by Trish Morey
Her legs trembled and she leaned into him, holding on until the warm weakness could pass. He held on to her, too, his forehead pressed to hers, and slowly they sank together to the floor.
They said nothing as they sat there amid the pool of her skirts, just holding on to each other as the night closed around them.
‘If this is madness,’ Rob said hoarsely, ‘then I should be carried off to an asylum at once.’
‘Oh, Robert,’ Anna whispered. ‘Are we not already there?’
Rob watched Anna as she slept, her face peaceful and pale in the moonlight as she drifted away in dreams. How beautiful she was. How impossible it was for him to resist her.
But he had to. He had his work to do. And when she discovered the full truth of what he was doing the desire in her eyes would die and there would be only revulsion.
Feeling hollow and cold inside, Rob drew the bedclothes around her bare shoulders. She sighed and snuggled deeper, and Rob lay down beside her again with his hands under his head to stare up sightlessly at the canopy. Aye, she would abhor him, then forget him, but he was beginning to fear he would never forget her. She would always haunt him. The one good, fine thing that had ever been his, even if it was only for one moment.
He had to be honest with her now—as honest as he could be without revealing himself too far. He owed her that much. Then perhaps one day she would look back and understand.
He would take her to meet his sister.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE early morning breeze was cool and crisp as Anna walked along the banks of the river, her hand in Rob’s. It smelled fresh, of clean water and green growing things, the loamy sweetness of earth. Birds chattered in the treetops, and she could hear the music of the wind rustling through the leaves. She had never felt farther from London or from her real life, her everyday self.
It struck her that this was her vision come true—the image she’d had as they’d driven to Hart Castle, of herself and Rob walking by a country stream. A sylvan dream that could not last.
‘Where are we going, then?’ she asked, laughing.
Rob smiled back at her over his shoulder. But even though he smiled she could sense he was in a strange, distant mood. ‘You asked me that before.’
‘And you did not answer. I’ll just keep asking until you do.’
‘You’ll see when we get there. ‘Tis a surprise.’
‘A pleasant one, I hope,’ she said. ‘After Thomas Sheldon’s appearance last night I could do without strange surprises.’
‘Ah, now, what’s a day without a strange surprise?’ Rob let go of her hand and looped his arm around her waist, holding her close as they walked along. ‘Are you enjoying yourself here at Hart Castle? Despite Sheldon playing the dark witch at our fairy ball?’
Anna thought about his question, and all that had happened in the short time since they’d arrived at Hart Castle. It seemed as if months and not mere days had passed. So much had shifted inside her since they’d come here. She saw some things more clearly—and other things not at all.
‘I have enjoyed being here very much,’ she said truthfully. ‘Hart Castle is beautiful, and Edward and Elizabeth have been so kind and welcoming. It’s a fine life here, despite such shadows as Sheldon. I have a feeling he is not a permanent annoyance, though.’
‘I have a feeling you are right about that,’ Rob muttered under his breath. ‘I am glad you like it here. It’s been a haven of sorts to me.’ There was a strange distance in his voice, a faraway look in his eye. He hadn’t left behind that strange mood he had been in ever since they’d woken up.
‘We should all be so lucky to have such a haven,’ Anna answered. Sometimes she felt as if there was no place to hide at all. At some moments she did feel safe with Robert, safe held in his arms where nothing else could touch her.
She knew it was naught but an illusion. But she treasured it nonetheless.
They turned a bend in the footpath, and the river wound away gently down to a valley. Rob led her up the slope of a hill, away from its banks. At its crest she could see the splendid view spread before her—rolling fields, the dark mystery of the woods in the distance and a village that looked like a doll’s toy of streets and houses. The pale, watery blue sky, dotted with fluffy puffs of low-hanging clouds spreading fleeting shadows on the ground below, spread over all.
‘It’s a beautiful prospect,’ she said. ‘Is this the surprise?’
Rob shook his head. ‘We have a farther walk, I’m afraid. Are you up to the exercise?’
