by June Francis
‘It is my father and half-brother who have been murdered, not yours,’ she said angrily. ‘I will not sit back whilst you give him time to make his escape.’ She would have withdrawn her hand from beneath his if he had not gripped it tightly.
‘If Cedric is found guilty, he will not escape. Trust me! I will find him and see what he has to say for himself,’ said Gawain. ‘I will go in search of him in the morning.’
With that Beth had to be content and she nodded. ‘In the morning.’
‘You will stay here,’ said Gawain firmly. ‘And do not be so foolish as to attempt to follow me,’ he added in softer tones. ‘Your promise on it, Beth. I would not like to leave orders to have you locked in your bedchamber for your own protection.’
She hesitated, but the expression in his eyes told her that he meant every word he uttered. ‘I promise.’
He responded with a smile of such charm that she felt a peculiar melting sensation inside her. Then he raised her hand to his lips and kissed it before releasing it. ‘I will not fail you,’ he said.
Chapter Six
Beth’s book lay open on the bench beside her as she watched a pair of butterflies fluttering in the air before landing on a clump of marigolds. The heat of the sun was making her feel drowsy and she stifled a yawn, wondering when Gawain would return. It was a month since he had left for London and there had been no word from him. Considering the short time she had known him, it was surprising how much she missed his presence. Several times she had considered breaking her promise to him, but it was as if there was an invisible barrier preventing her from doing so. A promise was a promise and he had asked her to trust him. She felt she had no choice but to do so because he was obviously trusting her to stick to her promise.
What could be keeping him? She gnawed on her lip, trying not to dwell on the conversation she had overheard between Jonathan and Cedric. It had not been about money and she had feared that her brother was involved in an unnatural relationship with the fair-haired angelic-looking young man, but she had managed to convince herself afterwards that she had read into their words more than there was intended. She had remembered since that there had been a large woman present and she had slanted them a sharp look and the two younger men had smiled at each other. Then Cedric had asked her brother whether he had a copy of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and they had moved away from her. She’d had another thought about the two since. What if they had fallen out and the result could have been Cedric trying to blackmail her brother and Jonathan refusing to hand money over and that was why he had been murdered?
Not for the first time she prayed that Gawain had not met with an untimely end and told herself that surely if something terrible had befallen him, then they would have heard. Perhaps Gawain had discovered that Cedric had accompanied his uncle to France; maybe they had not returned when Gawain arrived in London and he had decided to visit his wife and children in the interval before seeking out Sir Ralph and Cedric again. She did not want Mary to return home, if she were honest. During the last few weeks Beth had started to feel very much at home at Raventon Hall, despite longing to step foot into the print room and smell the familiar odours of ink, fresh paper and vellum. It would be foolish to put herself into danger. She was also finding the tranquillity here in the garden away from the hustle and bustle of London another factor in the healing of her grief, although she had suffered from recurring dreams about that time in France. Instead of Sir Gawain entering the tent after her, she was confronted by a young man with the face of an angel who then somehow turned into a terrifying figure clad in red and black.
‘So there you are!’
Beth jumped at the sound of the voice and her heart fluttered in her breast as she gazed up into Gawain’s attractive features and she felt warmth and excitement flood through her. For a moment their eyes held and she was convinced that he was as glad to see her as she was to see him, but perhaps she was imagining it. She must not forget he was married and of a mind to find a husband for her once the murderer was captured. Yet she could not help saying, ‘Where have you been all this time? I worried in case you had met some ill fate.’
He was touched by the thought that she had worried about him. ‘Is that is why you started and looked at me as if you’d seen a ghost?’ he teased, cocking a dark eyebrow.
‘You’ve been gone a month and there’s been no word from you,’ she protested.
Gawain grimaced. ‘You have every right to rebuke me.’ He picked up her book and sat beside her, wincing as he did so.
‘You are in pain,’ said Beth, unable to conceal the concern in her voice. ‘Is it your old injury?’
‘Aye, we were attacked on the road and had to fight our way out.’
