‘Because she’s going to marry him ... to marry him ... to marry him...’
Damn it! He couldn’t get rid of that accursed rhythm. What was he thinking about?
‘To marry him ... to marry him...’
His hands were bunched into fists at his sides as he strode the Willow Walk towards Eybury farmhouse, the sound of his footsteps underscoring that damnable rhythm. How could Robin be such a cheat, so two-faced as to let William confide in him and all the while...?
‘To marry him ... to marry him...’
No, it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t. And yet it must be. Kitty had been so confident. His heart was pounding. He must calm down. This was nothing to do with him, this business of Jenna and Robin. He had no right to feel anything. Jenna could marry whom she pleased. After all, he was married to Margery so what right had he to be concerned about what Jenna did?
‘To marry him ... to marry him ... because she’s going to marry him...’
It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t say a word. And he’d stay away from the ale-house because ale loosened tongues and he didn’t want to talk about it. It was none of his business.
And he had no reason to feel so ... so bereaved, so betrayed.
***
A week of waiting hand and foot on the Duchess of Gloucester had brought Jenna to the conclusion that, given the choice, she would infinitely prefer farm work to the duties of a lady’s maid. She had always taken pride in the responsibility of running a dairy, making butter and cheese, milking the cows, looking after the poultry, covering the fire at night, helping in the fields at harvest time or wherever else she might be required. But being at one selfish woman’s beck and call, carrying heavy pails of water for her bath, caring for her clothes, washing her linens, helping her dress, obeying every little whim and fancy, fetching and carrying all day and every day was not a life she cared for, despite the fact that the Duchess pronounced herself delighted with Jenna’s work and with her demeanour.
In taking over Sarah’s duties, Jenna had expected be called upon to trudge back and forth to Eybury farmhouse fairly often with messages for Margery Jourdemayne, though this was the first afternoon on which the Duchess had asked her to do so. Jenna was only too ready to do the Duchess’s bidding because it gave her an opportunity to do something very important to her. It gave her the chance to see Kitty.
Jenna had been sent to the Duchess’s aid at such short notice last week that she hadn’t given Kitty much thought before she left and she bitterly regretted the fact. The child was vulnerable and had come to depend on Jenna more and more. She should have made time to see her before she left, to explain that she wasn’t deserting her, to help her understand the reasons why she had to go away. She had no wish to destroy Kitty’s growing, but still fragile, confidence in other people.
Pushing open the door of the dairy, Jenna was surprised to realise that it must be at least two months since she had last been inside it. Nothing seemed to have changed, though after working in the warmth of the farmhouse, she had forgotten quite how cold the big room could be, even at the height of summer, with the diverted stream trickling through the centre of it, keeping the temperature down. With their backs to her, Hawys, Jane and the other dairymaids were pounding the butter in their churns and gossiping. No one noticed her at first.
‘Hello, ladies!’ she called, in imitation of the way William Jourdemayne always greeted them.
‘Jenna!’ Kitty screeched when she saw her, jumping up and down in her excitement. ‘Jenna, Jenna, Jenna! Look, it’s Jenna!’
‘Yes, it’s me,’ said Jenna, laughing as Kitty flung herself at her.
‘Well!’ said Hawys, her hands on her hips. ‘Who looks every inch the fine lady in her new kirtle? And what brings you here, madam? If I may be so bold as to ask.’
‘Yes, where have you been, Jenna?’ Kitty demanded. ‘Hawys said you were up at the palace. Have you come home, Jenna? You’re never going back to the palace, are you? Are you, Jenna?’
‘Yes, I am, Kitty. I have to. That’s what I came to tell you. And I may have to stay there for a few weeks. Perhaps even longer.’
‘Oh,’ Kitty’s face fell. ‘Why?’
‘Because I’m going to look after the Duchess instead of Sarah, while Mistress Jourdemayne looks after Sarah until her foot gets better.’
Hawys nodded in Kitty’s direction. ‘She misses you,’ she said.
