Despite the late night, Lisette woke as the first trace of dawn tinted the sky. She glanced over at Alyce. Still sleeping, poor lamb. Lisette smiled down at the girl’s drawn face fondly. Feeling guilty for the healthy vigor that made her want to leap up and embrace the new day, Lisette eased out of the bed taking care not to disturb her sister. Her feet bare on the chilly stone, she crossed the tiny chamber to the open window.

Already the day bustled with activity. The cows were milked and being switched out to their pasture by the barefoot cowherd. The milkmaid lugged a pail of the warm, fresh milk toward the kitchen, unmindful that she slopped it liberally onto her coarse spun skirt. A hound followed along, his head in the pail lapping at the milk. At the kitchen door, a sloped-roof addition off the north side of the manor, the cook kicked the dog away. Naked save for the stained leather apron he wore, the cook shouted angrily at the milkmaid as he did every morning. Lisette grinned as she listened to the familiar tirade. The milkmaid, as always, merely shrugged and stared at her dirty toes. Finally the cook’s tirade wore down and he ducked back into the hot kitchen, returning a moment later to hand the girl a thick slab of cheese and another of coarse, black bread. The girl grinned toothlessly at the scowling, unshaven face and dashed off.

The cook scratched his bare belly beneath his apron, staring after the girl, before disappearing back into the dark kitchen. Lisette shook her head. Her father would be angry with the cook over his lack of clothing. Since hearing that King Henry now required his kitchen staff to be clothed for health reasons, Sir Thomas had followed suit. Always quick to adopt the latest ideas of the new learnings and sciences, Lisette’s father found a formidable battle to entreat the ignorant peasants to change their long-held ways.

Beyond the courtyard, over the outer wall, Lisette could see westward. The village lay out of sight to the south so within Lisette’s vision was only the rolling checkerboard of irregularly shaped fields and pastures. The round shapes of sheep grazing were scattered across the vivid green. The bleating of the new lambs reached her ears mixed with the low moos of the cattle.

It was a grand morn and a splendid world. She was blessed to have the part she did in it. The vain and selfish wish she cast upon that star was a thing of which she ought to feel shamed to recall… yet she didn’t.

At the edge of the pastures the forest began. Even as she gazed idly at it, Lisette saw a young couple emerge from the trees and separate. Their hands held a lingering touch for every possible moment before they parted. The woman kissed her hand and waved to the man. From her vantage Lisette couldn’t tell who they were, but from the cut of the man’s clothes it seemed likely that particular village maid had enjoyed the pleasures of a man of high birth last night.

Lisette sighed enviously. Perching on the window ledge, she drew her knees up, hugging them with her arms, resting her chin upon them. It was a fine morning, the dew already giving way to the sun’s warmth. The ruby ring, heavy on her finger, gave her an unanticipated feeling of security, as if reassuring her that her future was set. Already her twentieth birthday had passed. It was time for her to be wed and settled down. It was true, she thought judiciously, that Geraint was not the most exciting or adventuresome of men, but those were not the traits that made for a good husband. He would be faithful to her, a pillar of strength in this uncertain world. The thought steadied her and caused a light smile to trace her lips.

The smile melted as memory of the night’s dreams tickled at her conscious. Try though she may to grasp them and remember the whole, the dreams eluded her. Lisette glanced at the sky. The star that fell to earth had blazed through her dreams, she remembered. A man had stepped from its brightness, his face and form were shadow, lost in the radiance. Glimpses of brilliant green leaves touched with gold toyed at the verge of her memory, with a flash of a dancing white form. Then she saw him, saw eyes that burned into her soul. Lisette knew she’d seen his face, but could no longer summon the image. Further memory of the dreams was lost in the eclipsing power of waking save for vague fragments, a heat burning through her body at a touch, a lover’s lips on hers. A pink flush tinted her cheeks as the ethereal images flitted through her mind. Of only one thing she was certain; the dream lover had not been her Geraint.

A quiet rap on the heavy oak door shattered her reverie. The door eased open and Lady Weston leaned in.

