The Adventurer's Bride

by June Francis

  Jane recognised that voice and pulled on Nicholas’s arm. ‘He is one of the masons who used to work with my husband.’

  Gritting his teeth against the pain in his shoulder, Nicholas struggled to his feet.

  Jane smiled at the mason. ‘Good day to you,’ she said.

  ‘Mistress Caldwell,’ said the larger of the men, returning her smile. ‘If you are seeking Master Mortimer, he left early this morning for Oxford.’

  ‘Was he alone?’ asked Jane.

  ‘No, he had a woman with him.’

  ‘Was the woman Flemish?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘She wasn’t English,’ said the mason, giving him a curious glance.

  Jane burst out, ‘Was there another woman with her who had a baby?’

  The man glanced at his two companions. ‘Did either of you see another woman with a baby?’

  The men shook their heads.

  Jane and Nicholas exchanged glances. ‘May we look inside?’ he asked.

  The man shrugged. ‘If you wish, but you won’t find anyone. Only ghosts. There was murder done here, you know.’

  Jane paled and she reached out a hand to Nicholas. ‘Don’t be worrying,’ he said, taking her hand. ‘We’ll have a quick search of the place and then we’ll go.’

  Chapter Eight

  Willem yawned, stretched and rose from the loom. He walked across the room to the door that led into the main room of the house. He wondered where the children were and how long it would be before Nicholas Hurst and Jane returned and what news they would bring.

  He went over to the hearth and noticed that the fire was almost out, so placed wood on it, thinking of his own children whom he had left in the care of his mother-in-law, who was really too old to cope with the boys. He found the loaf that Anna had brought and cut himself a couple of slices and placed cheese between them. He sat down and ate, conscious of the crackling of the wood in the silence and wishing he had a way of persuading Jane to hand the lease of the house over to him without delay.

  It was as he poured himself a drink of ale that he heard the sound of the back door opening and then the soft pad of feet crossing the floor of the other room, accompanied by rapid breathing. There was something about that sound that told him it wasn’t one of the girls. A young woman of medium height appeared in the doorway. Her face was partially hidden by her headdress and she appeared to have something concealed beneath her coat.

  Willem sprang to his feet and seized her by the arm and twirled her round. She started back and said in a foreign tongue, ‘Who—who are you?’

  Willem did not immediately reply because the bruised, plump face was tear-stained and the pale blue eyes were wide with fright. Then he pulled himself together and shook her. ‘Who I am, wench, is none of your business. Who are you? Or perhaps I can guess,’ he said in Flemish.

  She started and responded in the same language, ‘Where is Master Hurst? Is he still abed?’

  Willem scowled. ‘Never mind Master Hurst. I asked you a question and am waiting for an answer.’

  ‘Which I do not wish to give you,’ she said in a dignified manner, again in her own tongue. ‘I would speak to Master Hurst.’

  ‘What if I tell you that he is not here, but gone in search of a stolen baby that belongs to the mistress of this house?’

  The young woman paled and struggled to free herself. ‘I have the baby here. Release me and I will return him to his cradle.’

  Keeping a firm hold on her, Willem pushed her in the direction of the cradle. Only then did he release her, watching as she took the child from beneath her coat. She placed him carefully in the cot and covered him with a blanket. No sooner had she done so than she went over to a chair and sat down and stared at Willem.

  He had expected her to try to escape. ‘What are you up to, wench? You think you can take me off guard by behaving in this way?’ She pressed her lips firmly together and stared at him defiantly. ‘Well, are you going to answer me or do I hand you over to the constable when he arrives?’ he snapped. ‘Master Hurst has sent for him. Abduction is a serious felony and he suspected you immediately of being the guilty party.’

  Her chin quivered and for several moments she appeared to be struggling to control her emotions, then she said, ‘I have righted a wrong. Master Hurst will forgive me when he knows I have information for him. All I ask of you is that you tell me if Master Hurst’s daughter still lives?’

  ‘Aye, she does.’

  She looked relieved. ‘I must see Matilda. You will take me to her?’