Anna laughed. ‘I feel I could walk a hundred miles today! I feel so—new. It must be the fresh air.’
‘Fresh air is one thing that is most plentiful here in the country,’ he said as they made their way down the hill.
Even though he held on to her he didn’t seem to be really with her. Was he worried about something?
The tall grass caught at Anna’s hem, and she lifted her skirts up out of the way. She tried to ignore his distance and just enjoy the day, but she couldn’t quite forget or cease to worry.
‘Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a cottage here by this very hill?’ she said, determined to be cheerful. ‘To wake every day to such a prospect, and to the sounds of birds singing?’
‘You wouldn’t miss being woken by shouts and slop buckets tossed out of windows?’
Anna wrinkled her nose. ‘Who would miss that?’
‘The country has its faults, as well,’ Rob said. ‘Perishing cold in the winter, no theatres or booksellers nearby.’
‘No heads on pikes, either,’ Anna said with a shiver, thinking of the boiled eyeless heads that stared down from atop London Bridge every time she walked past.
‘Reminding us of the fate that awaits he who takes a misstep?’ Rob lifted her over a muddy puddle and led her across a small bridge into the village. Even as they walked so close he did not seem to be entirely with her.
Unlike most rural lanes, the main street was cobbled and wide, lined with half-timbered buildings of shops and dwellings. Thatched roofs alternated with slate tiles, and at the end of the lane was a solid, square old church of faded brown stone, its churchyard of leaning grave markers enclosed in a newer-looking stone wall.
Merchants were opening up for the morning, laying out their counters spread with wares. Silvery smoke curled out of chimneys, its sweet smell blending with fresh bread from the bake shop. Women lined up with their buckets at the well, children clinging to their skirts or chasing each other about. Older boys were following a black-clad teacher into the schoolhouse.
Everyone turned to watch them as Anna and Rob walked by, a few people calling out greetings that Robert paused to answer.
‘This is the village where you grew up?’ she asked.
‘Aye, in rooms above my father’s shop just over yonder,’ he said, pointing to a structure down the next lane. ‘And I went to school there, as those unfortunate boys are now.’
‘Learning your Latin?’
Rob laughed. ‘Getting my palms whipped for being un-serious, usually. And over there, in our village guildhall, I saw my first play.’
Anna looked to where he pointed—a long, low building just beyond the church. ‘What was the play?’
‘An allegorical tale of fortune and misfortune, presented by a ragged band of travelling players. I was five, and the hall was so crowded there was no place to sit, so my father stood at the back and held me on his shoulders so I could see. I was entranced, despite the shabby costumes and clumsy line readings. I had never known that mere words could take a person out of the everyday world and into a place that was so—magical. That they could make a person think of things in a way they had never considered before.’
‘Aye,’ Anna whispered. That was how watching his plays made her feel—as if she was in a new world, with thoughts and desires she had never imagined before. His plays were a part of him. Did they reveal some of the secrets she longed to know?
‘From then on I wanted only to write, to
watch plays,’ he said. ‘My father wanted me to take over his business, as sons should do, but I was no good at leather-working. I wanted fine words and poetry. I wanted to move people and make them laugh. And I wanted adventure—to see the world away from this place.’
‘You could not be contained by the village any longer?’
‘Nay.’
Anna nodded. ‘I once thought the world I grew up in could not contain me, that I was for another sort of life far from Southwark. I used to dream and plan …’
Rob held on to her hand, surveying the streets where he had run as a child. It seemed he saw things there she could not even fathom. ‘But where we come from always draws us back.’
‘You left! You became what you wanted to be.’
‘Aye. When I was seventeen, Lord Henshaw’s Men came through here as they toured the countryside, and I persuaded them to let me leave with them as an apprentice despite my advanced age. My father was furious.’
‘Did you ever reconcile with him?’ Anna asked softly.
Rob didn’t answer. They had reached the outskirts of the village, and he pointed at a small cottage set back in a tidy little garden. His eyes were shadowed, secret. ‘This is our destination, Anna.’
