скачать книгу бесплатно
Alex was not sure if he believed in her megrim, but he hoped that she would keep her word and leave him to his thoughts that now concerned a stepbrother whose stepfather was Sir James Appleby and who was a member of the Royal Company of Mercers and was in need of lots of money to fund his ambitions. He was not bothered by pirates, unlike his stepfather, and Master Wood suspected Sir James had been murdered. Was she saying that the prime suspect for his murder was her stepbrother? It seemed extremely likely. Well, it shouldn’t be too difficult for him to discover the identity of Sir James’s stepson once he reached London. But did any of this have aught to do with Harry and Sir James’s words about a likeness to someone he had known in the past?
As the day wore on, the pain in Rosamund’s head increased and her whole body ached. She worried in case Master Nilsson thought she was quite mad, playing games with him instead of giving him straight answers. She did not really believe that he was in the pay of her stepbrother, but how was she to know for certain?
The miles fell behind them until, just before dusk, they stopped at an inn a short distance south of Stafford. By then Rosamund’s head was thumping and she had stomach cramps. As she dismounted, her knees buckled and she would have fallen if Alex had not been there to lift her upright. For a moment she rested her weary body against the strong line of his and was glad of his arm about her. Then with a start of fright, she realised she was behaving like a woman and drew away from him.
By means of clinging on to the horse’s bridle, she managed to remain on her feet, but her gait was unsteady and she felt sick. Yet she insisted on leading the horse to the stable.
Once again Alex watched her with admiration. They had spent hours on horseback and there had been no word of complaint from her. He was not surprised she was exhausted. He wasted no time going inside the inn. It was a finer one than that in which they had stayed last night and he was able to obtain a private bedchamber with a proper bed. He asked for a fire to be lit and supper prepared for them. Then, carrying a lantern, he headed for the stables where he found Rosamund resting against a stall with her eyes closed. He took one look at her face, which appeared to have lost all colour and was damp with perspiration, and told her to get to the inn and rest.
‘But I have not…’ she began.
‘Never mind that. Tell the innkeeper to show you up to our bedchamber.’ His tone was harsh.
‘You’re angry with me because you believe I am playing games with you. Perhaps you believe I am mad,’ cried Rosamund in dismay.
‘Not now,’ said Alex sharply.
She made to continue, but he roared, ‘Get yourself inside and to bed before you collapse!’
Rosamund shrank away from him and stumbled outside and threw up behind some bushes. She felt a little better after that and, despite being near to tears and aching all over, she managed to reach their bedchamber without falling. She peeled off her outer clothes and, with a sense of doom and horror, discovered blood on her nether male undergarment. She must have miscounted the days to when her next monthly courses were due. What was she going to do now? She had never been in such a dilemma before and, for a moment, was at a loss how to deal with the situation. Then common sense asserted itself and she locked the door.
Hastily she took off her shirt and began to remove the binding that constrained her breasts. Tearing a length of the material, she made it into a pad and placed it inside the nether garment. Then she put on her shirt and hose before ripping up more of the binding and placing them with her cloak and doublet before climbing into bed. She curled up on one side of it and fell into an exhausted sleep.
When Alex arrived outside the bedchamber it was to discover that the door was locked. He knocked at the wooden panel gently, but there came no sound from within. Had he frightened her so much by roaring at her earlier that she was scared he would hurt her? He tapped again and called, ‘Master Wood, of your courtesy, open the door?’
But still there was no response and, due to the utter silence, he concluded that his travelling companion had fallen asleep. He went downstairs and told the innkeeper that he had changed his mind and would have supper in the parlour. As for Master Wood, he had fallen asleep and perhaps it was best not to disturb him.
Rosamund woke hours later. The candle had guttered out and the fire was but dead embers. She remembered locking the door and guessed that most likely Master Nilsson had remained downstairs to spend the night in discomfort. A groan escaped her. She had not intended keeping him from his bed. Had he decided that she had deliberately locked him out for losing his temper with her? But why had he not banged on the door to waken her?
Perhaps he had done so and she had not heard him. No doubt he was furious with her. Was it time she parted company with him? What had he thought of her suggestions? What interests did a so-called Swedish jack of all trades have in London after having visited Lathom House and seeking out her father? A man whom he had told her that he had only met once. And what was happening on the twenty-second of the month that he needed to be in London?
The cramps in her stomach had eased a little and she replaced the pad, anguishing over this evidence of her femininity. Despite the soreness beneath and her aching back, she managed to pull on her boots and buttoned up her doublet. She put on her hat and fastened her cloak and, picking up her pitifully few bindings, as well as the soiled one, she let herself out of the bedchamber and crept downstairs.
All was quiet as she drew back the bolts and peered outside. There was a pearly light in the sky towards the east, which meant it would soon be dawn. She went and dug a hole in the soil near the stable with a stick and buried the soiled cloth. Then she washed her hands in the horse trough before returning to the inn. She found her way to the kitchen and went over to the larder and took a hunk of bread and cut slices of ham from the joint there. Then she let herself outside again.
