by June Francis
‘I am not as self-sacrificing as you believe me to be, Master Hurst,’ said Jane. ‘Nor as mercenary, otherwise I would have accepted your proposal immediately.’
‘Then perhaps you will change your mind and not marry either of us, but Master Godar instead? He could make you the perfect husband if you want to be a weaver’s wife for the rest of your life and wish the same for your sons.’
‘Oh, why are you saying this?’ hissed Jane. ‘As if I would marry Master Godar, even if he wished to marry me. He just wants to resettle and Witney would suit him.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Nicholas doubtfully.
Jane groaned, wishing fervently that her past had not come back to haunt her. How could she ever tell Nicholas the whole truth about the events that she so regretted?
‘I am telling you the truth,’ she said with a sigh, lowering her gaze, only to find herself staring at his bare chest. The temptation to throw herself at it so overwhelmed her that she had need to take a deep, steadying breath and turn her head away. ‘In all this, I feel you are not taking into consideration my duty to the children,’ she murmured. ‘As it is, if you truly plan to take your duty as godfather to Simon as seriously as you appear, then I must heed your advice. Yet I am remembering that not so long ago your mind was set on taking holy orders, only to alter your decision and return to Flanders in search of your mistress.’
‘You know the reason why I did so,’ said Nicholas, suddenly weary.
‘Aye, but if she had not died would you be here now?’ blurted out Jane.
The question took him unawares and he needed all his self-control not to show any reaction. Sensing that now was not the time to be completely honest with her, he said mildly, ‘What is the use of asking me such a question? She did die and I am a changed man.’
‘You mean that your feelings for her are dead as is that urge to explore the world?’
‘Aye,’ he said firmly.
She stared at him, not utterly convinced.
He leaned towards her. ‘You must believe me, Jane. I desire nothing more than to live peacefully here in my own country and make a home for you and the five children. I have it in mind to found a shipbuilding business of my own. I want to construct a different kind of ship from those which my father and then my brother Christopher specialised in over the years. Their design has not altered in all that time and I consider that lacks foresight.’
She stared at him, open-mouthed, and then blurted out, ‘You would have us live near the sea? I have never lived on the coast and neither have the children. It would be a tremendous upheaval for them. We have not long moved here. I do not consider it fair that they should have to cope with another move so soon.’ Agitatedly she moved away from him, picked up the ladle and stirred vigorously the little of the broth that remained in the pot. ‘No, Nicholas Hurst, I cannot give you the answer you want.’
‘Then so be it.’ Nicholas pushed himself out of the chair. ‘I hope you don’t live to regret it. I’m off.’
The ladle slipped from Jane’s fingers and fell into the pot, splashing her gown. She turned on Nicholas. ‘Now see what you have done with your impatient ways?’ Picking up a cloth, she attempted to mop the spilt broth from her gown, but only succeeded in making the damage worse. ‘You will drive me into doing something foolish if you continue in this vein,’ she said, exasperated.
‘My offer still holds good,’ said a voice from the other doorway, sounding amused.
Both Jane and Nicholas turned and stared at Willem, wondering how much of their exchange he had heard. She took a deep breath and said coldly, ‘What are you doing here? Should you not be visiting the inn and reserving yourself a bedchamber?’
‘Plenty of time for that,’ he said. ‘Right now I want to discuss the wool you use for spinning thread.’
She scowled at him. ‘I do not wish to discuss it. I want you to leave.’
‘Come on, Jane,’ he said in a wheedling tone. ‘What harm will it do to talk? I would like to use your loom and see if it suits me.’
Nicholas drew in his breath with a hiss. ‘Is there some fault with your hearing, Godar? Mistress Caldwell asked you to leave.’
Jane thought, Men—always having to take over. ‘I can speak for myself, Master Hurst, thank you very much,’ she said tersely.
Nicholas’s lips tightened and he went over to where he had placed his saddlebags, removed a shirt, snatched up his doublet and, with his coat slung over his shoulders, left the house by the front door.
