Brigid d’Vale had been in the employ of the Duke and Duchess Tassnehof for the better part of eight months, serving as a nurse for their daughter, Vara. The stocky woman never failed to seize an opportunity to indulge in the workings of the grapevine, often over-embellishing tales of the couple while providing intimate details of their personal lives to anyone who would show even the slightest sign of interest in what she had to say.
She felt it was her divine right—no, her duty, to keep inquiring minds abreast of the marital ups and downs of the noble pair. It was she who had set the whole of Myrken on its ear back in early January with the news of Lenore’s succumbing to the depths of post-partum depression. It was the nurse who had confronted Burel himself about her own suspicions of his wife’s capability as a mother, setting the stage for the rift that had grown between she and the mousy Duchess.
If not for the toddler’s growing affections for the older and fairly unattractive woman, and the nurse’s care in turn for little Vara, it was likely that her employment would have been terminated long ago. Brigid was quite candid with her words, more noticeably around Lenore who was given to bouts of timidity than to the Duke himself, with whom she had learned quickly the necessity for the application of tact. She had not thought twice about her comment for the Duchess regarding the necessary provision of a male heir to the Tassnehof line, baiting the younger woman with the fact that Burel like so many nobles, might seek to create a son in the arms of other women.
It was no wonder that she’d been so terribly excited that day in the inn, when accompanying mother and daughter in the commons, to bear witness to a ‘moment’ shared between the Duke and Aralina, then simply an unnamed seductive beauty. There was purpose in directing Lenore’s attentions toward them as well, and a smile when the younger woman had reacted to the sight by simply dropping her gaze far too abruptly. It must have seemed too good to be true upon hearing the self-same seductress’ ‘well-meaning’ confession moments later; words which had left the Duchess much paler by design, and obviously upset.
All of it was fuel for the fire that now set the grapevine ablaze.

