The Unconventional Maiden

by June Francis

  Beth’s throat was suddenly tight with emotion. Where was this priest’s compassion that he should persist in his questioning? ‘You deem he would talk to me, a grieving daughter, about it?’ she asked.

  She could see that her reply surprised him. ‘You were dancing earlier so it appears to me that you have decided to leave mourning behind. Surely you want your father’s murderer caught?’ he said.

  Beth felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘That goes without saying, but I am only a woman and leave such matters to Sir Gawain. Just as I accept what he says about my father approving of my behaviour here this evening. It was his will that I should take a husband, not mine.’

  Father Hugh said sharply, ‘I watched you dance with your guardian. I do not know what he has been telling you about his wife, but he can never be free of her whilst she is alive.’

  Beth was taken aback. ‘Why do you say this to me? It has never crossed my mind that he and I …’ Her voice trailed off because she knew that was a lie and it appeared to her that the priest saw more than she wanted him to. She had no idea what would have happened next if they had not been interrupted.

  ‘Father Hugh, by St George, what do you think you are doing?’ said Gawain angrily. ‘Unhand my ward immediately! You forget yourself.’

  The priest released Beth instantly and faced Gawain, a slight smile playing about his thin lips. ‘Such fury, Gawain. I hope that you are not forgetting your position.’

  ‘I know exactly where I stand,’ said Gawain, his expression uncompromising.

  ‘Good.’ The priest fiddled with his sleeve. ‘I hope you have also remembered that the Cardinal is expecting you to bring him up to date on what you might have discovered. I can tell you that his investigations in France came to a dead end. Is there aught you can tell me and I will pass a message on to him?’

  ‘I will seek an audience with the Cardinal when I am ready,’ said Gawain.

  Father Hugh clicked his tongue against his teeth. ‘I am only trying to help you, my son, but I can see that you have inherited your father’s unwillingness to accept the truth, so I will leave you.’ His robes brushed the ground as he swept past Gawain.

  Once he was out of earshot Gawain turned to Beth and took her by the shoulders and gazed down at her with concern. ‘If it were not that he was a priest I would have punched him for his behaviour towards you. Did he force you into telling him anything? I know he used to scare me when I was a lad, but I always tried to conceal it.’

  ‘He did scare me, but I responded to his questioning by referring him to you,’ said Beth, feeling safer now and wanting to rest her head against his chest and have his arms around her but knew she must not give in to her longings. Whilst dancing with him, she had forgotten about his wife, but Father Hugh had forced her to remember her existence.

  ‘Clever girl,’ said Gawain, his hands moving gently over her shoulders in a soothing manner. He knew he should be keeping his distance, but the need to touch her and give her reassurance was overwhelming.

  ‘He said I should not have danced with you.’

  ‘Apparently he said something similar to my aunt,’

  said Gawain. ‘Do not mind what he says as he is priest to neither of us and should look to his own faults and the grand style in which he and his Cardinal live before he criticises others.’

  Beth sighed. ‘I wanted to escape his company the moment he approached me. Close up to him, I knew that I had definitely seen him before. Then he told me that he had visited the shop to purchase books and had met Jonathan. My brother had little time for those in holy orders except Franciscans, whom he admired for their vows of poverty and obedience to Christ.’

  ‘Unlike Father Hugh,’ said Gawain grimly. ‘He is a member of that rich-and-proud hierarchy of the church and belongs to Cardinal Wolsey’s household, as you might have guessed.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’ asked Beth.

  He held her gaze for several moments and then smiled. ‘You must stop fretting about all this and leave it in my hands. Master Bigbury has asked permission to call on you in a few days. We can also expect a visit from Pip Hurst with his brother’s journal.’

  Beth’s face brightened. ‘It should make interesting reading.’

  ‘Let us hope so. And now my aunt would like to go home and I think we should go with her.’

  ‘Gladly will I leave,’ said Beth. ‘Father Hugh has quite spoilt my enjoyment of the evening.’

  ‘I must go to London and speak to the Cardinal, but I should be back in a few days,’ said Gawain, as they went to fetch his aunt.

