Reading you loud and clear (The Lady of Doncastor)

[caden]

A light knock accompanied Caden Brock’s presence at the door of his Mistress. “My Lady,” he cooed at the door in a careful manner (ignoring the snickers of a few of the passing servants), “are you decent?” he asserted. He adjusted the sack that pulled down on one side of his broad shoulders. Looked down at the list, squinting at it with a vague recognition of the script. After all, he may have been slowly learning, but he was no scholar. He just thanked the Lord that she wrote things in fairly simple words. He grinned to himself with just the slightest bit of triumph in managing to find these things without having to ask for help from the merchants and farmers (the last time that happened, some trickster thought he’d be funny and specifically lead him to the wrong things). Sure, part of it was the fact that usually the Lady Liselle of Doncastor needed the same sort of things on a regular sort of basis; but this time he did it relying strictly on the piece of paper that had been left on the bureau.

After another polite knock and a coax towards the room, a gloved hand meekly pushed the wood frame open and the Steward entered, carrying his spoils with him. He went to work, putting each new item in its own place. Her new riding crop in the drawer with her riding clothes, the lace, hairpins, and bolts of cloth were set on the bed with care. He removed his leather glove to run a hand briefly along the fabrics to get out what wrinkles he could. He set down the recently purchased quill on the bureau along with a container of new ink that he had adlibbed purchasing along with some new parchment as well. Next to that, he set the apples into a newly obtained basket. Each meticulously piled atop the next to the point where a pyramid of apples sturdily rest in the woven wicker container. He put his leather glove back on, making sure it wasn’t too obvious that his bare hands had dared to soil her things. He paid the room a respectful nod before heading towards the chapel where he assumed the Lady Liselle Bassen of Doncastor to be.

[Lady Liselle]

Much of a well-bred young lady’s life was spent in devotions, even if she had not chosen to join the women of the cloth themselves. There was a certain something to be said for the hushed reverence of a cloister and the warm acceptance of a chapel, and perhaps it was these things alone that kept Lady Liselle observing her religious commitments each day in Nottingham. Her soul, it was safe to say, was oftener the worse for wear despite her pleasant smiles and kind words and her thoughts of mischief soon turned to deeds of wickedness. The absolution she felt upon gaining forgiveness from the Lord was euphoric in a sense, and each time she left the chapel reborn she felt a most unholy need to sin again simply to be welcomed back into the fold.

Poised piously upon her kneeling cushion before the altar in the small but perfunctory (for some) chapel the grey day outside was as lost to her as her mind was. Thoughts seemed to find the innate peace of prayer irresistible and Liselle knew that no sooner had she started to pray to God that her own selfish thoughts – which she worshipped more often than her divinity – would reign supreme once more. Having been at the chapel since directly after breaking her fast and coming up on two hours shortly it was safe to say Liselle’s knees were beginning to ache. She made the sign of the cross reverently across her slender body and stood; it was difficult to surrender one’s soul when one was concerned about walking afterwards.

She started towards the double doors of the chapel that would lead her onto the wide corridor that had carried her hence to begin with, her green eyes clouded with postulation and her lips pursed in contemplation of her current dilemma. So far from what she had seen of Nottingham there were 5 men at best (not all of whom she deemed worth of her hand by any means) that would be candidates for her scheme to matrimony. Two were highly desirable, one was definitely a possibility, another was a mystery and the fifth would need significant investigation before she would commit herself to pondering a claim on him at all. She thought to find Brock and enquire what knowledge he had – or more importantly could get – on the gentlemen. She knew him to be loyal and discerning, and he would know the servant’s gossip which she was too far removed from to hear firsthand. No sooner had her wish for her Steward been expressed to the universe than he appeared at the end of the corridor, and with a little smirk that would announce to him immediately that she had a task to set him upon she continued to walk towards him.

“Brock,” she greeted him warmly. “Just the person I needed to see.”

[caden]

A pleasant grin warmed on the Stewards face upon being greeted so kindly. He hadn’t expected it any other way really. He knew how she regarded some of the other servants. He was usually there to witness (and apologize for) such instances that were the exact opposite from that of which Caden was treated. He didn’t mind, of coarse. If they would do their job to her liking and rid themselves of their foolish backtalk, they could possibly earn an amiable response from the Lady Liselle of Doncastor. His stride had stopped the moment his Mistress approached, his posture straightened considerably and his strong chin perched a tad higher than before.

“If it’s about the list that you left on the bureau, I’ve already done that, My Lady. The cloth and lace are laid out on the bed for you, the riding crop is with your riding clothes, the apples are in a basket on the bureau as well as your new quill.” He seemed rather proud in saying that he had managed to complete his task (all on his own, thank you very much). “I also purchased ink and paper for you as well, your Ladyship. I noticed you were running out.”

