by Jenny Kane
Oswin might have been two years older than her, but Mathilda had always looked after him. A large, gentle soul, Oswin always did what he was told; without necessarily spending a lot of time thinking about consequences.
‘Mathilda?’
Aware of a pair of startling blue eyes staring into hers, Mathilda came back to earth, shocked to find she was still standing in the hall, with everyone was staring at her.
Robert placed one of his large hands on her shoulder, ‘Did you understand that? Do you know what you need to do?’
‘I need to save my family.’ She spoke slowly, more to herself than to the Folville before her. Then, forgetting her servile status, she stared back at Robert, pushing her shoulders back as she addressed him, ‘and if that means I have to stay here and spy or send messages for you and then so be it; although the logic in keeping me here when I could be at home helping them earn money to get you what you are due escapes me, my Lord.’ She paused, and placed her hands on her hips. They needed her, so for now at least she could risk a little impertinence. ‘But please could you tell me exactly how indebted my father is? If I know how much we owe then perhaps I can help them reach the goal.’
Robert gestured to his seated brothers as if asking how much he should say.
Eustace, with a confirming nod from the ever-mute Walter, said ‘The debt your father owes is only partly financial. We have been informed by a reliable source that he did some damage that needs paying for. Money will not make that better. Only his inconvenience will do. His punishment is to find the money he owes without your help. Without his right hand. Since the death of your mother, Mathilda, you are that right hand.’
Thinking furiously, trying to remember a time in which her father had defamed or inconvenienced her captors, Mathilda was about to ask the nature of this inconvenience, when Eustace and Walter rose to their feet, ‘Robert, the girl knows enough. Too much for her own safety, perhaps. Any more would be unwise for us and dangerous for her. I suggest you repeat the instructions she plainly didn’t hear, and then hand her over to Sarah. She might as well make herself useful and work in the kitchen until it is time to go.’
The brothers swept around the table and stood before Mathilda like a solid wall of intimidation. Eustace, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, spoke with a final deliberation. ‘Some advice, young woman; don’t ask questions. Do what you are told, and perhaps one day you’ll get to go home.’
Grace pulled back from the laptop. There was water falling on the keyboard, and for a moment she wasn’t sure where it was coming from.
Angrily wiping her tears away, Grace resigned herself to leaving Mathilda’s fate hanging in the balance, and ran to the bathroom.
Stripping off her pyjamas she turned on the shower, and leapt under the water before it had had the chance to warm up. Shivering beneath the cool spray Grace worked a bar of lemon-scented soap between her palms. As the temperature climbed, and steam began to fill the small cubicle, Grace scrubbed at her flesh, giving her tears of loss free range to fall down her face, without a single sound escaping from her lips.
Trying to blank out the hurt that had been etched on Rob’s face by focusing on Mathilda’s story, and concentrate on where she was going to take her medieval captive next, Grace found the face of Robert de Folville merging with Rob’s as he’d lent in to kiss her. She shook her head hard, but the face of Mathilda began to blur, taking on her own form, and Malcolm (or possibly Nicholas), had started to shout in the background. He was telling her she was late for coffee and she should just sit down and listen to him tell her about how he’d come first in an archery competition, and …
Grace slammed her hand against the shower’s off button, and grabbing a towel from its hook scrubbed at her wet body. Her mind felt as if it was about to explode from an insane mixture of past and present, fact and fiction, and suddenly she didn’t want to be at home any more. She didn’t want to be in the house where she had so almost been happy, with her only friends bar Daisy captured inside lifeless glass frames on her walls.
Not sure what time it was, Grace moved around her home without seeing anything but what was directly before her, and without thinking of anything but escape. Glad it was the summer, and that she had no further student commitments beyond those that could be sorted via email until September, Grace only experienced a minor pang of guilt as she stuffed handfuls of underwear into her old student-hood holdall.
Piling some tops, spare jeans, jumpers, and a spare pair of trainers on top of her screwed up lingerie; Grace took a separate smaller bag, and more carefully placed in it the shoes she’d bought for Daisy’s wedding, her toiletries, and a hair brush, before returning to the living room.
