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He curtsied.
She laughed out loud. ‘You became that hag and the beauty as well! I would never have recognised you had you not approached me.’
He seized on her words delightedly. ‘So my disguise succeeded. I always told you it was a god-given talent.’
‘And you make such a fine woman!’ laughed Becky.
Phillip grew serious. ‘I tell you truthfully that I prefer writing to disguising, but I am not bothered about my friends seeing me dressed thus, although it disturbed my father when I adopted feminine guise and he would make himself scarce, so if it disturbs you also then I will strip off.’ Before she could say a word to prevent him from doing so, he dropped his cloak and dragged the bodice of the gown from his broad shoulders.
‘I am not embarrassed, Master Hurst,’ she said. Nevertheless, she could not take her eyes from the width of those powerful shoulders that she remembered wielding an axe and hammer.
She watched him wriggle out of his skirts, the breath catching in her throat, for there was no mistaking he was all man as he stood there in tight-fitting hose that lacked a codpiece. She could not look away, telling herself that it was not as if she was a virgin, bashful because she had never seen a man’s private parts before. Despite being childless, her husband had been desperate for a son and had been ardent in his attempts to get her with child.
Phillip cocked an eyebrow at her before bending and picking up his cloak. He swung it about his shoulders and it fell in folds to just above his knees, concealing, in the main, the garments beneath. He tied it at the throat before gathering up the gown and stuffing it beneath his arm with the wig. ‘So where is this Minster Draymore and why does your husband not escort you?’
The questions took her unawares and her head shot up. ‘But I am widowed, Master Hurst. I thought you must have realised that was so.’
He said slowly, ‘Forgive me for not expressing my condolences earlier. I had heard that was so from mutual friends of ours, Sir Gawain and Beth Raventon, but it had temporarily slipped my mind.’
She shrugged. ‘Why should you have remembered? We have not spoken for an age until this even and if we had not met now, no doubt you would not have given me another thought.’
His brow knit. ‘You belittle yourself. Surely you must have gathered from our conversation that you proved unforgettable.’
Rebecca flushed, believing him to be flattering her and determined not to fall under his spell again. ‘I had forgotten your family was acquainted with the Raventons,’ she said hastily, wishing to change the subject.
‘They did mention that you were living in Oxford, so why do you go to Minster Draymore?’
‘Simon Caldwell, my brother-in-law, and his children are staying there and will be expecting me. I have no need of an escort, so if you wish to hurry back to the feast, then please do so. I know the way and it is unlikely that I will be set upon. Cutpurses and such ruffians will find better pickings in Witney this evening.’
‘Well, I’m not going to allow you to wander the countryside all alone when it’ll soon be dark, however unwilling you are for my company,’ said Phillip crisply. ‘And please, do not call me Master Hurst. It reminds me of your father.’
‘But that is your name,’ she protested.
‘I would not deny it, but I would prefer it if you called me Phillip.’
‘Phillip!’ She moistened her lips. ‘It would not feel right calling you Phillip. After all, your father was my father’s employer.’
He swore under his breath. ‘Becky, we are old friends and have no need of such formality—please call me Phillip.’
‘Then you are an unusual man, because in my experience most men prefer to keep a woman under their heel,’ she said roundly.
‘I thought you had realised by now that I am not your usual man. I do not wish to squash you. Tell me, was that how your husband behaved?’
She took a deep breath. ‘My husband, Giles Clifton, was a kind man, a good companion; we were happy for the short time we had together. It is just that men view the world differently from women, so why should I have deemed you would be any different?’
‘I confess I find it difficult to get into the head of a woman,’ he said ruefully. ‘You don’t reason like us and are moved too much by your emotions.’
‘Men have emotions, too! They just pretend that they don’t,’ protested Rebecca.
‘Damn it, of course they do and I make no pretence about it,’ he said.
Her lips twitched. ‘Actors are always pretending.’
He protested, ‘That is not true! I think we should change the subject. So, where is your sister-in-law?’
‘She stays in Oxford because she is expecting another child and is needful of a rest from the children. Knowing that the Witney feast was taking place today, it was considered an excellent notion that the children and I visit and stay with their father for a short time,’ said Rebecca. ‘We have been here two nights so far and I am sure he is already wearying of the children’s company. They are boisterous and proving a distraction, I fear.’
‘What kind of man is he?’ asked Phillip.
She eyed him carefully. ‘A decent man, one to be trusted. A stonemason, like my husband, and he has a commission to make repairs to the vacant Draymore manor house. And what of yourself, Mas—Phillip? Do you have a wife?’
‘I have no room for a wife in my life,’ he said shortly. ‘The travelling life is not one that most women find to their taste.’
Why did such news cause her relief? wondered Rebecca. ‘So such a life does have its drawbacks,’ she murmured.