“Do you require me to get you anything else? Is there something you need assistance with?” he inquired curiously. Caden, while constantly a willing and loyal servant, seemed a tad more enthusiastic about his work than usual. True, when they had first arrived d at Nottingham, Caden was a bit… less than enthusiastic about his Mistress’ new setting; but it was looking up. After all, the Lady of Doncastor graced him with sympathy when he asked her to read him the letter (he refused to discuss it further than that since that rather lowly moment of self loathing). He couldn’t have been more grateful for having his feelings spared and perhaps being given a slight glimpse at the possibility that his choice to accompany the Lady Liselle to Nottingham had not been in vain. The smile that sat itself on his features spread to the rest of his face, crinkling a tad at the corner of his somewhat tired eyes. Servitude also provided a wonderful distraction from dwelling on a broken heart (not that his was broken or anything like that).

[Lady Liselle]

Pleased by the correct amount of deference shown to her by her Steward (such things were never forgotten by Brock, who was an extremely attentive servant), Liselle smiled at him gently. They had their ups and downs like most did, but in the end she couldn’t imagine trusting her most intimate affairs to anyone else! His loyalty to her was so unswerving, so undivided that she held him I the highest regard and trusted him implicitly, which is why she wished to speak to him now. As he straightened and announced that he had already seen to her little shopping list Liselle was even more pleased, as it meant she wouldn’t have to venture into the marketplace and deal with the festering peasants there herself.

They were always pressing her for coins, and Liselle had better things to spend her money on that someone else’s starving brats.

“As usual, you grant my wishes before I have time to see to them myself,” Liselle said in a girlish tone as she came to a slight pause before her Steward’s side. She fixed him with another smile before she continued to walk in the direction of her rooms, indicating that he was to follow. “You shall have to be careful, Brock. Someone might think you a genie from the Holy Land and seek to covet you.” Rather pleased with her little joke, the pair made their way down the long corridors that lead to the guest quartes in the Castle.

“I have something I would seek your expertise on,” she informed him as she waited for him to open the door to her chamber. Passing inside before him, Liselle smiled inwardly at the meticulous care and thought that had gone into her friend’s tasks that morning. After waving at him to close the door so that they would not be overheard, Liselle perched with lady-like primness on an upholstered chair by the window, taking care that the sun was not too hot for her milky skin. “It is a matter of some delicacy, however.”

[caden]

Caden expressed a soft chuckle, showing no more amusement at the statement than what could have been deemed necessary. The warm smile that accompanied only seemed to speak volumes about how much he appreciated his Mistress’ sense of humor. ”I will try,” he started in a serious tone with his expression reflecting such, ”but no doubt you’ve hidden the lamp properly.” The somber face didn’t stand a chance after he had finished his own attempt at a joke in return. Inwardly he hoped that The Lady of Doncastor would spare him a recognition for his efforts at humor while outwardly he opted to open the door to Liselle’s quarters and follow her in once he had been waved to close the door after her.

His strong brow quirked just slightly. Of what sort of delicacy could this be? His mind, while hoping deeply for nothing but the best for his charge, only seemed to travel to worst-case scenario. Had someone insulted or hurt her? Had she heard someone plotting against their hosts, which would inevitably put the Lady of Doncastor in danger? His attention had most certainly been perked as he carefully shut the door. He took heed not to shut the door to loudly or with too much force; cautious of causing any form of noise pollution for The Lady Liselle. ”Delicacy?” He asked finally as he stayed standing, the stiffness of his posture only seemed to reflect his worry the way a mongrel would be on its haunches, hair rigidly standing on end at the thought of being threatened. ”What’s troubling you, My Lady?”

((sorry if its ridiculously short. * leaves cookies * ))

[Lady Liselle]

((it's fine, m'love. ))

Liselle paused at length, turning her thoughts over in her clever mind the way a milkmaid churned milk for butter. Sooner or later, the willful Duke’s daughter knew, something useful would form in the cavity of her head. She flashed her intelligent green eyes in the direction of her Steward and friend when she felt at leisure to express these thoughts that had occupied her since her arrival in Nottingham, and a wistful smile that was miraculously devoid of any deviousness overcame her pale face. She still remained silent however, until her hands had pressed themselves into a ladylike fold in her lap.

”As you know, Brock, I am of a marriageable age and my father has made no excuses as to exactly why he thought it best I should come to Nottingham.” She directed a knowing glance at Brock, her smile fading slightly but her interest still bright in her moss colored stare. ”The King is all but a relic, my friend. If he does not die in the Holy Land he will return to an England which has marched inexorably onwards without him. I have no desire to be a casualty of progression. My father has made it absolutely clear to me where his, and consequently my own, loyalties lie and now is the time for him to use his most valuable asset. Me.”

She picked up a decanter of sherry that sat waiting on a small table at her elbow and filled both of the tiny goblets hovering at its base. Wordlessly she held one up to Brock before taking the second for herself. Such a casual act that flouted the natural order of things was usual for Liselle when she was alone with her Steward; he was the closest thing to a real friend and confidante the young blonde had known in her life and she trusted him without question. ”I am sure that you are aware of what this means. Things in Acre are coming to a head. The Saracens will not be able to stand the oppression much longer. I must be married to a man of position and power – my father’s lands and own power must be secured – before King Richard returns or dies in the attempt.”