  Beth knew that she would miss him.

  The following days had passed slowly and on the fourth day she woke late to be told that a message had arrived saying that Gawain was at the shipyard and would be home later that morning. Beth was glad to hear it because she was expecting a visit from Master Bigbury that evening. She wished now that she had not shown willingness to see him and said as much to Jane.

  ‘Describe him to me, Mistress Beth,’ said the maid, pouring hot water into the basin on the washstand.

  ‘He is a wealthy widower, landowner and brewer of beer. He is much older than me.’

  ‘And how do you feel about marrying a much older man?’

  ‘I am of a mind that would depend on whether we were able to come to some agreement about his letting me have my way,’ said Beth, picking up the jar of homemade liquid soap, perfumed with rose petals. ‘Which will mean my being able to spend time in Pater Noster Row in the running of my business.’

  Jane looked startled. ‘But is that likely, Mistress Beth? Will he rather not expect you to organise his household and for you to be there for him when he comes home after a long day seeing to his brewery and his fields?’

  ‘Exactly, so I consider a match between us unlikely,’ said Beth, trying to work up a lather with the soap. ‘But I suppose I will have to go through the motions of being willing to give his offer fair consideration to please Sir Gawain.’

  Jane agreed and asked what her mistress planned to wear today.

  ‘The russet gown and the cream-coloured chemise,’ replied Beth.

  Once her toilette was finished and Beth had dressed and put on her slippers, she went downstairs, thinking that no doubt Catherine would have already broken her fast. It was as she thought and Beth was eating a solitary breakfast when there was a banging at the door.

  Before she could get up and see who was there, it opened and a flaxen-haired young man stood in the doorway with a parcel under his arm. He smiled at Beth.

  ‘You are Mistress Llewellyn?’ he asked.

  ‘I am,’ she replied, returning his smile. ‘And you? Could you be Master Phillip Hurst?’

  ‘I am and I have brought you my brother Nick’s journal.’

  She signalled to him to come forwards and saw that he had the same blue eyes as his oldest brother and was just as good-looking except his face was a little leaner. ‘Would you like a drink of ale?’ she asked.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Phillip. ‘May I sit down?’

  ‘Please do. Would you like some bread, butter and ham?’

  ‘Aye, indeed I would,’ he said, those blue eyes gleaming. ‘It seems an age since I left home and have had little to eat since.’

  Beth noticed a servant hovering in the doorway and presumed that he had heard Phillip Hurst banging on the door. She told him to bring some refreshments for their guest and then she gave her attention to Phillip once more.

  ‘I will not open the parcel just yet because I do not wish to get butter on the pages,’ she said, smiling, ‘but tell me, do you read?’

  ‘Aye, Father reckoned it was a necessity. I’ve read parts of Nick’s journal, but I’ve been kept busy in the shipyard whilst we’ve the long daylight hours, so I haven’t finished it.’

  ‘But that which you have read, did you find it interesting?’

  He hesitated and then said cautiously, ‘There’s plenty of information about the Portuguese galleon he sailed
on and he had adventures, but he writes about them in a way that lacks excitement. Perhaps he did not want to make too much of the danger so as not to worry our mother or Chris. He writes about the most fantastic happenings as if he were at home and just crossing the street in a storm, instead of which he is in the middle of a mighty ocean and almost loses his life.’

  Her eyes twinkled. ‘You think you could write it better?’

  Phillip hesitated, then nodded. ‘I tell stories.’

  ‘You mean you are a real storyteller?’

  ‘Since I was a boy I have created tales in my head.’

  ‘That is a real gift,’ said Beth admiringly. ‘Who doesn’t like a good story told by a gifted storyteller or a play-acted out by travelling players?’

  His face lit up. ‘That is how I feel. I would like to join one of the troupes such as those I have seen perform at the king’s palace of Greenwich.’

  Beth could not conceal her surprise. ‘You have visited Greenwich Palace?’