She gasped. ‘How terrible! Perhaps you should be in bed resting?’
‘I admit that the thought of sleeping in my own bed is extremely appealing after so many nights spend on floors or the ground. Fortunately Tom was able to deal with it and I suffer more right now from too much time on horseback. I intend staying put for the next few days.’
He stretched out his legs and his shoulder brushed against Beth’s as he stifled a yawn. She once again felt that pleasurable sensation his slightest touch caused her and she experienced an urge to draw closer to him, but fought it. ‘You are weary. Perhaps you should, indeed, have gone straight to bed,’ she said in a low voice.
He glanced at her. ‘I’ll last out the day. I have much to tell you. I would have sent Tom with a message, explaining why I was away longer than I intended, only I had need of him and I had no intention of entrusting my message to anyone I did not completely trust.’
‘So did you find Cedric?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Patience. First I had to find Sir Ralph Pennington.’
‘And did you?’
‘Aye, he was newly returned from France and had gone to stay at his country residence in Berkshire, preparing for a visit from the king some time in August. Unfortunately Cedric was not there, but Sir Ralph assured me that he had not accompanied him to France. Apparently he sent a message saying he had been called home at the beginning of June to his father’s deathbed.’
Beth was taken aback. ‘Did you believe him?’
‘I believed Sir Ralph, but I wasn’t so certain about Cedric, so I travelled to his father’s castle in Yorkshire to speak with him.’
‘Yorkshire!’ she exclaimed in astonishment.
‘Aye.’ He frowned. ‘When we arrived there the old man had indeed died. Cedric sent a message out to me, saying that he was too distraught to see anyone. I asked one of the servants when his master’s son had arrived and the date he gave me definitely meant that Cedric could not have murdered your father in France.’
‘So Sam made a mistake!’ said Beth, her emotions in turmoil.
‘No.’ Gawain smiled grimly. ‘I had not gone all the way up there to be fobbed off so easily. I was determined to confront Cedric about the dagger. Besides, Sir Ralph had told me that his nephew was desperate to come into his inheritance because he had gambling debts and had been waiting for months for the old man to die.’
‘So we were right about his need for money,’ said Beth, her eyes brightening. ‘Did he agree to see you?’
Gawain nodded. ‘I sent a message in to him that he could not resist. We had a short conversation about the dagger during which he told me that he had picked it up somewhere, but could not remember where, but had mislaid it long before he left London for Yorkshire.’
Beth frowned. ‘It sounds suspicious to me.’
‘I deem he has light fingers and panicked when someone saw the dagger and commented on it, so he decided to return it to its rightful owner,’ said Gawain.
Beth felt a stir of excitement. ‘Who is the rightful owner?’
Gawain stretched his arm along the back of the bench. ‘He refused to tell me. It could be that he is truly frightened of naming the person because it could be someone in a position of power. The other possibility is that Cedric inten
ds to blackmail whomever it is. From the castle’s appearance there is not as much money to inherit as he might have hoped.’
‘He would be a fool to blackmail a murderer!’
‘I would not argue,’ said Gawain. ‘Anyway, Tom is keeping a watch on him and he also has one of the lads to act as messenger or relieve him.’
A thought occurred to Beth. ‘What if he tells the murderer that you have the dagger? Are you not putting your own life at risk if he attempts to get it back?’
‘Your lack of faith in my ability to defend myself and those in my protection surprises me, Beth,’ drawled Gawain.
She flushed. ‘I did not say that I doubted your strength or your wits,’ she said swiftly, stretching out a hand to him.
He took it and kissed it. ‘I am glad to hear it.’
The palm of her hand where his lips had touched thrummed; she longed for him to kiss her mouth again. This, indeed, was a foolishness. No doubt he was only comforting her because they still did not have their murderer. Her throat felt suddenly tight and she had to clear her throat before managing to say, ‘I—I did w-wonder whether you had visited your wife and daughters whilst you were away.’ She withdrew her hand.