  ‘Don’t be a lackwit, girl! You’re in no position to make demands. I know who you are: Berthe, the wet nurse Master Hurst hired. He is furious with you and so is Mistress Caldwell.’

  Berthe reared up in the chair. ‘I did not believe they would try to kill Master Hurst. I thought they only wished to question him about the plan of a ship he had designed. She had said that she had a right to Matilda and that I could continue to care for her.’

  Willem frowned. ‘If that’s true, then you’re best telling me all you know about them—and you’d better be right when you say that Mistress Caldwell’s baby is unharmed. How would you feel if you thought your baby had gone for ever?’

  To Willem’s dismay, Berthe’s eyes filled with tears and she dropped her head into her hands and began to sob. He swore beneath his breath, moved by her obvious grief despite himself. ‘Hush, girl,’ he muttered. ‘Do not think your tears will soften my heart so that I free you.’

  ‘I do not wish to be freed,’ she cried. ‘I will stay here until Master Hurst and the mistress of the house return and will explain to them my actions.’

  At that moment there was the sound of footsteps outside and the front door opened. Jane and Nicholas entered in a rush, only to freeze as their eyes were drawn to the young woman sitting in the chair.

  ‘Berthe!’ exclaimed Nicholas.

  She sprang to her feet and babbled in her own tongue, ‘Master Hurst, I have returned the child to its cradle. It was a mistake and I beg yours and Mistress Caldwell’s forgiveness!’ She fell on her knees in front of him, placing her hands together in entreaty.

  ‘What did she say?’ asked Jane.

  Nicholas translated Berthe’s words.

  Jane wasted no time, hurrying over to the cradle. She bent and lifted out her son and hugged him to her breast, whispering soothing words.

  As for Willem, he left the room, having decided he’d had enough of women’s tears.

  Nicholas stared at Berthe sternly. ‘Get up. You’ve got some explaining to do, my girl,’ he said in Flemish. ‘You were in league with the woman who wanted Matilda—and what of the men who tried to kill me? Were you aware they wanted me dead?’

  Berthe rose to her feet in one swift fluid movement. ‘No, I did not know those men wanted you dead when she approached me in Bruges. Otherwise I would not have listened to her when she told me you were in need of a wet nurse.’

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. ‘I presume you are talking about the woman who was there during the attack?’

  ‘Aye, your dead wife’s sister, Madame Dupon!’

  So he had guessed aright, thought Nicholas, shooting a glance at Jane. Fortunately she was engrossed in Simon and hopefully she understood little Flemish. He thought how he had never met Eugenie, Louise’s older half-sister, who had lived in Bordeaux.

  He gave his attention once more to Berthe. ‘Why should Madame Dupon get involved with those who wished me dead?’ he asked.

  ‘She holds you responsible for the death of her sister.’

  Nicholas was stunned. ‘She told you this?’

  ‘Not immediately. She spoke to me only of your need for a wet nurse at first. She knew how deep was my grief after the death of my husband and son. She is a widow, but has never had children. Instead, she has spent her time in good works. She said that having another child to care for would help me deal with my sorrow.’ A tear rolled down Berthe’s cheek and then another.

  Nicholas said carefully,
‘Do you know the names of the men who tried to kill me?’

  ‘I heard her address one of them as Señor Carlos Vives. He is half-Spanish and sailed on one of the ships that crossed the great sea to the Americas. I overheard him say that you had killed his kinsman.’

  I don’t want to believe this, thought Nicholas, resting both hands on the back of a chair. How many kinsmen did Louise’s betrothed have? He must have been the man he saw from the window, although his arm had not been in a sling then as far as he had noticed.

  ‘What is it, Nicholas?’ asked Jane, coming over to him. ‘You look pained.’ She scowled at Berthe. ‘What else has she to say for herself? Has she provided you with the name of the other woman involved?’

  He glanced at Jane still nursing her baby. The tears had dried on her cheeks and she looked a changed woman from that of earlier. ‘Her name is Madame Eugenie Dupon and apparently one of the men who attacked me is a kinsman of Tomas Vives.’

