While Beauty Slept Read Online Free PDF Page B

each other for reassurance, as the man shut the doors behind him. I heard muffled sounds but could not make out the words. Was it possible my aunt would refuse to receive me? What would I do then? Sick with worry, I waited to discover my fate.
    The doors opened, and the man waved me inside. The kitchen I entered was unlike any I had ever seen. It extended the entire width of the house, a space that could easily have accommodated twice over the hovel where I had grown up. To my right was an enormous fireplace, big enough to house two massive kettles and a spit for meat. The walls were hung with a mouth-watering abundance of food: onions, baskets of carrots and leeks, bundles of dried herbs, slabs of cured meat. To my left, a girl stood at a basin, washing a stack of pans. I had never seen so many plates in one place; there were enough to set a meal for my whole village. Against the wall at my side were barrels filled with oats and flour, any one of which could have fed my family for months.
    The center of the room was dominated by a wide worktable. At one end a young woman was flattening out a pile of dough, twisting and turning her rolling pin with practiced ease. At the center stood two women, both looking directly at me. The first, dressed all in black except for a white apron and cap, was the widest person I had ever seen; her ample belly was proof that in this house no one went hungry. The other woman’s air of authority and elegant yellow dress signaled her as the mistress of the house. I was surprised to see she held a quill in her hand; I had never known a woman other than my mother who could write.
    “Aunt Agna?” I asked nervously.
    “Elise, is it?” She looked me over suspiciously. She had the sort of features referred to as handsome rather than beautiful, with a strong brow and a sharp chin. Her lips were drawn together in a tight, thin line. “What brings you here?”
    “My mother . . .” I began, then found myself without words.
    “How does she?”
    The despair that washed over my face conveyed the message I could not utter aloud, shaken as I was by silent sobs. Aunt Agna nodded slowly, her wary expression unchanged.
    “What happened?” she asked.
    I sniffled and got hold of myself. “The pox. It took four of my brothers as well.”
    She walked around the table and halfheartedly patted my shoulder. “Poor Mayren. She deserved a better fate.” She spoke briskly, without sentiment. Still keeping her thoughts in reserve, as if she had not yet made up her mind what to do with me.
    “I had hoped to find a place at the castle, as my mother once did,” I said nervously. “If I could impose upon your hospitality for this evening, perhaps tomorrow you could tell me the best way to proceed.”
    Agna shook her head quickly. “Nonsense. They’d never accept you, looking like that. Stay with us for a spell, and I’ll see you’re properly prepared.”
    “Thank you.” The relief was so intense that I came close to relapsing into tears.
    “Was it your mother’s wish that you seek me out?” Agna asked.
    “Your name was one of the last words she uttered,” I said. The revelation momentarily broke through Agna’s reserve, and she sighed deeply. In her eyes I saw the pain that comes from regrets that will never be lifted.
    “She said one other thing before she died,” I added. “Perhaps you might know what it means. A word that sounded like ‘pell,’ although that makes no sense—”
    “Pelleg,” Agna interrupted. “She was a friend of Mayren’s, at the castle, though she’s improved her lot since then. She’s known as Mrs. Tewkes now, the head housekeeper.”
    Now I understood why my mother had so labored to utter that one final word. With her dying breath, she had given me permission to go, directing me toward a person who could guide my way at court. A person who could protect me, after she was gone.
    Or so I thought. Now, with the wisdom of my years, I cannot help seeing my mother’s