The Master of Winterbourne Read online

  His eyes as he looked down at her were grave and assessing and once again she was aware of the intelligence in their green depths. No fool, Matthew Sheridan, she would have to tread very carefully indeed in her dealings with him.

  ‘Goodnight, Henrietta.' He raised her fingers to his lips, brushing them with the briefest kiss.

  ‘Goodnight, Sir Matthew,’ she murmured meekly.

  Suspicion flared briefly in his eyes, and his voice when he spoke was a soft whisper. ‘Do not play games with me, Henrietta. I do not know what you are about but, I warn you, I am not easily bested.’

  ‘You mistake me. I do not seek to play games. It is merely that this day has been eventful and my head aches so.’ Henrietta let a plaintive note quiver in her voice and noticed the suspicion clear from his face.

  So, that tactic worked even with men as astute as this one. It hadn't occurred to her before to use on Matthew the wiles she employed to keep other suitors at bay – perhaps even the most intelligent man could be hood-winked. She must keep her pride and her intelligence in check and if she could only let him underestimate her she might scrape through this unscathed.

  Chapter Six

  As soon as the door had closed behind Matthew Henrietta hurried upstairs to her chamber, knowing Alice would be there already, lighting the candles and turning down the bed.

  ‘Alice, where's Robert? I must speak with him,’ she said the moment she was inside.

  ‘At this hour?’ Alice looked scandalised. ‘In your chamber?’

  ‘No, you silly wench, not in my chamber. Is he at the farm? Come on, just answer me.'

  ‘He's gone to Farmer Johnson's to see if the jobbing carpenter's still there. That young idiot Daniel fell off the roof of the Long Barn this afternoon, broke his leg and now they'll not get the work finished unless he finds another carpenter.’

  ‘But that’s half a day's ride away.’ Henrietta sat down on the bed and threw up her hands in frustration. ‘But, there's one mercy.' She steadied herself and thought rapidly. 'At least there's no carpenter about to lift that board.’

  ‘You're overwrought. Lie down,’ Alice pleaded. ‘Or let me call your aunt, and fetch you a soothing draught. Does your head still ache? Pray heaven it's not a brain fever.’

  ‘Alice, sit down and listen. I am perfectly all right, but I must have Robert's help, and quickly. I am sworn to secrecy, but I must tell at least you and Robert.’

  Wide-eyed, Alice scooped up her skirts and perched on the end of the bed. ‘Go on.’

  ‘You remember the morning James left for the last time?’ Alice nodded. ‘Well, in the night he roused me from my sleep, took me to the front parlour and showed me a priest's hole.’

  ‘The one under the window seat,' said Alice, nodding.

  ‘How do you know about it? I didn't until that night. Who else knows?’ This was dreadful news. She could imagine one of the more garrulous old servants telling Matthew of Winterbourne's curiosities.

  ‘Only me. James hid in it once when we were children and jumped out to scare me. He made me promise to tell no one else, but I thought you must know.’

  ‘He put a casket in it, but he wouldn't tell me what its contents were. His only instruction was to wait until a messenger came for it. Now Matthew has noticed the loose board and will order it repaired. And Alice, if any messenger does come, he will ask to speak to the master of the house, not knowing he is a sympathiser with Parliament.’ She dropped her head, now aching in truth, into her hands. ‘I can trust no one except you and Robert. My aunt must know nothing of this, she would be worried to no purpose. And, besides, I am probably breaking my oath telling you and Robert of this.’

  ‘I don't think we need worry.’ Alice swung her legs off the bed and sat, brow furrowed in thought. ‘You can tell Sir Matthew there is no skilled man for indoor work until Robert returns. Robert will undertake the work himself, then we will remove the casket, secrete it elsewhere until he can make contact with someone who will know what to do.’

  Henrietta felt relief flood through her; how much less threatening it sounded in Alice's common-sense voice. ‘Will Robert know the right person to speak to?’