‘What is it?’ she asked cautiously, examining the place. It looked like an ordinary cottage—painted shutters drawn back, smoke from the chimney, flowering vines curling over the doorway. But appearances, like the sweet words of a play, could deceive.
‘I want you to meet my family,’ he said. ‘What is left of it.’
‘Your family?’ Anna cried, stopping abruptly on the path.
He glanced back at her, a frown on his brow. ‘Is something amiss?’
‘I—am not prepared to meet anyone,’ she said. She smoothed her skirts and carefully touched her hair to be sure it was still tidy. ‘I should have worn something finer.’
‘Oh, Anna,’ he said, a strange, sad note in his tone. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, warm and tender through the leather of her glove. ‘It doesn’t matter in the least what you wear—not here. And you are always lovely anyway.’
‘And you are an unrepentant flatterer, even here,’ she answered. ‘Very well, then. Show me to your house.’
Rob looped her arm with his and pushed open the garden gate to lead her down the narrow front path. Though the space was small it was well kept, with neat beds lined with flat river stones and a vegetable patch around the side. It had an air of quiet, neat contentment.
Perhaps too quiet? Anna peered up at the gleaming windows but could detect no hint of life. No one peered down at them, awaiting their arrival.
Rob knocked at the door, and despite his words Anna felt herself growing nervous. She had no idea at all what to expect. And her trepidation grew as she glanced at Rob’s shadowed, closed face. He seemed so different here.
There was the sound of quick footsteps from within, and the click of a latch before the door swung open. Anna’s worries eased a bit as she saw the woman who greeted them—an older lady who was not in the least fearsome. She was as compact and tidy as the house itself, with a round, pink face under a white cap, and a dark blue dress covered with an apron. A smile spread across her lips as she saw them there.
‘Master Robert!’ she cried. ‘Here you are at last.’
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t visit until now, Nelly,’ Rob said. He stepped into the cool dimness of the small entrance hall, drawing Anna with him, and kissed Nelly on her plump cheek. ‘I’ve missed you very much.’
‘Ack, you have so much important work to do with Lord Edward you can’t miss us,’ Nelly said with a laugh. ‘And you’ve picked a fine day to visit.’
‘All is well, I trust?’ Rob said.
‘Very well. It’s been quiet since the last spell—and that was days ago, as you know. Things are very tranquil today.’ Nelly glanced curiously at Anna.
‘Nelly, this is Mistress Barrett, who has come with me from London,’ said Rob. ‘I wanted her to meet you, and to see the village where I grew up.’
Nelly curtsied to Anna as Anna smiled back at her. Nelly’s look was full of frank curiosity. ‘We’re very pleased to meet any friend of Master Alden’s, mistress.’
‘As am I, Mistress Nelly,’ Anna answered. Any glimpse behind Rob’s ever-changing masks was to be treasured. She studied the plain, scrubbed hall of the curious little house and listened for any sounds, but there was none to hear.
‘I’m just putting together a pie for dinner,’ Nelly said. ‘You can make your visit while I finish it up. I hope you’ll stay to eat with us? There’s plenty to go round.’
‘Of course, Nelly. I would never miss the chance to taste your pie again,’ Rob said.
He looked to the closed door at the end of the hall, and Anna glimpsed that dark shadow passing over his eyes. She tightened her hand on his arm, and he gave her a quick smile.
‘Is it possible for me to go in alone, Nelly? Is that wise after last time?’
‘All has been quiet of late,’ Nelly answered with a smile.
She led them to the end of the hall and threw open the door. Anna followed Rob inside to find a sunny little sitting room, the window open to let in the morning air. The space was whitewashed, and laid with a dark wood floor that gleamed with polish, scattered with footstools and cushioned chairs covered with bright embroidery.
A girl sat by the window, her head bent over a tambor frame as she worked. She wore a simple white gown covered with a loose pale blue surcoat, and her hair fell in long dark waves down her back.
She didn’t look up at their entrance, until Nelly clapped her hands and said, ‘Mistress Mary, your brother has come to visit you!’
