by Jenny Kane
Grace narrowed her eyes suspiciously, ‘You sound like you’re reciting a speech.’
‘I am quoting Marcus verbatim. I had an almost identical meltdown when I made similar excuses not to sleep with him the first opportunity I had.’
Grace shook her head in despair at the both of them and raised her wine glass, ‘Here’s to good old-fashioned female paranoia! Where would we be without it?’
‘Happy?’
‘Good point!’ Grace grinned, ‘Shall we order a couple of chicken and bacon salads then?’
‘Perfect. With maybe just one side order of chips?’
Chapter Twenty-two
Mathilda swallowed the bile that swam at the base of her throat as she was stood before the long table in the main hall, at which sat all the Folville brothers, including the previously absent John.
There was no doubt that the pecking order had changed now that the older brother was in residence. Eustace’s disgruntled expression said as much, even without the corroborating evidence of the uneasy atmosphere and the generally hostile body language. Mathilda, wasn’t sure if this was being directed towards her, or if it was a show of bravado from the younger brothers to the head of their household, which was a position only achieved by accident of birth.
Mathilda had other things to worry about though. Like staying upright, not swaying, or showing any weakness in front of the assembled men.
‘My brothers have informed me of the reason for your presence in my home.’ John was even less pleased with this than he sounded, and as his tone was so sharp Mathilda could almost feel it cutting into her. ‘I would be obliged if you would prove to me that the risks taken in sending out a hostage to relay a vital message have been worthwhile. Frankly, I was surprised you returned.’
Mathilda was vaguely aware of Robert staring at her. The expression of displeasure on his face made John’s evident annoyance seem insignificant, and made her wonder why she hadn’t run away as well.
‘So,’ John tapped his dagger on the table impatiently, and Mathilda noticed that it was almost identical to the one she had hidden beneath her tunic, but for the colour of the stone, ‘the message from the Coterels? I assume you got it?’ ‘I did, my Lord. I spoke to Nicholas Coterel as instructed.’ Mathilda clenched her toes inside her boots, and concentrated on not letting her eyes swim out of focus.
‘And? Come on, girl, what was the response?’
‘He said, “The message is well received. Three days. Midnight.”’ The glow of the fire behind the table was making Mathilda’s eye’s water, and now her mission was fully complete, and the message delivered, she could feel her body shutting down, as if it was refusing to take the instructions from her brain telling her to stay on her feet. Luckily, an arm came to her elbow however, before the ground had the chance to reclaim her.
‘Forgive the interruption, my Lords,’ Sarah bowed with her usual sharp respect, ‘but if you have finished with this girl, I require help in the kitchen.’
Without giving the household time to respond, Sarah steered Mathilda to the side of the hall behind the servants’ dividing tapestry, and sat her onto the straw cot she’d been allowed to rest on before.
Frowning with confused gratitude, Mathilda opened her mouth to say thank you, when the housekeeper put a finger to her lips, and spoke in a guarded whisper, ‘Nothing you can say to them tonight will please them. When was the last time you ate?’
‘But …’
Sarah shook her head sharply, and shoved a hunk of fatted bread into Mathilda’s shivering hands, and placed a cup of hot broth on the floor next to her. ‘Don’t you get it, girl? It is not safe to talk now. Eat that and then sleep.’
The housekeeper disappeared back into the hall, and Mathilda dug her teeth into her supper, surprised that Sarah had not only taken the trouble to rescue her from the brothers’ suspicious eyes, but had also kept some of the servants’ supper warm for her.
As Mathilda chewed, she could hear Sarah’s boots crossing the stone floor and then the sound of her offering ale to the brothers. The dig of the dagger’s handle in her ribs alerted Mathilda to the weapon she still carried. Not wanting to sleep with it on her person for fear of stabbing herself in the night, she pulled it from its hiding place and hid it carefully under her cot, ready to return it to Robert as soon as she had the chance.
