by June Francis
But when he returned, one look at his grim visage was enough to cause her to fling down her quill and rise to her feet. ‘What are you doing back here?’ he asked, before she could get a word out.
‘You are angry with me for returning here, but I had no choice,’ she cried, stretching out a hand to him. ‘Mary and the children have returned to Raventon Hall!’
‘What!’ Gawain was stunned.
She went over to the fire and placed a log on it. ‘You look cold,’ she said. ‘Come and warm yourself by the fire.’
‘In a moment.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I have to tell you that Cedric was found dead a week ago, killed with the dagger that was stolen from here the night of the fire.’
Beth gasped and sat down hastily. ‘Is—is that why the Cardinal sent for you?’
‘Aye. I should have spoken to him earlier about Cedric, but I explained my reasons and told him about the fire and how I believed it to be arson.’
‘You told him of the theft of the dagger?’
‘Aye, and we both agreed that he most likely did attempt blackmail and sealed his own fate.’
Beth said, ‘He does not believe you to be the guilty party, then?’
‘No.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I mentioned Mary and an annulment to him and he gave me hope.’
‘That is good, but what will he say now that Mary and the children have returned to Raventon Hall? She is saying now that you are her husband. Apparently this other man has died.’ Beth could not control her voice, which shook with nerves. ‘There is no doubt that she is expecting you to forgive her for the children’s sake and to take her back.’
Gawain swore savagely before sinking on to a chair and washing his face with his hands. ‘I will not have her back! I will not allow her to remain under my roof. She can go into a nunnery. My aunt will care for the children until we can wed.’
‘If only Mary would go willingly,’ cried Beth, kneeling in front of him. ‘But I think you will find that she will dig in her heels. She knows that you told people that she had gone to tend her aunt and now she is pretending to mourn her.’
Gawain groaned. ‘I should never have lied, but I wanted to protect the girls from scandal, as well as not have people know that she cuckolded me.’ He lifted his head. ‘The girls—they are well?’
‘They have missed you, but they look well enough.’ Beth hugged herself as she felt a shiver go through her.
He drew her into his arms. ‘You must not fret. I showed the Cardinal the missive she sent me. I am certain he will take my side. I refuse to fall in with Mary’s plan. We will be together, Beth.’ He crushed her lips with his own.
She clung to him, but after a few moments drew away from him. ‘There will be a terrible scandal if the truth comes out—how will it affect your daughters? Besides, the Cardinal might see matters differently if she is repentant and denies the truth of what she wrote in the missive.’
Gawain frowned. ‘You are looking on the dark side. Why can’t you have faith that I will make all well? I admit that there is bound to be a scandal, but I doubt folk will speak of it to the girls. As for myself, I no longer care what folk think of me. I do not doubt that when most know the truth, they will be sympathetic towards me and the children.’
‘But perhaps not to me. All will depend on the tales she might spread. What if folk say that I have come between husband and wife and ruined your marriage? At the moment I cannot see how there can be a future for us together.’ Beth’s voice wobbled.
‘Do not give up hope,’ said Gawain roughly, bringing her against him once more and kissing her gently whilst stroking her hair with such tenderness that she thought she would die if she was never to be held by him again. Tears trickled down her cheeks, dampening his shoulder. ‘Do not weep, love!’ he said. ‘I will speak to her and make her see that there is no chance that she and I will ever live together again as man and wife.’ He wiped Beth’s tears away with an unsteady hand and brushed her lips with his own before releasing her.
She fought for control of her emotions and managed to blink back her tears and tilted her chin. ‘I will try to do as you say and hope and pray that all will come right for us.’
‘Good lass,’ he said.
Gawain’s heart was heavy with anger and misery as he took his leave of Beth.
Later on the journey home to Raventon Hall, he tried to think of ways in which he could honourably be rid of Mary, yet keep the girls with him, and at the same time have Beth come and stay at Raventon Hall without creating a scandal. His mind was set on telling Mary how he felt in no uncertain terms. Yet as soon as he arrived home and Lydia came running towards him, he knew with a sinking heart that it was going to be more difficult to deprive the girls of their mother than he’d thought.