Turning the computer back on, she printed out the last two chapters of her novel, picked up her notebook and a selection of pens, and making sure her phone charger and purse were in her handbag, Grace shrugged on her leather jacket and boots, and slamming the front door behind her, fished her mobile from her pocket. Without a backward glance, Grace rang her most frequently dialled number. ‘Daisy, I know it’s a bit earlier than planned, but can I come and stay?’
Chapter Twenty-nine
As the taxi pulled up outside the house, Daisy yanked her front door open. Grace appeared tired and drawn. There were faint traces of streaks on her face where tears had run recently. Daisy couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Grace cry – if she ever had. Normally any boyfriend-related upset or unsuitable brief encounter was brushed aside with an ‘I’m OK’ smile, or tackled head-on with a pizza, a bottle of wine, and a Robin Hood film. If that tried and tested strategy hadn’t worked, then this was serious.
Hiding her concern behind the genuine relief that she was going to have another pair of hands helping get everything ready for her fast approaching nuptials, Daisy took the largest bag from Grace’s hands. ‘I can’t believe you still have that old holdall! I haven’t seen it since we went backpacking around the country after our second year at Uni!’
‘Oh you know me, Daze. If it isn’t worn out to the point of disintegration then I’ll get some use out of it.’ Glad she could rely on Daisy not to drown her in a wave of unhelpful sympathy; Grace followed her friend through the cosy cottage. ‘As I am now officially student-free until 6th October, and all my work can be done wherever I happen to be via the marvel of those twin inventions, the pen and paper, I thought I’d arrive early to help out. So, here I am, ready to muck in.’
‘Or muck out more like!’ Daisy pointed to the bucket and shovel propped against the back door, ‘The stable is in use at the moment. I was about to clean it out, but the prospect of a coffee with you first is rather more appealing! Cuppa?’
‘Tea would be good if you’re sure the stable can wait? I had an obscene about of coffee on the train, and although it has done its job and kept me awake, it’s all I can taste now.’
Sitting down at the oak table in the centre of the kitchen, Grace stretched out her legs and let the tension drain from her shoulders. As she observed Daisy sorting out drinks, she knew she’d come to the right place. And if she could help her friend with the preparation for the most important day of her life; then at least the irrational abandonment of her home couldn’t be classed as running away.
Only when they were sat with steaming mugs of builder’s tea did Daisy address the real reason for the nature of Grace’s welcome, but sudden, arrival.
‘Go on then. What happened that was so bad an episode of Robin of Sherwood failed to fix it?’
Grace sighed as she blew across the surface of her drink, causing it to ripple perilously across the top of the mug, ‘Believe it or not, that didn’t even cross my mind, to sit and lose myself in Robin Hood stuff I mean.’
Cradling her depressingly appropriate ‘Keep Calm and Carry On’ mug, Grace was rather shocked at herself. Not only hadn’t she taken her oft-practised self-defensive route of hiding in a past she’d never experienced, together with an accompanying excess of calories, it hadn�
��t even occurred to her to do so. ‘I know, it’s all my fault. Rob arrived on time. He bought me a gift and he was so lovely. I burnt the dinner, but that wasn’t a problem because the reason why I burnt the dinner was so …’ Grace trailed off as she squeezed her eyes closed for a split second trying to block out the memory of how delicious their time in the kitchen had been before forcing herself to carry on, ‘so we ended up having fish and chips instead. After that, I’m not sure what happened.’
Fixing her eyes on her mug of tea, Grace kept talking, trying to make sense of the situation for herself as well as for Daisy, ‘I asked Rob if he wanted to come to your wedding with me, and he said he couldn’t because he was travelling back to Houston that day. I was really disappointed, and made some flippant joke about having to take my toyboy to hide the fact that I minded. That’s when I told him about Malcolm, and Rob went sort of distant. His face went all dark.’ Grace spoke faster and faster, as if trying to get the explanation of the confusion of his reactions out of the way as quickly as possible. ‘But I wasn’t allowed to explain, you see, and then he was gone. I’ve never felt alone like that before. I love my own space, and being in my little house by myself. This morning though, Daze, I didn’t want to be on my own any more, and …’ She sighed sadly, ‘I suppose I’ve run away.’
