by June Francis
‘Ay! Avert your face.’ He presented the man with only the slightest glimpse of his profile before they went inside Harry’s house.
They were instantly confounded to find Harry entertaining a visitor. John sensed immediately that Harry wished them out of the room. He did not speak, only nodding curtly and telling them that Clotilde was in the kitchen and for them to help themselves to a drink.
Clotilde was sitting by the fire with some sewing. There was no sign of her mother. She looked up at them. ‘So you are back already? Is your ship in?’
John trod warningly on Louise’s foot. ‘No, mam’selle,’ he said, grimacing. ‘Alas, it looks as if it might not come until the morning.’ He pulled up a stool and indicated that Louise sat. She did and he stood just behind her and faced Clotilde. ‘Who is that man with Harry?’
Her eyelashes swept down, concealing the expression in her brown eyes. ‘I — do not know. But he is probably a customer. Harry does not tell me everything — or introduce me to everybody.’
Louise did not believe that she did not know the man, but she sensed enough from John’s manner to keep quiet about it. A few minutes later Harry entered the room, an almighty scowl disfiguring his face. ‘That was a damned cleric from Popham. Would I call on him in the morning! Information about my movements has come to light and he would like to discuss it with me. It’s a polite way of telling me that he knows what I’m about and is going to prevent it.’
‘Oh, Harry!’ exclaimed Clotilde in distressed tones. ‘How disappointing for you.’
‘Isn’t it?’ said Harry, his mouth tightening. ‘But I’ll be damned if I’ll let him stop me going to England. There must be a way.’ He looked at his brother. ‘John, those papers’
‘No,’ interrupted John quickly. ‘You’ll just have to accept, Harry, that this time you can’t come with us. Maybe next time I have business this way.’
Harry stared at him, and Louise saw the warning look that John flashed to him. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Harry, setting free a heavy breath. ‘Clotilde, get us a drink and bring it through into the parlour.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Louise quickly, rising from the stool. She was not fooled by the men’s talk but hopefully Clotilde was. If her smile was anything to go by then they had tricked her into believing that her plan had worked. Yet they still had to find a way of getting Harry to the ship without rousing the suspicions of the men outside.
As Louise entered the parlour, her eyes fell on the trunk from which Clotilde had brought out all her finery yesterday, and an idea came to her. She went over to John, who was gazing out of the window, and said in a low voice, ‘Do you have papers for two women?’
John glanced at her, and then at Clotilde, who was talking gaily to Harry about the coming Advent festivities. ‘Only the one. Why?’ he murmured.
‘I was thinking of your brother disguising himself in women’s clothes.’
He was silent and then a slow grin eased his expression. ‘It’s a good idea. But we only have one set of papers for a female. Which means, little as you like it,’ he said with deliberation, ‘you will have to pretend to be a youth again, Louise.’
‘But — ’ she began, placing the tray on a stool, and wishing she had kept quiet.
‘Just do it,’ he said gently. ‘You can take the clothes you have with you. In truth I think it wise if you pack for my brother several gowns and head-dresses and some underwear.’
Louise looked at him and experienced a moment’s joy. Did he mean them for her eventually? Then she switched her attention to his brother and giggled. ‘You think he will agree?’
‘He’s got no choice,’ murmured John. ‘But he’ll have to get Clotilde out of the way first.’ Without further ado he left Louise and went over to his brother.
He drew him aside and a few minutes later an expressionless Harry went over to Clotilde and pulled her to her feet. ‘My love, there is something I have bought you upstairs. Come and see it.’
‘Now, Harry? It’ll soon be suppertime.’
‘Now,’ he said in a soft, insistent voice. ‘Or I shall give it away to?’ For a second his glance rested on Louise, and Clotilde’s eyes followed his.
‘I shall come,’ she said quickly, a slight pucker between her dark brows.
‘Good.’ He pulled her hand through his arm and kissed her cheek and they left the parlour.
‘We must leave here soon,’ said John, turning to Louise. ‘You go now and find the clothes you discarded.’
