by June Francis
To his surprise Jane intervened, ‘Why not? I will be glad to have her out of my sight for a while.’
Willem looked at Nicholas and raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, Master Hurst? Are you going to go against Mistress Caldwell’s wishes?’
Nicholas hesitated and then beckoned to Berthe and whispered to her in Flemish. She nodded and so reluctantly he gave his permission. He waited until the workroom door closed behind Willem and Berthe before sinking into a chair and closing his eyes.
Instantly Jane banished all thought of the other two from her mind, placed Simon in his cradle and fetched the brandy. She poured some into a goblet and said, ‘Here, drink this!’
Nicholas forced his eyelids open and took the goblet from her. She hovered over him until he had drained it, determined to have a look at his shoulder and redress it. She went over to one of the chests and removed what she needed before returning to where Nicholas was slumped in the chair. She guessed he was not going to suffer her ministrations gladly.
His eyelids lifted and he watched her place the bindings, pot of salve and a bowl on a stool. ‘Is this necessary right now, Jane?’
She hesitated. ‘I could delay if you agreed to go upstairs and rest whilst I prepare a meal and then I will tend your wound.’
‘That sounds a much more sensible notion,’ he murmured, placing his hands on the arms of the chair and pushing himself upright.
At that moment the door opened and Anna entered, followed by the children. ‘So here you are,’ she said, looking relieved. ‘What of Simon?’
‘He has been returned to us,’ said Jane, a smile breaking out over her face.
‘He’s unharmed?’ asked Anna, hurrying over to the cradle.
‘Aye!’ replied Jane, joining her.
There was a babble of noise from the girls and James as they trailed in Anna’s wake.
Nicholas stood, a hand on the back of the chair, watching the two women and children. Will it always be like this when we marry? Being interrupted by children or women, seldom having any time to ourselves? At least their arrival meant that he could slip away upstairs and not be drawn into conversation with Jane concerning Berthe. He wasted no time making a move to the staircase.
Instantly Jane was aware of his actions and glanced his way. She saw the strain in his face and excused herself and hurried after him. She made to place an arm round him, but he said, ‘I can manage. You can tell Anna and the children what’s happened.’
Jane gazed up at him. ‘Don’t be foolish! You’re obviously suffering because you’ve done too much. My tale can wait.’ Without further ado she slipped an arm around him.
In silence they climbed the stairs. Once inside the bedchamber she helped him off with his coat. He sank onto the bed and did not protest when she knelt in front of him and removed his boots. That he should not tell her to desist said much about the extent of his exhaustion, she thought anxiously as she helped him stretch himself out on the bed. There came a moment when he held on to her as she would have pulled away.
‘What is it?’ she asked, gazing down at him.
His eyes searched her face. ‘I will tell you another time, Jane,’ he said, loosening his grip and closing his eyes.
She stepped back, hoping he intended telling her those parts of his conversation with Berthe that he had skipped over. Especially that hurried whispered exchange before the wet nurse had departed with Willem. Leaving the bedchamber, she went downstairs.
Anna looked up from feeding Simon. ‘I thought I might as well feed him here. How is Master Hurst?’
‘He has overtaxed himself as I knew he would,’ said Jane, going over to the cooking pot and hooking it over the fire. ‘Is there any news of the constable yet?’
‘He’s away over in the next shire.’
Jane pulled a face and fetched onions and began to peel them. ‘Have you any idea of when he will be back?’
‘Hopefully within a sennight.’
Jane frowned, but made no further comment, praying that by then Nicholas’s condition would be much improved. If only she could make him behave sensibly, but she had little hope of his doing so. No doubt as soon as he felt a little stronger he would be out of the bed again and visiting Oxford in the hope of finding Anthony Mortimer and Madame Dupon. Who was she that she should take such an interest in Nicholas’s daughter? And what was she to make of Anthony Mortimer being prepared to accompany her to Oxford? She thought of Willem intervening and taking charge of Berthe. She had not thought of asking him at the time what he was doing here in her house earlier. She wondered what the two had said to each other before she and Nicholas had arrived on the scene.