The girl turned to them, and Anna almost gasped at the sight of her face. She looked like a female version of Robert, with his bright blue eyes and elegant cheekbones. Her jaw and mouth were softer, yet it was obvious they were siblings.
But the left side of her face bore a terrible scar—a faded slash across her cheek that ended at her chin and marred the peach perfection of her skin.
She gave a vague smile, as if she had no idea who it was that stood before her yet was trying to be polite.
‘‘Tis a fine day, is it not?’ she said.
‘I will leave you to your visit, then, while I see to my pie,’ said Nelly. She backed out of the room and closed the door softly behind her.
Mary went back to her sewing, humming a little tune under her breath.
Anna watched her in astonishment. ‘This is your sister?’ she whispered.
Rob gave a grim nod. ‘She never knows me, though. She remembers nothing at all most days—which is surely a blessing. Sometimes she is violently upset, sometimes quiet. We must hope today is a quiet one.’
Before Anna could ask him more, he moved very slowly and cautiously to stand by Mary’s chair. She merely kept sewing.
‘What do you work on today, Mary?’ he asked quietly. ‘It’s very fine.’
Mary didn’t answer, and Anna edged closer to examine the half-finished cloth. It was in the same style as the cushion covers—a bright scene of flowers and leaves. The open workbox on the table beside her was filled with skeins of silk threads in all colours, even twists of gilded gold and silver. An expensive collection, and one Rob no doubt provided, along with the cottage and the nurse.
All for a sister who didn’t know him.
Anna knelt down carefully next to Mary and said, ‘I believe Mistress Mary is using a French satin stitch—a most complicated technique, indeed.’
Mary gave her a smile. ‘Aye, it is complicated, but I have been practising it. I used a cross stitch for the border, see? And I will bead the edges when I’m done to make it shine.’
‘You are very talented at the work,’ Anna said. ‘I can do plain mending, but I make a terrible mess of such fine work.’
Mary giggled, and Rob sat down on a chair to watch her. For the next half-hour Anna chatted with Mary about embroidery, slowly drawing Rob into
the conversation. Mary seemed cautious of him, but all went well enough. She only looked truly fearful once, when a group of rowdy, loud boys dashed by outside the window, but Anna’s hand on her arm seemed to steady her.
When Nelly came to summon them to dine Mary went with her, happily chattering, and Anna followed slowly with Robert.
‘What is amiss here, Rob?’ she whispered. ‘Has she always been thus?’
He shook his head, watching his sister with hooded eyes as she fluttered down the corridor. ‘Nay, not always. Only the last few years. After something—happened.’
Anna swallowed hard in sudden cold trepidation. ‘Something?’
‘We must go to them now,’ he said. ‘I will tell you on our walk home, Anna, I promise. Though I fear it is not a pretty tale …’
Rob carefully studied Anna’s face as they walked along the river away from the village. She had been quiet ever since they’d left the cottage, her face calm and expressionless, as if she pondered mysterious things.
He hadn’t been sure he should take her to see Mary. Their time at Hart Castle had been precious to him—moments of passion and laughter in the midst of uncertainty and danger—and he didn’t want to mar the few moments they had left.
Yet he also wanted Anna to know him, the little he could reveal, and see what drove him to his actions. Perhaps then she would not hate him quite so much when the sword that hung over them came crashing down. She would see that he had gone into this to protect the scarred and the vulnerable, like Mary and Anna herself.
Or perhaps that was a vain hope. He knew Anna was fierce in protecting herself and those she cared about, especially her father. She had a core of steel. Yet she also had a tender heart she tried to hide away, a yearning for truth and understanding that matched his own.
He’d seen that tenderness clearly as she sat by Mary and talked to her so gently and patiently. She’d coaxed Mary to peek out of the shell that protected her from the world, and even made her smile.
Rob found that he craved that tenderness for himself—that he wanted the shelter Anna offered from the past and the terrible uncertainties of the present. Shelter from himself. He wanted her goodness, her honesty, her strength.