‘I have seen them in the kitchen, hanging near the fire.’ She left him, her pulses beating faster.
With regret she took off the green surcote and the head-dress, her corset and chemise, and once more donned the shirt, doublet and hose. As she rolled up the discarded clothes, her thoughts were of John saying, ‘You made a pretty boy … but you make a lovelier maid.’ Perhaps it was just as well she no longer wore skirts.
When she went back into the parlour John had the chest open and was rummaging through the clothes there.
He looked up at her, his dark brows drew together and a sigh escaped him. ‘I pray that you won’t have to wear them too long. But I’ve been thinking that maybe it would be wiser if you are dressed in such garb if we are to be travelling much in each other’s company alone. Still!’ He smiled. ‘We’ll take some of these for when you discard your hose.’ He threw several garments her way.
She suffered a pang of guilt. ‘Do you really think we should be taking so many? I feel sorry for Clotilde. I think she is very fond of your brother.’
‘I think he likes her well enough in his way too,’ replied John, ‘but it’s time he was thinking of finding a wife.’ Louise’s hands stilled on a lemon silk chemise, and her voice contained a note of anger when she spoke. ‘And you do not consider Clotilde suitable, I suppose? She is good enough to keep house for him here and to warm his bed, but not to bear his children or his name!’
‘It has nothing to do with me,’ said John, as cool as she was heated. ‘And no doubt she doesn’t expect marriage from him. It is you who might desire it in her position.’
‘No, m’sieur,’ she retorted, her eyes glinting. ‘I’m not such a fool as to expect you to make an honest woman of me.’
‘That is wise of you,’ he said, a muscle tightening in his cheek, ‘because I couldn’t. Come here and help me to choose what Harry can wear tonight, and then find us something to eat that we can take with us.’
Louise was tempted to say more, but she knew from the set of his mouth that he would not be drawn on the subject any further.
She chose a blue houppelande and then went into the kitchen. She was wrapping bread and meat in a napkin when Harry came downstairs. There was a grimness about his expression that reminded her vividly of John when he had thrown her into the sea. He nodded in her direction. ‘So the masquerade is to be played.’
‘Yes,’ she murmured, and added impulsively, ‘Do you have any regrets leaving Clotilde?’
‘Regrets?’ A slight smile passed like a shadow across his face. ‘I have a mother at home whom I have not seen for five years, who has waited faithfully for my return. I have a father to face whom I quarrelled with. They are both getting old. Clotilde thought by scheming to stop me leaving. But I have tied her to the bedpost with a few scarves. She didn’t try to understand that I must leave, now that John has brought me to a realisation of how little time I might have to spend with my family.’
‘She fears that you will not return.’
‘We all have our fears for others, mam’selle.’ His eyes met hers. ‘I fear that you can lead my brother into danger in this quest for your sister.’
‘What danger?’ she asked, a puzzled expression on her face. ‘He has mentioned no danger to me.’
‘John wouldn’t.’ His voice was low and angry. ‘Has he told you he has a wife in England?’
‘A wife!’ The room seemed to spin around her.
‘He hasn’t told you.’ He smiled. ‘Draw back, mam�
�selle, before it is too late. There is still time for you to change your mind about staying here just as a friend to Clotilde. I will see that you are well provided for.’
Louise eased the tightness in her throat, and said coldly, ‘From the moment we met you have been determined that I should not go to England with your brother. Can’t you understand that I must go and find my sister? Did your brother not come looking for you?’
‘Ay. But that’s different.’ Harry frowned. ‘Your sister is better off in England.’
‘In this place where there is danger?’ She laughed harshly. ‘I think you exaggerate any danger. Anyway, even if I changed my mind — which I won’t — your brother has said that he would force me to go to England with him. So you see he has made the decision for both of us.’
‘It’s worse than I thought,’ muttered Harry, and fixed her rigidly with his gaze. ‘I almost wish that he had never met you.’ He turned and went into the parlour.
Louise, angry and hurt, picked up the parcel of food and followed him.