The uncomfortable stillness from the hall was abruptly broken by John, who either didn’t realise Mathilda could hear him, or simply didn’t care. ‘Do we trust that this is a genuine message? What was to stop the girl making up a message so that she didn’t have to face Coterel and could worm her way to freedom, and secure the safety of her family?’
Behind the tapestry, Mathilda blanched. It had never occurred to her that they wouldn’t believe she had delivered an honest response.
‘What say you, Robert? Eustace tells me you are soft on the girl. A fact that comes a relief to us all, I have to say!’
Mathilda’s body tensed as she waited for Robert’s response. She’d thought he liked her. Or at least that he understood her need to please him to ensure her family’s safety, but Robert’s behaviour after their meeting with Master Hugo had given Mathilda serious second thoughts about his motives for being kind to her earlier on. His response to John, however, was at least partly positive.
‘The girl is a brave one. I am sure she went to Coterel as instructed. After all, the risk involved with the discovery of feeding us misinformation would be high indeed. However, we would be wise to remain cautious. The chit is unusually clever.’
Eustace spoke up for the first time, ‘You think that she may have sided with Coterel?’
‘That is not what I am saying,’ Robert snapped, ‘I am merely reminding everyone present that we should never completely trust anyone involved in this venture.’
A tiny flutter of hope stirred inside Mathilda. Had Robert realised where she was, and that she could hear him? Was it him that had instructed Sarah to get her out of the brother’s presence as quickly as possible? She was convinced he was addressing her as much as his family as she listened.
‘While we must bear in mind that Mathilda wants to secure the freedom of her family, I am sure she fully understands that there are no shortcuts to that goal. If however, she does double-cross us, then she’d be extremely unwise. A fact I am sure she understands.’
Mathilda almost chocked on her mouthful of bread. He did know she was listening. All her doubts on that score were gone.
John virtually growled at Robert in exasperation. ‘So, do you trust her in this or don’t you!’
Mathilda held her breath as she waited for Robert’s answer.
Robert however, did not get the chance to answer, for Eustace cut across his elder brother. ‘Forget the girl. She got the message, and as it is pretty much the response I expected. I think we can assume it to be genuine. The real questions here are not if the girl is to be trusted, but are we ready to proceed in three nights’ time with planning this necessary enterprise, and what are we going to do with the girl now?’
If Mathilda had been listening hard before, now her ears positively strained. She’d done what they wanted; surely they were going to send her home to help her father earn enough to pay off his debt now?
Wishing she could see what was going on, Mathilda was perturbed by the ominous peace from behind the thick curtain. She hadn’t heard any footfalls, so the men must all still be there. She imagined Robert shushing them all, reminding his brothers that she was in the room. Or perhaps they weren’t speaking because the answer to Eustace’s question was so obvious to them that it only needed the hand signal indicating that her throat should be cut?
Despite her hunger, Mathilda found she could no longer swallow the bread, and not wanting to hear anything else, good or bad, she lay down on the straw cot and pulled the thin blanket up over her head, trying to drown out all thoughts of her immediate future.
Grace read back through the last paragraph before clicking the ‘save�
� button and turning off her computer for the night.
Now she’d given up referring back to the original historical texts each time she wrote something, the process of writing Mathilda’s story was not only easier, but actually more fun. Rob had been right. There was no need to keep things accurate down to the last degree. Although Grace found herself in two minds whether she should get Mathilda to ask more questions about the meeting that was obviously being set up between the two families or not. She’d made Mathilda naturally curious – but she’d also made her sensible, and no sensible person in that position would ask such questions. Too much knowledge would be too dangerous. No, Mathilda would ask nothing.
Grace also realised that her book had begun to exhibit all the hallmarks of a budding romance, but she was having doubts about keeping things that way. ‘Besides,’ Grace told her computer, with a determination she hoped Mathilda would have been proud of sweeping through her, ‘this isn’t really going to be a romantic tale. Time I let Mathilda decide what happens to her, I’m just her outlet, after all.’