‘Papa, you’re home,’ said Lydia, flinging herself at him. ‘I have missed you so. Can I stay with you and never go away again?’
‘That I cannot promise, Lydia sweeting,’ he replied, hugging her tightly. ‘But you must never go away again without my knowing where you’re going.’
Suddenly he became aware that Mary was standing in the doorway with Tabitha clinging to her skirts. She was clad in black. The colour did not suit her; it made her features look washed out. He remembered how he had once believed that Mary loved him. That was the biggest self-deception he had experienced in his whole life. Beth loved him. He was almost sure of that. The woman watching him had an expression in her eyes that caused rage to unfurl deep inside him, knowing she only wanted to use him. He longed to say you should never have returned, but knew that he couldn’t say it in front of the girls. He yearned for Beth and wanted to see her smile again, to make her happy. But he realised that she had been much more perceptive than him when she had spoken her thoughts on how he would be bound by his love for his daughters. If he were to separate them from their mother, what effect would that have on their trust in him?
‘The three of us have missed you, haven’t we, girls?’ said Mary, walking towards Gawain, her hips swaying and a smile glued to her features.
‘Then you should not have kept the girls away from me so long,’ retorted Gawain.
One of the stable boys came running and Gawain indicated that he tend his horse, then, with Lydia holding his hand, made for the house. Bending down in front of Tabitha, he smiled at her and then scooped her up with his other arm and carried her indoors. He was aware of the child’s small soft hand curled about his neck and her round solemn eyes fixed on his profile. He thought of Beth and wished that this child was theirs and she could have borne him a son one day: the grandson her father had so wanted. He was seized by such a depth of longing for that to come true that he felt tears prick his eyes.
Catherine rose to her feet as he entered the hall with the children, followed by Mary. ‘You have seen Beth?’ she asked.
‘Aye, she is in London and plans to remain there for now,’ he answered.
‘I would go to her if you wished it of me,’ said Catherine.
‘Not just yet,’ said Gawain, pleased nevertheless by her thoughtfulness. ‘I need you here to keep your eye on the children. Take them now, so I can speak to their mother.’
‘Can’t we stay with you a little longer, Papa?’ asked Lydia, looking up at him anxiously.
‘I will speak with you again shortly,’ he said, kissing Tabitha before setting her down beside her sister and smiling at them both.
Lydia looked relieved.
Catherine took them by the hand and led them from the hall.
There was a long silence. A serving man entered the hall, welcomed Gawain home with a smile and asked if there was anything he could fetch him. He asked for ale and some bread and ham and the serving man hurried out.
‘I—I suppose you expect me to beg for your forgiveness,’ said Mary.
Gawain stared at her with a lack of expression on his face. ‘It would be a start, but it will take a long time before I will be able to find it in my heart to forgive you for removing t
he children from my care. I have no illusions as to why you have returned. It was certainly not for love of me—it would be hypocritical for you to pretend differently. I have considered suggesting that you take yourself off to a nunnery for your safety—’
‘I do not think the religious life would suit me,’ interrupted Mary. ‘Besides, I will miss the children and they will miss me.’
‘You did not care about their feelings when you took them from me,’ he said icily.
‘I admit I was selfish,’ cried Mary, gripping her hands tightly together. ‘But let us make a fresh start. I will give you another son and we will be a happy family once more.’
Gawain stared at her in disbelief. ‘You will never share my bed again. You have lived with another man as his wife. You said that he was your true husband and that I was not. I have that in writing. Do not think that this will be your home for very long. I plan to have our so-called marriage annulled.’
Mary flinched. ‘Do you have to be so cold-hearted towards me? Have you no pity to spare for me? I was mistaken in Lionel. He beat me as did my father when he was in his cups. It was not easy for me to pluck up the courage to return here. Is it that you have used up all your love and compassion on that Beth Llewellyn?’ she hissed.