She sighed, thinking of Nicholas and hoping he had not set his healing back. Perhaps she really would need to tie him to the bed whilst he slept! A faint smile curved her lips at the thought of his reaction. Then she forced herself to concentrate on her preparations for supper, emptying the chopped onion into the cooking pot, as well as spring greens, to add to the leftover chicken. She poured in more wine and added dried sage, rosemary and thyme, as well as a little salt and a grinding of nutmeg.
Margaret came over and asked if she could stir the contents of the pot. Jane nodded and left her to join Anna. She had only managed to tell her briefly how the Flemish wet nurse had returned her son and been surprised by Master Godar.
‘Is that him working the loom now?’ asked Anna.
‘Aye. He has volunteered to take charge of Berthe until the constable arrives.’ Suddenly she realised that Margaret was listening and told her to leave off stirring the pot and see to the hens. ‘You can also tell Master Godar I would prefer it if he and Berthe had supper at the inn.’
Margaret nodded. ‘I would like to see what this Berthe looks like,’ she said, her eyes alight. ‘I am curious as to why Master Godar should be prepared to put up with her company if she is so wicked.’
‘Indeed,’ muttered Jane, ‘but that need not concern you. Now go.’
Margaret said no more, but skipped across to the door that opened into the workroom and went out. Jane heard Willem order her to close the door after her. If Jane had been alone, she might have crept over and put her ear to the wood in the hope of hearing what her stepdaughter said to him.
* * *
‘I must go now,’ said Anna a short while later after returning Simon to the cradle. ‘I was thinking—is there any need for me to return for Master Hurst’s daughter if that wet nurse is here? I have less time to spare since my man cut his finger.’
Jane hesitated. ‘The thought of her feeding either baby displeases me. If I have my way, then she will certainly not get her wish to resume her role as Matilda’s wet nurse, however fond she is of the child. For now that will be a just punishment for her, I suppose. I would rather you fed her.’
Anna shrugged. ‘If that is what you wish.’
* * *
A short while later Margaret reappeared with the news that Master Godar would be eating at the inn. ‘And to save you further distress, Mama, he said that he would take the baby stealer with him.’
Aware that the loom had stopped clacking, Jane hurried over to the workshop and looked through the open doorway, but the room was deserted. She turned to Margaret. ‘Did he say that he would return her to us later this evening?’
Margaret shook her head.
Slowly, Jane walked over to the fire and stirred the broth. She could not help wondering why Willem had volunteered to keep his eye on Berthe. Had it been to please her? She thought how he had told her he was recently widowed. Perhaps he was weak where women were concerned and missing sleeping with his wife and would bed Berthe? She thought of her own liaison with him when she had been much younger than the wet nurse. Had he ever really loved her or just wanted sexual release? If she had known the truth earlier about his marriage, would she have remained strong and resisted the attraction he had held for her? She hoped so. Yet he had been so persistent and made her feel as if she was the only girl he had ever loved. What if he h
ad not been married and they had wed, would he have been faithful to her? As for Nicholas, could she really trust him to be true to her?
‘Do you think the baby stealer is a witch and has cast a spell on Master Godar?’ asked Margaret, startling Jane so much that she dropped the ladle into the broth.
Jane was about to scold her when she realised the girl was not to blame. She should have been concentrating on what she was doing instead of letting her mind wander. She fished out the ladle and removed the cooking pot from the heat and placed it on the hearth.
‘Prepare the table, we’ll have supper,’ she said with a sigh.
‘What about Master Hurst?’
‘I will take his food up to him later,’ said Jane. ‘Let him rest for now.’
* * *
It was an hour or so later and Nicholas was in the grip of a nightmare. He was struggling to reach the surface of the water, but the tide kept pushing and dragging him down, down, down, and his fear threatened to spiral out of control.