“What? Not dressed yet?” she whispered with mock anger. Her gentle smile tempered her words. She too took care not to wake the still-sleeping Alyce. She rested her hand lightly on her younger daughter’s forehead for a moment before turning to Lisette.

Lisette twisted the gold ring round and round. “Did you love Father when you married him?” she asked impulsively, immediately regretting the hasty words.

Her mother looked tenderly at her, moving to stroke her hair. Her melodious voice low, she said, “Love will come, my dear. And if it doesn’t, you must remember that a good marriage does not rest on flighty impulses or emotions. Be constant in your duties to your husband. Give all love and devotion to God and the King and all will be well with you.”

Lisette leaned against her mother’s shoulder as she used to when she was a child. “Thank you, Mother. I shall remember your words.”

“You’ll be all right, daughter,” Lady Weston answered, kissing Lisette’s cheek. “Now, come. Dress in haste. Breakfast will soon be served.”

After Lady Weston left, Lisette splashed water hastily on her face, rubbing a bit of creamy, rose-scented soap from France on her cheeks. She dried her face on the hem of her nightgown before dropping it onto the floor. With a cloth of soft linen she washed herself all over with the scented soap and clean water. Her sister Mary had often teased her for this ritual of washing, but Lisette preferred to greet each day scrubbed clean and fresh.

Invigorated, she combed out her long hair, dipping the comb in a mixture of rose oil and water. When her hair shone Lisette started to pull it back to braid and coil it but she stopped. No, she’d let her hair flow loose today. She was still an unmarried maid, after all, entitled to wear her hair free. Instead she chose a ribbon of fine, green silk and tied it around her head.

From a polished wood chest she chose a chemise of white silk embroidered at the neck and arms with threads of rich gold and green. Against her bare skin it slid on smooth and cool. Her finest shift, she chose it this morning for a particular reason.

Her gown she picked in matching colors, the underskirt a light brocade of green, gold and white. Only a bit of the underskirt showed in the front beneath the overskirt of pure forest green. The bodice fit snugly, tight over her waist and breasts, pressing them upward at the low square neckline that was edged with gold braid. The white silk of the chemise puffed up delicately to her throat. Her gown’s tight sleeves were fashionably slit to allow more of the shift to show through.

Around her waist she fastened a thick chain upon which hung a pomander filled with rose petals. Around her neck she put her small cross with its emerald and four pearls on the gold chain.

Once dressed, she turned back and forth, trying to see herself in the small mirror. She needn’t pinch her cheeks to give them color, her ready blush pinkened them often enough.

“You look wonderful,” a thin voice behind her said, followed by a raspy cough.

Lisette spun around to see Alyce watching her from the bed. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said, smiling at her sister. “How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Alyce yawned, struggling up out of the deep down mattress. She reached for a simple white linen shift, then paused. “Or ought I dress up too?” She asked Lisette.

Lisette laughed. “I was feeling fine and special this morning, that’s all. Dress as you wish. But hurry. I suspect we’re already late for breakfast. Come, I’ll help you lace your dress” Lisette turned away from Alyce’s questioning eyes again, afraid that she wasn’t hiding her thoughts well enough. It was a foolish notion she had in mind… a foolish plan to indulge a foolish fancy. Still if wishes were real, perhaps they needed a bit of help to come true.

Lisette and Alyce entered the Great Hall only minutes after the platters and mugs were served at the long tables. Geraint’s father cast a clearly appreciative glance as he took in her form and dress. Geraint’s own expression was more intractable. She couldn’t tell if he was pleased by her appearance or disinterested.

So distracted was she by the poorly contrived scheme she had formed that Lisette took no part in the conversation and could scarcely eat. She barely managed half a pound of bacon and a few pints of the good, strong ale. Her father, ever keen, noticed and beckoned to her with a discrete crook of his finger.

Stepping into the bright sunshine of the courtyard, Lord Weston went through the complex ritual of lighting his pipe. Like so many things, Thomas Weston’s pipe was a proclamation of his success. Smoking tobacco from the New World was a very new thing, only the most fashionable and wealthy were likely to do so. Lisette sidestepped the plume of smoke, hoping this new fashion would die out quickly. Patiently she waited until he was ready to speak.

