, and her words broke through their solitude, cracked Britamund’s smile, and even severed that link.

“Here’s your bed!” she crowed. “It’s grander than my father’s. Grander than your father’s!” she laughed. “Grander than the King’s bed! But this isn’t the regular bedding, mind you, dearie. The real spread and sheets are from Lady Eadgith, and they’re red, red, red like your drapes! So elegant. But of course, you need white sheets tonight.”

Then she gasped in dismay at her own unwitting audacity.