Daisy’s face was etched with curious concerned, ‘You seem to have given me the edited highlights and not the whole story.’ She reached out and laid a hand over her friend’s wrist to still her manic stirring of her tea. ‘How about leaving the “all by myself” stuff for a minute, and telling me exactly what happened.’
‘Everything?’
‘The lot. From start to finish. Especially the bit that contains the reason why the dinner burnt. I can only help if I know everything.’
‘It’s not that you’re being nosy or anything?’
‘Well, of course I am, but I want to help, so spill the beans, Dr Harper, or I’ll put you on solo stable-cleaning duty all week!’
Daisy had made a second mug of tea each and broken open an emergency packet of chocolate chip cookies before she’d got to grips with what Grace was telling her. ‘OK,’ Daisy dunked her cookie, ‘the situation is this. One; Rob walked out after giving you a mind-blowing snog session because you told him about seeing Malcolm, probably not explaining yourself very well. Two; before you were given the chance to explain properly that you’d been Shanghaied into the coffee date, he’d already run for the hills. Three; you tried to call him but Rob’s mobile was off. Four; you haven’t left any texts or emails for fear of deletion, and he hasn’t sent you any. Then five; meanwhile, you have realised you’ve fallen in love with him and haven’t a clue what to do. Does that sound about right?’
Grace gave Daisy a weak smile. ‘I think this wedding has turned you into a serial list-maker.’ She wasn’t sure what else to say for a moment; she hadn’t allowed herself to address the “L” word, not even in her subconscious; and now of course there was no point.
Pushing away the tea she didn’t really want, Grace understood for the first time the true feeling behind the phrase ‘a heavy heart’.
‘You should have seen his face, Daze. It was as if I’d struck him, or something. He looked angry but sort of crushed at the same time.’
Thinking to herself that it sounded very much as if Rob had fallen for Grace as well, and that pride had reared its ugly head and messed everything up for both of them, Daisy got up, ‘Come on, let’s go and do that stable. The horse in situ at the moment is going home tonight, and I want him and his quarters to be at their best when the owners collect him so they’ll use me as a horse holiday home again. Anyway, a bit of physical activity will do you the power of good. It’ll clear that addled brain of yours.’
Pleased that her sense of humour hadn’t completely died, albeit in a self-deprecating way, Grace said, ‘I thought I’d be getting some physical activity this morning, but not from mucking out horses!’
They’d been cleaning and re-spreading hay for half an hour before Grace said, ‘Do you think I should call Aggie and ask her to tell Malcolm I won’t be there for dinner tonight?’
‘Nope. It’ll do him good to be stood up. This Malcolm sounds as though his ego could use some bruising.’
‘It isn’t his fault though; it’s mine, I should have turned him down from the off.’
‘But you tried and no one was listening.’
Grace dragged an unused hay bale to the doorway, ‘I think I will call Aggie though. She was only trying to help, and she’ll be wondering where I am.’
‘I thought you were allowed to work anywhere you wanted to out of term-time?’
‘I am, but I never stray far from my office. She’ll think I’m ill.’
‘OK, but for goodness sake don’t let her persuade you that inviting Malcolm to my wedding would be a good idea!’
‘As if I would!’
Watching as her friend left the stable to make her call, Daisy was sure if Grace would explain to Rob what had gone on with Malcolm – which was nothing at all really – they’d be all right. But Grace had decided it was pointless, and when Grace had made that sort of decision experience told Daisy, that it would be difficult budge her opinion.
Ten minutes later, with the stable’s temporary resident happily reinstalled, Grace reported back to Daisy. ‘Aggie was fine. I told her you needed wedding help and I was here. Hope that’s OK? I don’t like lying really.’
