Matilda Listens at the Door

“Mama! Mama! Mamaaaaaa!”

Matilda stirred.

Encouraged, the little boy laughed and clapped his hands on his knees. “Mamaaaaaa!”

She gradually realized that she was lying on the floor. Dunstan had been trying to get her attention for some time, she thought. What had happened? She had been brushing her hair before bed… she must have fainted.

Matilda sat up and sighed. This was getting serious. She had been recovering nicely since the baby came, but lately she felt she was weakening again. Little four-​​year-​​old Bertie Hogge had even told her she was sure getting skinny.

Her real problem was that she had had trouble sleeping these past few weeks. Half the night she would lie awake imagining she heard sounds from her husband’s room, but since she knew it was too far away for her to truly hear anything, she would usually just get up and listen at the door. Once she had heard him snoring peacefully, she could sleep.

“Come along, little man, it’s time for your bed.”

After Dunstan was in his little bed, she lay down in her own and waited. She would go to check on Alred once she was sure he was asleep. She closed her eyes and tried to think of something else. Her father, her dearest friend. He had grown up without a father, and she had grown up without a mother, and each had been both child and companion to a parent who loved no one else. 

She had never felt the lack of a mother – she never liked being left with the women, and the old Earl had made a pet of the saucy little girl and allowed her to remain in the room on her father’s knee even when he met with his men – she had even accompanied her father and the Earl into exile and back again. She couldn’t imagine what her life would have been without her father – surely such a life was not worth being lived. But would her own boys have their father as they grew? She would go check on Alred.

She could see by the small window that the torch was still lit in his room, but she couldn’t hear a thing. Long minutes passed as she strained her hearing. Was he even breathing? She worked herself into a panic before finally daring to peek into the room. 

He lay still on the bed, one arm thrown behind his head, the other hanging limply over the side. The blankets were twisted around him as if he had tossed uncomfortably for some time – but they left his chest bare and allowed her to see it rise and fall in the ruddy light.

Matilda let out her breath in a sigh of relief and leaned back against the wall. Her sons still had a father. God’s blood, she was tired. She couldn’t keep doing this every night, she told herself, tilting her head back to rest against the cold stones. But what could she do? She couldn’t let him back into her bed after what he had done. Let Colburga shake her head and Maud sigh – their husbands were as faithful as a dog at its master’s door.