AT HIS NEXT VISIT—on my fiftieth day as an ogre—I drew Squire Jerrold aside and told him about the conversation.
“I’m sorry for Lady Eleanor,” he whispered when I finished. “A friend of mine, who is an intimate acquaintance of hers, will be distressed.”
What friend? “You mustn’t tell anyone!”
“I won’t. I promise.” After a pause, he added, “Trying to bribe you was wrong.”
I didn’t say, What about threatening my life? Don’t you care about that? “I’m worried about you and Trunk, because you both know me and came to Frell with me.”
He said, “You cured King Imbert, and we brought you here to do so. That will keep us all safe.”
It wouldn’t. However, he was too honorable and, though I hated to think it, not imaginative enough to understand Sir Peter’s character.
I wanted to tell Lady Eleanor the truth about her beloved but equally didn’t want to be the one to break her heart. She might discover his falseness from some other source, or he might find a wealthier or more noble maiden to bedazzle.
Trunk, who had taken mightily to Lady Eleanor, opined that she’d be the making of Sir Peter. “He won’t dare lie again for fear of disappointing her.”
If only Wormy were here! He’d advise me. Or, if he had no good ideas, he’d sympathize.
Horrible to be unique and alone.
By the ninth morning after my arrival—nine days left!—a mere two patients remained on their pallets in the kitchen apothecary and four others were recovering in their chambers.
Trunk announced that a third of the castle’s two hundred residents—courtiers and servants—had died of the blight, most of the deaths before I came. “Because of you, Mistress Ogre, the castle still has a lot of people.” He set two kitchen maids to peeling carrots and a third to sweeping and tending the fire.
I said that most of the credit belonged to the purpline.
“And who brought that?” Lady Eleanor asked, crushing fenuce leaves in a mortar, as I’d shown her.
Squire Jerrold came in.
My tingling fingers dropped the dried coweye daisies I’d been holding. Gallant as he was, Squire Jerrold picked them up and put them on my worktable. I curtsied as daintily as I could.
Lady Eleanor was watching me. I saw her pity.
Save it for yourself, I thought angrily.
While I stripped the coweye leaves, I said, “Coweyes in a sachet under the pillow bring calming dreams.”
Such a timid knock came on the door that I was the only one to hear it. I went to answer it.
Wormy stood in the corridor, holding his hat by the brim. “Evie?”
“Wormy!” I tingled.
He seemed surprised, too. His eyes twitched. He was feeling something strongly, but I couldn’t tell what because of the people in the kitchen. “It’s just that I didn’t expect you, yourself, to open the door.”
“Is Mother all right? No one in Jenn caught the blight?” I couldn’t help smiling. And with him, I didn’t have to hide my fangs.
He smiled back. “No. I mean, yes, she’s all right. No one caught it. I’m glad you’re safe.”
I pulled the door wide. He bowed to everyone, including Trunk, the kitchen maids, and the convalescents.
His bow was smooth, springy. Had I never noticed? When he straightened, his weight rested on his back leg, as if he were about to begin swordplay. And he had taken to heart my frequent refrain—shoulders back!—because he stood erect.
“I am Lady Eleanor.” She curtsied and looked at me—a hint of a look.
Oh! I introduced him to everyone. “Master Warwick—Wormy—is my friend from Jenn.”
Lady Eleanor curtsied. Squire Jerrold bowed. Trunk bobbed and touched his head in a salute.
How comely these people were, especially Squire Jerrold, Lady Eleanor, and Wormy.
Lady Eleanor said, “I’m Mistress Evie’s friend in Frell.” She touched my arm, and it jumped an inch as a fresh tingle ran through me.
Could I be in love with them all, including Lady Eleanor? Half swooning with hunger and feeling, I imagined a chorus of marriage proposals and my ecstatic cry. Yes! Yes! Oh, yes! Ah, yes! Come closer, yes!
To quiet myself, I reached for a leg of the goose Trunk had taken off the spit half an hour before. I’d already eaten the breasts. When my thoughts became civilized again, I was able to listen to the conversation.
Lady Eleanor had been questioning Wormy about his journey.
He said, “A farmer was kind enough to shelter me until the BB sign was taken down. Now I must find lodgings in town.”
The farmer would have been well paid. “Wormy is generous,” I said while chewing, glad to boast about my friend. “Lady Eleanor, he keeps his family’s ledgers. Squire Jerrold, numbers turn cartwheels for him. If you need his help, he’s most obliging. Wormy, dear, what will your parents do without you?” Oh! “But you may be hurrying home before you’re missed.” He may have come as a favor to Mother—
—and not to propose again.
He bowed to me, acknowledging the compliments and surprising me by the formality. In the gesture, he reminded me of the young man I’d watched through the window at the master’s manor.
He said, “I’m not sure how long I’ll stay.”
What did it depend on?
At least he hadn’t become a rock of certainty. He might stay. In this one way he was still my Wormy.
“Squire Jerrold,” I said, “you’re never ill—except for the barley blight—but Wormy has benefitted from all my remedies.” Now I seemed to want to boast about myself.
“I’m better for them,” Wormy said stoutly.
“What was the last malady before I—” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
He coughed.
“You have a cough?” I dropped the gnawed bone on the platter that held what remained of the goose. Then I pumped water into the basin in the sink and scrubbed my hands. “I have elecampane. It will just—”
He coughed again. “I’m fine.”
I dried my hands and didn’t reach for the elecampane, but if he kept coughing, I’d insist.
Lady Eleanor said, “I hope you’ll stay until Friday.”
Just five days away. I hoped he’d stay longer!
She produced two creamy envelopes from her apron pocket and gave one to me and one to Squire Jerrold. “Now that health has returned to Frell, my parents are hosting a ball and, afterward, a supper. Mistress Evie, you’ll be the guest of honor. . . .”
I didn’t hear her next words. An ogre honored at a ball?
Might that protect me from Sir Peter?
Or had he suggested it?
Would he spring a trap?
What could I wear?