  ‘He will,’ Alice said grimly. ‘Although the link is broken now the fighting's over he has comrades still in Oxford. They will know what to do. Take heart, Mistress, no-one has been for it in three years, why should they come now? Perhaps they never will.’ She swung round, eyes shining with conspiratorial delight. ‘Why do we not creep down tonight and remove the box ourselves? We could open it, judge its importance…’

  ‘No, we cannot.’ Henrietta was vehement. ‘How could we tell? If it is letters in cypher we will be no further forward. And besides,’ an unwelcome thought struck her, ‘I do not want to be in a position where I must lie to my husband. I gave James my word to protect that casket, but I have other duties, however bitter they may be.’

  There was a heavy silence, then Alice, with her usual happy knack of seeing the bright side, remarked, ‘You will have him, then? It is all agreed?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Alice looked at her sideways, judging her mood. ‘I think you protest too much, Mistress. It is not Lawyer Stone you are promised to marry, it's a fine, virile man who'll make you a fine marriage bed. All the servants are agreed.’

  ‘They've not got to marry him! I have my duty to do.’

  Alice’s eyes twinkled wickedly. ‘Shall you get undressed now, Mistress?’

  Henrietta sank down at the dressing table with a resigned sigh. The less she said, the less Alice would tease her.

  The maid unthreaded the pearls from Henrietta's hair and began to unpin and brush out its length. ‘He's been married before, they say,’ she remarked, ‘which will be the better for you.’

  ‘Will it?’ Henrietta asked bitterly, remembering the pain on Matthew’s face when he'd spoken of his wife in the orchard.

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Alice began to unlace the whale-boned bodice. ‘You know the saying, A man once wed is warmer abed.’

  ‘I do not know the saying, I'm thankful to say,’ Henrietta replied haughtily. The less she thought about Matthew Sheridan and bed, the easier it was to contemplate marriage with him, somehow. ‘Fetch that book of sermons and read to me.’

  ‘Your aunt has it,’ Alice said without a trace of regret, helping her remove her dress and shaking out the folds before placing it carefully in the oak press. ‘There's that book of poetry. I could read from that.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Henrietta pulled her cambric nightgown over her head and tied the strings. ‘My aunt is right, we should turn our thoughts to higher things. I am quite resolved to read no more poetry of the lighter kind.’

  ‘Very well, Mistress,’ Alice said demurely, laying the book down on the window seat again and going to plump up the pillows. ‘Will you get into bed now?’

  ‘Not yet. Snuff the candles and draw back the curtains and I will sit and think in the moonlight a while.’

  Henrietta caught the sharpness of her own tone and was ashamed. None of this was Alice's fault. ‘Alice.’ The maid turned in the doorway. ‘I am sorry I have been out of temper and short with you today. Thank you for your loyalty – I shall not worry so much now.’

  As the door closed behind Alice Henrietta curled up on the window seat, rested her head on one of the mullions and let the cool night air flow over her face.

  From below she could hear the buzz of conversation in the parlour, distinguish her aunt's laugh and Lawyer Stone's low rumble.

  She looked up sharply as a barn owl shrieked and saw the ghostly white bird glide like a snowflake across the orchard. From the field beyond a vixen barked and

  Henrietta spared a thought for the chickens at the Home Farm.

  AII the familiar night sounds of Winterbourne that she'd taken for granted for eighteen years, and so nearly lost. To keep this place all she had to do was marry Matthew, an easy enough choice to make when she thought of some of her suitors, men she'd have been prepared to
marry to keep her beloved home.

  At one point she'd even thought of accepting Marcus Willoughby's ardent proposal. But Marcus, a lad she'd known all her life, was no threat to her heart or her mind. In a bare twelve hours Matthew Sheridan was threatening both. A sharp rattle of curtain-rings echoed across the court. In the window opposite hers, the window of the master bedroom, a candle flickered then steadied.

  Instinctively Henrietta drew back, then realised she could not be seen in the darkness. Silhouetted by the warm glow of candlelight, Matthew stood in the window, unlacing his shirt and staring out over the moonlit orchard. The light danced on white linen, under-lighting his face, transforming the lean features into an enigmatic mask over the darkness where his shirt was open at his chest.

