by Nicole Locke
She signalled to Helen, who had surprisingly turned her conversation to her husband. Helen never talked to her husband.
‘I’m certainly enjoying this feast,’ he said, dragging his meat through the sauce. ‘But this food can’t be as good as at the King’s table.’
And so their conversation returned to the King. She had never sat at the King’s private table; her feasts had been taken at the public banquets. However, perhaps she could have answers to her own questions.
‘The food at the Tower was...exceptional.’
‘Did you have much time to eat?’
That was all she had done. She wasn’t nobility—only a wealthy merchant’s daughter. It had bought her the attention of the Court, but didn’t rank her in any standing. Until the game, she had been ignored, without even Esther to keep her company. But that wasn’t for this conversation.
‘Why are you talking to me?’ she said, low to ensure her words weren’t overheard. Already she could feel her sister’s eyes on her and knew she had talked too long with Hugh...and yet her sister had sat them together.
‘Is a lowly knight not worth talking, too?’ he said.
Hugh’s fingers danced over the trencher he shared with Helen. That slight movement sent an ache through her that she tried to hide as his eyes caught with hers. His were dark, as if childhood pain and anguish had seeped deep within him. As if he was now wrapped with a malevolence she didn’t know or understand.
He was an enigma to her. There was cruelty to the curl of his lips, a blade-like cynicism in the way he held his body. The tilt of his head silently mocked everyone sitting around him.
Especially her.
‘That’s ridiculous,’ she answered.
‘Is it when evidence of your attendance at Court belies otherwise?’
She was a twice-born fool. She ached even while he insulted her. And this wasn’t how she’d gain suitors or a traitor.
‘If you’re simply going to insult me, then why start any pleasantries?’
Why indeed? Hugh had no idea what he had wanted to say to Alice when he’d turned to her, but insulting her wasn’t it. Yet as the meal progressed, he seethed inside; wanted to prevent the conversations she engaged in. Jealousy? When he had never felt it before?
Of course he’d feel it with Alice. Even so, the King had demanded he stay close to this family because of the Half-Thistle Seal, and it wouldn’t do to insult her.
It also wouldn’t do to apologise. That would be admitting to feelings. He could have no feelings when it came to her.
‘Insults? I’m merely commenting on the food, and the differences of the fare laid before us.’
Alice’s eyes lit with fire. He still hadn’t been careful enough with his words. He didn’t want to be careful. Simply hearing her talk to the other men burned in his heart, when he shouldn’t feel anything for her at all. Not after all these years—not after his past or his present deeds.
‘What I eat and with whom is hardly an interesting topic of conversation,’ she said.
‘Oh, I disagree.’ He lowered his voice, leaned in, caught the warmth of her skin, the scent of rosemary and wool. ‘Is this how it has been?’
‘How what has been?’
‘Since that day when you tried to kiss me? You holding court like this...garnering the attention of men.’
She opened her mouth, closed it. Started to speak again. ‘And for what purpose do you think I garner the attention of men?’
Stop. He should stop. And yet his conscience, his heart, prodded him to continue.
‘You were in the King’s private chambers over long. I’m surprised you deign to consider these men worthy of you.’
‘And you say you do not trade insults?’
He did, and he was, and he was a bastard for it, too. He only knew that no man was worthy of her—especially himself. Yet he relished the knife-prick of the words. He didn’t like Alice laughing with other men. Had she turned to another after he had denied their kiss, or was the King her first?
‘I merely reflect on the facts before me,’ he said.
She frowned. ‘This conversation isn’t appropriate for the St Martin’s Day feast.’
They shouldn’t be having this conversation at all. Yet he couldn’t help it. For some reason, she continued to face him too. Why was she acknowledging him?
She wasn’t merely acknowledging him. She was studying him. His insults...his reminders of the past. Words laced with bitterness and truth. Not held back because he was here. Because he had drunk before he’d come, and that Alice was sitting next to him.
The various shades of grey in her eyes, the cadence of her words, her scent...all were too achingly familiar.
‘What are you doing here, Hugh?’
‘Having dinner,’ he said quickly, to hide his surprise that she’d asked the question. She should have turned away from him by now, and yet she held his gaze.
God, he loved her eyes.
‘In Swaffham?’ she said.
‘It is the start of the Christmas season, isn’t that a good time to be home?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘When you never have come before?’
Suspicion and frustration laced her words, but there was something else too, like worry or fear. He scanned the company around them. Everyone was busy with their trenchers or their conversations.
He had expected her surprise at his arrival. And anger, perhaps, because of their conversation in the garden. He hadn’t expected the apprehension underlying her words.
It was his turn to lower his voice, and he bowed his head to whisper in her ear. ‘Why are you so concerned, Alice?’
She darted her eyes around—perhaps, as he had, to see if anyone was listening.
‘Concerned? I’m merely pointing out the facts. Isn’t that what you did with me? I see no point to this conversation.’
Crisp and direct, with no hint of unease. Perhaps he had imagined her unease. If so, what was his point in talking with her?