Jane stared after him, dithered, worried that she had deeply offended him, and after a few moments followed him outside. To her astonishment he had tossed off his coat, so exposing his upper torso for all to see. ‘You cannot do this!’ she whispered. ‘You are not in an alien land now. This is England!’
‘Pretend you do not know me,’ said Nicholas, dropping his doublet on the ground and shaking out the shirt.
She watched him struggling with the garment, itching to assist him, but sensing he would refuse her help. ‘Is this the way you behaved in that woman’s company?’ she blurted out.
‘By that woman, I presume you mean Louise,’ said Nicholas through gritted teeth, managing at last to drag on the shirt. ‘I would prefer it if you kept her out of our conversation. So she was not as honest with me as she should have been, but she had her reasons and more often than not behaved circumspectly.’
Jane was so taken aback by his defence of his late mistress that she could only stare at him. Then, seething and near to tears, she turned on her heel and went back inside the house.
Nicholas swore and snatched up his doublet. Why had he said that? Was it because he’d been unable to tell her the truth earlier about Louise? Well, it was too late now to recall his words. There were matters he had to see to this morning. He set about donning his doublet, but found it more of a struggle than he had done with the shirt. His shoulder was aflame and he had no choice but to pause to catch his breath and lean against the wall of the house.
‘What are you doing outside Mistress Caldwell’s house, half-dressed, Master Hurst?’ asked a voice he recognised.
Nicholas’s heart sank and, lifting his head, he stared at Anthony Mortimer. He wished the man a thousand leagues away and would have liked to pretend he did not know him, but that would not be polite. ‘I have been visiting Mistress Caldwell and the weaver, Master Godar, has arrived, so I decided to leave them alone to discuss business,’ he replied heavily. ‘Good day to you, Master Mortimer.’ He turned his back on him and began again his struggle with his doublet.
‘You are behaving very strangely,’ said Anthony, dismounting.
Nicholas did not ask what he meant by that, stumbling against the wall of the house. He rested his aching head against the pale yellowish stone and closed his eyes. ‘I was attacked on my way here yesterday,’ he said in a muffled voice.
‘God’s blood! Where was this? What time of day? Did the rogues get away with much?’
‘No, I managed to escape before they could rob me, but their intention was to kill me and abduct my daughter.’
‘Your daughter!’ exclaimed Anthony.
‘Aye, but she can be of no interest to you. Do not let me delay you from going inside, Mortimer.’
‘Allow me to help you!’ Anthony clapped a hand on his shoulder.
Nicholas stifled a cry and shrugged him off. ‘I would rather manage alone,’ he said through gritted teeth.
The older man said irascibly, ‘Don’t be a fool, man.’
‘You’ll understand if I insist on your not touching my shoulder again when I tell you I was stabbed there,’ said Nicholas.
Anthony swore. ‘I presume Mistress Caldwell knows of this?’
‘Of course, she tended me.’ Nicholas’s head was swimming and he wished Mortimer would leave him alone.
The older man frowned. ‘You spent the night here?’
A faint smile flitted across Nicholas’s face and an imp of mischief caused him to say, ‘In her bed.’
‘Now who’s being the fool, man?’ muttered Nicholas, closing his eyes. He heard the front door creak open and then close.
Nicholas remained where he was, trying to gather his strength before making another attempt to shrug himself into his bloodstained doublet. This time he succeeded but the effort so exhausted him that he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the ground and there he remained.
After what seemed an age, he noticed a woman approaching, carrying a baby, and realised it was Anna. He remembered that he needed not only to reimburse Jane for the money she had already paid out to the wet nurse, but also that he would need to pay Anna for her further services. In any other circumstances he might have asked the wealthy Mortimer if he could exchange a gold coin for ones of smaller denomination, but their exchange made that difficult for Nicholas to approach him with such a request.
As he watched Anna pause and begin a conversation with a woman crossing the road, it occurred to him that she might also be acquainted with Willem Godar. He wondered what the two women were talking about—no doubt he and Jane were definitely a subject for discussion.
