"Much of it, one would suppose," Aunt Elinor promptly replied.

"In that case," Royce said in the tone of one issuing a royal edict, "the kitchens are now in your hands, and we will all look forward to excellent meals in future." Glancing toward Sir Albert Prisham, who was nearing the table, Royce arose and informed him, "I've just put the kitchens in the charge of Lady Elinor."

The thin steward's face was carefully blank, and he bowed politely, but the hand on the white cane clenched into a fist as he replied, "As I said, food is of little importance to me."

"Well, it ought to be exceedingly important to you, Sir Albert," Lady Elinor informed him authoritatively, "for you've been eating all the wrong things. Turnips, fatty foods, and hard cheeses ought never to be eaten by those with gout."

His face hardened. "I do not have gout, madam."

"You will!" Aunt Elinor predicted gaily as she, too, arose, all eagerness to begin foraging about in the gardens and woods for her ingredients.

Ignoring her, Sir Albert said to his lord, "If you are ready to begin our tour of the estate, we can leave at once." And when Royce nodded, he added coolly, "I trust you will not find my stewardship lacking anywhere other than the kitchens."

Royce gave him an odd, sharp look, then he smiled at Jennifer and pressed a polite kiss to her cheek, but in her ear he whispered, "I suggest you have a long nap, for I intend to keep you awake all night again."

Jenny felt the warm flush stealing up her cheeks as Arik arose, obviously intending to remain at Royce's side during the inspection of the estate. Royce stopped him. "Accompany Lady Elinor on her expeditions," he said, and then in an odd, meaningful voice he added, "and see that nothing untoward happens."

Arik's face froze at this flat command to play escort to an elderly lady. He stalked off, positively radiating resentment and offended dignity, while Lady Elinor trotted excitedly at his heels. "We shall have a lovely time, dear boy," she said enthusiastically, "although this project will take several days, not merely one, for we're sorely in need of ingredients for my medicinals and ointments, as well as spices for food. I shall require clove to comfort the sinews, and mace, of course! Mace prevents colic, you know, as well as body fluxes and laxes-and then there's nutmegs, which are very beneficial for the cold and a bad spleen. And I shall take special care of your diet in particular, for you aren't well, you know. You've a melancholy disposition-I noticed that at once…"

Sir Eustace glanced around at the other knights, grinning wickedly. "Lionel," he called loudly enough to be heard by the departing giant, "would you say our Arik looks 'melancholy' just now? Or would 'piqued' be a better word?"

Sir Lionel paused in his chewing and studied Arik's rigid broad back, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he replied after a moment's thoughtful consideration, "Arik is vexed."

Sir Godfrey leaned back to have a look for himself. "Aggrieved," he concluded.

"Colicky," Stefan Westmoreland added with a grin. In shared camaraderie, the men looked to Jennifer, inviting her to join in their fun, but she was spared the need to refuse because at that moment, Arik turned and blasted a dark look at his cohorts which could have pulverized rock and would easily have terrified most men. Unfortunately, it had the opposite effect on the knights, who returned his look and then burst into shouts of laughter, their mirth bouncing off the walls and echoing to the timbers, following Arik out the door.

Only young Gawin, who'd arrived just in time to see Arik and Lady Elinor depart, spoke up in Arik's behalf. Glowering at the others as he seated himself at the table, he said, " 'Tis no fit job for a knight-squiring an old woman about while she picks herbs and gathers nuts. 'Tis a job for a lady's maid, not a knight."

Lionel gave the boy a good-natured cuff. " 'Tis thinking like that which leaves you forever in Lady Anne's bad graces, my boy. Were you to squire her about while she picks flowers, you'd get further with the lady than you do by bristling up and trying to impress her with your manly glower-as you did last night." Turning to Jennifer, Sir Lionel said, "This halfling prefers glowering to gallantry. He thinks it's more manly, you see. And while he glowers, Roderick dances pretty attendance upon Lady Anne and wins the fair maiden's heart. Would you care to enlighten him with a lady's point of view?"

Sensitive to Gawin's youthful embarrassment, Jenny said, "I cannot speak for Lady Anne, but I, for one, did not see anything to turn a lady's head in the person of Sir Roderick."

Gratitude flashed in Gawin's eyes before he turned a smug glance upon his fellows and then dug into his somewhat tasteless fare.

Jenny spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon closeted with the seamstresses whom Sir Albert had recruited from the village to assist her in the preparation of garments. The steward was certainly efficient, Jenny thought as she delved down into the trunks that had been brought to her. Efficient and cold. She didn't like him at all, though she wasn't certain exactly why. Based on Agnes's words this morning, all the serfs at Claymore certainly held the thin man in high esteem. Esteem and a twinge of fear. Frustrated with her odd, emotional reactions to everyone here, and with the endless, uneasy silence of the women in the room, she studied the array of rich, colorful fabrics flowing over the bed and draped over the chairs. They lay like bright splashes of liquid jewels-ruby silks shot with gold, silver and gold brocades, amethyst velvets, sapphire taffeta shimmering as if sprinkled with diamonds, and rich, glowing satins in every shade of the spectrum from pearl to emerald to onyx. Beside them lay soft English wools in every imaginable weight and color, from brightest yellow and scarlets to shades of cream, gray, tan, and black. There were cottons from Italy, striped horizontally and vertically; richly embroidered linen for gowns and shirts, sheer, almost transparent linen for chemises and undergarments; shimmering tissues for veils; and buttery leather for gloves and slippers.

Even allowing for complete wardrobes for Royce and herself and Aunt Elinor, Jenny could scarcely conceive of ways to use so much. Overwhelmed by the magnitude of the task that lay ahead, and by her lack of imagination and knowledge of fashion, Jenny turned a little dazedly to the two enormous trunks overflowing with furs. "I think," she said aloud to Agnes as she gathered up an armful of luxurious dark sable, "that this could be used to line a cape made of that dark blue velvet for the duke."

"The cream satin," Agnes burst out almost desperately, then she closed her mouth and her face resumed its habitual frown.

Jenny turned to her in relieved surprise that the woman-whom she'd just learned had been seamstress to the former mistress of Claymore-had finally offered a voluntary word. Trying to hide her lack of enthusiasm for the idea, Jenny said, 'The cream satin? Truly? Do you think the duke would wear that?"

"For you," Agnes said in a choked voice, as if forced to speak by some inner fashion consciousness that cried out against the misuse of the sable, "not him."

"Oh," Jenny said, startled and pleased by the combination suggested. She gestured to the white fur. "And that?"

"The ermine to trim the sapphire brocade."

"And for the duke?" Jenny persisted, more pleased by the moment.

"The dark blue velvet, the black, and that dark brown."

"I've little knowledge of fashion," Jenny admitted, smiling with pleasure at the suggestions. "When I was young, 'twas of no interest to me at all, and later-these past years-I've lived in an abbey, and the only fashions I saw were the garments we all wore. But I comprehend already that you've a wonderful eye for how things will look, and I'll gladly take all your suggestions."