The freezing air seemed determined to take bites out of her face. Nevertheless, she pulled up her hood before hurrying across the yard to the stable.
She was in the act of trying to saddle up Alex’s horse when a voice from behind said, ‘And where are you going so early in the morning, Master Wood, and in such haste?’ Her heart seemed to somersault as she turned to face the man silhouetted in the doorway.
‘Have you no answer for me, little thief?’ asked Alex coldly.
Rosamund took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. ‘I am not a thief. I was just trying to have everything ready for when you came out. I thought you would be tired after my accidentally locking you out of the bedchamber. I beg pardon for doing so.’ She swallowed nervously. ‘I also knew that you would want to make an early start, knowing that my presence on your horse has lengthened the time of your journey.’
Alex was confounded. ‘Are you being honest with me?’
‘Why should I speak falsely?’
‘Because you are scared,’ he said bluntly. ‘You ask much of me. I want to believe that you did not intend to steal my horse and escape, but give me a further reason why I should do so?’
‘I will be honest with you and admit that I have deceived you.’
Alex’s heart began to thud. Was she about to tell him that she was a woman? ‘What is the manner of your deception?’
Rosamund’s lips parted, but the words would not come and she despised herself for being a coward. Moments passed and Alex reached out and drew her towards him. ‘What is wrong? Is the truth so terrible that you do not have the courage to reveal it?’
She nodded wordlessly, conscious that her breasts were crushed against his chest. Perhaps she would not need to speak because surely he could not be unaware of them and would guess her secret.
Alex was indeed aware that her breasts appeared to have sprouted overnight and to his astonishment his arousal was instant and he wanted to take her there and then in the straw. He imagined her expression if he should do so and instantly released her. He did not want such a complication in his life. ‘I am disappointed that you still cannot be honest with me. I see you consider me no friend?’
She found her voice. ‘How can I consider you a friend when I know so little about you?’
‘I have given you a name and told you where I come from. You know that I like travelling and am a jack of all trades.’
‘That is still not a lot of information when it comes to giving someone your trust,’ said Rosamund.
Alex could not prevent a smile. ‘You’re not so crazed as your stepfamily seemed to want you to believe, Master Appleby.’
Rosamund started and a tiny laugh escaped her. ‘How clever of you to guess my secret.’
Alex’s smile deepened. Perhaps he should not blame her for wanting to continue to conceal her true identity from him. ‘You gave yourself away on several occasions.’
‘I would not make a very good conspirator, would I?’
‘I disagree. You have deduced that it is not always safe to tell strangers your secrets and to answer a question with a question.’
Rosamund agreed.
‘But of course, in providing me with the information that you have, I have come to the conclusion that you believe your stepbrother murdered your father.’
She hesitated. ‘Would you say that is a sensible conclusion to draw?’
He nodded. ‘But I would add that if you are Sir James’s son, then surely you should be in charge of Appleby Manor and his business in London, not your stepfamily.’
Rosamund was silent.
Alex said abruptly, ‘We will leave this for now. It is time we were on our way.’
Rosamund lifted her head and stared at him. ‘I have some food I have taken from the kitchen as I missed supper—shall we eat it later?’
He nodded. ‘Let us put some miles behind us.’
Whilst he was saddling up his horse, she went and fetched the pillion seat. They had travelled a few miles when Rosamund said, ‘What was your opinion of my father?’
He glanced over his shoulder at her sombre face. ‘As I told you, I met him but the once.’
‘Where?’
‘Down at the quayside,’ answered Alex carefully. ‘We were watching ships being unloaded. It was then he spotted the young captain of the Thor’s Hammer. He said he reminded him of someone he had known in a past life.’
Rosamund said, ‘What a strange comment to make. Did he say whom this captain reminded him of?’
‘No. And I have not seen either of them since then.’
‘Perhaps your young captain is dead.’
Her words gave him a shock. ‘That I have not considered.’
‘Why? If he is a seafarer, then it is a possibility, is it not?’
Alex could not deny it. ‘I sense he is alive,’ he said abruptly.
‘Why, if you have not seen him? Would you have expected to have seen him during the time that has passed since you last did so?’
‘In the circumstances, no.’
‘What circumstances are these?’
He gave her an exasperated look. ‘It is I who ask the questions.’
‘I have already answered several of yours,’ she said.
‘Then answer me this one,’ said Alex. ‘Give me the name of your stepbrother in London.’
She sighed. ‘I cannot understand your interest if you are but a travelling jack of all trades. I deem, Master Nilsson, that you are not being honest with me.’
‘I admit it, but I still want an answer to my question,’ he said in a steely voice.
‘Can’t it wait until we reach London?’
‘No! I have much to do when I arrive there,’ he said, hanging on to his patience.