Gawain’s eyes narrowed. ‘What do you mean by that? What has my aunt told you?’
‘Catherine told me little, but I know that she now hates me,’ said Mary petulantly, ‘and that you and she have a fondness for Jonathan Llewellyn’s half-sister. She loves you! I saw it in her eyes.’
Gawain stiffened, but he remained silent as the serving man re-entered the hall carrying a tray of food and drink. One of the trestle tables had not been put away and Gawain indicated that he place the tray there, then dismissed him. He sat down on a bench and poured himself some ale. He gulped half of it down before saying, ‘How come you know of Jonathan Llewellyn? You’re not going to tell me he was another young lover of yours that you forgot to mention?’ he said sarcastically.
Mary’s mouth tightened and she clenched her fists and flew at him and would have hit him, if he had not caught hold of her wrist. ‘You insult me! How dare you accuse me of such a sin. I am hurting inside and out and you would hurt me more,’ she panted.
Gawain had difficulty controlling his anger. ‘I am hurting, too, but what do you really care about me?’
Mary’s expression altered. ‘I had thought to provide you with information about Jonathan if you were kind to me. Apparently you believe his death was no accident.’
He frowned and his grip tightened on her wrist. ‘Who told you that? What is it you know?’
‘Maybe I will tell you in the days to come if you are kind to me.’ She pressed against him. ‘Forgive me, Gawain! I will show you the scars where Lionel beat me and you will see how I have suffered. I should never have left you. People believe we are married and they need never know the truth about Lionel and I.’
Gawain wanted to throw Mary off him. He was sorry that she had been beaten, but she had brought it on herself. Right now it was a struggle for him not to hit out at her himself. He could not stay here or he might actually end up doing so. Beth’s face swam before his eyes and he thought of her courage and strength and he knew he had to see her and regain his equilibrium. Besides, he was worried about having left her without a protector. He should return to London, but he would not go alone; he would take his aunt and the children with him. He would find an inn where they could stay whilst he visited Beth.
Several days later, he was almost ready to set out for London, having had to postpone his departure due to the autumnal rains. He had barely spoken to Mary in all that time especially after he had found her in his bedchamber. The first time he had found her making a search of his room apparently for the missive she had sent him. Fortunately he carried it on his person wherever he went. The second time she had been lying naked on the bed and he’d had to steel himself to roll her up in the counterpane and thrust her outside in the passage with her clothes. He would have departed earlier if he could, but he would not force the children or Catherine to suffer travelling in such inclement weather. He had kept his plans to himself until the last few hours, not trusting Mary to behave in a reasonable manner.
There came a knock on the door of his bedchamber. ‘Who is it?’ he called.
‘It is I, Catherine,’ said his aunt. ‘Nephew, you have a visitor downstairs.’
‘Who is it?’
Catherine smiled. ‘Come down and see. He says that he has no intention of delaying our journey.’
‘Where is Mary?’
‘She has gone to visit Mildred Tyler.’
He frowned. ‘I hope she did not take the children with her?’
Catherine shook her head. ‘I made sure they were safe upstairs with me.’
Gawain wasted no time hurrying downstairs, curious to see this visitor whom his aunt was being secretive about. He entered the hall and his gaze went to the man rising from the settle in front of the fire.
‘I hope that you don’t mind my calling so unexpectedly, Gawain, but I felt I needed to see you before you left for London,’ said his visitor.
‘By St George, it’s you, Nick!’ Gawain walked towards him with an outstretched hand. ‘When did you get back?’
‘A few days ago,’ said Nicholas Hurst, shaking his hand.
‘Do sit down,’ said Gawain. ‘Can I offer you some refreshment?’
‘No, I will not delay you long. In truth, if I had known you were also bound for London, I would have sought you out there.’