  ‘Aye, the king is open-handed and extremely hospitable, appreciative of the ships that my family have built for him,’ said Phillip. ‘Although it is true to say that Henry likes to slip away with a few friends to his smaller palace of Eltham to hunt.’

  ‘And what does your brother think of your talent for storytelling?’

  Phillip looked alarmed. ‘God’s blood, he doesn’t know! He is only interested in designing and building ships, as well as his home and family. He believes that’s all I should care about, too. He has it in mind to find me a wife this year. I have told him I am too young to settle down. Besides, I could not support a wife.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  ‘Seventeen. I suppose he’ll have his way if I don’t do something to prevent it,’ he said gloomily. ‘If I were not the youngest brother with scarcely any money of my own, unlike Nick, whose godmother left him her fortune, I would join a troupe of travelling players and roam the country having adventures of my own.’

  An idea struck Beth and impulsively she said, ‘My guardian, Sir Gawain, is set on finding me a husband. I accept that I must marry if I am to bear a son as my father wished, but I would much rather be in control of the printing business he willed to me.’

  ‘‘Struth! I wish someone had left me a business, but no such luck,’ said Phillip.

  ‘Sir Gawain is of the opinion, and so is my maid, that most husbands will not allow me to do what I want,’ said Beth, gazing at him pensively. ‘But I deem someone, such as yourself, would do so if we came to an agreement that meant you could join a travelling troupe of players and have the adventures you so long for.’

  Phillip chuckled. ‘If only that were possible, but I cannot believe you are serious.’

  ‘Why should I not be serious?’ asked Beth, her eyes dancing. ‘Would not a rich wife suit you?’

  ‘Aye, but I cannot see Sir Gawain allowing it.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Beth, although she thought he was most likely in the right of it.

  ‘Because he will say that I am too young for you and it is a crazy notion.’

  ‘You are but three years my junior and he would have me off his hands sooner rather than later. He is of a mind to marry me to a rich old man, but I am not interested in money. What I need is a healthy virile young man who will give me a son.’

  Phillip grinned. ‘Well, I suppose I could help you out there. I’ve never had a day’s sickness in my life. We could marry and I could go travelling whilst you busied yourself with the printing of books.’

  ‘What is this you are talking about?’ asked a voice behind Beth.

  She started and turned to face Catherine. ‘I was proposing that Phillip marry me,’ she said boldly. ‘Do you not consider that a good idea, much better than marrying an old man?’

  Catherine gazed at Phillip and breathed out a sigh. ‘If I stood in your shoes, I could certainly see why that idea would be so appealing, but I cannot see my nephew agreeing with it.’

  ‘I told you,’ said Phillip ruefully.

  ‘I know you did, but it’s possible that you both could be wrong. I must marry and Sir Gawain needs me off his hands,’ said Beth, clapping her hands.

  ‘I don’t suppose there is any harm in your speaking to him about it,’ said Catherine. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you, as he will most likely reject the idea.’

  Before the matter could be further discussed, the door opened and Gawain appeared. He smiled when he saw Phillip. ‘So you have brought Nick’s journal, lad,’ he said.

  Phillip stood up. ‘Aye, Sir Gawain. But Mistress Llewellyn has not yet had the opportunity to look at it.’

  Gawain glanced at Beth and raised an eyebrow. ‘You surprise me. I thought you’d have torn the wrappings off in your eagerness to get your hands on it.’

  ‘Butter,’ said Beth, licking a finger. ‘I was late rising and have only just broken my fast. Perhaps you would like to look at it first?’

  ‘If that is your wish,’ said Gawain, picking up the parcel as the serving man entered the hall, carrying a tray.

  He set the tray on the table and asked Gawain if he wished him to fetch some food and drink. Gawain asked for more ale to be brought. As Phillip began to eat, Beth watched her guardian take out his eating knife and saw at the twine on the parcel. As if aware of her eyes upon him, Gawain looked across at her. ‘What is it?’ he asked. ‘You look as if you want to say something.’

  Beth glanced at Phillip. Instantly, he seized his cup of ale and took a deep draught and swallowed before saying, ‘Sir Gawain, I am of a mind to marry Mistress Llewellyn.’