He waited a little longer before deciding it was time he made a move and, placing his hands on the wall behind him, he managed, not without some difficulty, to slowly climb the wall with his hands until he stood upright. Then, breathing heavily, he staggered towards the door, knowing that now was not the right time after all to go in search of smaller coinage. He managed to slip inside the house, remembering to leave the door ajar for Anna to enter.
Mortimer was sitting in the chair Nicholas had vacated earlier whilst Jane stood beside it. From her expression whatever he was saying did not please her. Nicholas groaned inwardly. Had Mortimer repeated their conversation? Why had he felt the need to annoy the old man? Of course, he could be mistaken and Mortimer was questioning her about Master Godar.
Nicholas cleared his throat and Mortimer’s voice trailed off and he stared in his direction. Jane lifted her head and he could sense her annoyance from across the room. He staggered towards them. ‘I beg pardon,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what got into me, Jane.’
Her hand fluttered to her breast and then she took a deep breath and hurried towards him. ‘You’d better sit down before you collapse.’
‘I will sit at the table,’ he said. ‘Anna will be here shortly with Simon.’
‘What’s that about Simon?’ said Mortimer, sounding surprised. ‘He’s here in the cradle.’
‘That’s my daughter,’ said Nicholas, lowering himself carefully onto the bench beside James and leaning on the table. ‘Her mother is dead.’
Mortimer pursed his lips. ‘I seem to recall a mention of your returning to Flanders in search of a mistress. Wasn’t she the cause of all the trouble that resulted in the attack on you last year in Oxford?’
Nicholas nodded and realised that was a mistake. He was feeling extremely dizzy again. When Jane spoke, he struggled to understand what she was saying. Could it be something about not speaking ill of the dead? Surely not! Not when he knew that Jane would probably like to say a lot of uncomplimentary things about Louise. He thought Mortimer was saying that she was extremely tolerant and then he began to talk about some travellers who had asked for shelter. Nicholas opened his mouth to ask how about a brandy, but no sound emerged.
Jane was staring at him. ‘Perhaps Master Hurst needs a brandy.’
‘I think that might be a mistake so early in the morning,’ said Mortimer firmly. ‘I suggest that he finds lodgings at the inn. He certainly should not stay here another night.’
‘In his present condition he presents no threat to my virtue,’ said Jane confidently.
‘Even so you must consider your reputation, Jane,’ said Mortimer.
She made no comment, pouring liquor into a goblet and carrying it over to Nicholas to place it in front of him on the table. ‘You’re looking dreadful,’ she said in an undertone. ‘I think you should be in bed and so I will get rid of Master Mortimer and Master Godar immediately and help you upstairs.’
‘There is no need, Jane,’ he muttered, reaching for the goblet. ‘I will do fine here.’
‘I have no intention of discussing this matter further with you,’ she said, turning away from him.
Nicholas downed his brandy and felt even more light-headed. ‘Perhaps it’s food I need,’ he muttered.
‘No doubt there is truth in what you say,’ said Jane, having heard him. ‘You fell asleep last evening before I could bring you food. Perhaps you would like to share breakfast with the children. Master Mortimer will be leaving soon.’
Mortimer said grimly, ‘I can see you are determined to help Master Hurst.’
‘She is trying to make the best of a difficult situation, Master Mortimer,’ said Nicholas. ‘It’s her maternal instinct no doubt coming to the fore. Jane would find it difficult to turn anyone away who was in need of help.’
‘I know she has a kind heart,’ said Mortimer. ‘That is why I would speak to her about two travellers who sought shelter at Draymore Manor yesterday.’
But Jane was only half-listening and as for Nicholas, he was suddenly aware that James and Elizabeth were staring at him anxiously. He attempted a smile, but it proved difficult. His shoulder was throbbing and his head felt even more peculiar. Then all the strength seemed to drain from him and he felt himself slipping.
‘Mama!’ shrieked James.
Jane whirled round and rushed over to the table. She straddled the bench the other side of Nicholas and managed to prop him up with her body. At that same time Willem came in from the other room and Anna entered the house. ‘Oh lor’, what’s happening here?’ asked the wet nurse.
