The Master of Winterbourne

by Louise Allen

  ‘No. I will not let him. He has everything to live for. I will not let him die.’ The unshed tears stood in her eyes, but she would not let herself give way and believe what the older woman was telling her.

  ‘Send for Lawyer Stone. You need a man here to advise you.’

  Henrietta knew what Mistress Perrott really meant: Matthew was going to die and his lawyer should be here when it happened. She shook her head in denial of the thought, then realised how comforting it would be to have the older man by her side. And if Mr Stone came Aunt Susan would surely be with him. News of Matthew's illness had not been sent to Hertford, there had been no time to think of that. But the relief at the thought of Aunt Susan coming to her was overwhelming.

  ‘I will send Letty to you.’ Mistress Perrott patted her shoulder. ‘Then I must go to the Home Farm.’

  ‘Alice!’ Henrietta realised with a guilty start that she had not spared a thought for her friend. ‘Is she safe delivered?’

  ‘A fine healthy daughter, the same night your husband returned. But it was a difficult birth. She is very tired and I am concerned for her.’

  ‘Of course you must go.’ Henrietta scrubbed the back of her hand across her face and got to her feet. ‘Give them both my love and tell Alice to rest. Does she know why I cannot come to see her?’

  ‘I told her something of your husband's illness yesterday. I will say I have asked you not to come yet in case of contagion. She must not be worried.’

  Letty arrived as Henrietta finished a brief note to Lawyer Stone. She made no attempt to hide her fears or the seriousness of Matthew's illness. ‘Take this to John.’ She pressed Matthew's signet ring into the soft wax, then handed the sealed letter to the girl. ‘Tell him to send a groom to Hertford with all dispatch.’

  Letty took the letter with a solemn nod and hurried from the room. Henrietta stood with one hand on the hangings, looking out over the orchard at the lowering purple sky. There was snow heavy in the clouds and the first silent flakes drifted past the panes as she watched. Although it was only morning she pulled the curtains closed, shutting out the bleak coldness, and put another log on the fire.

  Then she settled on the stool and laced her fingers in Matthew's lax ones again. All she could do for him now was to stay with him and hope that even though he was unconscious some part of him was aware of her touch, of the strength of her will and her love.

  It was early the next evening that the crunch of snow under coach wheels alerted her to the arrival of Lawyer Stone. Henrietta looked out and saw to her immense relief that he was handing her aunt from the coach.

  She hesitated by Matthew's side, caressing his unresponsive cheek, then wrenched the door open and ran to the head of the stairs. ‘Aunt!’ Despite herself her voice broke and she could not go on.

  There was a flurry of skirts on the stairs, then her aunt was enfolding her in her arms, her cold cheek pressed against Henrietta's flushed one. ‘My darling child, how is he?’

  ‘Come and see.’ Henrietta tugged her aunt's gloved hand. ‘Mistress Perrott says he will die, but we will not let him will we? Not now you are here.’

  ‘Do not worry, child, I am here. We will look after him together.’ Her confident voice died away as she saw Matthew for the first time. She struggled, but was not quick enough to mask her dismay and shock.

  ‘Aunt?’ It was a hoarse supplication, then Henrietta forced herself to face the reality. ‘You think he is going to die too.’

  ‘It is in God's hands.’ The older woman took her by the shoulders and gravely looked into her eyes. ‘We will pray, all of us. Now, go to your room and rest. Send Letty to me. If there is any change I will call you; you will do your husband no good by making yourself ill.’

  She dropped her cloak and hat on the chair and pushed back her cuffs. ‘Trust me with him, child, I know how much you love him. Now go!’

  From her old chamber window Henrietta could see the light escaping from around the drawn hangings in the master bedroom. The snow swirled thickly in the courtyard and the whole night was muffled and silent. If she had left it any later to send for them they would not have got through from Hertford.

  Her aunt was right; she needed to rest. Letty had laid her nightdress to warm by the fire, but Henrietta ignored it. She had had scant sleep, and that crouched by Matthew's side. She would just lie on the bed and close her eyes for a while…

  *

  It was cold when she woke, the room full of white light reflecting off the snow outside. The fire was a mass of soft grey ash and the candles had guttered and gone out in the sconces.

