by Karen Brooks
“You would rather try your hand at being a brewster than live with your cousin and my clerk in respectability?”
I choked back a laugh. “You mean as a servant. At least as a brewster I’ve a chance to make my own way.”
Lord Rainford threw back his head and guffawed. I cast a look at the servants to see what they made of their master’s outburst, but they remained as unmoved as the portrait staring at me from the opposite wall. “But you won’t be attempting this on your own. Let’s be frank with each other, Mistress Sheldrake, your plan requires my complicity. You need my cooperation in order to even make an attempt. To be blunt, you need my money.”
“I need to borrow your money. As I said, I intend to pay it back.”
Lord Rainford examined his fingernails. “Why should I give to you what I wouldn’t offer to anyone else, Mistress Sheldrake, not even my sons? Why should I make an exception for you?”
It was time to play my final card. I licked my lips and squared my shoulders. “Because of Tobias.”
This time, his laughter went for a long time. My cheeks blazed. I desired nothing more than to flee the room. Only Mother’s voice in my head and an image of the twins kept me seated.
When he’d finished being amused, he dashed a hand beneath his eyes and, taking a kerchief from within his doublet, blew his nose. “I understand now that you sought to use leverage over me. Clever. May I ask, how long have you known about your brother?”
“Mother told me on her deathbed.”
“I see,” said Lord Rainford. He held my eyes for a moment then swiftly stood, tapping his fingers on top of the chair before stepping to the window. “Pray, what did she tell you?”
Speaking to his back, I answered. “She said that Tobias was a Rainford. That . . . she erred in her judgment and fell pregnant. She told me that if ever I needed anything, I was to seek you out, that you would understand and make amends for what you did”—I cleared my throat—“what you did to her, to Father.” My voice hardened toward the end.
“Did you ever raise this . . . this matter with your father?” He turned.
“I . . . that is . . . The time was never right and now . . . well . . .” I folded my hands in my lap. “But I’m raising it with you in the hope you see fit to make redress by helping me.”
Only the rise and fall of Lord Rainford’s chest, the slight narrowing of his eyes, suggested any humanity. I could hear my breath in my ears. Wanting to move, I dared not. What was he thinking behind that impenetrable face?
When he swung back into his seat, the move was so swift and unexpected, I jumped. “I want to make something very clear, Mistress Sheldrake. Despite what your mother may have said, I owe you and your family nothing. I owe your father nothing. On the contrary . . .” He paused. “I more than compensated him for what happened. I gave him the house, the land, the lifestyle to which you’ve grown accustomed. Beyond that, I’ve made certain Tobias is taken care of and, as far as I am concerned, always will be. I paid what was due. It was more than he deserved.” His eyes narrowed. “Frankly, Mistress Sheldrake, you and the twins are not my concern.”
How I managed to speak, I don’t know. Fury overtook me, making me tremble. Fury that he could be so dismissive, and rage at my impotence. I brought it under control. “And yet, here I am.”
“Indeed.”
“If I may be so bold, my lord, why would Mother have said you have amends to make if you do not?”
“Because women always want more.”
Tossing back the last of his wine, he studied the sky. The sun had commenced its descent and the bells for sext had sounded some time ago. Springing to his feet, he wandered over to a nearby cabinet and poured himself another wine before the footman could.
“You’ve spirit, young lady, I’ll grant you that.” Turning around, he raised the goblet to me and drank. “Beauty does strange things to men, Mistress Sheldrake, very strange things . . .” His voice lowered and his eyes remained fixed on me. “Things for which, if we’re not careful, we’ll pay for the rest of our lives.”
I turned away, finding the waning day preferable.
“Delightful as this has been, Mistress Sheldrake, I really cannot spare you any more time. Tempting as your offer is, I have to decline. As I’ve made clear, I owe you—and your family—nothing. My debt is paid.” He offered me his hand. I stared at it, and tears threatened. I blinked them back furiously. “Take Mistress Jabben and Master Makejoy’s offer. It’s the best you’ll receive . . . for now. I’m sure a woman like you will be courting all kinds in the near future.” About to say something more, he changed his mind. “Master Underwood will show you to the door. James,” he alerted one of the footmen, “Mistress Sheldrake is leaving.”