He slanted her a long estimating look, thinking that meeting her was causing him to consider how a wife would mean changing his way of life in so many ways. ‘I am well aware that I would need to provide a wife with a certain standard of living and a covered wagon would deter most, if not all.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘But surely you don’t sleep in a covered wagon during the winter? And what of your entertaining the king? Does he not provide you with lodgings? My brother, who is now employed at Princess Mary’s court, has living quarters at Ludlow Castle. Lady Salisbury is her governess and has ensured it.’
‘I know of Lady Salisbury—she is a great friend of the Queen. It is true that the Master of the King’s Revels provides such quarters for me and my troupe, but only when we are performing at court. Last year was a particularly bad year for all of us, with the plague raging in London and its environs, and we have had to spend more time on the road this year.’
‘Tell me, how did you cope with such a setback?’ she asked, her expression concerned.
Her interest was obviously genuine, so Phillip told her. ‘I worked in my brother’s shipyard for a while and I also went abroad. It was not so for the troupe. We had hoped for occupation during the Christmas festivities, but the king and his lords did not make merry during that period for fear of the plague. They retreated to the countryside and did not allow anyone in or out. No doubt Davy escaped the worst of the plague at Ludlow?’
She nodded. ‘Although I’ve not had news of him for some time. I wish I could visit him.’
‘Then why don’t you?’
Rebecca hesitated. ‘If you must know, I do not have the means. Giles was only a young man and had yet to make his way in the world.’
Phillip frowned. ‘I see. Did you love him?’
She flushed. ‘My feelings for my husband are none of your business, Master Hurst! Now, if you don’t mind, I must make haste. Goodnight!’
She was not to get away from Phillip so easily and he kept pace with her. ‘Couldn’t Davy send you the money?’
Her head shot up. ‘I would not ask him! If the king was to decide on a change in his daughter’s situation, then it is possible my brother would need to look for another position, so he needs to salt away all the money he can. He was kind enough to provide me with a dowry, for my father did not!’
‘That was remiss of your father and must have caused you pain. But surely your brother would help you again now you are a widow? I have heard that he is an excellent musician, so it is unlikely that he would be long without a position,’ said Phillip, reassuringly.
‘That is as may be, but I do not wish to be a burden on him,’ she said, agitated by such talk. ‘I must make haste. Simon gave me leave to linger in Witney to watch the play, but young James will be missing my putting him to bed.’
Lucky James, thought Phillip. ‘Then let us quicken our pace,’ he murmured.
Why could he not leave her alone? She did not want him asking her any more questions about Giles. Phillip had roused memories of her marriage that filled her with guilt. Although she had not been in love with her husband, they’d had a warm and friendly relationship. She missed him and it grieved her that no child had resulted from their marriage.
As it was, she did not need to fear Phillip’s questioning. They walked on in silence until they arrived at Minster Draymore. Phillip noted aloud that some of the houses were in a bad state of repair, being constructed of wattle and daub and roofed with thatch.
‘Simon has commented that they need to be pulled down and replaced with houses of stone and slate,’ said Rebecca, pointing to one of them. ‘Apparently the man who now owns them and the manor house has been out of the country for years and has only just returned.’
‘At least it explains their neglect,’ said Phillip.
‘Come winter, I am certain Simon will return to Oxford, for the damp will play havoc with his rheumatics and he has a commission in the town to complete that means he can work indoors during the worst of the weather,’ said Rebecca, not loath to talk about the Caldwells’ business.
‘Is he much older than your sister-in-law?’ asked Phillip.
‘Aye. The girls are from his first marriage, but James is his and Jane’s son. The difficulty is that there is little to occupy the children here. Simon came to visit Jane a few days ago and escorted us here, but he cannot spare another couple of days away to accompany us on the return journey and he will not allow us to travel without a man’s protection.’
Phillip made no comment for she had now stopped in front of a house that was larger than the others in the village. ‘Here we are,’ she said with a sigh of relief.
He stuffed the gown and wig behind a tub beside the door and followed her inside. There was no sign of the girls, but a child could be heard crying. A grey-haired man was seated at the table, but on their entry he jumped up, almost sending the plans spread out on the table flying.
‘Who is this?’ he asked, placing a hand over the plans as he stared at Phillip. ‘I did not ask you to bring anyone here, Rebecca.’
‘Simon, this is Master Phillip Hurst, who knew my father. We met in Witney and he kindly escorted me here,’ she replied. ‘Phillip, this is Master Caldwell, my brother-in-law.’
The two men shook hands. ‘Rebecca’s father used to work at my father’s shipyard most summers,’ said Phillip as way of introduction, wondering why the other man’s hand trembled so much.