Willem wasted no time going to Jane’s aid, whilst Anna placed Simon in the cradle before hurrying in his wake. ‘Men, what would you do with them?’ she muttered to Jane across Nicholas’s prone body. ‘I saw him outside and it was clear as daylight that he was not fit to be out. What was he thinking of?’
‘Money,’ gasped Jane, her heart thudding. ‘He wanted to make sure you were paid and needed change.’ She was scared silly that even with Willem’s help, she was not going to be able to prevent Nicholas from sliding onto the floor. What if he were to crack his head open on top of the injury he already had?
‘Here, get out of the way, Jane,’ said Anthony.
Jane did not immediately release her hold on Nicholas. Only when she was absolutely certain that the older man had a proper grip on him did she do so. Once the two men were bearing Nicholas’s weight, Jane asked them to carry him upstairs and place him on the bed.
Anthony stared at her. ‘Do you know what you’re saying? We could lay him here on the table if you want to have a look at his wound.’
‘She will need the table,’ said Willem. ‘He is best upstairs where he can rest properly and Mistress Caldwell can attend him.’
Jane could not but be grateful for his support despite still being extremely annoyed with him. ‘That is my thought exactly. Master Hurst is accustomed to having his own way and so is best out of the way upstairs. The children and I have been sleeping down here on pallets during the winter and still do so.’
‘So be it, then,’ grunted Anthony.
Together, the two men managed to carry Nicholas upstairs where they placed him on the bed in the front bedchamber. Jane was fast on their heels, having removed bed linen and a blanket from the chest. She planned to return downstairs to sort out fresh bindings and salve later. The bed took up most of the space in the room, so with the two men standing there, getting their breath back, she had difficulty squeezing past them to the bed.
‘Thank you, Masters,’ she said, spreading the blanket over Nicholas and thinking she would make up the bed properly later. He groaned and stirred, but his eyelids remained closed. ‘You fool!’ she whispered, feeling a dampness behind her eyes.
Willem touched Mortimer’s sleeve and made for the door. Anthony hesitated, but Jane
turned and said, ‘You can do no more here and I will need to go downstairs to fetch all that is necessary for me to redress his wound. It would be best if you were both out of the way.’
On hearing those words, Anthony followed Willem downstairs with Jane bringing up the rear. Willem did not immediately return to the workroom, but sat down in a chair by the fire, whilst Anthony excused himself and left. It was a relief to Jane to see that the children had nearly finished their breakfast and that Anna had remained with them.
‘How does Master Hurst fare?’ she asked.
‘Hopefully he will soon regain consciousness, but I am going to need more bindings,’ said Jane. ‘I will have to cut up an old drying sheet.’
‘Let us pray he soon recovers,’ said Anna, getting to her feet. ‘If you can manage, I will go now and come back later.’
As soon as the door closed behind their neighbour, James said, ‘Is Master Hurst going to die, Mama?’
‘Of course not,’ said Jane fiercely, flinging open the chest. ‘But you are all going to have to be good and of help to me.’
‘What can we do?’ asked Margaret, getting to her feet.
‘You can go and see if any stinging nettles are coming through the earth behind the hen coop. If so, gather some, but make sure you wear gloves. I will blanch them and mix them with a little honey and wine to make fresh salve. Elizabeth, you can clear the table and clean the bowls and spoons.’
‘And what will I do, Mama?’ asked James.
‘You will go upstairs and if Master Hurst is awake, come and tell me straight away.’
He nodded vigorously and tiptoed upstairs.
Jane glanced at Willem and saw that he had moved away from the fire and over to the table. He had hold of something and was turning it between his hands. She had hoped he would leave for the inn, but it appeared he was determined to linger. Surely common sense would have told him that he was best out of the way? She felt that she could not tell him to get out again after he had helped her with Nicholas. Well, she would just have to ignore him and collect together all she needed and carry them upstairs. To her surprise as she did so, not only did he make no comment, neither did he even look her way. His attention appeared to be on a package he held in his hand. She didn’t remember seeing him with it earlier and frowned.