“Wait,” I said, rising to my feet, ignoring his hand, which was rapidly withdrawn. My heart was thundering, my palms began to sweat. “I’m not finished.”
Aggravated, Lord Rainford clicked his tongue. “What now?”
“Despite what you say, you do have an obligation to me, Lord Rainford. You say you’re a man of business—well, I’m here to collect my debt.”
“I’m beholden to you? How? In what possible way?” Impatience clipped his voice. Anger flickered in his eyes.
“You’ve not compensated me for what I was forced to endure as a consequence of your liaison with my mother.”
“My liaison? That’s what you think?” His words rang. He shook his head. “I see.” His voice was quieter, calmer. “Tell me then, how could what happened with your mother have affected you?”
“In every conceivable way, your lordship. My father worked hard to ensure you profited while, in the meantime, as his daughter and eldest child, I can record only losses.” I used my fingers to count them off. “The love and attention of my father, the presence of my brother, the death of my mother—”
“You cannot blame me for your mother’s death!”
I stepped closer to him. “Perhaps not. But I can blame you for my father, for what he became, a hollow version of his former self. I can blame you, my lord, for how everything between my mother and father was irrevocably altered from the moment Tobias was conceived. From that day forward, I lost one if not both parents. I certainly lost a father and the woman my mother once was. Tell me, if not you, then to whom do I attribute these losses?”
He failed to hold my gaze.
I continued. “Then there are the twins. They lost a father long before he ever died and that was due to you, your lordship.” My breasts were heaving; a trickle of perspiration traveled between my shoulder blades. My head was buzzing. I didn’t know where this rush of courage came from, but I used it. “For those losses, your lordship, I call you to account. For all of this, I demand compensation. As you said earlier, this is business.” I lowered my voice. “I ask that your debt to me be repaid in time and thus money—in the form of a loan. If, by the end of a period upon which we’ll agree today, I cannot meet my liability, then I’ll leave Holcroft House and you’ll never hear from me again.”
I stood before the window, the sunlight warming my spine. My nerves were strung tight.
One arm folded behind his back, Lord Rainford walked to the next window and stared out.
Over his shoulder, I could see the large courtyard below. Maids carried pails from the washhouse to the kitchen. Chickens scratched in the gravel, dogs chased each other toward the stables, where a beautiful black destrier pranced. My eyes grazed his lordship’s velvet spine and I willed him not only to consider my offer, but to agree to it. His shoulders were broad; his fingers, stroking each other against the small of his back, were long. In his youth, he would have been a handsome, if somewhat inflexible, man. The resemblance Tobias bore to him was astonishing. How hard must it have been for Father to see them together, to be reminded every time he looked into Tobias’s face of Mother’s . . . No wonder he sent Tobias away so soon. I marveled that my mother had . . . with this man.
Lord Rainford turned. Embarrassed by the direction my
thoughts had taken, I brushed an imaginary stray hair behind one ear.
“You’re even lovelier than your mother,” said Lord Rainford quietly.
There was a movement in the doorway. “Ah. Master Underwood.” My heart sank. I was to be escorted from the estate after all. “Is Master Makejoy still on the grounds? He is? Good. Fetch him immediately. Tell him to bring parchment and inks.”
I didn’t dare breathe.
Lord Rainford closed the distance between us, standing so near I could feel the heat of his body, feel the penetrating intensity of his gaze. I could smell wool, leather, horseflesh, and sweat. “I’ll give you the time you ask for, Mistress Sheldrake.”
Joy filled my chest, expanding out to my limbs. I felt light, weightless almost.
“A contract will be drawn up today.”
I released a long, quiet breath.
His lordship continued. “I confess, I’m more than a little interested in how, given the circumstances, you will fare. You have until Hocktide to meet the fees required for the leasing of Holcroft House. That gives you around six months. That should be more than adequate.”
