by June Francis
‘Why are you dressed like that?’ hissed a voice Louise knew well. ‘I might as well not have spent all that time in Blanche’s company persuading her to keep her mouth shut.’
Louise’s head turned swiftly and she stared at the masked man dressed in a damson-coloured surcote trimmed with lambswool. ‘How did you know me?’ she whispered.
‘I didn’t at first!’ His gaze glinted behind the mask. ‘It was my brother who pointed you out because he recognised the gown. Don’t you realise that it fits you so snugly that it reveals your shape? Most looking at you would know you for a woman. As well as that your accent, which will give away who you are.’
‘I will not speak, then,’ she said in a sparkling undertone. ‘So why don’t you go away and sit with your little dove who’s looking this way, and who I think recognises you despite the mask?’
‘You’d like me to do that, wouldn’t you? So that you can flirt with Harry.’ His fingers drummed on the table. ‘Well, I’m not going to allow that. You wouldn’t suit.’
‘How do you know?’ Her expression darkened. ‘You have only known me in circumstances that have been unusual to say the least. You forget that I was not reared for such a life. I was a clothier’s daughter!’
‘So you have said several times,’ he muttered, bidding a maidservant to fill their goblets, while another set slices of capon on their platters, and poured plum porridge in their bowls. ‘Do you consider that good enough reason for my parents to give countenance to your marrying Harry?’
Her pulses jerked in a peculiar fashion. ‘I don’t see why not,’ she said boldly.
‘I won’t allow it,’ he said in a tight voice, and, picking up his goblet, he tossed off the contents.
‘And how would you stop us?’ she said recklessly. ‘You aren’t your brother’s keeper for all your peculiar feelings about one another’s safety, and the way you’re mirror images.’
He seized her wrist as she made to pick up her spoon. ‘This has gone far enough, Louise.’
‘This conversation has,’ she murmured. ‘Let us talk no more on this matter. May I eat in peace now?’ Not waiting for his answer, she pulled herself free, and seemingly gave all her attention to the capon and plum porridge.
John made a dissatisfied noise in his throat and began to cut his meat. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she spooned plum porridge into her mouth. Metal clinked against her teeth and she spat out a ring on to the palm of her hand.
‘Tell me if this is lucky?’ she asked of John innocently.
He scowled at her. ‘I think you know exactly what it symbolises.’
‘Tell me.’ Her voice was sweet.
‘A wedding.’ His fingers clenched on his knife.
Her mouth curved into a smile as she wiped the ring on her sleeve before trying to fit it on to her middle finger.
‘It’s too small.’ He could not conceal his satisfaction.
‘That doesn’t change the good fortune,’ she murmured, determined to tease him by placing it on her little finger. ‘And to think that I never looked to be married when I came to England. I hated all Englishmen.’
‘You hated Harry!’ With an impatient gesture he pulled off his mask and her heart lurched in her breast as she looked into his stormy blue eyes. ‘Doesn’t it matter to you any more that he was responsible for your sister being taken from you?’ he asked in French.
‘Of course it matters!’ She sounded surprised. ‘But forgiveness is a Christian virtue.’
He snorted. ‘Common sense should be one.’
‘I have enough for the two of us,’ she said with an assumed calmness. ‘We will go back to France and live happily ever after.’
John ground his teeth. ‘He won’t marry you, woman!’
‘So you say.’ She shrugged expressively, fingering the pattern in the pewter goblet. ‘But he has a fancy for me — so we shall see.’
‘We certainly shall,’ he said tersely, and, getting up, walked away.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HAD she gone too far? Louise touched the back of the ring with the ball of her thumb as she watched John, carrying platter and goblet, sit next to a masked woman on the other side of Blanche. Instantly he began to talk to her. She experienced a spurt of jealousy because to all appearances they seemed to be having a lively conversation, but she comforted herself with the thought that he was taking little notice of Blanche. She continued to keep her eye on him, the woman, and Blanche, as the afternoon progressed, while wondering where Harry was.
