Matilda visits Githa

“Why – Matilda!” Githa cried in surprise. “Your Grace!” she corrected herself, blushing.

“Matilda, please,” the Duchess smiled.

Githa and Matilda had been obliged to remain on friendly terms after the “misunderstanding” of a few years before, since there were almost no other ladies in the valley with whom either of them could socialize. Nevertheless, Matilda never came alone to Selwood, and Githa never came alone to Nothelm.

And yet here she was on this bright January noon – alone without even Dunstan or Yware with her as a pretext for visiting.

“That’s a beautiful toy you have, Brinstan,” the Duchess said when they had come inside.

“Ethelmund Ashdown made that,” Githa explained. “It’s Noah’s ark. Don’t eat your toys, Brinstan. He always does like to make toys for the children. Ethelmund, I mean.”

“He made a lovely sword for Dunstan,” Matilda said.

They nodded and smiled at one another, and then the two woman stood awkwardly, each waiting for the other to speak.

“It certainly is bright today,” Githa finally said.

“It certainly is,” Matilda agreed. And then she cleared her throat and said in a low voice, “Forgive me, Githa, but I can’t chat about the weather today. I have something difficult to ask you, and so I must come straight to it or I shall scream.”

“Please do,” Githa said, growing pale.

“It’s Alred. My husband. He’s very ill.”

Githa nodded, but she was beginning to feel ill herself. Oh, what was Matilda going to ask her?

“Last night he was coughing blood.”

“Oh, dear!” Githa cried.

“Have you ever seen that?”

“No – no, my father never does that.”

Matilda looked disappointed. “I was hoping you would know something about it. I was hoping… the medicine…”

“Oh!” Githa blushed. “I don’t know if that would help. Doesn’t he…? I mean to say, he has the recipe, doesn’t he?”

“He does, but he won’t wear it any longer. That is, not since…”

“I see.”

“He says he can’t stand the smell. He says he doesn’t need it, but…” Matilda paused and closed her eyes.

“But you were hoping it might help this?”

“I was.”

“I’m sorry, Matilda,” Githa said. “Sorry I can’t help, and sorry – just so sorry.”

Matilda nodded.

“He might try it anyway. It can’t hurt. Can it?”

“I shall try,” Matilda said softly. “You won’t tell anyone about this?”

“No, certainly not. But – you can come to me if you need anything, if there is anything I can do.”

Matilda nodded again, her eyes shut as if she were trying not to cry. “Thank you, Githa. I thank you. I – I shall go, if you don’t mind. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, dear,” Githa said, following her to the door. She watched as Matilda mounted her pretty chestnut mare – without assistance, as only Matilda knew how to do in skirts – and cantered down the path to the gate. And what if it were Theobald ill? she asked herself guiltily.