Twelve

“MY... MY LORD?”
He looked up. “Yes, Adalene?”
“Can... can I seat near you? So I will not have to... shout when I talk to you?” She cringed after she asked, almost sure that he was not going to be pleased.
But to her surprise, he smiled. “I would like that, too.” Then he called the maidservants and ordered them to bring her plates and cutleries to a seat to his right. He stood up and helped her up, then escorted her the length of the table to her new seat.
She felt relieved sitting on her seat with him just a reach away. They could talk.
And they talked.
She was hesitant at first, but when he started the conversation by asking her a few questions about life on the farm and how the farmers were, they were soon talking well. The subject, at least, was something she knew. She was surprised to find out he knew more details about how farmers do their trade before the produce even went to the borders than she expected. He answered her questions when she got more intrigued after he talked and compared or differentiated farms in other parts of his land. They were almost done when he started talking about other things, like his life in Paris as a knight in the King’s court, so she would know how different his life had been there than here in the province. He talked of his travels, and his observation about the increasing trade activities in other towns and crossroads and how this seemed to strengthen a holding more than any other could.
He said he hoped to have the same here in his lands. He was, as usual, very considerate, explaining to her when he knew she could not possibly understand. This encouraged her to ask or talk when she was being asked.
But he was clearly surprised when he realized she knew more about the farmer’s taxes than he realized she should.
“I can write and read a little,” she admitted. “My oncle taught me to count and my father taught me to keep accounts. But it is my mother who taught me to read as she was taught by a gentlewoman from your family whom she had served when she was young.”
“I wonder who that was?” he asked curiously, though the twinkle in his eyes told her he already had a clue.
“It is your great aunt. My mother learned much from her seven years of stay in this manor when she worked as one of the maidservants when she was younger. She hadn’t wanted to marry, but when she met my father and fell in love with him, she told me she just wanted to have a family with him. So she went back home. The Lady, your aunt, regularly visited and my mother said it was always a most interesting time whenever she was here.”
He smiled, and it told her he regarded that great aunt very well. “Said gentlewoman certainly loved reading and teaching her maidservants so they can read back to her when she tires holding her heavy domes. Though I wasn’t sure she enjoyed teaching me. I remember giving her a hard time when she asked me to read her steamy romances, especially when she was being gregarious about it.”
“My mother said your great aunt has a very colorful personality!” she said in delight. “I didn’t want to believe her. I haven’t met a woman like the one she described to me.” She sighed. “My mother loved your great aunt. She said she was the kindest nobility she knew. She was allowed to own books your great aunt gifted her with, those that she truly loved reading again and again. We still have them in the house. She considers them one of her most important treasures. I think I must have read those books a thousand times!”
“That is good that you took enjoyment from those books.” He was smiling as he watched her animation. “You must love reading.”
She sighed. “I do! Every time I read a book, I feel like I have traveled somewhere far from here. It feeds much of my imagination! But it wasn’t just books about stories that my mother had kept with her. Some books are about keeping numbers. She taught me and my brothers, but my father doesn’t like numbers too much. He enjoyed working hard. My brothers are the same, so she keeps the books of my father’s and brothers’ earnings from the produce, too. My father hopes to be fair in dividing the earnings, especially after my brothers got married, and I helped my mother make sure that the numbers are straight.”
“And did you think the taxes are fair?” he asked.
She hesitated for a moment before deciding to speak her mind. “We don’t own our land and I know it is reasonable to pay in exchange for the chance to live here and till the earth. But... when land is not managed very well and the lord of the manor is cruel, taxes are always unfair. It always seems to be what they liked using to hurt the people.” She tried to smile. She felt nervous, but she somehow felt that if she did not speak her mind, it would insult this fair man.
He nodded, looking pensive. “And had my father been an unfair lord?”
She shook her head. “Uhm... not so much. There had been some late payments, but this happens mostly when he was away. But as long as the peasants paid their due, he did not bother us nor took more than our yearly taxes.”
“Did he ever ask for a first night from any of the village maidens?”
She stared, but he was smiling, and she realized he was not serious about the question. She felt her cheeks coloring. “The Baron jests,” she said as she lowered her gaze to the table. They had finished the main course and were now waiting for the servants to bring in coffee.
“Call me Fabian. Not my Lord or Baron.”
At first, she thought she was mistaken. But when she realized by his expression that she heard him right, she was stunned. “My Lord!” she exclaimed. “But that is improper for me to do!”
“Not when I say it isn’t.”
“B-But... why?”
He thought for a minute. “I imagine that when I have a wife, I want her to treat me as an equal... someone she will not have to be afraid of. I want you to feel like that. I brought you here to give your husband a lesson and to teach you what it is like when a husband cares for a wife. Do you understand, ma bichette?”
She gulped, feeling a wave of bittersweet feelings at the realization that he was aware and was truly giving her a gift, and she could either be grateful about it or despair that she would never receive it from her true husband.
She was grateful.
“I understand,” she replied in a soft whisper. “Thank you very much... Fabian.” His name felt awkward on her tongue, but she wanted to obey him.
“Why do you look sad?”
She tried to hide her face. “I am not really sad, my Lord.”
“Look at me, ma bichette.”
She heard the authority in his voice, and she looked at him. Her heart gave a thump. The Baron’s handsome face was suddenly very serious. “Yes, my- Fabian?” she stammered, correcting herself at the last minute.
He stared at her for a moment. There was something in his impassive face she could not understand. And then, he leaned toward her. She was sitting to his nearest right. The distance allowed for his hand to reach her chin. He tilted her face so their eyes could meet.
“Allow me to indulge in an exercise,” he said.
“Yes, my- Fabian.” He smiled, and her cheeks got warmer.
His face gentled, and his eyes lowered to her lips. “My Fabian sounds wonderful, too.”
And then he sighed, lowered his head, and kissed her mouth.