  Jane’s mouth fell open and then she snapped it shut and took a deep breath. ‘I am beginning to think that there will be no end to these attacks on you from those who would avenge the death of that woman’s betrothed. Why can’t they accept that she deceived you as much as she did him? It is not as if you killed him. He died of his wounds!’ She stared at Berthe, her expression hardening. ‘Did she tell you why Madame Dupon believes that Matilda is a princess? And who is the other man? Is he also related to Vives?’

  Nicholas lifted his head and spoke to Berthe in Flemish.

  ‘I have heard the name Tomas Vives,’ she said cautiously. ‘He is in London, I think. Madame Dupon and Señor Carlos Vives had planned to travel to the coast once she had Matilda in her possession, but she changed her mind. I was to meet her at Draymore Manor, but I was distraught because I had taken the wrong child, so I did not go to the meeting place and hid instead.’

  ‘You’re telling me they decided not to make another attempt on my life?’ said Nicholas.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘What about the other man?’

  ‘I don’t know where he went. I think he hoped you would die from your wound.’ She gazed up at him. ‘What are you going to do with me?’

  Nicholas glanced at Jane. ‘That depends on what Mistress Caldwell has to say.’

  Jane now asked Nicholas to translate for her. He hesitated and carefully edited what he told her.

  When he had finished, Jane realised that if Berthe had not taken the wrong baby then Matilda could have been lost to Nicholas. At least she had returned Simon, so she should be grateful for these two things. It was obvious that Berthe had acted under duress and was suffering, but her behaviour was still reprehensible.

  Jane kissed her baby’s downy head before saying, ‘On the morrow I will decide, although surely you will also have a say in this matter, Nicholas? You must also come to a decision about what to say to the constable.’

  It was at that moment the workroom door opened and Willem entered. He had meant to say that he was returning to the inn, but at the mention of the constable he lingered to listen to the conversation.

  ‘Of course, although what Berthe had told me makes it even more imperative that I get a message to Pip,’ replied Nicholas. ‘With all that has happened I have yet to write my missive to him and give it to Matt.’

  ‘I agree.’ Jane frowned. ‘But do not be so concerned with catching the men involved that you let Berthe go unpunished. She betrayed you and if you had not reacted so swiftly you could have been killed.’

  Berthe’s eyes flashed as she looked at Jane. ‘What is Mistress Caldwell saying about me?’ she asked of Nicholas.

  He told her.

  She gasped. ‘It was not my intention to betray you. I might have spoken to Madam Dupon of the route we would take, but I say again I did not know an attack on your life was planned. I just wanted Matilda.’ Berthe paused. ‘It did occur to me that Mistress Caldwell might not wish to accept the burden of another woman’s child if you should die from your injury—’ she pressed her hands to her breast ‘—whereas I already loved Matilda. She has filled a place in my heart that was bleeding and bare after the loss of my son.’

  ‘What is she saying?’ asked Jane suspiciously.

  Nicholas hesitated.

  ‘I will think the worst if you don’t tell me,’ said Jane, having no notion of what that might be, so he told her almost word for word what Berthe had said.

  Jane was torn by conflicting emotions. She felt a wave of sympathy for the younger woman in her loss, but was also annoyed by her judgement of Jane’s charitable nature. Of course she would have taken care of Matilda if Nicholas had died, although she would rather not think of him dying.

  ‘I don’t know what to make of her,’ muttered Jane. ‘I certainly don’t trust her and I don’t trust myself to make a fair judgement where she is concerned. I do know I want her out of this house.’

  ‘What is she saying?’ demanded Berthe, turning to Nicholas again.

  He hesitated, thinking that if the house had been bigger he would have suggested locking Berthe in another room, so they could all have some peace and quiet, but in the circumstances that was out of the question.

  Unexpectedly Willem spoke, taking Nicholas and the two women by surprise. ‘Has the wench mentioned one of the men being interested in that ship you designed?’

  ‘Aye,’ said Nicholas, staring at Berthe. ‘Is there more?’

  She shrugged. ‘Señor Carlos thought you planned to sail in it to the Americas. This did not please Madame Dupon—she considered it wrong that you should have the care of Matilda, due to you being an adventurer.’

  ‘She is mistaken,’ said Nicholas harshly.