Climbing the stairs of her little home to her bathroom, Grace ran a deep bubble bath. Easing herself into the blissfully warm water, she laid her head against the ceramic surface, not caring if her hair got wet as it bobbed around her shoulders. Having started the day in a fluster, Grace now felt surprisingly calm. Not only had she written another section of her novel, but Daisy had managed to talk a great deal of sense into her before taking the train back to Sheffield, and returning to her ever-demanding menagerie. If Rob wasn’t interested in her then he wouldn’t have made it so clear that he wanted her to stay with him. If her rounded figure was a problem, then that was his issue, not hers, and while she agreed with Daisy that it was a good idea not to change size either up or down until after the wedding in case this instigated a dress adjustment-related emergency, Grace decided that she might try to eat a healthier diet. Not because of Rob, but because she knew, now she’d forced herself to think about it, that she’d been relying on fast food and snacks as her main diet for far too long.
Rippling her hands through the bubbles floating on top of the water, Grace began to think about Friday night. What should she cook? Should she rely on Marks & Spencer’s prepared food, or should she make the effort not to burn something in her oven? Silly question really. She’d pop to M&S after work on Thursday. There was no good fooling the man into thinking she could cook. Some lies were too difficult to pull off, and she really didn’t fancy spending their second proper date in Accident and Emergency, holding his hand while his stomach was pumped.
Grace had also dismissed decorating her house by Friday as a stupid idea. Even if she found the time to do it, or paid someone else to do it, the house would still stink of paint fumes when Rob arrived. Gagging on whiffs of tacky emulsion wouldn’t exactly make for a romantic evening, although she had resolved that painting the house was a task that needed doing sooner rather than later, Rob or no Rob.
‘He’ll just have to take me for what I am.’ Grace spoke to the clump of bubbles that clustered around her toes, before her brain went off at a far more delicious tangent. ‘I wonder what else he might feel like taking.’
Luxuriating in the water, Grace lost herself in fantasies that had firmly knocked all thoughts of possible colour schemes right out of her head.
Chapter Twenty-three
Mathilda woke with a start, her insides contracting in alarm to find Robert looming over her, shaking her to consciousness, a finger planted firmly on her lips to make sure she didn’t cry out.
Without giving her time to decide if he was about to silence her forever or draw her into his confidence, Mathilda found herself tugged bodily from her cot and manoeuvred into the kitchen, dressed in only her shift.
Taking one glimpse at Mathilda’s dishevelled state, Sarah tutted loudly. ‘Honestly, my Lord Robert. You can’t bring the girl in undressed. What will people think?”
‘I thought that was the point!’ Robert looked cross and uncomfortable as he pushed Mathilda towards Sarah, ‘She’s supposed to be my woman, isn’t she? You said it would be a good idea.’
‘It is a good idea!’ Ignoring his petulant tone, Sarah took off her shawl and wrapped it around Mathilda’s shoulders, ‘but you are a brother of the lord of the manor! You have to be seen to do these things with at least some level of propriety!’
Mathilda’s mind raced. What the hell was going on? Why was Sarah talking to Robert as if she was an equal and not his housekeeper? And why had Robert manhandled her here in the first place?
Before she could ask, Sarah called across the room to the lad who seemed to do every odd job about the place. ‘Allward!’
Everything that was happening seemed to be going on without there having been any need to drag her from her bed.
‘Allward, go and fetch Mathilda’s clothes. Quick, boy!’ Having sent the boy on his errand, Sarah turned her attention away from the occupants of the kitchen and began busying herself with getting breakfast ready for the household.
Sitting next to Mathilda on the bench by the door, Robert laid a hand on her knee, only to be surprised and affronted as Mathilda hastily shoved it away.
Shocked at herself, Mathilda opened her mouth to apologise, knowing that if she’d pulled away from him in company then she’d have been in for a mouthful of admonishment. ‘I’m so sorry my Lord, I …’
‘No Mathilda, I’m the one who should be sorry.’ Robert glanced towards Sarah’s turned back, knowing she was listening even if she wasn’t watching. ‘There is much to explain, and little time to explain it in.’
