by Karen Brooks
Hiske’s eyes widened and she took a step back. “Master Tobias . . . Tobias . . . Forgive me. I didn’t expect—”
“To see me here? That’s evident.” Tobias threw the rag upon which he was cleaning his hands to one side, narrowly missing the mash tun and came to stand by me. Together we faced the woman who’d been my torment ever since Mother died.
“Just as I didn’t expect to see you, once I saw the state you left the house in, never mind my siblings. It’s only my sister’s sense of family obligation, an awareness of the humiliation your crime would bring upon the family, that prevented her calling the sheriff. Peculiar you didn’t mention what occurred during our delightful chat yesterday.”
Even in the dim light of the brewhouse, I could see Hiske’s cheeks color. Her eyes shifted from side to side and she swallowed.
“I merely took what I was owed—” she began.
“You took whatever you wanted, Cousin Hiske,” I corrected, emboldened. “Waiting until there was no one present who could call you to account.”
Blustering, Hiske tried to find words and failed.
“And for the record, there’s nothing common or otherwise about my sister, my mother, or our family,” said Tobias. “Furthermore, Anneke has my support in this—as well as Lord Rainford’s. I ask that if you can’t respect the Sheldrake name, you at least respect that.”
Something flickered across Hiske’s face. Ribbons of ice unfurled in my stomach. Did she know about Tobias’s parentage? Would she say something? Could Hiske be that cruel? I held my breath.
Regaining her composure, Cousin Hiske sniffed. “Whether or not someone is perceived as common is not something that you or I decide, Tobias Sheldrake. About the family or ourselves. That’s a verdict the court of the townsfolk will proffer and which, as I warned your sister, you too may yet suffer.”
I understood then, God be praised, Hiske didn’t know.
Tired of her negativity, I wanted Hiske and her spiteful insinuations gone. “Why are you here, Cousin Hiske?”
Peering into the mash tun, Hiske chose her words. “I couldn’t credit it when, at mass this morning, the talk outside St. Stephen’s was not of Martinmas, but of the new brewer. They were saying how men flocked to her house like bees to pollen, how they remained drinking until well into the night, abandoning hearth, home, and families—and on Martinmas—unable to resist the unnatural temptations this flame-haired siren offered. I didn’t need to be told. I knew exactly whom they were discussing. I simply couldn’t believe you’d be so foolish as to destroy all your prospects; ruin your father’s reputation as well as your own so readily. I had to come and see for myself.” She looked me up and down with a calculated deliberateness, her upper lip curled. “The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree—”
“Don’t!” I strode toward her, fury propelling me. Hiske butted up against the wall. “Don’t you dare, Hiske Jabben.” I glared at her, furious. “You’ll not denigrate my mother’s name ever again with your sly words and poisonous tongue. Thank the dear Lord I don’t have to put up with them or you anymore.”
“Oh, as much as I’m loathe to disappoint you, Cousin, I’m afraid that’s not true,” said Hiske. “And, for the record,” she sneered, “it’s Mistress Makejoy.”
“What do you mean?” My fingernails dug into my palm. Sweat trickled down my back.
“I mean that, you’d best get accustomed to my presence. Under orders from Lord Rainford”—she looked at Tobias—“my husband is checking your books as we speak, so both Master Makejoy and I will be frequent—”
“He’s in the office? Alone?” Without waiting for further explanations, I pushed past Hiske, who stood sniggering, and ran through the garden into the kitchen. Deep in frantic conversation, Blanche and Iris broke apart as I entered. “I know, I know!” I said, holding up a hand. I darted down the passageway that joined the kitchen to the hall, bolted through the hall and into the corridor. I had a vague impression of laden sacks in the corner near the shop door, what looked like bolts of fabric, and other goods bulging from the opening, as well as some objects on the floor besides, but didn’t pay too much attention. Not when there were raised voices coming from Father’s office.
“—he’s not here, but I am—and I’m ordering you to hand it over.” There was a dull thump and a squeak. “Is that clear?” Sir Leander sounded like a man close to losing his temper.