  Berthe nodded. ‘I know. I have seen the way you care for your daughter. Señor Carlos was not really interested in the child, only the knowledge you have gained of ocean-going vessels during your travels.’

  ‘You heard him say this?’ asked Nicholas.

  ‘Aye, he deemed that you planned to build vessels of a design much improved on that of the Portuguese, so as to compete with them and the Spanish for possession of the Americas.’

  Nicholas smiled. ‘You have big ears, Berthe. Tell me what else you know and I will be inclined to be more lenient with you.’

  She hesitated. ‘They are aware that King Henry’s main interest is in ships for his navy to fight the French, but they have heard that you have royal blood and could set up a kingdom of your own across the sea, if you had a mind to do so.’

  Alarmed, Nicholas sat upright, wincing as he did so and putting a hand to his injured shoulder. ‘Who told you this?’

  ‘Matilda’s mother believed it to be true! She was convinced that the child she carried could one day rule that far country.’

  Nicholas groaned inwardly, wishing that he had never told Louise that his Flemish grandmother had been Edward IV’s mistress. Their liaison had taken place when the Yorkist king had taken refuge in Flanders in the last century and it should have remained a secret. Obviously Louise must have written to her sister whilst she was with child and told her.

  ‘It’s nonsense,’ he said firmly.

  Berthe said, ‘Madame Dupon believes it.’

  ‘She is deceiving herself.’

  ‘Then you do not have royal blood?’ Berthe sounded disappointed.

  ‘No,’ he lied. ‘It is true that I have designed a galleon that can compete with the Portuguese and Spanish ships, only my interest lies solely in building ships for commerce, not sailing them,’ he added firmly.

  Jane was wearying of the endless conversations in Flemish. ‘Are you going to translate?’ she asked. ‘I wish she could speak English.’

  ‘Our conversation is mainly about shipbuilding,’ said Nicholas.

  Jane was not convinced because she had caught the name Madame Dupon, but she was not going to force the matter now. ‘So what are you going to do with Berthe this evening?’ she asked.

  Nicholas was undecided and told Berthe to sit down and await their
decision.

  ‘But what of Matilda? Can I not see her?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Is she asking to see Matilda?’ said Jane, catching the child’s name and hazarding a guess.

  Nicholas agreed that was so.

  ‘Does she really think that you would allow her to go near your daughter after what she’s done?’ asked Jane in amazement.

  ‘What is she saying?’ asked Berthe hesitantly.

  Willem told her and Nicholas glanced at him, frowning.

  Berthe said, ‘I cared for her well. I do not see why I should not continue to do so.’

  Without understanding a word, Jane said, ‘She has far too much to say for herself. When the constable comes have him take her and lock her in a dungeon and throw away the key.’

  Again Willem translated for Berthe, whose eyes flared in alarm. ‘Master Hurst, you will not allow it, I beg you. I was good for Matilda and I have told you all I know.’

  Nicholas agreed that was so, but he knew he had to satisfy Jane’s need for justice to be seen to be done, although he was reluctant to hand Berthe over to the constable.

  ‘Why don’t you leave her to me?’ suggested Willem, taking Nicholas and Jane by surprise. ‘She’s a fool of a woman. What she needs is a strong hand on her bridle. Hand her over to me. I will give her some work to do and that will keep her out of mischief.’

  Jane was unsure whether that would serve and darted a look at Nicholas to see what he thought, not knowing he was wondering just how much of his conversation with Berthe the weaver had understood. Fortunately Godar had been out of the room when she had mentioned his wife and Madame Dupon being sisters.

  ‘What have you in mind, Godar?’ he asked.

  Willem turned to Berthe. ‘Have you ever spun, wench?’

  She stared at him from limpid eyes before letting her gaze slide over Jane and Nicholas and then returning to Willem. ‘Aye, back in my own country before my parents died and I had to leave my own town to live with my brother. This was before I met my poor dead husband.’

  ‘Then come,’ he said, beckoning with a crooked finger.

  ‘Wait,’ said Nicholas, not quite trusting the weaver’s motives, whatever they were. ‘I am not so sure that this is a good idea, Godar.’