The early morning chill of the kitchen was making Mathilda shiver, and she was cross with herself for doing so, even though it had nothing to do with any weakness on her part, but with the fact that she’d been continually cold, hungry, or tired since she’d been deposited into the Folville home. Rather than comment and risk saying the wrong thing, Mathilda bit her tongue as she waited for Robert’s explanation.
‘First, I must apologise for not being able to congratulate you for your bravery in meeting with Coterel. Time was of the essence, and for reasons I am unable to divulge, it was important that I was not seen to be pleased with you.’
Frowning, Mathilda wondered if perhaps Robert distrusted Master Hugo as much as she did after all. Even as she thought about it though, she found that didn’t ring true. There was something about the way the men were together that was too comfortable to have any level of distrust within it, and yet …
Mathilda’s musings were interrupted by Allward returning with her borrowed dress, belt, and an extra shawl, which Mathilda assumed Sarah had instructed him to find for her. She expected Robert to avert his eyes while she dressed, but as Sarah rather curtly pointed out; he’d been sitting next to her in her shift for ten minutes, so there was little reason left for decorum now.
Dressing as fast as she could, more in her keenness to be warm than to hide the outline of her figure, Mathilda lifted the belt Robert had entrusted to her, and weighed it in her hands, aware of Robert’s green eyes on her as she fastened it around her waist.
‘You like that belt, don’t you.’
‘It is most beautiful. I will be sad to give it up when I leave.’ Hoping that Robert would pick up on her mention of leaving, Mathilda smoothed out her dress and sat back down.
Robert didn’t rise to the opening, but continued with his previous discourse, ‘My brothers were pleased with the message but …’ he looked about him as if checking that no one but those already in the kitchen could hear them, ‘… they are cautious. You are the hostage for a debt. They have no reason to trust you.’
‘Surely the fact that I am a debt hostage means they should trust me. I love my family, and I want them to be safe.’
‘I know, but not all hostages care about the people who have put them into danger in the first place.’
Mathilda only just managed to stop herself from snapping out her response, instead speaking with controlled calm, ‘W
ell, I am not most people, and now that I’ve done as requested I’d like to go home so I can help my father make back the money he owes you.’
Robert’s expression was one of pure disbelief, ‘You didn’t think you’d be allowed to leave before the debt was repaid, did you?’
Feeling foolish, Mathilda’s eyes flicked from Sarah to Allward, who was busy pouring ale into flagons, and back to Robert. She sounded small and quiet when she finally managed to speak, ‘But you said …’
‘I told you what I was supposed to tell you. Come on, Mathilda, you’re cleverer than that. You didn’t think you’d get out of here so easily, did you?’ ‘Easily?’ Mathilda felt the injustice of her situation fill her up from her toes, until it was forcing itself up her throat and out of her mouth in a torrent of unwisely spoken words, ‘You think it was easy going into one of the most notorious family’s houses in Derbyshire? Especially when Master Hugo deliberately gave me the wrong directions to the Coterel’s manor.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Robert’s placating voice turned to ice.
Sarah swung around from her work, and gave Mathilda a warning stare from her shrewd eyes, but Mathilda had had enough. ‘He told me to take the wrong road. It was bad enough trying to dodge being seen by that Judas, Geoffrey of Reresby, but if my Lord Coterel hadn’t helped me out, I’d never have got back to Master Hugo’s stall. Where, I might add, I made him a fortune selling his trinkets!’
Out of breath, regretted her outburst, the moment she finished speaking. Hanging her head, Mathilda muttered, ‘I’m sorry, I forgot myself, I …’
The grip of Robert’s hand as it thrust forward and grabbed her chin jarred Mathilda’s whole body, ‘How dare you speak about one of my most trusted allies like that!’
‘I tell you the truth, my Lord!’
‘You forget who you are talking to!’
