Today, June 3, is St. Clotilde’s Day, which Eleanor celebrates with joy, feeling sure that it was St. Clotilde, patron saint of women with ill-tempered husbands, who providentially had something to do with her ill-tempered husband Edgar becoming inebriated and falling off the ship on his way to the Crusades. Of course, Edgar being such a beast, it was entirely possible that someone gave him a small push overboard, he not being the most well-loved or well-respected lord in England. Eleanor snorts to herself and lights a candle for St. Clotilde in the castle chapel. Speaking of husbands, Eleanor has deep misgivings about the lecherous looks that her liege lord, William of Litchfield, keeps giving her, not to mention his thinly-veiled insinuations about wedding her as soon as his wife expires. A shudder of revulsion runs through her at the thought.
What she would really like is to have that arrogant, but oh-so-heart-stoppingly-handsome Lord Hugh as a husband, but, that would run counter to all the plots afoot regarding her and her poor sister’s marriages. Eleanor says a small prayer to St. Clotilde, hoping she will, once again, rescue her from an ill-tempered husband.