My heart soared. Six months! It was more than I’d dreamed. I just hoped it was more than I needed.
“If you fail to meet the terms of our contract,” continued Lord Rainford, “then, as was originally intended, you’ll leave the house. If, however, you succeed, then perhaps we will speak again.”
“Thank you, my lord.” I offered a curtsy. “I won’t disappoint you.”
“Disappoint me? I don’t think you could. But you can fail and, Mistress Sheldrake, while I’ve gone against my better judgment in this instance, I’ll not be so easily persuaded by a pair of beautiful green eyes or”—his eyes traveled my body—“anything else.”
I didn’t know what to say. Like a startled fawn, I couldn’t move.
“But trust me when I say, I can be ruthless, Mistress Sheldrake.” He smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. “I keep a close eye on all my investments. So, while I have to return to the king’s side, I’ll ask my son”—he gestured to the portrait I’d noticed earlier—“to . . . let’s say, keep abreast of your progress. When he returns from France, he can confer with Makejoy, examine the accounts, and keep me advised. And, when the time comes”—he chuckled at his little joke—“he’ll see that the terms of the contract we’re about to sign are met in full. Are you prepared to meet my conditions?”
My mind was whirling. I wanted to fling open the window and shout my small victory to the shire. I’d taken the first step in my independence and, no matter what happened from here on in, I wasn’t going to fall.
“I am, your lordship.”
“No matter what they entail?”
“Whatever they entail, your lordship,” I said, smiling as Master Makejoy entered, his portable desk strapped to his hips, parchment and quills under his arms. “I’ll gladly sign.”
And with that cavalier dismissal, I made my first mistake.
Six
Between Scales Hall and Holcroft House, Elmham Lenn
The same day in October
The year of Our Lord 1405 in the sixth year of the reign of Henry IV
As Adam and I left Scales Hall, the chapel bells sounded, their chimes echoing around the valley and following us through the village, a joyous song that matched the one resounding in my heart. I’d been granted the time I needed to earn a living, to keep the house and thus prevent us from becoming little more than Cousin Hiske’s servants. That this came at such a cost, being beholden to the man I’d come to regard as the source of all our woes, that I was placing myself in a situation akin to that which Father had, was not something I wanted to consider. Not until it was forced upon me. In the meantime, I’d plans to make and work to do. In order to achieve any of this, I needed the help of the servants.
We rode in silence, but my thoughts were so loud and busy I wouldn’t have been surprised if Adam had begun answering the conundrums I posed myself. We left the village and traveled along the muddy road that ran beside the river, careful to avoid the deeper grooves so as not to bog our vehicle. Swaying from side to side, I replayed the conversation with his lordship, still not quite able to believe I’d managed to reverse his initial refusal. Sending a swift prayer of thanks to the Holy Mother and my own, the thing that struck me most was Lord Rainford’s reluctant acknowledgment of his affair with Mother, that he’d used her so disgracefully. I hadn’t expected that and, I confess, it hurt. I’d half-hoped he’d scoff at my accusation and demand I leave his house. But one would only have to see Tobias next to him to know any denial of paternity would be moot. My stomach lurched. Others must realize what to me was now so apparent: the resemblance was uncanny. I glanced at Adam, his concentration fixed on the road, on guiding Shelby onto the slightly higher ground. Was it possible Adam knew? That he’d known all along? That Saskia, Blanche, and the entire household knew what I’d only just confirmed? That Tobias was a Rainford? I chided myself. My brother was only partly a Rainford. He was also a de Winter—just like me.
No wonder Papa not only kept away as much as he could but also sent Tobias from his sight at the first opportunity. That must be why he’d resigned all his offices, withdrawn from public service, and taken to the oceans; his pride wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise.
Bringing Cousin Hiske into the household simply gave him less reason to come home and face his shame. Torn between pity for my father and angry disappointment that he could treat us in such a fashion, I was conflicted. Did Cousin Hiske know? She’d never met Lord Rainford as far as I knew . . . My chest went cold and I gripped the cloak at my throat, the parchment of the contract rustling as it was crushed.
