“When was your last day off?”
“Day off what? M’lady, I really do not think—”
“I’m fine,” Kes reassured her with a smile. “A day where you didn’t come here to work? A day to rest.”
“We do not work on the Sabbath. That is all.”
“And is it just you laundering everything?”
Claire nodded and Kes fumed. What was the Earl of Scarborough running here? How could he expect one person to do all this? When she complained to Elia, the head maid informed her that Edith, the other laundress, had died of a fever three months ago.
“Three months!” she seethed.
“Oh, but, m’lady,” Claire cried. “I do not mind doing it all. I do not want anyone else cleaning the castle garments and linens.”
Was Claire crazy like so many others here?
“Why in the world would you not want help?” Kes asked beating a sheet. Then it hit her. Claire didn’t want someone else handlinghisthings. Nicholas’ or someone else’s. That had to be the case.
“You can keep the things you want to wash and dry and give the rest to someone else. You would be the head laundress. What’s wrong with that?”
Claire grinned. “Nothing at all. I would like that.”
“Then I shall speak to Lord Scarborough about it.”
Elia came to stand close while Claire began to fold the other clothes she’d dried. “Do you presume that Nicholas does as you ask?”
Kes had to be careful. She liked Elia and didn’t want to step on her toes. “He has avoided me all morning and yesterday, as well. But I will find him today and speak to him about this. He is an intelligent, compassionate lord—”
“He’s intelligent, aye,” Elia agreed. “But not always compassionate.”
“He will do as I ask,” Kes smiled at them both. “I have something to bargain with.”
“Oh?” Elia raised her dark brow. “What is it?”
“A cupcake. I saved him one last night. Once he heard the king was returning, he left to his duties. But I hid one away in the hopes that he liked them.”
Elia tossed her a furtive smile. “You are thoughtful toward him.”
Kes shrugged. “He put a roof over my head and food in my belly. An extra cupcake is the least I can do.”
“Hmm.” Elia gave her a curious look. “My dear, do you still not remember where you came from?”
Oh, Kes wanted to tell her. She couldn’t. The threat of burning at the stake was very real here.
“I remember bits and pieces. I…I think I remember my father. I…” She sniffed and bit her tongue to stop her tears from falling. She hadn’t meant to think of her father. “We were very close. He raised me. Still, I wish I would have called him more last week.”
“Called?” Claire asked, listening while she folded.
Kes’ blood drained. She didn’t know where it went but it left her head, her face, her lips and made her feel dizzy.
“You are pale,” Elia said taking her arm. “Here, sit.”
“No. I’m ok.” She looked up at Claire. “My father lives a few houses away in our village. We called on each other frequently.”
“You will see him again, my dear,” Elia promised. “If anyone can find them, ’tis Nicholas.”
Oh, how she wished it were true. She wondered, while she turned the wash bat and scrubbed the castle linens, if Sir Nicholas, Earl of Scarborough, would go with her. Why would she want him to? He would never fit into her world with her friends.