Free The Merchant's Daughter by Melanie Dickerson

to concentrate on the cabbage, thankful for the dim light in her corner of the room.
    “My lord!” Mistress Eustacia fussed anxiously. “You must get out of those wet things at once. You’ll be sick, perhaps with some deadly fever, and then what will become of the rest of us, says I?”
    “Dry clothes … Precisely why I’m here.”
    “In your trunk — oh, nay, saints have mercy, your shirts are all here.” Eustacia jumped up, spilling beans and leeks onto the floor. Annabel immediately dropped to her knees to pick them up.
    “I shall iron one this minute, this minute, I shall.” Mistress Eustacia went to the basket of clothing she had taken in off the line the day before.
    As soon as Eustacia turned, Lord le Wyse backed out the door and was gone.
    Eustacia snatched a cloth and used it to take the heavy iron from where it was warming in front of the fire. She ironed furiously, and in a few moments was done. She held up the shirt. “Go take this to Lord le Wyse.”
    “Me?” Annabel croaked.
    “Of course. I’ll wrap it in this sheet so it won’t get wet. But be careful you hold it gently. No wrinkles. He’s particular about his clothes, he is.”
    Annabel stared at the shirt Eustacia was holding out to her. How would Lord le Wyse react when she brought it to him? Would he be angry, thinking she was trying to invade his privacy again? Worse yet, would he be undressed?
    Mistress Eustacia said, “Don’t worry. He frightens most people, but the master would never harm you.” She reached out and patted Annabel’s cheek with her work-roughened fingertips.
    Hating that her fear must have shown on her face, and not wanting Mistress Eustacia to think she was like “most people,” she took the piece of clothing and hurried out into the rain.
    She ran across the yard and up the slippery steps of the manor house, holding the shirt close to keep it from getting wet.She knocked on the door then opened it, trying to steady her breathing. “My lord?”
    Annabel closed the door behind her. Her eyes adapted slowly to the dim light.
    “I am here.” His muffled voice came from behind the screen.
    Detecting no anger in his voice, she pressed on. “Mistress Eustacia sent me with your shirt. Where would you prefer me to put it?” She panted, feeling breathless after stringing so many words together in his presence.
    “Bring it to me.” He thrust out his hand around the side of the screen.
    Annabel crossed the room, unwrapping the garment as she went. Standing as far away from the screen as possible, she stretched her arm out and placed the shirt in his open hand. It disappeared behind the screen.
    Instead of leaving, she decided this was her opportunity to apologize for being in his screened-off quarters. She began to speak before she could change her mind.
    “Lord le Wyse, please forgive me for this morning. I would never invade your privacy. I know I did just that, and I’m very sorry I did. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to clean behind your screen. No one told me.” She felt like someone running down a steep hill, unable to stop or slow down. “I tried not to look at your illuminations, I truly did, but they were so fascinating. I didn’t intend to invade your privacy, and I’m sorry, and I will never do it again. Please forgive me.”
    She felt a small measure of relief that she’d explained her actions and asked forgiveness. She turned and started to walk back across the room.
    “Annabel.”
    His commanding tone made her heart skip a beat. She turned to face him as he stepped from behind the screen. He was fully dressed, praise God, his hair still wet and clinging to his temples.
    “You should not have gone behind my screen. I forbid it.”
    “Of course, my lord.” She bowed her head, hoping to appear meek.
    “I suppose you think my behavior this morning to be … beastly.” He glared at her, as if daring her to smile.
    “Nay, of course not, my lord.”
    “You will mention my paintings to no