The noise level grew, as people imbibed freely, and the musicians entertained, one singing the carol ‘As Joseph was a-walking’. Some children, having had enough to eat, rose to play blind man’s buff.
A banging on the door signalled the arrival of the mummers, and there was much hushing as people prepared to watch their performance. It began with a sword dance, which finished with the man dressed up as Robin Hood kneeling in the centre of the ring while the rest of the dancers locked their swords round his neck. There was complete silence from the watchers as the swords were drawn and the victim fell ‘dead’. Harry had explained to Louise that it was symbolic of the death of the spirit of life. Now the dancers were carolling round and round. They stopped suddenly and reached for the swords and withdrew them. Robin Hood sprang up and began to caper about with the rest of the dancers. Life had been renewed, just as it was every springtime.
Young people started to get up and dance, and an elderly man dressed as a jester fooled about. Then Louise’s shoulders were seized from behind and she was pulled off the bench, only being saved from falling on to the floor by those same hands sliding round her waist. She looked up into the familiar masked face.
‘Let’s carol,’ he muttered, sweeping her into the circle of dancers. One of her hands was held firmly in his grasp, while the other was seized by a complete stranger. She was danced around the hall, so energetically that there was no chance of or breath left for speech. Eventually the circle broke apart and people collapsed on settles or chests, but her partner swung her into his arms and danced her just as vigorously over to the doorway. He brought her to a halt and kissed her under the mistletoe.
There was nothing gentle about his embrace or the kiss. He held her so tightly that she thought her bones would crack, and his mouth bruised hers before it lifted. ‘Little witch,’ he. whispered unsteadily. ‘If you choose to be a wanton then let it be with me.’
‘What do you mean?’ she stammered in a voice barely above a whisper.
‘I mean your giving yourself to Harry for the name of the man who has Marguerite.’ His voice was low and harsh.
‘But I — ’
‘Don’t make excuses.’ John dragged her through the doorway and out on to the top of the steps. It was already dark and Louise felt a snowflake land on her cheek before he planted several small kisses on her mouth. ‘It’s only fair after all, my sweet,’ he murmured between kisses, ‘that I should demand payment for my part in helping you find her.’
‘But I never said any such thing to Harry,’ she cried.
‘He says you did — and that what you said about going to France is true — although he has no plans to marry you, dearest Louise.’
Her eyes sparkled with anger. ‘He’s lying.’
‘You mean he did say he’d marry you?’
‘No! About my going to France with him.’
‘But you said it yourself to me.’ His tones were satiny. She hesitated before saying, ‘I didn’t mean it. I was teasing you.’
His face tightened. Teasing me! After the other night I would have thought you’d think twice about such games, It seems that no woman can be trusted to play fair.’
‘I believed you Harry that night.’
‘What?’
‘I was tired and confused. And you are alike!’
‘But you kissed me as if — and allowed — ’
‘I thought you were with Blanche.’
‘I see,’ he said sarcastically. ‘
So if I’m with her then it’s all right for you to be with my brother. We’re that much alike it doesn’t matter which one of us beds you. Perhaps we could share you and then you’ll be able to compare which of us you like best!’
She felt the colour drain from her face and pulled herself out of his arms. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say,’ she whispered. ‘And just what I’d expect from an Englishman. I wish I’d never trusted you and come to England.’
There was a silence, but for the sound of the icy wind that sent snowflakes whirling about them. Then he said savagely, ‘You’d test the will-power of a saint! Don’t you think I wish I’d never brought you?’
‘I never intended … ’ Her voice, barely audible, broke off, then she resumed again with a strength in her voice that had been lacking. ‘I was the innocent so do not lay the blame on me for your lack of control as men have always done with women since Eve! Allow me to go south now! I know enough English to get by on my own!’