‘Nicholas, what are you doing?’ The woman’s voice seemed to be coming from a long way off; recognising it, he could make no sense of her being there. Yet he was glad that she was near.
‘Nicholas.’ The voice was louder this time and he felt his shoulder being seized and suddenly he was being drawn up to the light. ‘Nicholas, wake up!’
The nightmare subsided and he gazed up into Jane’s face. He felt a rush of warmth towards her and wanted nothing more than to have her lie beside him. She was carrying a tray on which there was food and drink. A candle on the chest sent shadows flickering around the bedchamber.
‘You’re real,’ he said with satisfaction.
She looked at him in surprise and then noticed the sheen of perspiration on his face. Worried, she placed down the tray and sat on the bed and felt his forehead. She sighed with relief. ‘I was worried you might be getting a fever.’
‘A bad dream,’ he explained succinctly.
‘What was it about?’
‘Something that happened a long time ago.’ He yawned.
‘Was it something that took place on your travels?’
‘No.’ Wincing, he managed to raise himself into a sitting position.
‘So it won’t be in your books?’
‘It happened when I was a lad.’ He changed the subject. ‘How is Simon?’
‘He’s sleeping.’
‘And Matilda?’
‘Anna has taken her. I thought it would be safer if she kept her for the night feed.’
‘Is that because you don’t trust Berthe?’
‘I have every reason not to trust Berthe,’ said Jane, her eyes glinting in the candlelight. She stood up and went over to the window and gazed out for several moments before closing the curtains. Then she took the tray from the chest and placed it on the bed. ‘Even knowing that Willem was going to take Berthe to the inn with him, most likely I would have still asked Anna to have her.’
‘You were thinking of Matilda’s safety?’
‘Aye.’
Nicholas nodded, appreciating her decision, even as he wondered whether she minded deep down inside Godar going off with Berthe. He had not forgotten the weaver’s words about his not having seduced Jane, but her being a willing partner in their lovemaking. Had he lied? And how far had their lovemaking gone?
‘I thought it best if Godar and Berthe ate at the inn,’ said Jane, sitting on the bed. ‘Although he apparently told Margaret he wished to save me further distress by not leaving her here.’
Nicholas ran a hand over his stubbly chin. ‘I don’t trust him.’
‘Me neither, and I’m glad to have them both out of the house. I’m sure if it was needful, you’d make every effort to protect us if anyone attempted to break in. This despite your injuries and your tiredness, but I deem we are safe behind locked door from our enemies.’
‘Our enemies?’ said Nicholas.
She shrugged. ‘Your enemies then, although I now regard them as mine as well.’
Nicholas was glad she was so firmly on his side. ‘Berthe reckoned our enemies are miles away by now.’
He reached for the tankard of ale and gave her a smile of such charm, Jane’s heart seemed to turn over in her breast. ‘I am not taking any chances.’ She paused. ‘Margaret suggested Berthe might be using witchcraft where Willem is concerned and that is why he is keen on her company.’
Nicholas shook his head. ‘If she was practised in such arts she would have used them to keep Matilda. It could be that he thinks she has valuable information he could sell or simply that he thought Berthe would be a willing bedmate if she thought he’d help her to escape.’
‘You think he will?’ murmured Jane, prepared not to put anything past Willem, even breaking the law.
He picked up a spoon. ‘Maybe. Berthe is a desperate woman.’
They were silent for a moment and then Jane said, ‘You mentioned earlier that you had something to tell me.’
‘Did I?’ Nicholas was caught off guard, but in a heartbeat he remembered what he had intended telling her. However, whilst there appeared to be such accord between them, he was wary of telling her the truth about his wedding Louise. ‘I have forgotten,’ he said, tapping the side of his head and grimacing. Then he lowered his eyes and began to eat.
She watched him, gratified that he appeared to appreciate her cooking, but why did she have this feeling he was not being honest with her? She wished she understood Flemish.
As if aware of her gaze on him, he looked up. ‘If Berthe were to persuade Godar to leave Witney with her, I’d be glad.’