Gawain wished vehemently that Beth had not reminded him of Mary right now. But perhaps she had done so deliberately to prevent him from overstepping the mark. For a moment he considered telling Beth the truth, but that would only make her think the worse of him for deceiving her in the first place; he wanted her to not only trust him but, God forgive him, to grow fond of him enough to not want to leave his home. ‘I stayed only a short time. Mary knows that I have much to do that keeps me here or in London.’
‘I see,’ said Beth. ‘I presume that you have told your wife that you have to find me a husband and that she knows that I am staying here and about James and Mildred’s wedding on the sixth of August.’
‘Is that when it is?’ he said, frowning.
‘Aye, we had a visit from Mildred.’
‘Then it is unlikely Mary will be home in time for the wedding,’ he replied after a brief hesitation. ‘Her aunt is very ill and will not be able to spare her. Besides, Mary was never a particular friend of Mildred’s.’
No wonder his wife does not mind missing the wedding then, thought Beth. But to stay away from Gawain for so long surely meant there was no real love lost between them. That thought lifted Beth’s spirits, but they plummeted just as quickly because he knew he was still married to her. ‘Of your courtesy, may I ask one more question and then I will bother you no more?’
‘What is it now?’ he drawled, a hint of humour in his eyes.
‘The wedding. You will attend? I cannot possibly choose a husband from amongst James Tyler’s guests without you there to help me,’ she said.
Gawain, who had been looking forward to spending a few days at home relaxing, really was in no mood to vet suitors for Beth and yet he knew it made sense to do so. Part of him had hoped the tug of attraction he felt towards her might had waned during his absence, but it hadn’t. His feelings were definitely all mixed up where she was concerned. ‘So you are prepared to start looking for a husband despite our still not having captured the murderer?’
Beth sighed. ‘It was your original idea that we view prospective spouses at the wedding.’
Why had he had to tell her that? groaned Gawain inwardly. He cleared his throat. ‘No doubt you are eager to meet the Hurst brothers?’
‘It should prove interesting to meet the gentlemen you don’t consider suitable for me.’ She gazed at him archly.
‘Did I say that?’ asked Gawain.
‘You know you did!’
‘I have forgotten. Anyway, there is no guarantee they will be there,’ he warned.
‘Indeed,’ said Beth, thinking it most likely that he sounded so irritable because he was tired and in pain. She reminded herself that was because he had been working on her behalf as her guardian and added softly, ‘I know you wish to rest, but could you spare me a few more moments of your time and tell me of your visit to the lawyer and my father’s business?’
Gawain relaxed. ‘I have signed all the necessary documents and your father’s business now belongs to you. When I arrived back from Yorkshire I discovered that several people had already shown an interest in buying it.’
Her expression swiftly altered and she frowned. ‘But I have already told you that I do not wish to sell it. Rather I would find other premises in Aldersgate.’
‘I have visited Aldersgate and did not see any premises that I deemed suitable,’ said Gawain. ‘What I have considered—’
‘But you know naught about printing, bookbinding and selling,’ she interrupted, springing to her feet and dislodging the book she had been reading.
He caught it before it hit the ground. ‘You have said that before, but I know enough about business to realise that your moving there would not be welcome,’ he said firmly, handing the book back to her.
‘Why not? Because I am a woman?’ she said in a seething voice.
‘That has naught to do with it,’ he snapped, ‘because I and your lawyer would deal with the move and you would have the same employees working for you. Rather it is because you would have to build up a completely different clientele in Aldersgate. The area is not so conveniently situated for your present customers and the income from the business would plummet. It is best either to sell it or to keep to the present premises and sell shares and become a company. Also, by selling shares you will have a dowry to attract the right husband and still have an interest in the business, as well as an income.’
She stared at him, then sat down again. ‘You seem to have it all worked out. No doubt you are trying to do what is best for me, but I would like some time to consider your suggestion.’
Gawain’s eyes narrowed. ‘Are you thinking still of continuing with your news sheet?’
‘In truth, I was wondering if the murderer might decide to put in a bid for the business if it were to go up for sale. I will not have him gaining control of that which was my father’s life and the same goes for selling shares,’ she said, her brown eyes hard.