A muscle tightened in his cheek. ‘That’s a damn foolish suggestion! I might have my faults, mam’selle, but sending you out into the snow alone isn’t one of them. I said that I’d help you find Marguerite before you go back to France and I damn well will! So don’t be talking nonsense.’
Her eyes sparkled and she folded her arms tightly across her breast, tensing against the cold. ‘You should never have brought me north; I didn’t want to — ’
‘You know we had to come north,’ he interrupted ruthlessly. ‘I explained!’
‘We wouldn’t have had to come if you’d have thought of asking Harry the man’s name when we were in Kent!’ She scrubbed at the dampness on her cheek, and hoped that he did not think that it was tears she was rubbing away.
‘Well, I didn’t,’ he rasped. ‘Because I wasn’t to know that Dykemore had had Wat burnt alive!’ He thumped the wall. ‘Think sensibly, woman. How was I to know? Anyhow, as matters worked out I would have come anyway for Peter’s sake! I do have a life of my own to live that doesn’t involve chasing round looking for your sister, who’s probably perfectly safe and happy!’
She gasped. ‘Live your own life, then! Don’t concern yourself about me and Marguerite any longer. I will do whatever’s necessary to find her myself!’ She turned and wrenched open the door.
John was quick on her heels but no sooner was he inside than his mother swooped up on him, sending Louise a curious, frowning glance, and Louise heard her say, ‘Harry! What have you been up to? Blanche has been looking for John. Do you know if he is with M’sieur Saulnier somewhere? Because they both seem to be missing.’
Louise did not catch his reply because the woman who had been sitting next to John took her arm and spoke in her ear in Harry’s voice, startling her so much that she could not think of a sensible answer to his, ‘My dear, do you really think it’s good for our reputations that you go outside with my brother?’
‘Why are you dressed in such a way?’ she hissed.
‘I thought it would be amusing.’ He wiggled both eyebrows. ‘And it was for a while, sitting next to Blanche and pretending to be what I’m not.’
‘You are as stupid as your brother!’ Her eyes sparkled. ‘What chance have you with her dressed like that?’
His eyebrows rose. ‘Now what has my brother done to rile you?’ She scowled at him but said nothing. He shrugged. ‘I never believed I had much chance, anyway. But now I wager I have none. Now that everybody thinks Jack’s me!’ He pulled a face. ‘Not only do they believe that I’ve been flirting with myself most of the afternoon because Jack came and poured his fury into my ear, but that I’ve danced completely unabandoned with you!’
‘It serves you right,’ she retorted tartly, ‘making out to John that you and I were — ’
‘What?’ He grinned and his eyes gleamed through the holes in the mask. ‘I only went along with what he said that you said.’
‘And more, I’ll wager,’ she said crossly. ‘You consider no one but yourself.’
‘Now there you’re wrong. I was thinking of both of us, especially when I watched the way my brother danced with you, and kissed you, before whisking you outside.’ He pulled her down onto a settle, and spread his skirt dextrously. ‘What were you doing out there?’
‘Getting cold and wet.’
He nodded resignedly. ‘You’re not going to tell me.’
‘It was snowing.’ Her voice was stiff.
‘Very informative.’ He sighed heavily and looked dejected. ‘I hope it’s not going to spoil the hunting tomorrow.’
‘It’s not a lot of snow for all he says that I couldn’t travel,’ she said comfortingly.
‘It’ll get thicker.’ He stared at her. ‘You were thinking of going somewhere?’
‘It’s none of your business.’ She rammed her chin into the palm of her hand and stared moodily at him. ‘Just tell me the name of the man who has Marguerite and how I can get there.’
Harry smiled. ‘My dear, you’re willing to pay the price?’ He did not wait for an answer but gazed across the hall. ‘My brother doesn’t like us talking, but Mother’s got him in tow and he can’t do anything about us. She’s taking him over to Blanche. I wonder if he’ll pretend to be me to Blanche?’ he said softly.
Louise’s frowning gaze followed his. ‘Why should he pretend?’