[caden]

Caden arched a brow in earnest, not coming off as ironic, but rather curious. As he neatly held his sherry goblet and listened, the Steward only seemed to think of what could possibly happen to his charge if the King were to return before they met the goal of marrying the Lady Liselle to a member of high nobility. He was a natural born worrywart in the worst sense and automatically started fearing for the Lady Liselle’s safety. As he took a brief sip of the sherry he held in his hand, being careful not to take too liberal of a sip and have his Mistress think him a bit too eager to the drink, he let his less noble mind catch up as he wished he could manage to return words that sounded so intelligent in the same fashion.

”How is it that I can help, My Lady?” he inquired the best he could without looking absolutely puzzled as to how he could be of any aid. Caden Brock was plagued with the idea of being a romantic and took the idea of marriage to involve love. If they were pressed for time, how would the Steward be of any service in finding the Lady Liselle love? He did not find his Mistress to be undesirable in the ways of love, but he knew something about the emotion that accompanied marriage that he remembered about his own failed aspect of marriage. Love took time. With the threat of the King returning, the Steward assumed this to mean that they would not have the time to find a suitor of the best quality. What if in the rush to marry off his Mistress, he made the wrong decision in who was trustworthy and advised she marry an absolute scoundrel?

Concern etched his normally spirited features, causing anxiety to reflect in his subtly sad eyes as his mind tried work as fast as he assumed the Lady Liselle’s to work. Love and marriage, to the Steward, was a tricky matter and something he hoped that his near matrimony could prove as somewhat of an aid or reference for his charge. He remained with his rather simple question, not sure that he could supplement it with any sort of input other than his unconditional fret. He seemed always sure that the Lady Liselle got occasionally tired of his services; finding him annoying in his concern and servitude.

[Lady Liselle]

“Surely you must see the predicament?” she asked him, her voice tinted with slight amusement. “If I marry a man to further my position should Prince John come into power and the King returns, my husband will be denounced as a traitor. Should I marry someone who, as reflected in the current situation, is not a friend to the Prince then I place myself in danger further still.” She sighed, a small, melodramatic sound that made her seem less confused and more conniving than anything else. Liselle didn’t mind showing her true colours in front of her Steward; she knew that he was her servant and friend and no others.

She sipped her sherry, exploring her thoughts carefully in silence for the next several moments. There were so many eligible men currently in Nottingham – granted some might be more difficult than others to catch – but the only real option she saw was to choose someone who was rich, powerful and completely neutral. This did indeed present a problem. Men, who tended to think often with their lower appendages and not with the brains God gave them, were fickle creatures. They lost sight of the big picture in the heat of a moment, and were just as easily persuaded into breaking a fealty as they were swearing it in the first place. A neutral man that Liselle might marry now could very well pledge allegiance to one side or the other before Michaelmas.

This was potentially problematic.

Being a great believer that good things come to those who waited (or particularly those who hurried them along a tad) Liselle resigned herself. She would have to marry someone neutral and keep him on a short leash or else marry someone whose character would allow them to be lead rather easily by the nose once she had consummated her vows with him. The list of eligible men within these categories was considerably shorter, and her mossy green gaze diverted to Caden as she seemed to wait for him to save the day. “How many neutral, unmarried men do you suppose are within the Shire, Brock? And how many stupid ones, for that matter?” She smiled sweetly at him, her dimples unleashed but not in the least bit wholesome.

[caden]

The Steward's expression twisted a bit in not only confusion, but thought. While the servant had no problem provide the Lady Liselle with council (though whether she would listen to it was an entirely different matter), he wasn't too sure as to how to correctly provide advice on such a political delema. He took a very conservative sip of his sherry; sliently wishing that spirits could, in fact, be the answer.

"Well if you ask me, My Lady, all of the eligable men in these parts seem a bit... stupid," Caden provided; sadly not as a joke. He genuinely thought all the men in Nottingham desperately unworthy of his Mistress' hand if not for their lack of brain power, then because of the fact that most of them seemed sickeningly devout to one side or another. Helping the poor, or stealing from them. How about just leaving them well enough alone to make the waters a little less testy? The Steward shifted his stance as he thought again; his heavy blue eyes gazing out the window for a moment. "Perhaps you don't need someone so neutral... just someone who isn't so outrageously allied to one side or another?" was his weak offer that made perfect sense in his mind.

Caden, while being given a more priveleged servitude, was still a bit short in understanding the dilema. He never needed to trifle with picking out a candidate for marriage that would benefit socially. Nor did he need to worry about allegiances back in Doncastor. If a man of his standing was in love, then all he needed to do was propose and get the blessing of the noble. Considering he served under the noble for Doncastor... there was never really any particular problem. Bam. He'd get married. He thanked not being priveledged. There was just way too much responsibilities and guidelines. "I could try to see who would be the most beneficial if either were to come out on top," he added to his previous suggestion. First that would require me learning who was who... but no matter...