  Henrietta felt her heart quicken. What was in the mind of this complicated man? Was he thinking about her, her defiance, her troublesome political opinions? Or had he dismissed her, a mere woman who was part of Winterbourne? Useful, no doubt, pleasurable, when it pleased him, but of no real consequence. Was he surveying his new domain before he went to sleep, relishing this new wealth and power that had fallen like a ripe fruit into his hands?

  Matthew touched his fingers to his tongue then snuffed the candle, the brief sizzling coming plainly to her ears in the stillness. The amethyst on his hand seemed to hold the light for a moment longer, then all she could see was the white of his shirt.

  He had spoken of the intoxication of the senses and she'd known that he was not talking of the caress of fine fabric or the scent of flowers. She was a countrywoman, she knew well enough what happened between a man and a woman, but there was more, some mystery which Alice had hinted at, that showed in the glow in her eyes. Something Henrietta had glimpsed briefly when Matthew’s lips had lingered on the sensitive skin at her wrist, when his arms had tightened round her in the orchard.

  His face was shadowed, but suddenly she knew she was looking into his eyes, and he into hers. If in the moonlight she could discern his white shirt, then equally he could see her nightshift. Even as she thought it the figure opposite melted back into the darkness of the room, breaking the spell.

  *

  By mid-morning the next day there was still no sign of Robert. The thought of the hidden casket was like a sore tooth, nagging at Henrietta however hard she tried to divert herself with a basket of mending. She told herself the loose board was of little consequence to Matthew, that there was no danger he would investigate it further. With her own guilty knowledge she'd been very conscious of the hollowness when the stool had struck the board, but there was no reason to believe the others had even noticed.

  Where was Robert? In her agitation her needle slipped and a tiny bead of blood fell on to the fine lace collar she was darning. With an exasperated sigh Henrietta tossed the work into her sewing basket and left the small parlour she and her aunt used as their retreat. She'd hidden herself away to avoid seeing Matthew – so heavily did the worry about the priest's hole weigh on her that she was convinced he'd be able to read the guilty secret in her face.

  As she crossed the hall on her way to the kitchens the thought struck home that she was feeling guilty. But that was ridiculous, she was acting as a loyal servant of the King, obeying her brother's last request to her, a sacred trust. But everything was complicated now, things that had once seemed clear-cut were blurred. Matthew was master here now and her husband-to-be; on both counts she owed him her loyalty.

  Henrietta stopped in the middle of the empty room as an idea came suddenly to her mind. Her brother was dead, the King was in exile. No one had come for the papers in three years, so why not take them up now to her chamber and burn them? It would be so easy. She'd have nothing to hide from Matthew, no secret to take to her marriage. He'd said he didn't care what she thought so long as she kept her views to herself. It would be the best plan, safest for Robert and A1ice too…

  Kneeling in the window embrasure, she cradled the casket in her hands for a long moment before opening it, wrestling with her conscience. James hadn't made her promise not to look, she told herself. How could she judge if it was safe to burn the contents? The lid creaked back, revealing a mass of folded parchment and in the dim light she could see it comprised a long list of names.

  Hurriedly she dropped the lid. She must not read it. To do so would give her knowledge she might unwittingly betray. And to burn it would be cowardly and a betrayal of everything her father and brothers had died for. Her conscience was no matter compared to this. If she had to begin her marriage with a lie, was that not a small thing compared to the sacrifices the others had made?

  She thrust the casket back on to its ledge in the dark hole, sparing a shudder of sympathy for the hunted priests who had crouched in its musty depths all those years ago. The board dropped back with a thud and she pulled the edge of the rug back to cover the knot-hole, smoothing the fringe down carefully with hands that shook.

  Henrietta unlocked the parlour door and walked quickly to the door leading on to the kitchen passage. She would find Alice, see if there was any news of Robert. The kitchen was in its normal state of bustle with preparations for the noonday meal well under way. She stopped in the doorway out of long habit and critically surveyed the scene.

  At the sight of her mistress Letty put down her paring knife and burst into vociferous complaint. ‘That useless boy's been gone this past hour! And Cook's calling for the carp, blaming me that he's so long away. I'll tan his hide for him when he gets back. Off birds’-nesting, I'll be bound, idle little good-for-nothing.’