  ‘Matthew!’ Henrietta started up off the bed. How could she have slept so long?

  There was a tap at the door and Letty opened it cautiously. ‘Mistress, I thought you had gone to bed.’ She looked at Henrietta's crumpled gown and dishevelled hair in dismay.

  ‘Letty, is he… all right?’ She hardly dared ask.

  ‘Unchanged. Mistress Stone has not left him all night. No, there is no need for you to go to him yet.’ She put a restraining hand on Henrietta's arm. ‘I will bring you hot water and a fresh gown, then you can break your fast with Lawyer Stone.’

  The lawyer stood up as she joined him in the small parlour. The servants had laid a table there by the fire to escape the draughts in the great hall and he was toying with bread and bacon.

  ‘My dear girl.’ He held out his arms and she walked into his embrace. He hugged her so tightly that he almost squeezed the breath from her and she realised how worried and concerned he was. ‘Now sit down here by the fire, and eat this.’ He cut her a slice of bacon and buttered bread, pushing the plate into her unresisting hands. ‘Eat up, you need your strength.’

  To her surprise Henrietta was hungry. The bread and meat might have been sawdust for all the taste they had, but still she finished them ravenously, washing them down with a mug of small beer.

  ‘That is much better, now there is colour in your cheeks again,’ Lawrence Stone said approvingly. ‘In your condition you must take great care of yourself.’

  ‘You know? Did Letty tell you?’

  ‘She thought we should hear of it straight away. She is a good girl, that one, a good head on her shoulders.’ Suddenly his bluffness fell away, and he began to fiddle with his ale mug, his eyes averted. ‘There are things we must talk of Henrietta. I know it is painful for you…’

  ‘You mean, what I must do if Matthew dies?’ Her voice was quite steady and she met his eyes direct. ‘There is no need; he is not going to.’

  ‘Henrietta, you must not deceive yourself. I admire your courage, but we must face the facts of the case.’

  ‘No, I will not accept that Matthew might die.’ Henrietta stood, one hand on his shoulder. 'I know you mean well, but I cannot give up. If only he were conscious long enough for me to tell him I am carrying his child, it would be enough to save him.’ She paused at the door. ‘I shall go to him now and relieve my aunt, she must be very tired.’

  Susan was holding a sponge to Matthew’s lips, patiently attempting to coax a few drops of liquid between them. The pungent aroma of spirits met Henrietta's nostrils as she closed the chamber door quietly behind her.

  ‘How is he, Aunt? Has there been any change?’

  Her aunt straightened up, one hand in the small of her back. In the searching morning light she looked every one of her fifty years. ‘No change, then again, he is no worse. You look better, my dear.’

  Henrietta kissed her aunt's cheek and took the sponge from her hand. ‘I slept too long,’ she reproached herself. ‘Thank you for staying with him. Your husband is breaking his fast in the small parlour. Why do you not join him and then go to bed?’

  ‘I shall.' Susan took her niece's cold hands in hers. I am overjoyed to hear you are with child. Pray God Matthew lives to share your joy.’

  Henrietta managed a brave smile. 'He will.’ But as she looked at the still figure lying in the big bed all her hope ebbed away, leaving her desolate, sure she had been deceiv
ing herself.

  For the rest of the day she hardly left his side, seated at his bedside on a low stool, holding his hand, talking to him of all the things she had never said, all her plans for the child he would never see.

  As the evening drew in Letty came in to make up the fire again and draw the hangings closed. Her aunt tried to persuade her to go downstairs and eat, but Henrietta refused in case Matthew woke to find her not there. ‘Go to bed, Aunt, I will sit with him tonight.’

  Mistress Stone opened her mouth as if to protest, her gaze travelling between Matthew's waxen face and Henrietta's quiet desperation and with a last kiss she left, closing the door behind her.

  Towards midnight Henrietta dozed, her head dropping sideways to lie on the coverlet beside their clasped hands. She woke to the sound of a log falling in the grate and was instantly aware that the rasping, laboured breathing from the bed had ceased.