‘Well, it can’t be helped,’ said Jenna. ‘I’m sorry, Kittymouse. I’ll come back as soon as I can. But the Duchess needs me while Sarah gets over her accident.’
‘Sarah says she can be very nasty, that Duchess,’ Jane said, wrinkling her nose.
‘Well, maybe. But I think I can manage to look after myself, Jane, thank you. Anyway, I only looked in to let you all know what was going on. And I don’t want to start off on the wrong foot by being late back and keeping the Duchess waiting. So, I can’t stay. Come here, Kittymouse. Give me a kiss, then I must go.’
Jenna kissed the top of Kitty’s head then had to detach the child’s arms which were clamped firmly around her waist as though she would never let her go.
‘Come now, Kitty. You be a good girl and do what Hawys tells you. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Goodbye for now, my dove. Goodbye, everyone! Goodbye!’
There: that was done. Pulling the door of the dairy closed behind her, Jenna felt her conscience was salved though she couldn’t bring herself to look back and wave. The sight of Kitty’s devastated little face would have weakened her resolve. One day, Kitty would have to grow up and realise that she couldn’t have everything her own way in this life, but not just yet. Not wanting to incur the Duchess’s displeasure by taking too long in running her errand, Jenna walked briskly back towards the farmhouse to collect the items she wanted before returning to the palace.
‘Well met!’ called William Jourdemayne, coming towards her. ‘So there you are.’
‘Master Jourdemayne!’
‘William,’ he corrected. ‘Don’t you remember?’
‘Yes, yes, of course. I’m sorry, er, William.’ There was no avoiding him. She wasn’t even half way to the farmhouse yet and here he was, blocking the path, an unfamiliar expression on his face. She was startled, flustered. He was the last person she wanted to see. Not because she didn’t want to see him: she did want to see him. Very much. Too much.
William had never seen Jenna wearing anything other than her plain, dark workaday clothes: an apron, a coif covering her hair and a shawl over her shoulders if the weather was cold. Now her hair was plaited becomingly in coils over her ears and held in place by a white linen filet. She wore a new broadcloth kirtle in a light shade of green. To William, she looked enchanting.
‘You, er ... you’re looking well, Jenna,’ he managed. ‘You look as though you’re going somewhere very special.’
‘Mistress Jourdemayne thought I should have some new clothes to wear since things will be very different from now on. I can’t just...’
‘Oh, so you are going to marry Robin! Why didn’t anyone tell me? I didn’t think you and he –’ He broke off, seeing the incredulous expression on her face.
‘Marry Robin? Who, Robin Fairweather? No, I’m not going to marry Robin, nor anyone else for that matter. Whatever gave you that idea?’
‘It ... it was something young Kitty said,’ he muttered, embarrassed.
‘Kitty! Oh, William, Kitty is always marrying people off to each other. But only in her imagination. You shouldn’t have believed her.’
‘No. No, of course not. You’re right. And Robin had never said anything. Thank God for that. I couldn’t have borne it if ...’ his voice trailed off before Jenna could quite catch the rest of the sentence. He had never felt so stupid in his life.
‘No, I’m not marrying anyone,’ she said. ‘I’m working for the Duchess of Gloucester. That’s why I need better clothes, so I can attend her at the palace. It may not be for very long but Mistress Jourdemayne thought it was a good idea, well, c
ertainly while Sarah’s ankle is still too painful to stand on.’
‘It’s broken,’ he said shortly. ‘Sarah’s ankle is broken and the bone-setter wasn’t able to do much about it. That’s what Margery said.’
‘Oh. I see. Then ... it will be some time before it heals. If it heals. She won’t be able to walk on it. I suppose I could be gone for some time...’
William remained silent for a long moment, looking intently at her, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.
‘But Margery said you only went there to help out. Surely you’re not planning to stay there any longer, are you? You should have more sense than that.’
‘Why, yes. I have to stay. Mistress Jourdemayne says...’
‘No you don’t, Jenna, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, whatever Margery says.’
He reached out to grip her arm, pulling her off the path and into the secluded shelter of an old oak tree’s spreading branches.