But Master Makejoy would know . . .
The idea that Mother’s dreadful secret had never really been one made me feel peculiar. It was a mixture of both release and acute humiliation. But what about Tobias? Was he yet to discover the truth of his birth? And what about Leander Rainford, Tobias’s master and his lordship’s youngest son? He must know. How did he feel? Did he even care? If Sir Leander was anything like his father, it would make not one iota of difference to him; men of his rank sired bastards everywhere and he no doubt had a brood of his own being raised around the countryside.
Or was I creating drama where there was none? If the truth of Tobias’s birth was known, why had no one come forward before? Of all those in my small circle of acquaintance, Hiske wouldn’t have remained silent. I could just imagine how she’d deploy such knowledge. Saskia would have intimated something before now as well. I glanced at Adam. Perhaps no one knew after all—and, really, what difference did it make? Mother was dead, so was Father. Tobias was secure and, just as Mother intended by confessing to me, it had given me an advantage and I’d been able to attempt to shore up a future.
The lilac hues of approaching evening began to transform the blues of the sky into something softer. Knowing we still had a while before vespers and spying the friary wall looming in the distance, I asked Adam if we might stop for refreshment. The friary ran a guesthouse that offered passing travelers cheap ale and some nourishment. I needed to order my thoughts before we arrived home and Adam deserved to know what had happened in Scales Hall. He wouldn’t ask me because he was far too circumspect and aware of the differences in our station—a situation Father’s death had made more apparent as overnight I changed from being the master’s daughter to mistress in my own right. I started to piece together what I would tell my steward about the contract I’d made, knowing that portions of what Lord Rainford and I’d discussed, the leverage I’d used to persuade him to aid me, would never be revealed—not by me. Not until there was no choice.
Adam touched his cap in response to my suggestion. “Good idea, Mistress Anneke. It will give the road a chance to clear.”
It wasn’t long before we were inside the walls of the friary. An ostler took Shelby’s head and, after tying him to a post, provided a nosebag. Dismounting, Adam tossed him a coin as
another servant ushered us toward the guesthouse. Sat at table, we were swiftly brought beakers of watery ale and asked if we wanted something to eat. We both declined. Through the smoke haze filling the room, others enjoying a rest from the road could be discerned. An older couple sat next to each other on a bench, a trencher and pints of ale between them. Nearby, a group of merchants, wool from the color of their hoods and insignia, gathered around a table arguing, their brows furrowed, their greasy fingers stabbing the air. Remnants of a meal sat on the table, hardening in the heat of the fire. A mangy dog lay by the hearth, its head resting on its paws, its eyes fixed on an old man sitting on a stool, his chin lowered to his chest as he slumbered. Apart from the merchants, conversation was low, the room stuffy, and the atmosphere constrained. I waited until a servant carrying a tray passed us, then brought my stool closer to Adam.
I quickly filled him in on my meeting, mentioning Lord Rainford’s initial reticence, but omitting anything to do with Mother or Tobias. “In the end, Lord Rainford agreed to give me until Hocktide to find the monies needed to pay the lease.”
“He will underwrite the costs of the house until then?”
I nodded. “He will. And providing we manage the crofts, we can continue to take a percentage of the rents as well.”
Adam eyed me carefully before drinking from the beaker. Pulling a face at the sour taste, he put it down. “Six months give or take a few days,” he said slowly, swiping a hand across his lips. “I didn’t expect such generosity from his lordship. It’s more than he’d do for your mother or father.”
What did Adam mean by that? Before I could ask, he continued.
“It’s a goodly time . . . depending on how you intend to find those monies.”
It was time to announce my plan and pray that Adam didn’t laugh in my face or walk out the door.
I wrapped my hands around the beaker, staring into its yellow depths. The scant foam that had sat upon the surface had already dissolved. “I intend to become a brewer, Adam.” I lifted my chin and met his steady gaze. “I’m going to make and sell ale.”