Pushing the door slightly, a very gratifying scene met my gaze. Master Makejoy was pinned to the far wall of the room, the ledger that I’d been using to record our expenses and income dangling from one hand while the other was covering the top of Leander Rainford’s, which was attached to his throat. A pot of ink had been knocked over; a quill snapped in two lay on the floor. I gasped and then opened the door wide, letting the men know there was a witness.
Tobias, Blanche, Iris, and Adam gathered behind me. Tobias inhaled sharply.
“Sir Leander, I beg you, please . . .” Master Makejoy’s voice cracked. He raised the ledger. “Take it, dear sweet Lord, take it.”
Snatching the ledger from his trembling hand, Sir Leander held it over his shoulder without looking around. “Mistress Sheldrake? If you please?” In two steps, I had it safe in my hands. I clutched it tightly.
“How dare you!” shrieked another voice and in swept Hiske. “Let Master Makejoy go!” Outrage made her skin blotchy and her eyes flashed.
Taking his time, Sir Leander released Master Makejoy, who found his feet and, doubling over, coughed and then spat into the fireplace. He sank onto a stool, loosening his surcoat at the neck.
Hiske threw her arms around her husband, raising a furious face toward the nobleman. “You may be Lord Rainford’s son, but you’ve no right to treat one of his employees that way! Wait till your father hears about this.”
Her voice shook, but I admired her bravery. I didn’t imagine many would confront Sir Leander, let alone threaten him. Looking at the tender way she held Master Makejoy, I wondered if she really did love this strange emaciated man.
“My mistake. I first thought your husband a thief and set about preventing him taking what I believed was Mistress Sheldrake’s property,” said Sir Leander with great calm.
Hiske’s eyes became mere slits.
“The fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree,” said Tobias for my ears alone. I coughed.
“You attacked me!” Master Makejoy was hoarse. “My heart is pounding fit to burst.”
Hiske made some soothing noises. Behind me, Iris stifled a noise of disgust.
“Well, it was an honest mistake.” Sir Leander cocked an eyebrow at me, his meaning clear. “The room is dark and, hearing noises, I look in to spy a man I don’t recognize sneaking about. Well, what was I to assume? Speaking of which, there’s a mystery I’m hoping you can help me solve, Makejoy.”
“My lord?” Master Makejoy rubbed his throat.
“Imagine my surprise when Tobias roused me from a very comfortable slumber this morning to inform me there were men outside the house waiting to pick up some property they’d been sold.”
Hiske drew herself up, one hand still attached to Master Makejoy’s shoulder. “I can explain, my lord.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can, Mistress Makejoy, and I look forward to hearing what you have to say.” Sir Leander rested his elbow upon the mantelpiece, poking the fire with the end of his cane. “Especially since the servants were at a loss as to clarify how my father’s private house suddenly became the equivalent of a merchant’s shop—selling everything from quite unique curios, I’m reliably informed, to larger objects such as rugs and tables.”
I gasped. Behind me there were dark mutters.
“I can explain that, Sir Leander,” said Master Makejoy weakly.
“And I would like to hear your account as well, Makejoy. Facts are, I told these men that what they sought to buy were in fact stolen goods and they’d better leave before I sent for the sheriff.”
Master Makejoy groaned and buried his head
in his hands. Hiske didn’t move.
The smile left Leander Rainford’s face. “What I want to hear from you, Makejoy, or your wife, is how you came to be in possession of such property.”
Hiske flashed a look at me. “It’s mine.”
“Indeed? That’s not what I’ve been led to believe, Mistress Makejoy. In fact, I was given to understand that it was taken unlawfully.”
“Unlawfully?” said Hiske. “Nee. Not at all. I was merely ensuring I was paid in kind for services rendered. Isn’t that right, Master Makejoy? Especially since it was clear that my cousin Joseph’s estate could no longer guarantee my wages.” I marveled that she could meet my eyes, let alone Leander Rainford’s.
Master Makejoy rose unsteadily, tugging his shirtsleeves and faced Sir Leander. “That’s right, my lord. Everything Mistress Jabben”—Hiske elbowed him in the ribs—“I mean, Mistress Makejoy, took was to compensate for wages owed while she lived under this roof and served as the Sheldrake children’s guardian. You have to understand, Master Sheldrake promised Mistress J . . . Makejoy a great deal more than she ever received. So much so, one could argue she came to this country under false pretenses. We did nothing illegal.”
