Anne missed her father greatly.
Times were good when the earl was in residence. Her lips twitched and she clamped them back into a firm line lest she offend Philipa. But her heart was happy as she thought about her father. Her mother was always filled with joy when he returned, even dancing at her age when the front riders burst through the gate to announce the approach of the lord of the manor. He had been at court all winter. Four long months of Philipa's sour disposition to tolerate without his loving attention. He did adore her and her siblings but clung to tradition. Philipa was the lady of the house, so Anne fell under her direction.
Still, it was better than many others had. She had a roof over her head and food on the servants' table below. There was a good wool dress on her back and shoes on her feet that had been made for her, not passed on from someone else. There was much she had to be thankful for. One unhappy mistress was less than many had to suffer.
At least Mary wasn't at home.
Anne shuddered. The legitimate daughter of the house was a mean-hearted bitch and she didn't feel a bit of shame for thinking it, either. Mary whined like a babe and could throw tantrums better than a madwoman. Even going so far as ripping good fabric because it was not as fine as something one of her friends attending court had. Philipa coddled such outbursts, finding money in the estate coffers to buy the things her daughter demanded.
Anne frowned as she faced away from Philipa. More rightly put, it was she who found the funds that made Lady Mary stop her howling. By tradition the ledger books should have been kept by Philipa and the duty taught in strictest detail to Mary. 'Twas not the case here at Warwickshire. After seeing to the duty of dressing Philipa, Anne would spend the rest of the daylight hours and even more into the night ensuring that the estate books were balanced. Her lord father had insisted that she and her siblings be educated. Yet Philipa was the one who directed where their education was put to use. Anne's duty was the estate books and making sure that the budget was tight. Every time Lady Mary demanded more gold, it was Anne who was set the task of finding it where the lord would not notice. The funds were found either from the sale of lambs or from the cloth woven by the household staff. Anne hated seeing the waste. Warwickshire would be stronger if it wasn't being plundered so often for vanity.
A heavy thud came from the door. A maid hurried to open it. As the wide wooden panel swung wide, the ringing of the wall bells became clear.
"The master returns, madam."
Philipa scowled. "Well, finish dressing me you lack-wits."
Everyone hurried while keeping their eyes lowered. Anne handed things to the other maids because she'd learned to keep out of the mistress's reach when she was getting ready to receive her husband. Philipa was quick with a slap when she was anticipating a conversation with the earl. One of the girls fumbled a shoe and there was a sharp pop of flesh on flesh. "Get out."
The maid lowered her head even as she backed toward the open doorway. A bright red splotch marked her face. Anne tightened her courage and knelt to take up the shoe.
"Why is it I am cursed with the worst staff in England? These Warwickshire families all breed idiots for daughters."
No one spoke but a few stares met behind the mistress's back. Disgruntlement was shared with silent glares. Anne stood up, grateful to have finished her task. Philipa eyed her when she failed to lower herself promptly upon standing in her eyesight.
"Bastard."
Anne hurried to give her deference. Philipa sneered at her. "Bastard born means conceived in sin. Better be grateful that the church has pity, else you never would have been baptized."
"Yes, madam."
Truly the insult didn't hurt. She had grown scars long ago from Philipa's lashing tongue. It was much easier to endure than her slaps.
In a flutter of silk skirts, Lady Mary flew into the room.
"Father married me off! Oh, Mother, I don't want to go to Scotland."
Lady Mary flung herself at her mother, crying on her chest loudly. "Tell me I don't have to go, Mother. Please." She began wailing loud enough to wake the dead. Huge tears flooded her eyes as she tore at her mother's dress.
"Tell him I won't go to any Scot's bed."
"That's enough out of you, Mary."
Everyone in the chamber turned as the lord of the castle entered. Even crowned with silver hair, he was no less powerful, no less the master of the home. Even Philipa lowered her head in deference, dragging her daughter with her.
"And I'll be damned if you will shame me, Daughter. It's a solid match with young Brodick. He's already a titled man."
"Of Scots." Mary's lip protruded as she whimpered.
"Times are changing, Daughter. We'll soon be a single nation, united under a Scot-born king. McJames will be a good match, better than many of your court friends will have."
The earl looked at his wife but his attention strayed to Anne. Anne couldn't stop her lips from curving upward in welcome even as she lowered her head. A sparkle lit her sire's eyes but there was a low hiss from Mary as she noticed the exchange. Anne's half-sister looked over her mother's shoulder, hate glittering in her eyes.
Her father stiffened, his gaze returning to his wife's. "The Earl of Alcaon's retainers should be here within the week. I was only granted leave to escort Mary home. I leave for court at daybreak." He pointed one thick finger at Mary. "You'll take your place as I've arranged it and there will be no more tears. Childhood is finished. See to it, Philipa."
"Must she marry?"
The earl scowled. "Good God, woman! She's twenty-six years old. This child has turned up her nose at every match I've laid before her. There will be no more discussion. It's my own fault for giving either of you a say in the matter. Mary should have been wed four years ago but I tried to wait until she agreed with a match or brought me one of her own thinking. Madam, it's been eight years since we placed her at court."
"But he's Scots, Father."
"He is an earl, madam." Mary sank back as her father moved toward her. "A man whose land borders ours which makes him a fine choice as husband for you."
Mary sobbed louder and her father made a low sound of disgust. He turned his displeasure on Philipa.
"You see there, Wife? This is the only child you had to see to and she is a whining whelp, ungrateful for the good match that's been made for her. What would you have of me, Daughter? Would you be a spinster? Or one of those disgraced courtier friends of yours with bastards growing in their bellies? There are not many lords who will have you due to the fact that your mother never birthed a son."
Mary shuddered and stood up, her eyes round with horror. Her head shook back and forth as her father glared at her. Anne did pity her half-sister; the world was most cruel to daughters because they carried the stain of their mothers. Because Philipa refused to give her husband an heir, Mary was suspected of being a poor choice for a wife as well.
"Aye, now you're seeing the truth of the matter. Another year and who will have you? It's time for marriage and children. 'Tis not an engagement, Daughter. You've been wed by proxy. Young McJames was not in the mood to be delayed by having to wait for a wedding to be arranged. The matter is sealed. You are now a wife with duties to attend to."
The earl turned and left, his spurs clanking against the stone floor. His men followed, having witnessed the entire event. But Philipa was oblivious to the maids in the chamber with her. Privacy was an extreme luxury. As wife to an earl, Mary would have to learn to deal with the many eyes that would know her every movement. Better now than on an estate she was expected to manage.
"Mother, you must give me Anne. For the books. I don't know how to keep them."
Anne's throat constricted as she caught the look her half-sister aimed at her. It resembled the way the lady looked at a new mare she was considering buying. Philipa turned to consider her and Anne lowered her head even as her temper began to simmer.
"Everyone, out! Except Anne, you stay."
Joyce cast her a helpless look as she herded the rest of the maids out the door.
"Come here, Anne." Philipa was in her element, her voice full of commanding authority.
Anne moved toward her without a scuff from her boots. She might be bound to serve the lady but she was not afraid of her. Fear was for children and fools.
"Remove your cap."
The linen head covering was held in place by a thin strap running under her chin. There was a single button on the left side of it that kept the cap on her head and her hair out of sight. Removing it, she looked at the lady to see what she wanted. Philipa studied her for a long time, her eyes roaming over every detail.