Because a king demanded it. But a monarch didn’t require him to notice the light flashing in her eyes. To see some glimmer of the Alice he’d used to know. Not the one who held court in her sister’s house or garnered the attention of a king.
He wasn’t here to feel the knife-tip of jealousy either. He only needed to find useful information for the King. It clearly couldn’t be the true owner of the Seal. So he needed to provide something else to appease his silver-hungry sovereign.
While he was here he’d do what he was good at: spy.
Raising his voice just enough to be overhead, and to plant the seeds so he could report half-truths to the King, he said, ‘Tell me—how is your family business? Is it as profitable after the heavy rains that have occurred over the last year?’
Alice frowned, her eyes casually sweeping over the dinner company. She’d always been clever, and probably didn’t want this conversation overhead.
‘As well as ever, I assure you.’
Now he needed to solidify for her the fact that someone around this table was desperate enough to be a traitor. ‘That is good to hear. I’ve heard there are many who have suffered, and have become almost desperate to do anything to make ends meet.’
She nodded, as if in concern, but her grey eyes spoke only of retribution. If they’d been alone, other words would have been exchanged. This was the Alice he remembered—the one who fought for causes. Who righted wrongs.
But what or whose cause was she fighting for? Other families’ or her own? He gave no regard to the King’s request for him to find the spy who bore the Seal; he gave even less in watching the Fenton family, since it never did his soul any good to torture himself with Alice’s presence. But there had been rains here, and he knew at least one family around this table had suffered. When he returned to Court withou
t the Seal, perhaps his king would be satisfied with information.
‘Yes, the weather has been hard on most families,’ she said. ‘It is good that those in Swaffham stand together as an industry.’
This would be of interest to the King, whose need for coin almost outpaced his need for power. ‘Work together? Doesn’t it help that your family owns most of the lands and almost all of the sheep?’
‘Having sheep and land is useless without someone to spin the wool and put it through a loom.’
But working together was something different. He was here to pretend, to find information for his King, but what she said interested him, too. What changes had taken place here since he left?
‘Lamb could be used for many purposes, but the spinners and weavers have no other purpose.’
‘Only those who have been gone too long would have such a view.’
‘Or those not born here?’ he said, and almost bit his tongue. This wasn’t about him.
‘I never thought that mattered,’ she answered softly, for his ears only.
Fool. He didn’t need her words—didn’t need confirmation or reminders of his past or hers. Talking of his belonging to this town wasn’t the way the conversation should be going.
He kept quiet and watched her lift her goblet and take a sip. The rose of the wine coloured her full bottom lip until she licked the drop there.
Despite his knowing better, his body reacted.
He lowered his head, perhaps to exchange further words for her ears alone, perhaps to kiss her. When it came to Alice, he constantly fought the battle in him to stay away.
Her eyes widened taking in his response, his closeness. Suddenly bitterness scraped across his heart. He’d seen women do such things at Court. Alice must have picked up the habit there.
He straightened. ‘No, apparently not. John wasn’t born in Swaffham, and yet he’s now Mayor. Of course he is married to your sister. Very convenient for your father.’
She shifted her seat. ‘My father stepped down as mayor.’
‘Recently?’ He raised a brow. ‘During the rains, perhaps?’
‘He is older now, and too tired to work. The council voted for John.’
Her father had never liked to work, and it wouldn’t hurt her family to have a member still privy to the town’s secrets. He’d seen it more times than he could count. Those in power liked to stay in power. He had nothing against it—except now the King wanted him to find a traitor...and being the focus of the King didn’t sit well with him. He needed the King’s focus elsewhere.
‘An unbiased vote of the council, I’m sure. John is clearly up to the position of Mayor.’
‘I believe you’ve spent too much time at Court.’
‘Why is that?’
‘You talk of nothing and are very good at it. I find this conversation neither interesting nor useful.’ She tilted her head and turned neatly away.
He had his answer. She knew she was being insulted and wouldn’t stand for it, and she would defend to the end anyone she cared about. Despite what he had seen at Court, and what she wouldn’t deny, there was still some of the Alice of old in her.
But he had another answer as well. There truly could be some financial concern in this corner of profitable England. Her father had made a terrible mayor, but the council changing to John could mean something else. The King depended on the taxes here. Perhaps he could find some information regarding financial woes that would appease his sovereign. If not, he’d plant seeds of financial desperation, enough to deflect from his own traitorous deeds.
Would the King let him get away without a suggested name? Probably not. He glanced around the table, noticed Lyman looking down Alice’s gown again, and knew it wouldn’t be difficult at all to drop a few lies.
Distasteful, but necessary in order to protect Robert. He had given a vow to his friend to keep his secret and help protect the Colquhoun Clan against King Edward. He would live with the consequences of upholding it.
Alice tried to unclench her jaw. A few words with Hugh and her thought of tossing wine at him was no longer enough. She wanted to stab a knitting needle into him. He knew perfectly well that he insulted her. He had also neatly avoided answering her question. Why was he here?