‘We would sell only to a person we trusted,’ said Gawain.
‘Who can we really trust?’ asked Beth, exasperated.
‘Each other,’ suggested Gawain, raising an eyebrow. ‘I already have some shares in the business that your father left me, if you remember.’
She stared at him and wondered if she was too trusting of him because she was attracted to him. ‘So you would buy more. Why? So you can gain control?’
He flashed her a startled look. ‘Of course not! You would retain more shares than you sell to me and that way you will always have control.’
‘Again I need to think,’ said Beth, feeling she had been wrong-footed.
‘Whether or not you can trust me?’
She flushed. ‘I have not known you long.’
‘Long enough, I would have thought, to realise I have your well-being at heart,’ he said, leaning back and closing his eyes. ‘Forget my suggestion. Let us instead discuss the list you gave me,’ he murmured.
‘List?’ she said evasively.
‘Do not pretend, Beth, that you do not know what I am talking about,’ said Gawain, stifling a yawn. It had not slipped his attention that she had mentioned a liking for blue eyes and dark hair such as his own. ‘Your ideal husband, remember? I spent some time whilst I was away, considering those amongst my acquaintances who might make you a suitable match.’
‘You mean rather than the Hurst brothers?’ teased Beth. ‘I, too, have been giving thought to those men I know who might possibly suit me.’
‘And what conclusion did you reach?’ asked Gawain, stifling another yawn.
‘That the only way to be sure is by living with them,’ she said loudly, wondering if he was now about to fall asleep before her very eyes when they were in the middle of such an important discussion about her future.
Gawain’s eyelids slowly opened
and he gazed sleepily at her. ‘I presume you are jesting?’
She smiled. ‘What do you think? Perhaps I simply wanted to shock you awake. No doubt you thoroughly disapprove of the thought of my living with a man without being married to him?’
‘You might stay under his roof,’ murmured Gawain, ‘as long as you are chaperoned. If he has a mother or sisters or an aunt living with him, you might find out more about him than you would like.’ His eyes closed again.
The silence seemed to stretch between them and the hum of the bees in the flowers was hypnotic. The mention of an aunt had not slipped past her.
‘I am glad you raised the subject of liking,’ said Beth loudly. ‘Do you not agree that it is essential to like one’s spouse? I should imagine that even if a man had all the attributes I mention on my list and there was something about him that I could not like, then one could be very unhappy.’
Silence.
Beth allowed several moments to pass before asking, ‘Are you listening, Sir Gawain?’
No answer.
She gave up trying to rouse him. ‘I wonder what it is that makes one grow fond of a certain person and dislike another? What is it that makes one love someone?’ she murmured, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest. ‘What magic is it that draws one irresistibly to another?’ She sighed, knowing he needed his rest. Should she leave him to sleep, undisturbed? Unless by getting up she disturbed him? It was peaceful here in the herb garden and she could gaze openly at him without worrying about what he might make of her staring at him. There was stubble on his jaw and she was tempted to touch it and see how bristly it felt. She noticed how long his eyelashes were and how in slumber the lines of his face were relaxed and he appeared less careworn and, hence, younger.
He shifted slightly on the bench and his head slipped down on to her shoulder. Her heart quickened its beat and she gave in to the impulse to rest her cheek against his hair. She closed her eyes and imagined what it would feel like to sleep with him. It would be much more comfortable sharing a bed than a bench. Her thoughts began to drift and then suddenly she caught herself up. What was she thinking of? She could never live with him as a wife. Hadn’t he told her in France about his wife and that he had no intention of taking another? That would be bigamy. But what if his wife were to die and he were to ask her to marry him? Would she accept such a proposal? She felt certain he was still of a mind to silence that creative voice of hers and keep her away from the printing presses. Suddenly she heard voices and lifted her head. Digging her elbow in her companion’s side, she said loudly, ‘Sir Gawain, wake up! Your aunt and Jane are coming.’