‘Then if I must, I must. I just pray to our Lady and all the saints that I can trust you, Master Nilsson. His name is Edward Fustian.’
Fustian! Alex had met the man and considered him a smarmy, arrogant, insular fellow. He had a certain attraction for the ladies, which irritated Alex exceedingly. He had heard it from Ingrid that he beat his wife and treated her like dirt beneath his feet. Yet he had not thought to include him in the names on the list of those he suspected might be guilty of passing on information about cargoes and times of departure of ships sailing from the port of London.
‘I have met him, but do not know him well,’ said Alex. ‘I have heard he is not kind to his wife.’
Rosamund nodded and said in a seething voice, ‘She had several bruises last time I saw her. She was a cowed little woman and so were her daughters. I felt so sorry for her because I understood what she was going through.’
‘Could you not have helped her?’
‘I would have liked to, but you have not met my stepmother, Master Nilsson, or grown up with Edward.’
‘Tell me about it.’
Rosamund took a deep breath. ‘I thought at first that Edward might prove to be another brother to me. He is some five years older and at first he showed me some kindness, but it was not long before he revealed his true colours.’ Her voice quivered. ‘Overbearing, arrogant and swift to lash out at me with his tongue and fist.’ The memory she had buried burst forth and she remembered, when first she had shown signs of early womanhood, how Edward had whispered lewd suggestions in her ear and pulled up her skirts. She took a shuddering breath. ‘I wish I’d had the courage to kill him.’
Aware that she was deeply disturbed, Alex said, ‘You do not have to continue if you find speaking of it upsetting.’
‘No. I deem there is a purpose in your questioning. If somehow you could bring Edward to his knees, then I would do anything to help you.’
‘Is that a promise?’
‘In as much as I will be able to keep it.’
‘Was he never chided?’ he rasped.
‘He was always careful not to misbehave when my father was there. Fortunately there came a day when he was caught out and despatched to serve his apprenticeship in Father’s business. I was never so glad of anything in my life. Although that was not the end of it. My stepmother was furious because she was in favour of a match between us, but she could not persuade Father into her way of thinking. That made her even angrier with me, but I pretended to be a fool and allowed her to treat me like one. I discovered a long time ago that, if I remained quietly in a corner, people would forget I was there and carry on all kinds of conversations with no thought to whom might be listening.’
Alex was impressed by her perception, even as he was aware that she had let two nuggets of information slip. She had touched on a match between herself and Edward and mentioned that she had thought he would be like another brother to her. Had she realised she had just revealed to him that she was a woman? Also, that was twice she had referred to a brother. How long was it since she had lost her brother? How and when had he died? Why should her stepmother wish for a match between her son and the stepdaughter she believed crazy? Was it that she had persuaded her husband that he should not leave his property to his daughter and instead make her son his heir? Was it possible that she believed her son’s position precarious and that was why she had suggested a match between the two? Obviously she had overplayed her hand. He wished that he could have met the lady so as to draw his own conclusions.
‘What else have you learnt by your eavesdropping?’ he asked.
She replied promptly, ‘That the Hanseatic League’s monopoly of trade in the Baltic infuriates Edward.’
That did not surprise Alex, for it angered most merchants who wanted to buy into such markets themselves. He asked her no more questions, deciding that a little silence would give them both time for reflection. He would like to know about her brother and how he had died, but that information could wait. They were still many leagues from London.
When they came to the next inn, Rosamund was too weary to attempt to converse with Master Nilsson. Indeed, she decided she had given him enough information about her stepfamily. Fortunately, he seemed in no mood to talk further; as it happened that night they were not alone in a sleeping chamber, but shared it with other travellers.
The next day she expected him to ask her more questions about Edward or Harry, but to her surprise he enquired instead about her other stepbrother.
The question startled her. ‘William! You want to know about William?’
‘Why not? Surely you have something to tell me about him?’
Rosamund’s hands tightened on the pillion seat as she considered what he would make of her answer. She decided that it should be safe enough to speak honestly of William. ‘He is a lack-wit, but one wonders if that is the fault of his mother. She is for ever hitting him across the head and comparing him to his elder brother. Yet he will do anything for her and his brother, which is a big mistake.’
‘Why is that?’
‘They are bad examples of how a decent man should behave. I feel sorry for the poor girl who is destined to marry him.’
‘Who is this maiden?’
‘I know only that her name is Bridget and that she is a niece to a close kinsman of my stepmother.’
‘Your younger stepbrother takes no interest in your stepbrother’s business?’
Rosamund shook her head. ‘He does not have the wit.’
‘Then who oversees Appleby Manor?’
‘My stepmother,’ she said bitterly. ‘She persuaded my father I was incapable of doing so.’
‘That must have infuriated you.’
‘Indeed it did, but Father had no faith in my abilities. He believed my stepmother’s estimation of my character.’
‘Does your anger extend to him?’
