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[Genevieve d'Anjou]

If she hadn’t felt so very angry and offended at the mirth in the man’s eyes, Genevieve might have felt that the small gesture with the chair showed the potential for change or improvement, however small. However, the feeling of being mocked was simply too strong and could not be outweighed by any small change or even the flattery that was having her idea recognised and appreciated. Instead Genni’s pride was so wounded that she merely felt the barbs more that she could have otherwise, felt annoyed at herself and Guy for feeling them at all, and insulted that he felt the need to give her idea approval – it should have been accepted as truth and genius the moment it was spoken, not weighed for his judgement. Her pride was not usually so strong, and even she could taste the arrogance in her thoughts, but she had been given close to an hour to stew – it was unsurprising that her thoughts were bitter.

Still, the promise of warm food was enough to keep her in the bare room. True, her skinny figure was one she worked for with bird-like portions and a healthy amount of vigorous activity – riding, berating idiotic men, striding about imperiously – but the past week had left her feeling more than usually starved. The food was not of the right quality and when it arrived it was cold, and while Genni could have dealt, with some grumbling, with one of these two problems, both made it unacceptable. The thought of warmth in the cold, bare, damp castle was rather like that of the Holy Grail, and had Genni not been the religious pious girl she was she might have said so, even to the empty room, just to make the point.

Left alone with little to do, Genni decided to learn more about the man who had threatened her and then led her to dinner. It had taken little persuading to get the closest guard inside the room, though it had been some time before the man had dared say a word, and most of that had been useless. Genevieve wanted leverage, but a man who seemed unembarrassed by his lack of standing and had no understanding of the truth of nobility would probably not bat an eyelid if she enquired about Locksley (though if that was a place or person she did not know – the guard spoke with a local tongue that confused the young French woman) or where Gisbourne was – or worse, he would have one of his unpredictable turns. In five minutes talking to him Gennie had learnt not to trust any of her instinct in relation to Guy. There was, however, one thing the guard mumbled as she rushed him ut, hearing footsteps that would turn out to be the food, about a woman, a noblewoman, named Marian. She would have to learn more of this, but what Guy had said as he led her here rang in her mind, “heart set on another...” It had promise, these words of Lady Marian.

By the time Guy arrived, Genni had a goblet of wine in hand and was simply ravenous. She had refrained from touching the food though until her host arrived, as she had been taught, and her irritation with the black eyed man had grown with every passing second. All thoughts of food however, left her mind when Genni saw the young girl. There was a lot of the maternal in Genevieve, it was part of the reason she so desperately wanted to be married, but also a great deal of natural sympathy for the woman before her as a fellow in gender. She stood immediately and rushed to the girl, lifting her out of the curtsey without much thought for proper decorum. “My dear Renna, you should be abed. My sisters all began their laying-ins far before this point! You shall join my service immediately – it is insufferable that any woman should work in this state. You put yourself and the child at risk.” The girl was pretty, Genni could see that, and she hoped it would work in the girl’s favour. Good looks could often bend circumstances, though whether it would hide a child out of wedlock she did not know.

(((I know the feeling... I’m writing out a new one myself... Annie, from season one? Thought it might be a fun twist, but the profile is killing me!)))

[Guy of Gisbourne]

The difference between Guy and this new girl was immediately plain; upon seeing the situation resolved with some satisfaction Gisbourne moved directly to the table and plopped himself down in a chair, ignoring the hesitant and rather surprised look Renna gave him from behind his shoulder. Vaisey's wolf immediately dug into the meal, paying no further mind to Lady or miss --just as well, really, for it was equally plain that Renna was frightened of him.

The girl in question looked up at Genni blinking in quiet unbelief, then swiftly ducked her head down in shame before the beauty of nobility. Renna found it hard to believe that this girl (just around her age, it seemed) could look so different! Lady d'Anjou was graceful and beautiful and proud, with an elegance of manner only an angel would own and the smoothest and whitest hands the weaver had ever seen. She felt coarse standing here, a sow next to a mare; and the rounded belly, well...

Well, that made everything worse, didn't it?

She shook her head and stepped shyly back, staring down at her toes only to be interrupted by a very visible reminder of her pregnancy. Renna winced at the sight and squeezed her eyes closed. "...Just as well, milady, begging your pardon; we twain have got to be fed and the only way to do that is work, but I'm sure I don't know what I'll do once it's born anyway." The pale girl had her back to the wall now, a weary fear making her voice ragged. "You're most kind to me, Lady, but my service will not look good for you; I--"

Guy cut in, voice a low, rumbling growl as he interrupted. "You'll do as the Lady asks you, Miss, and you'll do it well. It's why she wants you."