  ‘Well, send young David after him,’ Henrietta suggested to stem the flow. ‘He's only sweeping out the bakehouse.’

  ‘What? And have two boys off and away, up to no good? You know what they say, Mistress, if you want a job done, a boy's worth half a man, but two boys is worth half a boy.’

  ‘Tell Cook to do without the carp, then, and see Sim gets a beating when he returns. I have no time to trouble with this now. Where is Alice?’

  Letty looked truculent and muttered something about ‘gossiping in the yard’.

  When she stepped out into the arcade that ran the length of the kitchen side of the yard, Henrietta saw Alice standing close to Robert in the gateway. They were deep in low-voiced talk and Henrietta guessed from Robert's grave expression that Alice was giving him the message about the casket.

  She stood and watched them, oblivious to the noise from the hot kitchen at her back. When Alice stopped talking Robert looked thoughtful, then reached to stroke her cheek with a tenderness that brought a lump to Henrietta's throat. There was no doubting he was deeply in love with her, and she with him. With growing concern Henrietta noticed the gentle swell beneath Alice's apron; they must be wed, and soon, before malicious gossip started.

  There was a clatter of iron-shod feet on the cobbles and Sim scuttled through the gateway, three fat carp swinging from a stick in his hand, his stockings and breeches mud-splattered. Alice had obviously heard that the delinquent was late for she cuffed him as he passed. ‘And mind you get those fish to Cook this minute!’ she called after him as the skinny urchin ducked past Henrietta and into the kitchen. ‘Mistress! Robert's back as you see. I've told him about that little job wants doing inside.’

  Henrietta walked across the cobbles to meet them at the pump in the centre of the yard, a safe distance from eavesdroppers in the kitchen or dairy.

  ‘Don't worry about that board, Mistress,’ Robert said soothingly. ‘I'll have that fixed down so it won't trouble anyone, and as for that other matter,’ his sharp grey eyes scanned the yard behind her, ‘no doubt there are those in Oxford who will know what's to be done.’

  ‘I was thinking perhaps we should move the casket, destroy it maybe.’ Henrietta suggested.

  ‘No!' Robert was vehement. ‘We don't know what it may contain. This is dangerous, Mistress. Something's afoot; there are whisperings abroad, wild rumours about His Majesty. I dare say no more…’ He looked up quickly and called out over Henriet
ta's shoulder, ‘Good morning, sir!’

  Henrietta spun round to find Matthew approaching across the yard. She was certain some hint of what they'd been saying must show on her face and hid her confusion by dropping a slight curtsy. 'Good morning. I trust you slept well?’

  ‘Eventually.’ His voice was as warm as the sun on the cobbles and Henrietta felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. So he had seen her at the window. She had promised to marry this man, share his bed. What that meant was only just becoming real to her. Alice was looking at her with speculation in her wide blue eyes and Henrietta shot her a warning glance before turning back to Matthew.

  ‘Have you met my… your steward, Robert Weldon, Sir Matthew?’

  ‘Sir.’ Robert gave Matthew a stiff bow. ‘I must apologise for being away when you arrived.’

  ‘Master Weldon.' Matthew was equally punctilious, acknowledging the steward's status in the household. ‘No need to apologise for doing your duty. A matter of a careless carpenter, I understand.’

  So that was what Matthew had been doing this morning – investigating the estate, the Home Farm. Henrietta took a steadying breath; it was going to be hard hiding anything from the new master.

  ‘Yes, sir. It will delay the barn roof repairs, but I've found a good man to finish the work who can start tomorrow. I'll get him to fix that creaking board Mistress Wynter tells me of first.’

  ‘Creaking board?’ Matthew looked puzzled, then his brow cleared. ‘Ah, yes, the parlour floor. A small matter, the barn roof is of greater import, Master Weldon. Perhaps you can spare me some time after dinner to go over the affairs of the estate.’ He made it an invitation, but both men knew it was a command and that Robert would spare as much time as the new master demanded.

  ‘I am at your disposal, sir.’ Robert bowed. ‘I will attend you this afternoon if you would care to come to the estate-room.’