“And one could also argue, Makejoy, that your wife has, how shall I say this? Overestimated her worth.”
At the look on Hiske’s face, I had to turn away. I knew well the false pretenses to which Master Makejoy alluded. There was a time when Hiske hoped she’d be the new Mistress Sheldrake. The day I learned this and confronted her, laughing at her temerity, was the day my torment began. Father only ever saw her as a guardian, not as replacement for Mother. His lack of desire to take the relationship further had nothing to do with me, despite what Hiske believed. Cruel as it was, she had overestimated her worth. Pity for the woman knocked against my heart. But not, God forgive me, for long.
“So,” continued Sir Leander, “I’ve arranged a discharge on the difference as I see it.”
Master Makejoy reached for Hiske’s hand and gripped it. Her cheeks looked pinched; her lips had disappeared.
“At first, I thought of notifying Father and seeing what he wished to do. After all, some of it is his property. You might recall that on Master Sheldrake’s death, the house reverted back to his ownership and thus responsibility, at least until new arrangements were made.” He shot a glance at me. “The fact that we’ve now been implicated in a crime by becoming a storehouse for stolen goods will no doubt irritate him. He’ll be more than displeased. Imagine if the sheriff should find out? I wonder who Father might see fit to punish?”
Master Makejoy fell back onto his seat. Hiske visibly paled. “Oh, there’s no need to inform his lordship, Sir Leander, or the sheriff.” He tightened his hold on his wife. “You’re right. We could well have overestimated what my dear Mistress Makejoy was owed.”
“What have you done with my . . . with the goods, my lord?” asked Hiske.
Sir Leander gestured to the door. “Some have already found their way back to their rightful home. Tobias, you’ll find that pennant you coveted and some other items of interest in a sack in the hallway.”
“My lord,” said Tobias with a huge grin and a wink to me.
“Mistress Sheldrake, I believe there are some ewers, an unusual bronze mazer, candlesticks, rugs, tapestries, a Bible, a book of poems and even some cushions among what was retrieved.”
“My lord.” I curtsied.
So that was what I saw sitting against the wall. I took a deep breath, trying not to reassess Sir Leander. If actions and words maketh the man, as Father Clement preached, why was this one such a contradiction?
“The larger pieces will arrive later today,” said Sir Leander, with a reassuring smile at Saskia, who clasped her hands together and smothered a whoop of joy. Behind me, she whispered orders to Iris and Blanche, who scurried down the corridor. From their muffled exclamations and the sound of dragging, the sacks were taken to the hall. I lowered my chin to hide my smile, shaking my head.
Hiske knew better than to speak. There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.
“I’m glad we’ve reached accord then,” said Sir Leander finally, offering Hiske the most amiable of grins. “Once more, my humblest apologies for the error, Makejoy; Mistress Makejoy.” He helped Master Makejoy to his feet, brushing down his jacket. “I swear by all that’s holy, I didn’t recognize you, what with this fine fabric, the white shirt—not a mark upon it. Not like the man I remember at all.” He glanced at Hiske. “Your wife knows how to ensure a stain doesn’t linger to cause comment or draw disapprobation, doesn’t she?”
“Aye, she does,” said Master Makejoy, a look of confusion upon his face. Ensuring his surcoat was straight, he smacked his hands together, casting Hiske urgent looks. “When your father instructed me to continue to look after the accounts at Holcroft House after Sheldrake’s death, I was under the impression I’d be answering to your brother, that Sir Symond was responsible. I was clearly mistaken.”
Sir Leander’s eyes narrowed. “It’s also my understanding that it’s Symond’s role, but since he’s attending the king’s daughter’s betrothal at Westminster, I can substitute for the time being. In these circumstances, we’ll have to agree, one Rainford is as good as the next.” His lips tightened and a muscle in his cheek began to twitch.