He shrugged. ‘Once upon a time we used to see how long we could keep people guessing who was really who. Anyway, would he want her to know it was he who was dancing with you?’
A heavy breath escaped her. ‘I suppose not. But why don’t you go and change and come back as yourself? People will know then that you’re you.’
‘Most likely they’ll believe me to be John.’ He gave her a droll look. ‘Of course I could pretend to be John to Blanche and that way I might learn what she really thinks of me.’
‘It smacks of trickery.’
‘My dear innocent,’ he said softly, ‘there’s no better way to pass the time than by indulging oneself in playing such intriguing games. Perhaps you could pretend that I’m John? We could go to a quiet place somewhere and have a pleasant time. Nobody would be any the wiser with me in this garb.’
‘That is a scandalous idea.’ Her voice was cold.
‘I’d give you the name of the man who has Marguerite.’
Her eyes challenged his. ‘I’ve just been thinking about that, and you could give me any name and I wouldn’t know if it was the right one or not.’
A smile lurked about his mouth. ‘Not so foolish.’ He stood. ‘Hey ho! I’ll out of these skirts and tease the fair Blanche.’
‘You could try wooing her,’ she muttered. ‘Love isn’t a game, you know. It hurts.’
‘You’re telling me?’ He smiled grimly and left through the door to her right.
Louise suddenly made up her mind that nothing was to be gained by staying in Yorkshire any longer. Harry would never give her the man’s name, and maybe both brothers were right and her sister was happy. Besides, she did not want to ask John to help her ever again. She stood and was about to go through the same door as Harry when she saw Blanche approaching. She had a mind for instant flight but that smacked of cowardice so she stayed as the woman stopped in front of her.
‘So you would play the harlot with both brothers, mam’selle.’ Her voice was low and angry.
Louise’s expression hardened. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about, madame. But you insult me.’
‘You would deny it, of course,’ she said scornfully, her pale blue eyes glinting. ‘But I watched the way you danced with Harry, and then came over here with John.’ There was a pause before Louise said in careful tones, ‘You really believe that woman was John?’
‘Of course!’ She threw back her head. ‘I know him well enough for such a disguise not to fool me! But that you should resort to wearing women’s clothes surprises me when John told me that he was trying to avoid a scandal.’
‘I’m certain no one else has any idea who I am, madame.’ Her voice was cool. ‘And
if I choose to dress like this, then it’s my affair, not yours. Have you given any thought at all to what it has been like for me having to wear a boy’s clothes? Before the English took Caen my position in life was similiar to yours. My father was wealthy and I was accustomed to wearing gowns similar to the one I am wearing now. I wonder how you would have fared if you’d been in my place, madame! It’s Christmastide and I wanted to look my best. Is that so wrong?’
‘I’m sure you must have had a terrible time,’ Blanche flushed. ‘But I didn’t say that what you did was wrong. I just question your wisdom in putting on such a gown.’
‘You consider it unattractive?’ said Louise, her expression grave. ‘The colour — you perhaps consider doesn’t suit my complexion? And that maybe the gown doesn’t fit me so well?’
‘No!’ Blanche’s pale brow knit. ‘It’s a lovely shade of green and a perfect fit. You look a complete woman! But anyone listening to your voice would know you for M’sieur Saulnier and your secret would be out. No one likes being made a fool of, mam’selle — especially my cousin Hugh, whose guest you are. You are too attractive, and I only speak like this because I would avoid a scandal,’ she said bluntly.
Louise’s mouth twisted. ‘Do you? Is it that you consider me a rival? Be assured you have no need. I would never have set foot in England if it weren’t for my sister.’ Blanche moistened her mouth. ‘You couldn’t be a serious rival. I mean, it’s hardly likely that either of them would marry you.’
‘Of course not. Do you think I’m such a fool that I don’t know that?’ She forced, a smile. ‘But perhaps you’re right about the clothes. I’ll go and change now and no one will be any the wiser.’