Renna jumped, terrified, then answered him in a whisper. "...Yes, Sir Gisbourne."

"Good girl." Gisbourne dug into his pocket, pulling out a small handful of coins and slapping them on the end of the table furthest away from him. "Now come, you and the Lady may take a seat and enjoy a meal with me. Those coins will be yours if you do it."

She eyed him with a rabbit's trepidation, then looked helplessly to Genni and inched forward. This was Sir Guy, there was no refusing. The moment Renna saw how much money was sitting there, however, she had to gasp and stare in wonder at the Lieutenant. "....Surely, sir, you did not mean to give me this much; um, this is a year's worth of taxes!"

Guy did not look up. "I meant to give you exactly that much. Now stop blathering and eat; talk to your mistress about your duties. I'm not interested in talking to you."

There was a silence, green eyes fixed on Gisbourne, and then a softly whispered "...Why?"

"Because you don't complain. Instead of informing me that you can't afford to pay tax; that you have no husband or father or brother to support you and a baby on the way, you work. And I don't believe you've ever been late--have you?"

Renna shook her head, earnestly, and Guy sensing this continued. "Mm. I thought not. Consider yourself rewarded for good behavior. Now shut up and let me eat. Oh, and don't spread this around either, because I can tell you right now there's no one else here who deserves that reprieve."

She flinched at his order, but lowered herself slowly into her seat, gaze flicking nervously back and forth between the beautiful Lady and the dark and frightening man. After a moment's pause, however, she ventured a timid comment. "Um....is it not custom for nobility to eat first? .__. And to say...grace..."

Guy's head was up now, the black stare pinning poor Renna in her seat as he glared. The Lieutenant jabbed his fork at her, punctuating the air. "Keep to your customs when you and the Lady are alone, understand? No sense in letting food get stone cold--and it will only turn my stomach to see you giving thanks to a God who has only given the both of us misery. Eat."

The weaver gave Anjou a miserable glance, obediently breaking off a piece of bread and putting it in her mouth with a keen discomfort. This was all wrong.

[Genevieve d'Anjou]

The fear in the young girl’s eyes was evident, and had the rounded belly not interfered with the image, she would have looked like a frightened foal shying away from a wolf, expecting to be devoured at any moment. There was, Genni had to admit, something threatening about Guy, even to her where his status was practically no issue, something that emanated from his unpredictability and the sheer violence of his look – even sitting down and eating, he looked like he might stand and kill someone at any moment. Genevieve could only imagine how frightening he must be for a woman who had to bear his status in mind and who had been hurt so badly by men in the past. Her heart ached a little for the girl as she saw her skitter away from the harsh voice that addressed her, and as much as she approved of Guy’s actions in brining the girl to her, Genevieve could not help sending a glare in his direction, hoping to id him into silence, though she knew it was unlikely. For a man who claimed to care about such a pitiful and beautiful creature, Guy seemed to have no sense of how damaging his words were, or if he did he didn’t care at all, and the ignorance raised Genevieve’s ire as she added her own words to try to lift Renna’s face again. “My dear child, it is my custom to enjoy the best work, and I have no doubt you will provide it when you are better able. And believe me, my reputation is beyond remark, especially from mere provincial Lords who consider themselves above their true station, as I believe many around this city are who do not hold position with the Sheriff.” The last part of the sentence was forced unwillingly off her tongue, and her nose wrinkled in distaste at the idea, but Genevieve knew better than to insult her host when he had put dinner on the table and given her a charge and project to occupy her heart and mind, and thus it was better to make it explicit that she did not intend to do so.

The coins hit the table loudly, and Genevieve flinched, the insult rankling with her. It was her duty to take care of those in her service, however recently acquired, and Guy’s gesture, however grudgingly well-intentioned, felt like a slight on her own capabilities as a mistress. Swallowing her pride, Genevieve moved past Renna and sat in her seat as before. Still, she could not help thinking that such an amount of coins should not have been the taxes for a mere year, and wondered if the tales of extortion that dogged Nottingham’s Sherriff were true, biting her lip to keep cautionary words leaping from it. Years spent with her father inspecting the lands of Anjou and learning the role of the noble and noble’s wife in every aspect of village and town life had taught her when taxes should be taken and when it was best to leave off and wait. Even she could tell that the money Renna was treasuring was far too much to demand from someone like her for even four years.