“Of course, of course, my lord. When you’re ready to depart Elmham Lenn,” continued Master Makejoy, unaware of the effect his words had, “and if you wish me to check the books until your brother is able, you’ve only to ask and I’ll arrange to inspect them—by appointment,” he added hastily.
“How long do you think you’ll be staying?” asked Hiske.
“Not long,” I answered, at the same time as Sir Leander said, “As long as it takes,” his gaze alighting on me briefly, a twinkle in those sapphire eyes.
I looked away.
Using his stick, Sir Leander lifted the cloak Master Makejoy had lost in their tussle and passed it to the factotum, who snatched it, wrapped it around his shoulders, and then, fitting his cap, mumbled a farewell.
“Good day to you, my lord. Master, Mistress Sheldrake. Come, Mistress Makejoy.”
Cousin Hiske, quite unable to believe that she’d been so firmly reprimanded and made in some measure to account for what she’d done, was frozen in place. I couldn’t help it, I felt a small flicker of pleasure and, I admit, gratitude toward Sir Leander that yet again, he had set something wrong to rights.
“Don’t you look at me like that, Anneke Sheldrake,” snapped Hiske, refusing to leave the room. “With that witch-gaze of yours.”
Stepping back so she and Master Makejoy could pass, I didn’t dignify her words with a response.
When she reached the doorway, Hiske turned and with a cold deliberateness examined me from top to toe. “You think you’re better than me, Anneke Sheldrake, you always have. But you’re not. Certainly not anymore. I’m a married woman and you’re nothing but a . . . a . . . brewster.”
She may as well have said slattern and we all knew it. Well, I’d been called worse and by so-called better people.
Tobias made a quiet noise that sounded like a growl. Hiske ignored him.
Master Makejoy tugged at his wife’s sleeve. “Come, dear, there’s no need for this—”
“No need?” she spat. “There’s every need. Someone has to tell her!”
“Tell me what?”
“What they’re saying in town.”
“I suggest you leave, Mistress Makejoy.” Sir Leander used his cane to indicate the door.
Hiske braced herself against the frame. “They’re saying that it won’t be long before you’re selling more than ale here . . .” Her eyes flashed to Sir Leander. “But perhaps they’re wrong, hey? Perhaps you’ve already started . . .”
With a swish of her skirts, Hiske fled. Master Makejoy trotted after her, casting a fearful and apologetic look over his shoulder.
Tobias followed. There was the chime of the shop door and heated wor
ds. Adam discreetly went after them.
Remaining in the cold, dark office beside me was Leander Rainford.
“Don’t,” I said, before he could open his mouth. “I know what you’re thinking.” Tying the boards, I slid the ledger back on the shelf.
“You might be surprised.”
I could feel tears building—tears of rage and sorrow. But, God be damned, I wouldn’t let them fall in front of this man. I needed to get out of the office before they did. “You’ve already made it clear what you think of me and I doubt what my cousin said will have changed your mind.”
“They were just words,” he said softly, stepping toward me, his stick slipping slightly on the wood.
I spun to face him. He was closer than I expected. “That’s a fine jest coming from the man who wielded one with such venom upon our first meeting.” Wetness struck my cheek and I swiped it away, all good intentions to thank him forgotten. “To you, maybe, they’re just words, but to a woman, as Hiske so kindly pointed out, they’re what her reputation is built upon.”
I went to leave but, as I brushed past Sir Leander, he grabbed my arm.
I glanced at where he gripped me. He pulled me closer. By God he was strong. “Then make your cousin eat hers,” he said quietly.
I held his eyes, my chest tight, my body burning, then shook myself free. “And you, my lord, what about you?”
“Me too,” he said. “Make me eat mine.”
I paused at the doorway, glancing back at him over my shoulder. “Not good enough. I want you to choke on yours.”
Before he could respond, I took off down the corridor and into the main hall. My heart was pounding, my face flamed. Thank the good Lord no one was about. I leaned against the wall. I’d never spoken to anyone like that in my life. What was it about this man that he made my temper flare to the point that I forgot both caution and etiquette? What about the gratitude I owed him, owed his family?
Shutting my eyes, I took a deep breath and released it, opening the fists I’d formed and shaking my hands in an effort to ease the tension in my body.