Loved him. The words stuck in Jane’s throat as she tried to voice them, remembering the night when it all came to a head, her world crashing around her once again, but in a way she’d never expected. Seeing Ernest between John’s legs, his tongue licking and teasing John’s cock had been a terrible shock, but what had been even worse was John’s face as their eyes met. He simply winked at her as if it was all one great, big joke. Jane stood frozen as her husband wiped John’s seed from his mouth and flipped him over, taking him from the back like an animal, like John took her. Jane watched in horror as her husband grunted and panted, his shaft slick in the candlelight as it slid in and out of John’s body, John’s eyes closed in ecstasy as he stroked himself. Jane nearly fainted as Ernest let out a gasp of pleasure and collapsed on top of John, who turned his face toward Jane and blew her a kiss, making her flee before her sobs could be heard by her husband.
Jane had never lain with John again; had spent hours on her knees, begging God for forgiveness and doing penance, but it seemed God wasn’t satisfied with that. God, in his infinite wisdom, was just, and he had chosen to smite all three of them with his flaming sword. John had been the first to fall ill, followed by Ernest, and now Jane. Oh, she knew the signs, knew the symptoms as if they had been burned into her brain. She prayed for salvation, dared to hope that she might have been spared, but that was not to be. It came on slowly, so slowly that Jane almost didn’t notice the changes at first. She strained harder to see, had to focus intently to keep the tremor from her hands, and most of all had to try desperately to hide her disorientation and confusion.
She’d tried to ignore the voices in her head, telling her that Hugo meant to dispossess her son and cheat him out of his inheritance, meant to produce another son. Yes, another son, she mused. He’d lied to her when he told her Jem wasn’t his. Oh, she knew the truth. He’d fathered that boy as surely as he’d fathered Neve’s bastard. Hugo said the boy had been a by-blow of an affair between Margaret the washerwoman and Ned the groom, but she knew better. She’d gotten rid of that meddlesome little pup as soon as she decently could, eliminating any threat to her son’s inheritance. And now Neve was dead, and so was her bastard. Perhaps Hugo had already married her, but it didn’t matter. She was dead, and the child with her. Clarence’s inheritance is safe, Jane thought as she nearly spilled soup due to the shaking of her hands.
Jane picked up her cup and silently toasted Ernest. “May you rot in Hell, my dear,” she said. “I shall be joining you shortly.”
Chapter 22
“That actually smells good,” Hugo said as I doused his hair with a mixture of whiskey and lemon juice. I worked it into his hair and let him gulp down the rest, as I moved his head as close to the fire as he could stand in the hope that the concoction would do its work and lighten his hair. We would be leaving London tomorrow since Mr. Billingsley and his wife were returning from Surrey and mustn’t find us in residence. Bradford was heading home to his wife and son, and Archie was coming with us to Kent to confront Jane. I was secretly glad that Archie would be accompanying us. He’d proven himself to be loyal and canny; two qualities that were in short supply just now.
I smiled as Hugo reached out and placed his hand on my belly, smiling gleefully as he felt a swift kick against his palm.
“Does that hurt?” he asked as I let out a startled yelp.
“Not really, but it does take me by surprise sometimes. It’s amazing how much stronger the kicks have become in only a week. It kicks more after I’ve eaten and when I’m lying down,” I said, marveling at the little person inside my body who seemed to have its own routine. “I often wonder what it will be like,” I mused. “There are days when I think it’s a boy, and there are other days, like today, when I think that surely it must be a girl.”
“Well, if it’s a girl, then I hope she looks just like you,” Hugo said as he gazed up at me tenderly. “No one would want a girl who looks like me; she’d scare all her perspective suitors half to death.”
“Do you think we can wait until she’s born to start talking of marrying her off?” I replied, suddenly upset. It never really dawned on me until that moment that our child would never see the future, or have much personal freedom as children had in my own time. He or she would be raised according to the strict rules of the seventeenth century, and I would forever be thinking of all the things they were missing. I was putting the cart before the horse, I knew that, but it saddened me to think of all the opportunities my children would never have.