‘Honey, that isn’t a lie. I really do need help. You were right about me and making lists at the moment. Every time I cross something off, there is something else to add to it. And Marcus’s mother is being …’
Grace found herself on the edge of a genuine laugh, ‘Deep breath, Daze. Tell me what’s next to clean out, and you can have a proper panic while we work.’
‘Well I could, but to be honest, I’d rather just get on with it. Tell me about the book instead. How is Mathilda getting on in Folville-land right now? I hope you’re sticking to your guns and making it more story than historical textbook.’
Mathilda was kneading the dough for the day’s bread so roughly that Sarah was beginning to think it would only be fit for the pigs. ‘Have you never made bread before?’
‘Sorry, Sarah.’ Mathilda stopped her elbows pumping, but kept her hands moving over the mixture. ‘I was thinking about tonight.’
Continuing to work at a far more sedate place, lightening her touch so she aerated the dough properly, Mathilda was aware that the housekeeper was watching her. ‘Do you know what they want me to do, Sarah?’
‘Yes.’
‘Oh.’ Mathilda didn’t know what else to say, the tone of Sarah’s single word response had seemed final, and was obviously not going to be elaborated on.
Knocking the bread into shape before leaving it to rest, Mathilda went to a pail of clean water Allward had provided, and washed the flour from her hands. All the time she scrubbed at her skin, Mathilda ran the instructions Robert had given her through her mind. They seemed straightforward. Too straightforward.
The meeting with the Coterels was to be at midnight that night. As the sun began to go down, she and Robert would ride to a midpoint between Ashby Folville and Derby. When they were about a mile from the meeting place, they would split up, and she would continue alone until she met one of the Coterels. Probably Nicholas. While Robert kept as close to her as possible, but in the shadows. Keeping a sensible distance, he assured her, not from the Coterel brothers, who knew he’d be there, but from the law and unwanted questioning should the sheriff’s men be lurking in the area after Hugo’s death. Mathilda had to concede that, although she didn’t want to go alone, this was a sensible move in the current climate.
Once she’d located the Coterels, Mathilda wouldn’t have to say anything. There was no message to verbally recall. All that was asked of her would be the handing over of the package Robert would entrust to her when they were ready to go. Then an item would be given to her in return, and she would procee
d back along the path she’d come from, before Robert returned her to the safety of the Folville manor.
Pointing to a pile of apples that needed peeling, Sarah nodded with satisfaction as Mathilda set to work without complaint. ‘I hope you don’t mind that I persuaded Robert to let you help me today. As you’re here, providing I keep an eye on you, I told him you are of more use around the house than trapped in a cell.’
Not knowing what else to say, Mathilda said, ‘Thank you, Sarah.’
‘He needed reminding that now, more than ever, it is vital to give the local community the impression that he is interested in you as a future wife. Robert can hardly do that if you are in a cell, and helping with the domestic chores will support the subterfuge.’
Mathilda was shocked for a second. With all that had happened in the last forty-eight hours she’d forgotten about the front she and Robert were supposed to be presenting to the world. She was about to ask why it was it was even more important now, but Sarah had changed the subject. ‘I see you must have been a good housekeeper for your family when you’re not being distracted by darker issues.’
Mathilda looked up from her work, ‘Thank you, Sarah. I hope I was. My mother was very efficient; I try to be like her.’
Heading to the door to check they wouldn’t be overheard, Sarah moved to Mathilda’s side. ‘Don’t react, just in case we are watched. I’m about to tell you something that I don’t think the brothers know about.’
With a prickle of perspiration dotting the back of her neck, Mathilda exhaled softly, ‘Yes, Sarah.’
‘I was concerned for your safety in tonight’s mission. It all seems too easy somehow. So I sent the stable boy to look at another location yesterday.’
Mathilda’s knife slipped, nicking her finger, causing her to drop the fruit. Sucking at the tiny cut, she said, ‘Please Sarah, is there news of Oswin?’
‘I believe so. The lad rode to the Coterel manor. He entered the stable block and asked for directions he didn’t really need so he could look around a little. He spied a young man answering to your brother’s description working as a servant in the Coterel household.’
