Nicholaa's behavior underwent a radical change. It all started the morning after she promised to become the kind of wife Royce wanted.
She rose at the crack of dawn, dressed quietly, and went down to the great hall. She was giving directions to the servants for the day's activities before her husband had even opened his eyes.
Nicholaa missed Ulric so much she was aching inside. She was determined to keep busy so she wouldn't have time for self-pity. She was going to work until she dropped from exhaustion.
She was going to give her husband peace, too. The problem, of course, was figuring out how to accomplish that goal. She'd have to control her temper, keep her opinions to herself, and agree with her husband at all times.
She might as well be dead, she thought to herself. The changes would probably kill her. Still, she'd given her word to Royce, and she was going to keep it. She owed him her gratitude for everything he'd done for her family, too. Granted, she'd forced him to take on those responsibilities, and she'd ruined his life in the process. The very least she could do to make up for that was to give the man what he wanted.
In the back of her mind lurked the tiny hope that, once she'd made all these changes, Royce might start to love her. She didn't just want a place in his life. She wanted his heart, too.
Nicholaa was arranging flowers in the brown clay bowl on the table when Clarise and Alice hurried into the hall.
The two women took turns offering comfort to each other over the loss of their "precious little baggage," the affectionate term they'd given to Ulric.
The more they talked about the baby the more upset Nicholaa became. She shook her head and announced Ulric would be well loved.
"I've a list of chores to give you today," she said then. "Every morning I'll divide our duties and we'll get them done before nightfall. We're going to get organized, ladies."
"Why?" Clarise asked. "We've gotten everything done in the past without being organized."
"My husband doesn't like disorder," Nicholaa explained. "And I've given him my word I will become the kind of wife he wants. Therefore-"
Alice interrupted her. "But he likes you fine the way you are."
Clarise agreed. "You can't believe otherwise, mistress. Why, the baron's so kind and patient-"
"He's kind and patient with everyone," Nicholaa interjected.
"Well, then," Clarise asked, "why this need to change?"
"I'm after more," Nicholaa confessed in a whisper. "I would like Royce to…" She couldn't get the words out.
Clarise took sympathy on her. "You would like the baron to feel about you the same way your father felt about your mother? Is that what you're meaning to say?"
Nicholaa nodded.
Clarise snorted, then turned to Alice. "She thinks the baron doesn't love her."
"Oh, he must love her," Alice replied. "Of course he does."
Nicholaa let out a sigh. "You both love me," she announced, "just as I love you, and for that reason you can't imagine that someone else wouldn't."
Clarise scowled. Nicholaa held up her hand so neither servant would interrupt, then calmly outlined the changes she planned to make. The two women looked at her incredulously.
"You're never going to raise your voice?" Alice asked, latching on to the last change Nicholaa had explained.
Clarise shook her head. "You can't be serious," she said. "If the man can't love you for what you are-"
"I'm saying he does love her," Alice muttered. "Milady, you need only put the question to him."
Nicholaa's shoulders drooped. She didn't like admitting that she was afraid to ask. If he told her no, what would she do? "It doesn't matter if he loves me or not," she said. "I owe him my gratitude. I'm going to give him the happiness and peace he deserves. It's the least I can do."
"I've never seen you so unsure of yourself," Clarise muttered. "I'm not liking it, either. I liked you better when you would take the dog by his tail and give him what for. Aye, you always had yourself a plan in the past when you wanted to get something."
Nicholaa smiled. "I have a plan now," she argued. "I'll give Royce exactly what he wants, and then he'll realize he loves me. See how simple it is?"
Royce walked into the hall, interrupting the discussion. Nicholaa hurried over to meet him at the entrance and gave him a proper greeting. She kissed him, too.
Clarise and Alice hurried to the buttery to see about the morning meal. Nicholaa walked with Royce to the table.
She was smiling. Royce was pleased by that. Since his wife was in a pleasant frame of mind, he decided to wait before sitting down to discuss her worries with her.
Perhaps he'd been too concerned last night. Nicholaa was probably just overwrought because Ulric had left. He knew she was going to miss the baby, and her mood last night was probably just a reflection of the emptiness she was feeling inside.
Thomas and Lawrence strolled into the hall and took their positions at the table.
As soon as Royce sat down, Nicholaa clasped her hands behind her back and recited the duties she planned to undertake for the day.
He couldn't have been more pleased with her. He was about to tell her so when Thomas interrupted.
"Have you had a chance to explain about the wood, Baron?"
Royce shook his head. He reached around behind Nicholaa and took one of her hands. Since she was in such a cheerful mood, now would be a good time to discuss her home.
"Nicholaa, you never asked me why I ordered this table moved to the center of the room," he began.
"It isn't my place to question your orders, husband," she answered, repeating his own dictate back to him.
He smiled.
She decided then he was happy because she remembered that lecture.
"I had the table moved because the floorboards under the spot where it used to stand have almost completely rotted through. By all rights, the table should have crashed through to the lower level long ago."
Nicholaa hadn't realized the floors were in such bad condition. She forced herself to keep smiling as she waited for Royce to continue.
"It's a miracle the entire floor hasn't collapsed," Thomas interjected.
Royce nodded. "The second floor is rotted as well. Thomas doesn't believe it can be reinforced."
Thomas volunteered additional information. Nicholaa noticed that Royce nudged the vassal first. "The entire structure should be torn down and a new one built," Thomas blurted out.
"The cost will be four times greater if the baron tries to save this one," Lawrence added.
Nicholaa didn't react to this news. She knew Royce was only telling her the truth. How often had her mother remarked that the keep was falling down around them? Nicholaa remembered the heated debates between her parents. Papa had wanted to leave things just the way they were. He hated change. Mother had been more practical. Nicholaa realized she took after her father; she also hated change. Then she noticed how concerned the three men looked as they stared at her. They were in league together, gently planting the seeds of her eventual acceptance.
Her husband obviously did care about her feelings after all. "I haven't made a final decision," Royce announced in a gruff, no-nonsense voice.
He wasn't telling her the truth. He'd made his decision, all right, but he wanted to give her time to get use to the idea first.
She smiled at her husband and went back to arranging the flowers. All three warriors continued to watch her. She caught Royce's shrug out of the corner of her eye. "I know how much this home means to you, wife. If possible, I'll-"
She finished his sentence for him. "Try to save the keep?"
He nodded. She shook her head. "You mustn't consider my feelings. This is your holding now, not mine. Do what you feel is best. Whatever you decide will be fine with me."
Thomas and Lawrence sighed. Royce frowned. His wife's easy acceptance bothered him.