I emerged out of my reverie to find Hugo watching me intently. He might have guessed at what I was thinking, but didn’t say anything, simply took my hand and kissed my palm. I’d given up a lot to be with him, but I would never hold it over his head; the choice had been mine. I gazed into the fire as I imagined myself in my flat in Notting Hill, surfing the Internet as I prepared for my next work assignment, or dashing down a crowded London street to meet a friend at a bar in SoHo for a quick drink.
I think what I actually missed most was watching a movie as I sipped hot tea and indulged in that extra biscuit, or browsed my favorite bookshop or art gallery. And music. I desperately missed music. But none of the small pleasures I’d left behind could ever compete with what I felt when I was with Hugo. After four years with Evan, I was all right being on my own, but the thought of being without Hugo left me in a panic, my heart doing a mumbo of protest as I silently assured it that he wasn’t going anywhere.
For the first time in my life, I felt a twinge of pity for my mother, who’d turned to drink after my father left, and eventually drank herself to death. I’d always felt a terrible resentment for the woman who’d chosen her need to numb her grief over the needs of her only child, but now, in hindsight, if looking at it from a seventeenth-century perspective could be called that, I realized she was so heartbroken by the loss of my father that she simply wasn’t able to cope. I wanted to believe that I would be stronger than my mother should anything ever happen to take Hugo away from me, and would love and care for my child properly, but the ache in my heart at the thought of being without Hugo mocked me and whispered in my ear that loss of love and hope could cripple anyone — even me.
My mother always said that home was where the heart was, and her home left the day my father walked out, leaving her without a farewell or an explanation. He took her love and threw it back in her face, letting her know, in no uncertain terms that in his eyes, it was a worthless commodity. My mother had never been able to make a home for herself with me. I simply wasn’t enough. Well, my home was right here; my heart carefully held in the hands of this man who reeked of whiskey and lemon and was studying me in a way that suggested that he wasn’t oblivious to my thoughts.
“You smell like a brewery,” I said in an effort to distract Hugo from whatever he was thinking.
“I’ve smelled of worse things in my life,” he countered, his eyes still holding mine. “Neve, I would understand if you wanted to go back,” he said, reading my mind with annoying accuracy. “Your world is much safer, especially for a woman carrying a child. I would go back with you, if that’s what you wanted,” he added, letting me know that he’d stand by my decision no matter what. “I’m yours to command, Neve, you know that.”
“I don’t want to go back, but I do wish things were a little less eh… volatile. I wish we were in some charming cottage in France, enjoying a peaceful existence and awaiting the birth of our child. I’m scared, Hugo,” I confessed.
“What is it?” I asked, sensing that Hugo wanted to tell me something, but had been waiting for the right moment.
“You are right to be scared, which is why you won’t be coming with me to Kent,” he said. There was a finality in his voice that I was only too familiar with. He’d brook no argument.
“Why?” I asked, my heart beating faster at the thought of being parted from him even for a few days.
“Because I won’t endanger you, not if I can help it. Archie and I will take you to the Sacred Heart co
nvent before making our way to Kent. The nuns will take good care of you, and I’m sure you’d like to see Frances again.” Hugo thought that might soften the blow, but as much as I wanted to see how Frances was getting on, I was terrified of being away from Hugo and Archie.
“I won’t be in the way; I promise,” I pleaded, already knowing that Hugo would refuse.
“Neve, Jane meant you harm, and has likely been informed of your death in prison. I won’t disabuse her of that notion. As long as you are dead, you are safe. I won’t give her any ammunition against you or our child. I will keep you safe even if that means forfeiting my own life. Now, please, say you understand and will willingly go to the convent.”
“And if I don’t?” I asked stubbornly.
“Then I will take you there anyway, but I would prefer that we parted on good terms and not in anger. Please, obey me in this; it’s for your own safety.”