‘Now, brother,’ John was saying, ‘this should not be too difficult. Remember when the mummers came to perform on New Year’s Eve and we used to dress up? We were able to trick Mother and she knew us better than anyone.’
Harry agreed in a resigned tone, but added, ‘She recognised us eventually.’
‘Naturally. Because we pranced around waiting for her to do so. No one here is expecting you to be dressed as a woman,’ said John softly. ‘So we should get away with it. We will leave at dusk, which will make it even more difficult for anyone to see your face at a distance. Which means we have little time for you to change and practise walking.’
‘He will make a very tall woman,’ said Louise in a strained voice. ‘Do these papers say that Mistress Bertrand is your wife?’
John shot her an enquiring look and stilled. Their gazes held, and he said quietly, ‘We originally had them forged for my mother in the event of our family having to flee England at a crisis in our life.’
Louise raised her eyebrows. ‘Your mother? Then I suggest that Harry becomes your mother — that way it will look quite acceptable if he stoops — and maybe he could have a stick to lean on and he can keep his head down.’
‘Perhaps I should blacken a few teeth and place a false wart on my nose,’ said Harry.
‘This isn’t a game,’ said John harshly. ‘Don’t let your sense of the ridiculous land us in hot water as it has before.’
‘I did not know then that dear Dorothy was a spy in the camp.’ Harry picked up the blue houppelande. ‘Is this what I’m wearing?’
‘It will match your eyes,’ rasped John.
Harry groaned, bundling the clothes under his arm before going into the kitchen. Immediately John turned to Louise. ‘You know about Dorothy, don’t you?’
‘Dorothy?’ she said calmly, her eyes stormy. ‘Is that the name of your wife?’
‘Ay, dammit!’ he said roughly. ‘And don’t be looking at me like that, Louise. If I could change matters I would. But I can’t, so there’s an end to it.’
‘You realise that we’ve committed adultery.’ Her voice was stiff.
‘The sin is mine. Not yours.’ His hands curled on the clothes he was stuffing into a bag. ‘The match was arranged between her mother and my father, and I was fifteen to her twenty years when we married. I have lived to regret making such a match, but don’t let that affect your decision to come with me. Finding your sister is, after all, why you are making this journey.’
‘Ay,’ she muttered, picking up her cloak. ‘And the sooner it is over with, the quicker we shall say farewell and I shall be on a ship back to France. Now where is that brother of yours?’
Harry made an entrance by almost falling flat on his face. ‘I’ll be damned if I’ll ever get the hang of taking dainty steps.’ He clutched at the arm of a chair and pushed up the green steeple-shaped hennin he wore fastened to his head with a white veil. ‘Well? Are we ready to go?’
John nodded silently, and picked up the baggage.
‘What about Clotilde?’ said Louise.
‘Her mother will be in soon enough and will find her,’ said Harry. ‘Besides, I didn’t tie her up that tightly. So let’s get out of here.’
They did so forthwith.
The two men still stood opposite the house, blowing on their cold hands and walking up and down. As the three of them left, the men exchanged looks and crossed the street. ‘A cold evening, master,’ they said, looking John over.
‘Ay. Not fit to be out in.’
They both nodded. ‘You’ve come from Master Ingles’s house.’
‘Ay. My name’s Bertrand,’ said John, ‘and this is my mother and brother.’
‘Good even to you, young master, mistress.’ Their keen eyes ran swiftly over Louise and then the bent figure of Harry, before they stepped back and waved them by.
Louise nodded her head briefly and Harry waved his mittened hand vaguely in the air before walking slowly on, tap-tapping with the stick.
Once round the corner, he said, ‘You were right about them. Now let’s go swiftly. I don’t think I’ll relax till I get aboard ship.’
Louise knew how he felt because her nerves were strung up, and they hurried to the quai in the gathering gloom. To her dismay as they approached they could see a couple of soldiers standing not far from the gangplank. When they drew closer Louise recognised one of them from the other morning, and it appeared that he recognised her and John.
‘I’ve seen you before, lad,’ he muttered, inspecting him with interest. ‘And you, master,’ he addressed John. ‘A nice pair of eyes you’ve got there. Didn’t catch sight of those murdering swine yesterday. But we’ll get them in the end. Don’t you fear.’