‘Listen to me, Jenna. Margery told me what happened but you don’t have to stay at the palace any longer. Listen to me. Look at me, Jenna! You don’t have to go. They’ll soon find somebody else to look after Her bloody Grace the bloody Duch –’
‘Master!’
William was beside himself now, his mind in a turmoil. Jenna wasn’t going to marry Robin, of course not. Robin would have said something. He should never have been so ready to believe a fanciful child. But she was going to go to the palace and for William that was just as bad. Feeling his temper rising within him, he turned away and pounded his clenched fist on the wide trunk of the oak. Then he turned back and challenged her.
‘Jenna, why do you want to go to the palace? Tell me. Why are you and my wife prepared to spend your lives fawning over vain, empty-headed women like that damned Duchess? Margery is forever talking about her. “The Duchess says this ... Her Grace wants that ...” No, Jenna. No! They’re selfish, shallow people. The Duchess and people of her ilk think of nothing but themselves.’
‘I don’t...’
‘Yes, but I don’t want you to be beguiled by them, taken in by them because of who they are, because of their ... their fame, because they appear to be important people.’ He was gripping her arms now, looking intently into her face. ‘That’s what frightens me. You’ll lose sight of your values, the real things in life, the important things. Please don’t go to the palace, Jenna. I don’t want you to go!’
‘You don’t want me to go? But what ... what has it got to do with you?’
‘Everything, for God’s sake. I love you, Jenna. Surely you must know that by now? I love you!’
‘But, master ...’ Jenna’s protest was silenced by William’s lips on hers. The last time he had kissed her, on Twelfth Night, his lips had felt as light as thistledown: but not this time. This time, his arms were around her and the yearning passion in his kiss shook her to the depths of her soul.
Terror engulfed her. Trying desperately to pull away from him, she screwed her eyes tight shut and hunched her shoulders, trying to raise her arms to protect her head, holding herself rigid against what must come next: the force, the cruelty, the brutality.
‘Jenna, Jenna, my love,’ William’s pleading voice came from somewhere beyond the tight band of her instinctive defence. ‘Jenna, look at me! Please, look at me.’
Lowering her arms slowly and opening her eyes, she looked into William’s face, so close to her own, and saw there an expression of great tenderness.
‘William!’ Her voice was barely above a whisper.
For months, she had managed to keep her feelings bottled up though in her heart she knew that what made her rise from her pallet every morning was the hope of seeing him; her day did not begin until she was certain he still inhabited her world. She had refused over and over again to believe she was in love with him, but she could no longer deny the truth.
Now his arms were around her again, holding her close to him in an embrace, gentle but so vital that it took her breath away and she found herself responding ardently to his clear desire for her with her own need for him. Here was the man she wanted. Her memories of Jake and his dominant, brutish abuse of her body were obliterated and there was nothing of selfishness in this embrace between two people whose feelings for each other were overwhelming. The force which drove their passion was neither possession nor lust. It felt very much like love.
Then, for Jenna, it seemed as if a sudden darkness descended. William abruptly took a step back, away from her, leaving her swaying slightly, her head reeling. His arms fell slackly to his sides and in the total silence which followed, she was aware only of the heavy drumming of her own heart.
When the birdsong began again, she opened her eyes. William was standing in front of her, his head bowed, his body slumped, as though he had given in to something inevitable, something inescapable and now regretted it.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’
‘That’s ... that’s all right, master.’
It was a foolish thing to say.
‘I had no right. I cannot make demands of you, Jenna, I don’t own you. You are not my wife. If you choose to go to the palace, it has nothing to do with me. Nothing at all. You must do what you want to do.’
Among the leaves of the oak tree, a blackbird started singing joyously above their heads. It was some time before William spoke again.
‘Go then, my dearest girl, if you must. I cannot hold you here. I have no right to. Go to the palace, Jenna, but don’t be dazzled by the people you meet. They’re not worth it. Go now, please, just go. And may God go with you.’
