THIRTY-FOUR
Bernard didn't know what to do. He'd come down to surprise her with a nice dinner, and thanks to Gosse, he'd lost her.
He could still make her dinner, he decided. After all, Ursula had precious little food upstairs, and she didn't know how to cook whatever she had. Perhaps that would soften her heart toward him, a little. Enough to let him apologise for not telling her who his father was. Maybe even enough so that she'd let him tell her the truth about Dulcinea, for not even the King himself knew the whole story.
He took hours putting together the best ingredients for a stew, letting it simmer until it tasted perfect. He carried the pot upstairs, then knocked on her door, over and over, but he got no answer.
Was she even inside? He tried the door, but it was still barred
