‘Shut up, wife, I’m for bed. If you want speech with Rose, that’s up to you.’
Rosamund heard Aeffe’s indignant indrawn breath and set the candle on the trestle. She’d wait for Alfwold and let him in when he returned. She really needed to talk to him.
The flickering light revealed pieces of bread – crumbs and lumps of stew left to rot on the boards. Her nose wrinkled. She’d been gone just over a day and already the mill showed signs of neglect. The floor hadn’t been swept. There was a pale smear on the boards where wasted grain and flour had been trampled in with the food. The mill would be heaving with mice and ants in no time.
‘Well, girl?’ Aeffe stood before her, hands on her hips. ‘Aren’t you going to show me your earnings?’
Rosamund gave a tired smile and shook her head.
Aeffe took a pace forward. She was toying with her plait. ‘You are a whore,’ she said softly. ‘Where are the jewels?’
Rosamund spread her hands. ‘There are no jewels, someone’s been spinning you a tale.’
Aeffe’s eyes filled with disbelief. Lurching forward, she wrenched at Rosamund’s cloak and there was a ripping sound as the clasp tore the fabric. Aeffe flung the cloak aside.
Clenching her teeth, Rosamund gestured at her unadorned neck. ‘See? No jewels. Aeffe, there are no jewels.’
‘You crafty weasel, you must have hidden them. You’ve come back dressed in that rag to deceive me.’
‘Holy Virgin, give me strength. Aeffe, there are no jewels. I’m not a whore, I haven’t been paid for anything. Let me be, for God’s sake. I’m tired.’
‘Whore.’
Rosamund had come to the end of her tether. She’d walked for miles in the dark to get home, she was exhausted and she wouldn’t be insulted by this woman. ‘Who are you to call me a whore? You are no better than a whore yourself.’
‘What?’ Aeffe’s voice rose to a shriek. ‘You ungrateful slut – who kept you on here, though you should have been wed years ago? I did. And what do I get for it...?’
Rosamund’s nails curled into her palms. ‘You kept me on because you wanted an unpaid scullion. All you ever wanted to do was to take your ease. Think about it.’ She waved a hand at the filthy floor. ‘What do you do to earn your keep?’
Aeffe’s pale eyes stared blankly at Rosamund. Abruptly, her shoulders slumped, and her eyes slid away. She gave a long, shuddering sigh.
‘I earn my keep, that I do,’ she muttered, flinging back her plait. Her face was haggard. ‘You think I don’t pay for the things Osric gives me? I pay. I pay with my body and my hands. Doing things that please him. I pay a heavy price for my keep, but earn it I do. Every last morsel. And maybe you’re right, maybe that does make me a whore, but what else can I do? Your father’s the richest man in the village and I aim to keep him.’
Rosamund was unable to turn away from the appeal in Aeffe’s pale, sad eyes. Suddenly, she was no longer listening to the stepmother who’d never tried to win a place in her lonely step-child’s heart. She found herself gazing instead at a once-lovely woman who’d got her way for years on the strength of her looks. Those looks were fading, and Aeffe was terrified – she feared for her future.
Rosamund was put in mind of someone else. Lady Cecily. Baron Geoffrey’s sister had worn such a look, though her terror must have a very different root. But to see Aeffe with her defences down, to see her admitting her vulnerability in this way...
With a glance at the stairway – her father was nowhere to be seen – Rosamund lowered her voice. ‘I...I... had no idea. I thought you were fond of him.’ Aeffe’s swift, negative gesture twisted her heart. She touched Aeffe’s arm. ‘Aeffe, I’m sorry-’
Aeffe blinked rapidly and shook her head. Lifting her chin, she glanced at the hand on her sleeve as though surprised to see it there. ‘Don’t waste your sympathy on me, girl, you’ve better things to do.’
‘Aeffe?’ Slowly, Rosamund removed her hand.
Aeffe arched an eyebrow at her. ‘Tell me, are there really no jewels?’
‘There are no jewels.’
Aeffe’s chest heaved. ‘Then you must love that squire, if you did it for nothing. Holy Mother, girl, get back to him. Do it now, before he finds you’re gone and thinks you false. Get back to the castle while there’s time.’
‘I need to speak to Alfwold.’
Her stepmother an impatient sound. Taking Rosamund’s hand, she touched the finger where the ring had been. ‘You didn’t wear his ring for long, did you?’