  Gawain narrowly missed slicing the top off his thumb and swore as he dropped his eating knife. ‘Are you hurt, nephew?’ asked Catherine, hurrying to his side.

  ‘It is nothing,’ he said, sucking his finger. ‘I am just wondering whether I’ve gone deaf. I thought Phillip here said that he is of a mind to marry Beth. Now who could have put that idea into his head?’

  Catherine looked at the two younger people. ‘It is very sudden, but one can see the attraction.’

  Gawain stared at the young shipbuilder and his heart sank; he could certainly see why marrying young Phillip Hurst was a far more attractive proposition than Master Bigbury to Beth if physique and health were what mattered in the marriage stakes. Young, vital, handsome, glowing with health and strength—what woman wouldn’t want to be made love to by such a Grecian, godlike figure? He wanted to throw him out of the house and prove to Beth that he, himself, could satisfy her in the marriage bed if only he were free to do so.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with your hearing, Sir Gawain,’ said Beth, amused. ‘As soon as Master Phillip and I met we realised we had much in common and were able to speak our minds. He has confessed to me that which he would most like to do with his life and I have told him my dream. Instantly, we saw a way that we could both have what we desired.’

  Gawain scowled. ‘I’m damned if I know how marrying you would help Phillip when his life is already mapped out for him.’

  ‘Phillip doesn’t want his life mapped out for him, do you?’ she asked the younger man.

  Phillip swiftly washed down a mouthful of food with more ale. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said firmly. ‘Mistress Llewellyn is in the right of it. I’ve had enough of being told that shipbuilding is what my father did and it’s what he wanted for me, as well as Chris and Nick. Nick wouldn’t buckle down and went and did what he wanted, so why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘But according to Chris, you’re already a skilled craftsman for your age,’ said Gawain exasperatedly. ‘He depends on you and when you finish your apprenticeship, most likely he’ll make you a partner in the business.’

  ‘He’s never said that to me,’ said Phillip, his blue eyes mutinous. ‘Besides, if I become a partner, I’ll be stuck at the yard for ever and never go off and have adventures.’

  ‘It is most young men’s dream to go travelling, to seek their fortune and have adventures, but that is all it is for most—a dream.’ G
awain glanced at Beth. ‘You should not be encouraging him by making him dissatisfied with his lot, which is a good one.’

  ‘He was already dissatisfied,’ said Beth, tilting her chin, annoyed that Gawain should blame her. ‘I simply asked him what he would like to do if he could do whatever he wished and he told me.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Phillip, nodding his flaxen head. ‘I want to join a troupe of travelling players and put on plays all around the country and at the king’s court.’

  Gawain blinked at him in astonishment. ‘And what kind of adventures do you deem you will find as an actor, lad? Make-believe ones? It is true that some actors can make a decent living by entertaining the nobility, but not all. Consider also the travelling and that you could be living from hand to mouth in winter.’

  ‘Then I will come home to Mistress Llewellyn and we will beget children and I will be of help to her in her business,’ said Phillip. ‘She’s fair and comely and there is but two or three years between us. Many a young man has married a much older woman. Even the queen is several years older than the king.’

  Gawain could not argue with that, but he certainly did not want Beth marrying Phillip. In truth, he didn’t want any other man having her. ‘Am I to believe that the pair of you did not fall in love at first sight? That this is simply a convenient match you speak of?’

  ‘Aye, love has naught to do with it,’ said Beth. ‘Although any woman would find Master Phillip extremely attractive.’

  ‘That may be so, but a wife needs a husband at her side, not one that spends most of his time travelling around the country,’ said Gawain impatiently.

  ‘I disagree,’ said Beth firmly. ‘I need a young lusty husband to get me with child and then I can happily get on with the life I dreamed about. My father did not stipulate the kind of man I should marry.’

  ‘That might be true, but only because he trusted me to choose the right husband for you. No offence meant, Pip,’ said Gawain, getting to his feet.

  He drew Beth to one side. ‘You need a husband who is there to protect you. Have you forgotten your situation so soon?’