  Chapter Twenty Six

  A touch as soft as a moth’s wing brushed her hair. For a second Henrietta thought she was dreaming, but the moth's touch became firmer and she was suddenly aware of Matthew’s breathing – deeper, quieter, regular.

  Hardly daring to hope, she raised her head and found herself looking into his eyes. Sunken and shadowed as they were, they still held a glimmer of vitality and as he saw her face his lips moved in a painful half-smile. ‘Henrietta.’ His voice was the merest thread of a whisper.

  ‘Don't try and talk.’ Her heart soared in her breast as she mixed brandy and water, splashing it in her eagerness. She supported his shoulders and held the cup to his mouth. ‘Try and take this slowly, you must be so thirsty.’

  Matthew managed to drink most of the cupful in slow, difficult sips. It was only when he had finished and she laid him back against the pillows that Henrietta dared let him speak.

  ‘What happened? How long have I been here?’ he croaked.

  ‘It is almost four days since you arrived home, racked with fever and wet through. You collapsed in the hall and have been insensible ever since.’ Henrietta chafed his hands between hers, willing her strength and life back into him.

  ‘I remember riding… being cold and wet, wanting to be at home with you… but that is all.’ He put a shaky hand to his forehead as though to rub away the fog in his mind. ‘And yet I seem to recollect your face. You were fearful… I had frightened you.’

  ‘I was frightened because you were so ill,’ Henrietta said soothingly, afraid that he would become agitated in his weakened state if she reminded him of the scene at his homecoming. ‘You have had a fever of the lungs. How do you feel? Have you pains anywhere?’

  ‘My chest is sore,’ he managed to rasp. Henrietta nodded, that was what Mistress Perrott had told her to expect. ‘And I feel so… weak.’

  ‘Could you manage some broth?’

  Matthew moved his head slowly on the pillow. ‘No… more water. I am so thirsty.’

  When he had drunk again Henrietta bathed his face gently, the cloth rasping through the growth of beard over his hollow cheeks. ‘Try and sleep, my love.’ She brushed her lips softly across the back of his hand.

  ‘Wait.’ He touched her cheek. ‘What did you call me?’

  ‘My love.’ She managed a smile through the tears of relief. ‘You are my love. I have never loved anyone more, nor ever will in my life.’

  His eyelids drooped, he was almost asleep again, but his lips managed to form the words, ‘And I… love you too.’

  ‘Matthew.’ She had to tell him the wonderful news she had kept in her heart. ‘Matthew, I am carrying your child.’ But he was asleep, a touch of colour on each cheekbone. His breathing was steady, and his skin was warm and damp, the fever broken.

  Henrietta dropped to her knees beside the bed, hid her face in the covers and said a heartfelt prayer of thankfulness. He was going to live, of that she was certain beyond doubt. And, her heart leapt as she got to her feet again, he loved her, he had said so.

  The moment of still thankfulness burst like a bubble of joy and she lifted her skirts and dashed to the head of the stairs. ‘Aunt! Lawyer Stone! Letty! Come here!’

  Doors were flung open all along the corridor. Aunt Susan her robe dragged on anyhow, her plaited hair flying, rushed to her side followed by her husband, his face a picture of concern. ‘Henrietta… what is it? Surely he is not…’

  ‘No.’ She hugged her aunt joyfully. ‘No, he is alive. He has woken and spoken to me. Oh, Aunt, he is going to recover.’

  ‘Thank God!’ exclaimed Letty, and the group of servants filling the corridor behind her chorused ‘Amen to that.’

  John, emerging from Robert's old room, elbowed his way to the front. ‘Mistress? What's afoot?’

  ‘The master has woken,’ Letty said, and suddenly burst into tears, flinging herself into his arms.

  John shot Henrietta a startled glance, although he tightened his arms around the sobbing girl.

  ‘Take her away and comfort her, she is over-tired from helping me these past days.’ Henrietta smiled at her head groom. At least this would put a stop to Letty playing propriety with him.

  ‘I will sit with him now, my dear,’ her aunt began, propelling Henrietta towards her old room. ‘You must rest, he will need you tomorrow.’

