His mother, sister and brother were already focused on the mysterious young woman. Rhys held out a hand to her and Elizabeau realized she would now be the center of their attention. With a bit of trepidation, she took his hand and allowed him to pull her close to him.
“Mother,” he had Elizabeau firmly in his grasp, sensing her reluctance. “This is my wife, the Lady Julianna. My lady, this is my mother Orlaith, my sister Carys, my brother Dylan, and my son Maddoc.”
Orlaith stepped forward, her brilliant blue eyes glittering and kind upon Elizabeau. The family resemblance was obvious. “Welcome, Julianna,” she said. “We are most happy to make your acquaintance.”
Elizabeau smiled weakly, feeling strange and apprehensive about the deception. “You are very kind, my lady. Thank you.”
She suddenly sneezed into her ever-ready kerchief and Orlaith looked stricken. “Rhys!” she said accusingly. “Your wife is ill. Why did you not bring her inside the very moment you arrived? What manner of careless husband are you?”
Rhys opened his mouth to reply but his mother was already yanking Elizabeau out of his grasp and hustling her towards the manor. Carys skipped after them while Dylan tried to convince Maddoc to come with him. Rhys sighed, watching his mother haul Elizabeau away and knowing he was going to catch an earful for the woman’s illness. But he’d already known that. He turned to his brother, still trying to coax the toddler.
“Dylan, take my horse,” he instructed the lad. “I’ll take my son.”
Dylan thought that handling a charger was the easier job of the two and gladly took to the destrier. Rhys swooped down on the baby, still struggling to hold the helm.
“Come along, lad,” he kissed the boy on the cheek as they headed towards the manse. “Let us go and reacquaint ourselves with one another.”
Maddoc screamed the entire way back into the house.
***
The water in the massive copper tub was so hot that it was nearly scalding, but Orlaith was convinced the only way to deal with the illness was to boil it out. As Elizabeau sat in a steaming tub that was scented with mint and other strange scents, she realized that she did feel much better than she had earlier.
Rhys’ mother was exactly as he had said; she bustled in and out of the chamber, drying linen in her hand or some manner of ointment to soothe the cough, or wine and cheese to ease the stomach. So in between bathing Elizabeau and washing her considerable mane, she fed her, soothed her, and otherwise fussed over her. Elizabeau had never had so much attention in her life but was quickly coming to appreciate it. After the hell of the past ten days, she was very grateful for the comfort.
While Orlaith said little other than inquiring about her general health or the temperature of the water, Carys was another story. She was a very pretty girl on the cusp of womanhood, very curious about Elizabeau in every way. She sat on a stool next to the tub while her mother washed and tended the new arrival, watching every movement, listening to every word. Whenever their eyes would meet, Carys would smile bashfully and look away. Elizabeau didn’t sense any hostility or standoffishness from her, but she came to wish the girl would say whatever she was thinking. All of the wide-eyed staring was making her uncomfortable.
Elizabeau had no idea where Rhys was during all of this time. She was terrified Orlaith would ask her where or when they were married and she would not have the correct answer. But Rhys’ mother remained silent on the subject as she gently ordered her newest daughter out of the cooling tub and wrapped her in warmed linen. Seating the woman on a stool by the hearth, she set Carys to combing through her wet hair to dry it in the warm air. So as Carys combed and Elizabeau struggled not to doze, Orlaith managed to stuff her with more cheese and wine.
The food only made the sleepiness worse. Elizabeau was having a difficult time keeping her eyes opened and Carys continued to carefully comb and fluff her hair, drying it out in the heat of the fire. When Orlaith left the room in search of servants to empty the tub water, Carys finally summoned her bravery.
“Where were you born, my lady?” she asked softly.
Elizabeau had been close to dozing; her eyes slowly opened, dreading the series of questions from the young girl and not wanting to give her too much information.
“Cornwall,” she replied. “And please… you may call me by my name. It seems rather formal for sisters to speak to one another so formally.”
Running her fingers through Elizabeau’s hair, Carys blushed at the request. “Julianna is a pretty name,” she said timidly. “I… I like it a great deal.”
Elizabeau had to smile; the girl sounded very nervous. “Thank you,” she replied. “Now tell me; where were you born?”