Hugo was always reasonable and considerate of my needs, but there were times when once he’d made up his mind, there was no arguing with him. Hugo was a man of his time, and a man protecting his woman was the natural order of things. He’d indulge me whenever he could, but this wasn’t up for discussion. I felt a brief moment of annoyance, but instantly regretted it. Hugo had been to Hell and back since my abduction, so I had no right to question his need to keep me safe. If he felt that this was best, I had to concede and respect his wishes, and it wasn’t until Hugo said it out loud that I suddenly realized exactly how dangerous Jane could be.
What if she wasn’t satisfied with getting rid of me and the baby? What if Jane meant to do away with Hugo as well? I knew that I couldn’t talk Hugo out of seeing her; he needed to have it out with her face to face, to understand, if at all possible, what had driven Jane to act so viciously against the person she claimed to love. I didn’t expect that Hugo would find any answers, but perhaps he would find some closure. He needed to hear Jane admit what she had done for himself; otherwise, he would always try to imagine that there was some misunderstanding or coercion.
“All right, Hugo, I will obey you, but only because I know that your reasons are sound.” I reached out and ruffled Hugo’s crusty hair to see if the mixture was working. The roots had turned a lighter color, if not exactly blond, so it was working. A few more minutes and I would wash Hugo’s hair and see the final result. The disguise would hopefully last for a few more weeks, but that wasn’t my main concern. It was only a matter of weeks before the ships stopped sailing due to winter storms. If we didn’t get out of England by the end of November, we’d be trapped here, in a place where Hugo was in constant danger, as was I.
Chapter 23
I came downstairs the following morning to find Archie in the kitchen, slicing fresh bread. He looked up as I entered, smiling in greeting. The kitchen seemed strangely deserted with no fire burning, or a cook and maids going about preparing food for the day; cauldrons simmering over the flames and the smell of baking bread filling the cavernous space. The table was bare, the pots gleaming, the hearth cold and clean.
Sunlight streamed through a small window set high in the wall of the basement kitchen, falling on Archie’s hair and making it glow like flames around his lean face. His eyelashes were a darker shade of auburn, framing his deep-blue eyes and making them pop as our eyes met. Archie was tall and lean; his body exuding the grace and strength of a fencing master rather than a warrior. Not for the first time I was taken aback by Archie’s good looks. He wasn’t vain in the slightest, wearing his beauty not as a badge of honor, but rather as one would wear a periwig at Court, a necessity that he would happily shrug off if possible.
“Where’s Hugo?” I asked, suddenly worried. Bradford didn’t seem to be around either. The house was unusually silent around us.
“His lordship and Master Nash went to the livery to retrieve the horses,” Archie replied soothingly, aware of my panic. “They should be back within the hour. Would you care for some breakfast, Mistress Ashley?”
“Will you join me?” I dreaded the thought of being left alone, even for a short while. Being with Archie made me feel safe, even if the two of us eating together in the kitchen wasn’t exactly socially acceptable. But it’s not as if anyone were watching.
Archie looked faintly horrified by this suggestion, but was too polite to refuse. He treated me as if Hugo and I were already married, and I were a titled lady, not the pregnant mistress of his employer who, by current standards, would be nothing more than a glorified courtesan. I accepted a slice of bread and poured myself some milk from the jug. Archie silently pushed a dish of butter toward me and perched on the bench, feeling as awkward in my company as if I were the Queen of England. I thought that engaging him in conversation might help.
“Do you miss home, Archie?” I asked as I bit into the bread.
Archie considered the question for a moment and shrugged. “Can’t say that I do,” he replied. “I never did care for farming. Rising before the sun is up; toiling in the fields all day, then seeing to the animals before enjoying an hour or two of respite before going to bed and doing it all over again the next day never appealed to me. I suppose there’s a certain pleasure in watching things grow and knowing that you are self-sufficient and can see to your family’s needs, but farming’s not an occupation for a man who longs for adventure or wants to see something beyond the next hill.”