‘Ah!’ Gawain stared at him. ‘You have seen your brothers, of course.’
‘I have spoken to Chris,’ he said shortly, sitting down and placing his hands on his thighs. ‘He must be mad, not only allowing Pip to go off with a troupe of travelling players, but also to decide to print my journal without a word to me.’
‘It was meant to be a surprise,’ said Gawain ruefully, scratching his jaw.
‘The kind of surprise I can live without,’ said Nick, scowling. ‘My scribblings were not meant for other people to read. I believe that Pip and your ward have also altered my writing in an effort to improve it.’
‘I can understand why you could feel vexed about that and Beth did have some reservations about printing without your permission,’ said Gawain. ‘But I have read the original and the other versions and was of the opinion that folk would enjoy reading it, too, but—’
‘That is as it may be, but it still does not make it right that my brothers should go behind my back and do this,’ interrupted Nick. ‘I do not blame you and this ward of yours for seizing on it. Naturally, the pair of you only wanted to please my brothers.’
‘No, that’s not true,’ said Gawain. ‘Frankly, Beth persuaded me that there was money to be made out of your scribblings and I believed her.’
Nick stared at him fixedly. ‘I have been told about Mistress Llewellyn and I’m surprised at you, Gawain, for allowing yourself to be influenced by a woman.’
‘You have not seen or heard her yet,’ said Gawain with a faint smile. ‘I suggest, Nick, that you withhold judgement until you have met her. She will surprise you.’
‘I am not as certain as you about that.’
‘I would not expect you to be as you have not met her,’ said Gawain. ‘She will be very disappointed if you cancel the printing now. She’s been through a difficult time.’
‘I heard that her brother and father were killed. She has my sympathy,’ said Nick.
‘She has suffered more misfortune in that her business premises were deliberately set alight recently.’
Nick started forwards. ‘My journal!’
Gawain smiled reassuringly. ‘She had it safe in an iron chest. I tell you, Nick, she is a woman of good sense.’
‘I will take your word for it and do as you suggest and speak to her. But I do not expect to be dissuaded from my decision.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Perhaps we can travel together, seeing as you are for London
.’
‘My aunt and my daughters are to accompany me,’ said Gawain. ‘You might prefer going on ahead.’
Nick smiled wryly. ‘Thanks for the warning, but it is always good to have company on the road. I will travel with you as far as Smallhythe and then meet you in London.’
Chapter Eleven
Beth was reading through the rough proof of some of the pages of Nicholas Hurst’s journal when she heard the front door open and an unfamiliar voice enquire after the owner of the shop by name. She put down the sheets of paper and went through to the front of the building. A tall rangy figure of a man with sunburnt features and reddish-gold hair stood there. She thought he looked vaguely familiar and for a moment she was reminded of the king when he was a few years younger. Then she realised that she was being foolish to think that they could be kin for there was naught splendid about this man’s attire. He was dressed neatly, but there was no touch of the peacock about him.
‘You are Mistress Llewellyn?’ he asked, meeting her gaze.
Beth noticed that his eyes were more green than hazel and they contained a hint of disapproval. She hoped that she did not have a smudge of ink on her nose. ‘Aye, I am Beth Llewellyn,’ she said warmly. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I have rather a large bone to pick with you,’ said the stranger.
‘I am sorry to hear it, sir,’ she said, surprised. ‘Will you explain what I have done to annoy you, Master—?’
‘Nicholas Hurst,’ he replied, ‘and according to my brother, Christopher, you had the audacity to rewrite my words and plan to sell my journal in book form.’
Beth’s face lit up and she held out her hand. ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Master Hurst! Your journal contained much that is fascinating and full of interest. It would be such a shame if you have come all this way to tell me that you are utterly against the notion of making it available to those who would wish to buy it. I believe it could make you a rich man one day.’
‘If it is so fascinating and full of interest, why did you and my brother Phillip feel a need to rewrite it, Mistress Llewellyn?’ he asked.