“You look quite fetching today, daughter,” he began.

She murmured her thanks while she inwardly fretted, wondering how she should broach the subject of her plan.

“Quite fetching, indeed,” her father continued. “Dressed up so fine as this must be for a very special reason, yet I see none.” He grinned at her. “Save that your betrothed is leaving this morning.” He lowered his voice and studied her more solemnly. “Tell me truly daughter, are you aggrieved that your Geraint is leaving? You may speak plainly, I know you’ve had far too little time together and when next you meet it will be as man and wife. Shall I ask his father to permit him to stay here a while longer?”

Lisette bit her tongue not to blurt out that that wasn’t at all what she wanted. Instead she blushed and studied the ground.

Sir Thomas put his hand on Lisette’s arm in a protective gesture. “You’re a woman grown, now. Speak plainly, girl.”

“I was hoping to go with them,” she said abruptly.

Her father frowned. “I could not impose on them for your board before you are wed, nor to chaperone a young couple while they prepare for the wedding and make ready your home.”

“I was… uh,” she stuttered, “hoping, rather, that they could take me to Allyngton Manor. It’s not far out of their way. I would like to stay with your sister, my Aunt Agnes, for a week or so. She said once that she’d make over a gown of hers for my wedding dress. And… and… oh, Father, I’m embarrassed to say, but it’s just, well, there are things I can speak of with Aunt Agnes that I just can’t with anyone else, things a married woman should know.” That was not truly a lie. Thomas Weston’s elder sister Agnes was the grand dame of the family. A flamboyant, outspoken, independent woman, Agnes had married four times to wealthy widowers much older than she. She’d accumulated their lands, money and titles. Now the grown children of her husbands waited, poised like carrion, for Agnes to die so they could devour the properties. Lisette had always been a favorite of Agnes, and Agnes of Lisette. They’d spent many a happy hour together discussing subjects far beyond the ken of most women. Unlike most women, Aunt Agnes refused to let her world be bounded by husband, children, needlework and the Church. Shrewd in matters of business and managing her household, even men ofttimes sought her advice.

“Things you’d not be comfortable discussing with your own mother?” Lisette’s father asked. Blushing, Lisette shook her head adamantly. Thomas chuckled. “I’m not so sure my sister is the best choice to instruct an innocent maid in wifely matters, but I do see your point, my dear child.” He thoughtfully stroked his chin. “Very well, I shall impose on Lord Stafford to escort you safely there.”

“Thank you, Father,” Lisette said, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

Sir Weston smiled at her fondly. “You’ve been a good, obedient daughter. I know you’ll continue to do your duty and bring honor to our family.”

“I hope so, Father.”

With her quickly packed trunks tied down, Lisette and Lady Stafford were handed into the carriage. Geraint, at his father’s firmly whispered insistence, tied his horse behind the carriage and joined the ladies inside. The company started out from Weston Manor with faretheewells and God speeds ringing after them.

A second, open coach carried Lady Stafford’s maids and servants. Mounted on horses rode half a dozen gentlemen, a few of them Cicely’s grown sons, the rest sons of other noble families for whom Lord Stafford was acting as patron. All were well armed for the roads were dangerous with vagabonds and thieves about. Their squires and servants ranged around the coaches on foot. Before the road turned west, through the Buckholt Forest toward the Salisbury Plain, it wound through the village. The procession caused all activity in village of Houghton to come to a halt as everyone came out to stare. Dogs and small boys risked a kick from a polished boot to dash out amongst the passing horses.

The fine new houses of the merchants and tradesmen gave way to the dilapidated shacks of the peasants. Lisette kept her scented pomander firmly against her nose until they passed the last dung heap and cess pit of those. Lady Cicely did the same using an orange spiked with cloves. Geraint, Lisette noticed, seemed oblivious to the noxious odors, staring intently out of the carriage at each peasant’s dirty face.

Her attention sharpened when she saw his eyes widen slightly and his lips part. Turning to look at what drew his interest, Lisette only saw a gaggle of villagers staring at the coach. A glitter of a small jewel on the finger of one woman caught Lisette’s eye, but they passed before she could see clearly.