“So what does appeal to you?” I asked, curious to know more about this reticent young man.
“I’ve always wanted to be a soldier, but my father begged me not to join the army. He’d witnessed the slaughter during the Civil War and feared I would die for naught. My Da was a staunch supporter of the Republic, you know; idolized Oliver Cromwell until he grew disillusioned. I think he was actually relieved when Charles was invited back to take the throne, but didn’t want to appear foolish for changing his mind.”
“Did he fight, your father?”
“Oh, aye, he did, and has the scars to prove it. The scars lasted a lot longer than the Republic.”
“So you stayed and farmed against your wishes?”
“My Da and I came to a compromise, you might say. I stayed, but I didn’t farm. I went into his lordship’s employ and gave my earnings to my father to hire a farmhand. Worked for us both, for a time.”
“You seem to be very devoted to his lordship. I can’t believe it’s only because he pays you,” I observed. The relationship between Hugo and Archie mystified me. They were not exactly friends, but so much more than master and servant, and certainly loyal to each other in a way that belied their stations in life.
“He pays me rather well,” Archie quipped as he finally smiled. “But, you are right; it’s not just the money. I owe Lord Everly my life.”
“In what way?”
“Well,” Archie said suddenly looking sheepish, “I was a bit of a troublemaker as a small child, always trying to run away from my poor mother and getting into all kinds of scrapes. My mam was too busy to keep watching me all day long, so I was my sister’s responsibility. Julia is five years older, so she considered herself to be quite the mature woman at the age of twelve. She ordered me about something fierce.” I could just imagine Sister Julia as a young girl, keeping a strict eye on her little brother.
“She must have been formidable.”
“Oh, she was. Never left me alone. One day, I managed to get away from her and snuck down to the river where some of the older boys were swimming. I didn’t know how to swim, but the water looked so inviting and cool. I felt grubby and hot and just wanted to cool off. The boys chased me away, but I hid behind a bush and watched them splashing around and hooting with laughter. I was so envious. I wished I had an older brother to tag along with, but I only had the one annoying older sister.”
“What happened?” I asked, already suspecting the answer.
“After the boys went home to have their dinner, I took my clothes off and waded into the river. It was bliss. The water was cool and fresh, the sun sparkling on the surface and mak
ing me feel as if I were in some enchanted place. I splashed around for a while and would have been just fine had I not decided to go in a little deeper.”
Archie gave me a rueful smile as he remembered that moment when everything changed. “It was a lot deeper than I’d bargained on. I lost my footing and went under. As the water covered my head, I felt a terror I haven’t felt since. I was sure I was going to die. My heart was pounding, and my arms and legs were flailing like a windmill. I fought to keep my head above the water, screaming for my mother all the while. I remember thinking that if I ever got out alive I would get my hide tanned like never before, so maybe drowning was preferable.”
“Surely not,” I said with a smile as I imagined a seven-year-old Archie, naked and terrified, fighting for his life.
“No matter the punishment, I wasn’t ready to die just yet, but the current was strong in that part of the river and it carried me along, forcing me under. His lordship was fishing with his tutor and heard my screams. He waded in and fished me out before I drowned or was smashed against the rocks. The tutor, who was a dried-up old stick, tried to scold me and threatened to tell my parents, but Hugo just wrapped me in his coat and held me until I stopped shaking, then gave me some bread and jam that he’d had in his pack. He helped me find my clothes and then took me for a gallop on his horse until I dried off.”
“Did you get in trouble once you got home?”
“My mother and sister were frantic. They’d looked everywhere for me, and Julia’s face was all puffy from crying, which made me kind of glad since she was always making me cry. My mam scolded her something fierce for letting me out of her sight. They both came running when they saw me coming back astride a fine stallion with his lordship. Hugo told my mother that we’d been fishing together and lost track of time, so she couldn’t very well punish me, could she?”
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