“Here it is, baby,” her father said as he opened the door to the room that was to be hers. He was smiling at her with a sort of eager pride, and so she tried to smile in return. “Go in, it’s yours,” he urged.
Eadgith stepped inside, and her father followed, closing the door behind them.
The fire alone was lit, and strange shadows danced, and once again she had the queer feeling that she was very, very far away from home.
“Here is a couch,” he said, laying a hand on the back of the long, green-cushioned seat that stood before the fire. “There is your bed, and here,” he said, rushing over to one of the exotic wooden screens that divided many of the rooms in the castle, “Here, behind here is your little dressing room, with a mirror, and a chest for your dresses, and a chair where you may sit and tie your slippers, or even sit and sew if you want to be quite, quite alone. Come over here and see,” he coaxed her.
She came and looked. There indeed was everything he had said – a tall chest, a chair with gold-embroidered green cushions, and a beautiful enameled mirror. Beautiful, but very strange.
He lit a small lamp of colored glass and said, “Leila told me I should get you a candle or two back here, instead of this green lantern. Otherwise you will think yourself ill when you look in the mirror,” he chuckled. “But I think my baby will be beautiful even in green. Now,” he said, stroking her head with his broad hand as if she were a tall dog, “tell me this isn’t a finer room than what even your friend the Princess has.”
“It is very fine,” she agreed.
“I hope you will like it enough to want to sleep in it very often,” he said after he had lit two more lamps and sat on the couch before the fire. “I doubt your brother will be able to offer you anything so fine.”
“I mean to stay with him, though.”
“I know, baby, but I hope you will come visit me often. The ride is nothing to a horsewoman like you. Wasn’t it a pleasant ride?”
“It was very beautiful, especially in the meadows.”
“The meadows are beautiful all summer, too. There is a butterfly for every flower. Come sit with your old father for a while,” he said, waving her over. She sat, and he put an arm over her shoulder. “I know you will miss your little friend Britamund, but you will have me to ride with you, and you don’t have to be slow and careful with me,” he winked. “I shall teach you to run. And we shall talk, shan’t we? I don’t feel as if I have had a chance to talk with you yet. But we are alone here.”
“Not truly,” she said, thinking of Leila.
“I mean, your mother isn’t here. She always tries to keep us apart. She would scarcely let you visit me when I was staying with Alred and Matilda.”
It had not been entirely due to her mother’s interference that Eadgith had not gone often to visit her father there, but she would not say so now.
“Leila won’t try to come between us, baby. She’s not jealous. She wants to know you. She hopes that you and she can be friends, and so do I. She’s not that much older than you,” he chuckled.
“Seven years.”
“That so? I hadn’t counted.”
Eadgith had. Her mother had often commented that Leila was young enough to be his daughter.
“In any event, I think you may like her better than your new sister-in-law. If Hilda ever begins to tire you, you can always come stay with me and Leila.”
“But you said I should like Hilda.”
“Oh! Did I? I meant you would like her because she is close to your age. But I am not certain you and she have much in common. She is a very busy and talkative girl, not sweet and quiet like my baby. I’m afraid she may try to queen it over you a bit.”
“It will be her house.”
“That’s true, but she’s no better than you are. Less, I should say. She dishonored her father, and I know you never would.”
“Certainly not.”
“I know it. I know a truly virtuous young woman when I see one,” he said, rubbing her chin with his knuckles. “Son of a serpent! I tested enough of them to know the difference,” he laughed. “A clever young man wouldn’t bother trying, with you. Ah! I like to see that blush when your vulgar old father teases you. It only proves what I have been saying. Don’t let that Hilda try to teach you otherwise. And don’t let her treat you like you’re beneath her. You shall follow her and your mother in to dinner, but you and I know you will be the finest lady there. And someday it shall be them following you.”
“How so?”
“I suppose you shall have a better husband than Hilda’s, though he is my own son.”
“But Sigefrith will be a lord someday, after you.”
“I know it. But you might marry a baron. Did you think of that?”
“No, I never did.”
“I think it likely. It is only natural for a woman to marry above her brother.”
She did not like such talk. She did not like to think of marriage. She would have preferred that such a thing not exist at all – she would have preferred to stay forever with her mother, alone, or with her brother, since Sigefrith would not marry either. She shrugged and, to avoid her father’s eyes, tried to hide her face in his shoulder.
“Oh!” he laughed, and he squeezed her. “My baby doesn’t like to hear such things just yet. She would prefer to stay with her old father, wouldn’t she? Bless you, baby – I wish you could.”
There I am getting creeped out again. There's just something about him when he's with his daughter that gives me the heebie jeebies. I don't like him.