Beneath the table Genevieve took Renna’s hand, squeezing it gently and hoping to inspire within her the courage that the noblewoman had no need for, confident in her own actions whatever Guy of Gisbourne did. Leaning across, she muttered the words of the grace in the girl’s ear, pleased that someone at least in the castle showed the proper respect to God and religion – after the affair in the chapel, Genni had started to fear she had entered a modern Nineveh. The Latin words of the grace rolled off her tongue easily, being a custom she had followed since she could speak. “Benedic, Domine, dona tua quae de largitate sumus sumpturi.” Satisfied that at least the women’s souls were saved from all damnation, Genevive began to help herself to small portions of what was before her. Halfway through serving herself a slice of the already carved meat, she remembered to turn and give the girl an encouraging smile – from the look of her she had not been eating enough, though the rounded belly might deceive one into thinking otherwise. “We must talk of your duties, Renna. I understand you are a weaver of the highest quality, but tell me, are you as skilled in embroidery or other clothwork?” Genevieve studiously ignored Gisbourne as he had asked, and tried to encourage Renna to do the same by twisting in her chair to face away from him and towards the girl face on.

[Guy of Gisbourne]

Renna bit her lip at Genni's condescending kindness, slowly lowering herself into her chair and trying hard not to wince at it. "...Milady?"

It was rude, very rude and she knew it, but the girl couldn't just let this slide. It rankled too much. "Beg your pardon, but I'm not a child and I shall never be again. Please don't call me by that title again; it only reminds me of what I've lost."

Even Guy had to pause at that one, hastily turning his head away and going back to his food a moment later. Renna was right; the world was harsh and it was very likely that this peasant maid was more a woman than the high-born lady taking her under her wing. It almost made him angry at d'Anjou; what right had she to be calling this tormented woman a child and speaking in the same encouraging tone she might use on a dog. But he said nothing. Recognizing that the weaver was so frightened of him made him unwilling to speak a word. Gisbourne knew that he would only growl or bark and then send the innocent thing into a terrified fit, and that was really the last thing he wanted to deal with right now. Sir Guy wasn't good with hysterical women and probably would never be. The best he could do, really, was to take care that he didn't make them hysterical.

The weaver maid picked at her food, then, shoveling in a few timid bites with eyes fixed firmly on her plate. At Genevieve's next question, however, she nodded. "Yes, Lady. I do all manner of sewing--dressmaking and embroidery and weaving itself; it involves cloth and needle I can do it. And well. Thank you."

[Genevieve d'Anjou]

Genevieve had to blink in shock at the young girl’s forwardness. It smacked of ingratitude, as if to offer a heavily pregnant unmarried young girl a place in her household was nothing, was an insult even to Renna. She had only meant the phrase affectionately, and it had been proper for a girl both younger and lesser than her – to have it thrown back in her face so harshly made her lip curl and her eyes narrow. Clearly respect was not what it had been in Nottingham, if girls could not even endure a name they disliked in the presence of their benefactors and betters. Had Renna not been in her present situation, and in Genni’s service slightly longer, the noblewoman would not have thought twice about punishing her, possibly even striking her. The large belly stayed her mouth and hand, but she still felt distinctly ruffled, and she could see that once again Guy was being equally objectionable by not speaking a word in her defence. Somehow she felt this man would bring down the entire nobility if he could, whatever his role in it was.

“Very well then, Renna, you shall be called what you will.” Her tone was bitter – Genni was not the type to hide her displeasure, even when she pitied the girl before her. In her eyes, Renna had rejected that compassion and all it entailed, and Genni would have been justified in spurning her, even now, since she had money in her pocket and a clear supporter in Guy of Gisbourne. However, even her ire could not stretch that far, and she had no wish to prove Gisbourne right in whatever low expectations he had of her. “It is just as well you are so talented. I require the best of all under my care.” If the last three words were emphasised, it was as close t unintentional as was possible, emanating from somewhere in the girl’s offended subconscious.

Rising to her feet, Genevieve moved away for the table, her lips still pursed disagreeably. “I shall retire now, Renna, but you are welcome to stay here and eat well. I find I am no longer as hungry as I once was. I shall not require you before tomorrow, so you may spend this afternoon and the evening making what arrangements you wish for moving to your new residence – you will of course now be living within my apartments, on the upper floors. We shall talk later of your precise duties.” If Genni had guessed that leaving the girl with Guy would be cruel punishment enough, she did not show it in her face, appearing utterly artless and not devious as she swept towards the door. “Sir Guy, I must thank you for your kindness and hospitality,” she added with a degree of irony, turning to curtsey slightly.