  ‘Indeed I will not,’ Henrietta declared roundly. ‘I thank you, Aunt, but I shall sleep in our chamber with my husband. All of you, please go back to bed. I am sorry to have roused you, but I had to share my good news.’

  Back in Matthew's chamber Henrietta slipped quietly out of her clothes and into her nightrobe, then climbed into bed alongside him. He was lying in the middle of the bed, but she curled up happily, one arm protectively around his waist.

  *

  She was woken by the bed dipping beside her and a muttered imprecation. Matthew was struggling to sit up.

  ‘Lie still, my love,’ she urged as she hopped out of bed and hastened around to help him. ‘There.’ She plumped the pillows behind his shoulders, biting her lip with sudden anxiety as he was racked by a rattling cough.

  A tug on the bell-pull brought Letty at the run. She peeped round the door, her face breaking into a smile of pure pleasure at the sight of her master sitting up in bed.

  ‘Broth, Letty, and some good red wine,’ Henrietta ordered before turning back to look long and lovingly at the man who had been restored to her. ‘Matthew, how much do you remember of last night?’

  ‘I remember telling you I love you. And I do, Henrietta, with all my heart.’ His eyes, no longer bright with fever, were steady on her face.

  So she hadn't dreamt it, nor had he spoken in delirium. ‘Why did you not tell me before?’ She sat on the end of the bed, pulling a blanket around her shoulders. ‘Matthew, I have been so unhappy.’

  ‘And so have I. We must speak of this, Henrietta. But come back to bed, love, you will catch a cold.’ He held out his hands to her, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, I need to see your face while we talk. Matthew, please tell me, why have you not told me how you felt before?’

  ‘I was going to tell you when I came back that day after you had fallen in the yard, but you were unwell and we had a guest in the house.’

  ‘But Ransome was not with us always. So many times I have felt we were about to reach each other but something always came between us again. All that time wasted on misunderstanding and unhappiness.’

  ‘I tried to tell you how I felt.’

  ‘I remember everything you have ever said to me,’ Henrietta replied steadily. ‘And you never spoke to me of love.’

  ‘I was angry with you,’ he said wryly. ‘I thought you despised me and my beliefs, enjoyed flouting my advice not to espouse the King's cause so openly. And I was angry with myself for falling in love with such a wilful woman.’

  ‘Oh, my love, if only we could have talked of it.’ Henrietta shook her head despairingly. ‘It took me a long time to realise, but I know now the King was wrong to continue to ferment division among his people. But Matthew, although I
love you, I cannot say I support Parliament and General Cromwell, because it would not be true and I cannot lie to you.’

  ‘Come here to me, my love.’ Matthew held out his arms and this time she came into them willingly. After a long moment he spoke again, his words muffled by her hair. ‘I have never sought to turn you against your conscience, Henrietta, but I judged you too harshly. How could you be expected to understand the politics of this troubled nation if all you have been brought up to know is one position? And to have lost your father and brothers as you did… I was too harsh.’ He broke off coughing.

  Henrietta freed herself and lifted the cup of wine to his lips. ‘Hush, drink this. Do not tire yourself with talk, I understand.’ She brushed the damp tangle of hair from his forehead. ‘I love you so much, Matthew. While you have been away I have thought constantly about what you believe, of the dream you have for a secure future for our child.’ Unconsciously her hand rested over the child in her womb.

  His face was transformed by his smile. ‘Then I did not dream the words as I fell asleep last night? You are with child?’

  ‘Yes. It is due in the late Spring.’

  He lifted her hands and kissed them. ‘Henrietta – ’

  Letty's entrance cut across what he had been about to say. Henrietta took the tray and refused to let him speak until he had drunk as much as he could manage of the rich beef broth.

  At last he lay back, the colour stronger in his face, his eyes brighter, more alert, his voice steady. ‘And you, Wife, why did you not tell me you loved me before?’ He watched her face, the blush spreading over her cheeks, her downcast eyes. ‘Surely it was not so very difficult?’

  ‘Matthew, I am so ashamed of it, but I was jealous of Sarah, convinced you still loved her…’ Her voice trailed away.

  ‘Sarah? But she has been dead these past six years.’ He sounded genuinely bemused.