Whatever the reason, Hugh’s presence did concern her. If he was truly loyal, then perhaps he knew that she spied. Perhaps the King had asked something of him as well. If he wasn’t loyal, then at the least he was a distraction, and at the most a hindrance.
Turning her back on Hugh was easier, and it suited her purpose and the King’s as well.
So she smiled at Mitchell, who sat across from her. It was easier to forget Hugh when she talked to Mitchell. She had always liked him. He’d moved away a few years ago and only recently returned. His family business of weaving had suffered significant losses, and he was the only child who had returned to help save it.
‘How long will you be in town?’ she asked.
Mitchell’s eyes lit up. He was delighted that she’d asked a question meant for him alone. ‘For the winter. My father hasn’t been well, and needs my help.’
His mother was a spinner, and they also held a small weaving and spinning business. They had done much trade with her family’s wool over the years.
‘I have heard that. I’m sorry.’
‘He is a stout man; we expect him to recover. Until then I’ll ensure the cloth is tended as it should be.’
He mentioned nothing of his father’s poor business choices and their lack of disposable income.
‘It has been a while since you have done such work,’ she said.
‘True, but I have returned, and it is good to be home regardless of the circumstances.’
A pang of guilt hit her heart. He was devoted to his family...but that didn’t mean he hadn’t committed treasonous acts. She was testament to what someone would do for their family.
‘If I may ask,’ she said, knowing full well the reason she was prying, ‘what have you been doing in the years you’ve been away?’
‘As you know, I left with my brothers to gain our fortune. I spent some time in London, where both my brothers happily settled, but I found that cloth was somehow still in my blood. So I travelled some more, and when I discovered a different thread-making procedure on the coast, I knew it was the way forward for me and my family.’
If he’d been to the coast he’d been to the docks. Such a convenient location to trade secrets.
‘Usually when I talk of business, women’s eyes glaze over,’ he said, smiling.
Her eyes normally would have glazed a little by now, but she needed access to his home, and it was easy to talk to Mitchell. ‘Given my own family business, is it so strange that I would have an interest, too?’
‘Maybe not strange, but I can vow it makes for very pleasant company.’
Alice smiled. ‘Do you have samples of this different thread-making?’
‘Not samples. It has something to do with the spinning itself. It is something I want to show you and your family.’
‘This week? I could come to your home?’
Mitchell opened his mouth...and closed it.
Lyman, who’d been sitting quietly chewing his food, spluttered over his wine.
‘I think my sister has the same enthusiasm for wool as do you, Mitchell,’ Elizabeth interjected. ‘But, since I, too, am interested, I wonder if I could come along?’
Alice glanced across at her sister, who pointedly didn’t look at her. Her sister had many telling looks, and the not-looking-at-you one was the look her and Mary feared.
It meant she’d done something wrong...
Ah. A lady should wait for an invitation. But she was no mere lady; she was attempting to be a spy and there was very little time. Clearly she’d have to learn to balance these
things.
She turned to Mitchell to apologise, but it seemed he had regained his composure and his confidence because a look of wonder lit his face.
‘I’d be delighted,’ he said, ‘to have you and your sister to my home. I will make arrangements.’
‘Well,’ Elizabeth said, too brightly, ‘that’s a day settled then.’
* * *
‘What were you thinking?’ Elizabeth whispered, after she’d bade goodnight to the Bensons and the Alistairs.
Gelsey Alistair had needed help from not one but two servants to get her into her waiting carriage. Baldrick, her husband, hardly better, had at least been gracious enough to leave early.
Unlike Hugh and Eldric who, along with Mitchell and Lyman, remained in the dining room.
Alice fervently wished they had left ahead of the Alistairs.
‘Inviting yourself to his house when he hadn’t invited you!’ Elizabeth continued. ‘I thought Lyman would have a heart attack—or, worse, call out your virtue!’
Hugh had questioned her virtue—had he heard the way she’d invited herself to Mitchell’s home?
‘It’s winter.’ Alice clasped her hands, preparing for her sister’s verbal storm. ‘His father is poorly. You know they haven’t many resources. I thought it easier on him.’
Elizabeth gave an exasperated sound. ‘You’ve been with children too long. You can dictate to them your goings and comings, but not to your own peers. And you certainly can’t go to a gentleman’s house by yourself.’
‘What can’t she do by herself?’ Eldric beamed at her and her sister.
Hugh stood behind him. His eyes focused solely on Elizabeth.
Alice didn’t want to talk of this in front of anyone, let alone Hugh, but her sister simply waved her hand and said, ‘Alice intends to discuss textiles with Mitchell.’
Alice didn’t know if Hugh was purposely not looking at her, or simply didn’t care enough to do so. At what point would she stop caring?
‘Seems harmless enough,’ Eldric said.
‘But you know her.’ Elizabeth laughed daintily, heedless of Alice’s warning look. ‘She never does anything harmless.’