She frowned. ‘Because that would mean you wouldn’t have to hand her over to the constable?’
‘That’s one reason. She has suffered a double loss and still mourns the loss of her husband and baby. But also I don’t trust him around you.’
‘Don’t trust him or don’t trust me?’ she blurted out, her heart beginning to race.
He glanced at her. ‘Is there any reason why I shouldn’t trust you?’
Her nerve failed her and she shook her head. ‘Of course not. I don’t know what made me say that. All I felt for him is in the past.’
Nicholas wanted to believe her. ‘I meant Godar, of course. He told me that he had been in love with you and he came here with the intention of staying. I’ve just remembered that he mentioned something about a lease to me at the inn. At the time I brushed it off, but now I’m wondering if he meant the lease on this house.’
‘He did. He was convinced that if you and I married we would not stay here and he was of a mind to move from Kent. I told him that I would think about it.’
‘I wonder if he is still of that mind now you have rejected him?’
She shrugged. ‘Who is to say? I have no idea what goes on in his head. I doubt if I ever did. After all, I never suspected he had a wife despite his maturity and assured manner around women. I was such an innocent.’
‘He told me that was a trait he found attractive in you, that and a certain goodness in your nature. I must admit that I envy him for having met you then.’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘You would prefer the maiden to the woman I am now? I was a fool! It didn’t do me any good wearing my heart on my sleeve and falling for his banter. If it is a virgin you want for a wife, then you should not have proposed to me.’ She rose from the bed and headed for the door.
Chapter Nine
‘Stop. You misunderstand me, Jane,’ he called, pushing the tray aside and making to get off the bed.
She whirled round. ‘In what way do I misread your words? You seemed to regard me as some kind of perfect mother. It is true that I feel I must put the children first, so I understand that as a father you obviously want me to be a mother to Matilda, yet as a man you yearn for an innocent virgin. That I am not! I am just a plain, ordinary widow with a love of children and who has seen the worst in men and occasionally the best. I care for you, but the sooner you accept the person I am, there will be fewer misunderstandings betwee
n us.’
Her words hit him hard because there was some truth in some of what she said. He would have liked to have been the first man to have broken through her maidenhead and carried her to the heights. He believed that Godar and her husband had never considered her feelings because they had never looked beneath the front she presented to the world.
‘I would argue that you are plain or ordinary,’ he said, ‘or you would not have caught my attention. A galleon in full sail presents a very different picture than a rowing boat.’
‘What!’ Startled by the comparison, she turned and faced him, leaning her back against the closed door because otherwise her legs might have given way.
He said ruefully, ‘I doubt you have ever seen a galleon in full sail, Jane. It is well worth it. I likened you to such in my thoughts when I first set eyes on you, storming to James’s rescue.’
She blinked. ‘A ship! You compared me to a ship?’
‘Not just any ship. A galleon.’
She thought about his words and remembered that, although it was true she had never seen a galleon in full sail, he had written about such and Rebecca had read a description to her. She also recalled that he was a shipbuilder and slowly her anger evaporated and her lips twitched. ‘I don’t know what to say. A galleon.’
‘Say you understand that there are all kinds of crafts, but some are finer than others.’ He grinned.
‘You have a silver tongue just like your brother,’ said Jane.
‘And you are a galleon full of treasure, my dear,’ he said cheerfully.
She shook her head at him. ‘You’re doing it again. You cannot know what lies deep inside me. Now shall we change the subject?’
He sighed. ‘If that is what you want.’ There was still much he would have liked to have said to her, but after a silence he simply asked, ‘Is there is any news of the constable, by the way?’
She sat on the bed. ‘Apparently he is in the next shire and it could be a sennight before he returns.’
‘Then that settles it. It would be best if Berthe ran away with Godar. I cannot wait around for the constable to come here and sort matters and mete out justice. Especially as the trail will have definitely gone cold where my attackers are concerned.’ Nicholas reached out for the bread and bit into it and chewed before dipping it into the juices remaining in the bowl.