minds heavy with what was to come. When they were scraping out the final sips of soup from the bottom of their bowls, a loud voice shouted at her father from outside. Bernard stood and pushed past the door to greet their bellowing guest.
Sounds of a heated argument quickly escalated, and her mother edged closer to the door, perching close to the opening to listen in on the quarrel. Giselle rose just as the crescendo of shouting peaked—and then it immediately died out as her father pushed his way back into their house. Through the square of twilight, Giselle saw a man stomp away angrily, cursing all the way.
“That was Henri,” Bernard said, calmly ignoring his wife and daughter’s twinned expressions of bewilderment.
“What did he say?” her mother asked worriedly.
“Never you mind,” Bernard said with a loud exhalation of breath. “We can only hope that he will have a change of heart once his anger is spent.”
Giselle frowned. If Henri had already decided to abandon her, it could drive her parents to poverty’s door. She needed to find a way to turn her family’s fortunes—and quickly.
“Come now,” her father said, beckoning to her with a wave. “We must go to the chateau. Our lords are expecting to see you.”
Without a word, Giselle rose to follow her father. As they began to weave their way down the beaten path to the manor house, her mother suddenly called out to them. Giselle turned to see her mother jogging toward them. She hooked her arm in her daughter’s and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I will go with you,” her mother panted. “So that you know that you do not stand alone.”
Giselle smiled gratefully at both her parents before they resumed their resolute march toward the looming shadow of the chateau. The walk seemed much too short, and soon they stood at the manor house gates. The evening watchmen leered at Giselle as she passed, and she huddled closer to her parents. They stopped at the great wooden doors to the great hall, where an austere older woman stood waiting.
“You are the peasant girl that Seigneur Eustache requested?” she asked, her tone nasal and astringent.
“Yes,” Giselle’s father answered for her.
“Good. I am Madame Lessard.”
The stone-faced woman looked Giselle up and down and then sighed.
“Follow me,” she said, taking her by the arm while gesturing for her parents to stay where they stood. “The lords are almost ready to receive you.”
Giselle shuffled alongside the woman, casting timid glances in every direction. She had never before set foot in the chateau, and its stone and glass grandeur stunned her. She was so amazed that she almost bumped right into her guide’s back when she stopped abruptly.
“Wait here, girl,” Madame Lessard told her curtly as she disappeared into the dining hall.
Giselle could hear the sounds of raucous laughter echoing off the stone walls, and her heart began to race in anticipation. Soon, she would come face-to-face with the man who would take pleasure in her body, a man who held absolute sway over the course of her life.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Madame Lessard returned, her face a blank mask.
“Come,” she instructed firmly.
Giselle followed her obediently into the dining hall, instantly aware of the hush that fell over the diners. Her face grew hot as she felt their curious stares alight on her slight form, and she struggled to concentrate on putting one foot ahead of the other. She stopped when Madame Lessard stopped, her eyes glued to the stone floor.
“ Mes seigneurs ,” Madame Lessard intoned. “This is the girl requested by Seigneur Eustache.”
Giselle felt herself freeze as silence reigned for a long moment of scrutiny.
“So this is the peasant you demanded to have in your bed, Eustache,” an authoritative voice boomed.
“Yes, father,” Eustache answered in a low, deep voice that rumbled in his chest.
“And why is this commoner worth such pains?”
Giselle heard
Sounds of a heated argument quickly escalated, and her mother edged closer to the door, perching close to the opening to listen in on the quarrel. Giselle rose just as the crescendo of shouting peaked—and then it immediately died out as her father pushed his way back into their house. Through the square of twilight, Giselle saw a man stomp away angrily, cursing all the way.
“That was Henri,” Bernard said, calmly ignoring his wife and daughter’s twinned expressions of bewilderment.
“What did he say?” her mother asked worriedly.
“Never you mind,” Bernard said with a loud exhalation of breath. “We can only hope that he will have a change of heart once his anger is spent.”
Giselle frowned. If Henri had already decided to abandon her, it could drive her parents to poverty’s door. She needed to find a way to turn her family’s fortunes—and quickly.
“Come now,” her father said, beckoning to her with a wave. “We must go to the chateau. Our lords are expecting to see you.”
Without a word, Giselle rose to follow her father. As they began to weave their way down the beaten path to the manor house, her mother suddenly called out to them. Giselle turned to see her mother jogging toward them. She hooked her arm in her daughter’s and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“I will go with you,” her mother panted. “So that you know that you do not stand alone.”
Giselle smiled gratefully at both her parents before they resumed their resolute march toward the looming shadow of the chateau. The walk seemed much too short, and soon they stood at the manor house gates. The evening watchmen leered at Giselle as she passed, and she huddled closer to her parents. They stopped at the great wooden doors to the great hall, where an austere older woman stood waiting.
“You are the peasant girl that Seigneur Eustache requested?” she asked, her tone nasal and astringent.
“Yes,” Giselle’s father answered for her.
“Good. I am Madame Lessard.”
The stone-faced woman looked Giselle up and down and then sighed.
“Follow me,” she said, taking her by the arm while gesturing for her parents to stay where they stood. “The lords are almost ready to receive you.”
Giselle shuffled alongside the woman, casting timid glances in every direction. She had never before set foot in the chateau, and its stone and glass grandeur stunned her. She was so amazed that she almost bumped right into her guide’s back when she stopped abruptly.
“Wait here, girl,” Madame Lessard told her curtly as she disappeared into the dining hall.
Giselle could hear the sounds of raucous laughter echoing off the stone walls, and her heart began to race in anticipation. Soon, she would come face-to-face with the man who would take pleasure in her body, a man who held absolute sway over the course of her life.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, Madame Lessard returned, her face a blank mask.
“Come,” she instructed firmly.
Giselle followed her obediently into the dining hall, instantly aware of the hush that fell over the diners. Her face grew hot as she felt their curious stares alight on her slight form, and she struggled to concentrate on putting one foot ahead of the other. She stopped when Madame Lessard stopped, her eyes glued to the stone floor.
“ Mes seigneurs ,” Madame Lessard intoned. “This is the girl requested by Seigneur Eustache.”
Giselle felt herself freeze as silence reigned for a long moment of scrutiny.
“So this is the peasant you demanded to have in your bed, Eustache,” an authoritative voice boomed.
“Yes, father,” Eustache answered in a low, deep voice that rumbled in his chest.
“And why is this commoner worth such pains?”
Giselle heard