‘I’m certain you will.’ John smiled and would have brushed past him to go up the gangplank but he took his arm.
‘Are you a citizen of Caen? Because I’ll have to see your papers.’
John sighed heavily. ‘I am not a citizen of Caen, nor is my brother or my mother. As for our papers, they are aboard this ship. Will you allow my mother on board while I get them for you?’
‘Don’t see any harm in that. We ain’t looking for no old woman. You can go aboard, mistress.’ He smiled kindly at Harry. ‘Here, let me help you.’ He seized his arm and perhaps it was the feel of it that roused his suspicions and caused him to peer closer into his face — to touch it and rasp his fingers on his chin. ‘Hey, you’re not — ’ he began, only to be grabbed by John from behind and spun round. A left upper-cut to the jaw dropped him. Harry caught him and laid him flat on the ground, just as the other soldier moved in. Louise put her foot out and he went flying over it. Harry hit him on the back of the head with the walking stick, and he collapsed on the ground.
‘Too much drink, young man,’ he cackled as a couple of men passed by.
‘Stop acting,’ hissed John, pushing him up the gangplank with one hand and seizing hold of Louise’s fingers with the other. ‘Tell the master to cast off, man!’ he shouted to Thomas, who was standing on the poop deck, grinning at them.
‘He’s doing it now,’ called Thomas. ‘It’s good to have you aboard, Master Harry. I just hope that you and Master John between you don’t get us into any more trouble before we see England.’
‘What trouble could I get up to?’ retorted Harry, whooping as he dragged off the head-dress. ‘It’s my brother and the mam’selle you’ll have to watch, man.’
‘Ay. She’s got plenty of spirit,’ said Thomas gruffly. ‘But it’s downright unseemly the way she’s clad. And you, Master Harry.’
He laughed as Louise and John reached his side, and the three of them gazed at the quais and the town with the donjon on its hill as it receded into the distance behind them.
‘We’re on our way at last,’ breathed Louise, holding her face up to the wind that filled the sail.
John said against her ear, ‘Let’s pray that your hopes will not be disappointed.’
‘I�
��m sure they won’t,’ she said, determinedly pulling her hand free from his grasp. ‘We’ll find Marguerite. I’m certain of that.’ He made no answer, only standing at her shoulder as she turned her head and faced the direction they were going.
Next port of call was Dover — England!
CHAPTER EIGHT
LOUISE shivered in the wind that blew in from the Channel, and pulled the fur cap as far down as she could over her ears. She glanced about her. ‘So this is Dover.’ It looked much like any other port she had seen, with its ships and its castle on a hill, its huddle of houses and inns, and seabirds being blown about the grey skies like scraps of parchment against the chalky white cliff.
It was more than a week since they had left Caen and the crossing had been rough. She had spent most of it in the cabin, convinced she was going to die. The woman’s curse had been upon her, and she had been thankful that she had thought of putting into the baggage linen strips for John’s wounds. Fortunately both men had had their hands full helping with the ship in the stormy seas and that had afforded her some privacy, although they had all shared the cabin, there being little room on the ship. She had not taken her clothes off and would have dearly loved to immerse herself in a tub of warm water, but that had been, and still was, out of the question. ‘It is very cold.’
‘It’ll be colder in the North.’ Harry rubbed his hands together and huddled into his squirrel-trimmed scarlet houppelande. ‘But you won’t have to suffer that, mam’selle.’ He looked towards his brother. ‘You have sent Thomas on ahead to your agent to have some horses ready for us?’ He spoke in English.
‘Ay. We’ll do what I planned in Caen,’ said John, glancing at Louise in her travel-stained youth’s garb. ‘I will take Mam’selle Saulnier to Cobtree Manor, while you travel north with Thomas and the packhorse. The sooner one of us reaches Yorkshire and reassures Mother concerning our safety the better.’ He picked up some of the baggage placed on the quay. Harry and Louise did likewise, then they began to walk.