There was nothing to be said after that. William stood to one side for Jenna to pass, then stood watching her as she began to walk away from him, back to the path and on towards the farmhouse. Jenna stared resolutely in front of her, desperately trying to keep her quivering mouth closed and her lips in a straight, determined line. She was almost overwhelmed by the instinct to turn around and scream her love for him, her need of him. There could be no denying that she was deeply in love, but with another woman’s husband. No good would ever come of it and she dared not lose control.
They both knew where Jenna’s destiny lay. It was not in the dairy at the Manor of Eye-next-Westminster. It was not with Robin. It was not with William: it was with William’s wife. And there could be no going back. Not now.
They’d been so engrossed in each other that neither of them noticed a small, dumbfounded face watching them from behind a hawthorn bush, a little way down on the other side of the path.
Kitty had just learned her first lesson in growing up.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
April 1439
In the Duchess of Gloucester’s dressing room, Jenna was putting away the last of the clothes her mistress had been wearing during the visit to Woodstock and Stonesfield with her husband. Now all the members of the ducal household were back at court in the Palace of Westminster and things were returning to normal.
Jenna knew that many women would envy her the job she now did, working within the opulent surroundings of the Palace of Westminster, rarely having to venture out into the winter rain or summer sun, keeping her skin pale and her hands soft. But she found the work unrewarding. Apart from the travelling, which she did enjoy, the daily routine was tedious and thankless. In her heart, she even envied Sarah, despite the fact that she would never walk normally again. At least Sarah had been given the chance to stay on at Eybury Farm where she managed to be surprisingly useful, given that most of the work she did could be done while sitting rather than standing.
At the palace, after a few initial mistakes, Jenna had settled down very quickly to perform the tasks expected of her in her new role. Her everyday duties included looking after Her Grace’s personal needs, washing her clothes and underwear, dressing her hair, cleaning her shoes, helping her into her gowns and doing anything else she might require. The Duchess began to rely more and more on Jenna’s abilities and her common sense. In expressing her
satisfaction, she would show occasional flashes of generosity and Jenna benefited from gifts of cast-off clothes. Among her favourites was a dark red houppelande of the finest worsted cloth, the sleeves trimmed with miniver.
At first, she had protested that she couldn’t possibly accept such a gift because, in any case, she wouldn’t be allowed to wear it in public. She risked being arrested by the Sheriff’s men for contravening the Sumptuary Laws.
‘Oh, nonsense!’ said the Duchess, waving her hand dismissively. ‘The Sumptuary Laws merely protect the interests of persons of quality. And absolutely no one at court is wearing miniver these days, it is completely passé. The vogue is for marten. And I think I shall soon set a trend for sable. I do so enjoy doing that and seeing other women doing their best to imitate me. So stupid! No doubt you will soon see the humblest of housewives lining their hoods with miniver for warmth, just because I no longer wear it. You should accept the houppelande and be grateful.’
Nevertheless, Jenna never wore the sumptuous garment in public. Whenever she visited Eybury Farm to collect supplies of Margery’s cosmetics for the Duchess, she always dressed in an entirely circumspect way. She had no desire to flaunt her new position in life, not in front of any of her old friends and colleagues and she certainly would not have taken the risk of running into William dressed like that. Not after the bitter warnings he had given her about how her work at the palace could turn her head and change her attitudes.
She couldn’t think back to that encounter under the oak tree without remembering how, when she had walked away from him, she could barely see where she was going for the tears that half-blinded her, hoping she was keeping to the path and willing herself not to turn around, in case she were unable to resist running back into his arms. Shocked to the core by William’s passionate confession, she had been at great pains to avoid seeing him ever since, knowing that it would be all she could do not to say something in an unguarded moment. Despite telling herself repeatedly that he was a married man and she had no right to feel the way she did, her feelings for him had never changed in the two years since she had left the farm. She doubted they ever would, but it would be madness to pursue them. Best to concentrate on her job with the Duchess Eleanor and perform her duties to the best of her ability. It was certainly what Alice would have done.
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