Page 36 of Sweet Mead for Lady Martine

“Then I won’t.”

“Mayhap it’ll be a good time for you to get to know David,” said Josefina, picking up her sewing once again to inspect it. “That is, before your father and uncle return, I mean.”

“I know they won’t be happy about it, but I really like David. I would like to know him better,” said Martine. “Even if he is a commoner.”

“It won’t be the first time this family has married from below the salt and I’m sure it won’t be the last,” said Devon with a wry smile.

“Wait a minute. Stop right there,” said Martine. “I never said anything about marrying the man.”

“Nay, you didn’t, but you didn’t need to,” said Devon with a kind smile. “I see it in your eyes, Martine. You long to find true love just like your brother and cousins have done. I was that way once too. It’s part of being a woman, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” asked Martine.

“I mean, most women deep down feel a need to find the right man, and also to have children. It’s very important to them.”

“I’m not sure Raven would agree with that right now,” said Josefina. “She seems miserable being pregnant.”

“She won’t be ill for long, I’m sure,” Devon answered. “Please, don’t let her gruff exterior fool you. Raven wants children just as much as the next woman.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll be going now,” said Martine, standing up and brushing off her gown.

“At least let a guard escort you to and from the inn,” said Devon. “I insist.”

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll agree,” said Martine. “However, I don’t want Dexter or any of the guards staying at the inn while I’m there.”

“I understand,” said Devon. “Having time alone with David will be important. You won’t be able to get that private time with a guard watching over your shoulder, will you? Have fun!”

“Thank you,” said Martine, feeling as though her aunt really understood her. Then another thought popped into her head. She wasn’t sure everyone would be as understanding about this as Lady Devon. Stopping at the door, she turned around. “Aunt Devon, do you think you can possibly mention this to my mother?”

“You can send her a missive the same as I can,” said Devon, continuing to sew.

“True. But if she knows you agree with my plan, she’ll be more apt not to fight it.”

“I’ll do what I can,” said Devon. “Now, go. David is waiting.”

David was up early the next morning, pouring over the ledgers, trying his best to find out where he went wrong. He was sure they’d been bringing in enough money to cover the rent and still have enough left for food, wine and ale as well. By his calculations, it was tight, but he should still have had money to pay the rent. The only thing is, every month when he counted the money in the box, they came up short.

“There has to be something I’m missing,” he muttered to himself. Mayhap having another pair of eyes on things would be good, he decided. However, having Martine there was only going to prove distracting.

“Is the girl here yet?” Uncle Joe walked to the drink board, using his cane and touching each table and chair. Since he was blind, David hadn’t been able to move the tables or benches around. It took Uncle Joe a long time to be able to get around without his sight. Now he knew where everything was and it gave him the freedom he longed for.

“Nay, she’s not here yet, Uncle Joe.”

“Mayhap she’s not coming.” Dirk followed Joe from the kitchen, chomping on a small loaf of bread that he’d most likely swiped from the cook.

“If Lady Martine said she’ll be here, she will,” David told them. “Dirk, stop eating all the profits. That bread is for the paying customers. Our family eats the leftovers.”

“I’m hungry and there are no leftovers yet,” said the big man who never seemed to stop eating. “Besides, this is yesterday’s bread. It’s already stale.”

“We use the stale bread for trenchers when we run out of bowls and plates and you know it. It makes a good container to serve the pottage in. The customers like gnawing on the bread afterwards.” David’s attention was on the books again.

“You never smile anymore, David,” said Uncle Joe, taking a seat at a table across from the drink board.

“I don’t smile?” David asked. “Uncle Joe, not to be rude, but how would you know?”

“I don’t need eyes to see it,” explained the blind man. “I can hear smiles in people’s words. In their voices. Your father used to be happy and smile a lot. That is, until he let the business end up worrying him to death.”

“Father died from a bad heart, not from worrying,” said David, picking up a cup of ale and taking a swig.