Simon Caldwell nodded jerkily. ‘I recognise the name Hurst. Your father is dead, is he not?’
‘That’s right. My brother now has charge of the yard. I believe you are a stonemason, Master Caldwell,’ said Phillip politely.
‘If you’ll excuse me,’ interrupted Rebecca quietly, ‘I’ll just go up to the children. I bid you good even, Phillip.’
‘Good night, Becky,’ he said, taking her hand and pressing it gently. ‘Perhaps we’ll see each other again before too long.’
She flashed him a smile, withdrew her hand and hurried out.
There was a silence after she left and Simon Caldwell fiddled with a drawing implement on the table. ‘So, what are you doing in this area, Master Hurst?’ he asked after a moment or two.
‘I am just travelling through, but I might have need of a master mason to do some building work for me in the near future,’ he said impulsively, ‘so when Becky mentioned your name and occupation I was interested to meet you.’
‘I see.’ The other man ran a shaking hand through his iron-grey hair. ‘I cannot make any promises. It might be best if you looked for another mason.’
Phillip was relieved, wondering why meeting Rebecca had caused him to broach a plan of action that he been considering this past year, but had decided was not feasible for at least another two years. ‘Unfortunately, just like ship’s carpenters, they are in short supply, so I am prepared to wait,’ he said easily.
‘If you are not in a rush, then that makes a difference.’ Simon Caldwell’s manner thawed but Phillip thought he still appeared a little on edge. ‘You would recognise Rebecca’s father if you saw him?’ asked the older man abruptly.
Phillip was startled by the question. ‘Aye, but Master Mortimer is dead, so I don’t understand why you should ask such a question.’
Simon Caldwell cleared his throat. ‘Master Hurst, do you believe in ghosts?’
Phillip’s eyes narrowed. ‘Obviously, you believe that you have seen one if you ask me such a question,’ he said slowly.
‘Have I seen a ghost or was it a figment of my overtired brain?’ muttered Simon Caldwell, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘You have to understand that I only met the man twice. He was most difficult to deal with, as you undoubtedly know, having served as his apprentice.’
Phillip nodded. ‘All I can say is that I would rather he didn’t come back from the dead.’
‘Agreed,’ said the other man, now gripping the table. ‘Yet I cannot ignore the sighting. If the labourers were to believe Draymore Manor is haunted, they’d be off. You know what they say about ghosts?’
‘That they have unfinished business here on earth,’ said Phillip, understanding why the man should be so nervous. ‘I presume Becky and the children have not seen this apparition?’
‘Saints’ teeth! You think I’d allow them to play around the manor house?’ said the other man fiercely. ‘Parts of the building are highly unstable. I’m thinking it’s a mistake I ever brought them here.’
‘Then send them home,’ advised Phillip.
Simon Caldwell frowned. ‘Rebecca is a woman of good sense, but she is only a woman and wouldn’t be able to defend herself and my children against ruffians, Master Hurst.’
There was a short silence and then hesitantly Phillip said, ‘If you would allow me to make a suggestion, Master Caldwell. On the morrow I will be travelling to Oxford as I have business there. If you are willing to entrust them to my care, I will provide them with my protection on the road.’
Master Caldwell looked relieved. ‘That is generous of you. I must warn you that my son is an imp. A lovable lad, but an imp none the less.’
‘I am certain Becky copes well with him,’ reassured Phillip, although he had no idea at all if that were true or not but he felt this man was in need of help. ‘Besides, I have nephews and a niece of my own and so am accustomed to children,’ he added.
‘Then I accept your offer with gratitude, Master Hurst.’ This time when Simon Caldwell shook Phillip’s hand, it was with enthusiasm.
Phillip decided there was little chance of seeing Rebecca again that evening to see if she approved of his actions and, as it was now dark, that he should make haste to Witney. ‘I would appreciate it if you could inform Becky that I will call for her and the children shortly after dawn. I need to make an early start.’
Simon Caldwell thanked him again and escorted him to the door.
As Phillip left the house, he pondered how Rebecca would accept the news that he would be escorting her to Oxford. She might resent his interference and not wish for his company, as it was obvious that she had cared for her husband. It seemed that Giles had replaced Nicholas in her heart, although now her husband was dead, she might wish to marry again. When his brother eventually arrived home, it would be best if he took a wife and settled down. Phillip frowned, remembering how he and Nicholas had discussed women, love and marriage whilst in their cups on the Greek isle of Rhodes. In truth, they had wagered two gold pieces on which of them would marry the first—the remaining one being the victor. Worryingly, it was some time since there had been news of Nicholas and he could only pray that he was safe.
Phillip was halfway to Witney when he remembered he had left his costume stuffed behind the tub beside the front door. Hopefully it would not rain during the night. Maybe Becky would notice it and take it in? Becky! He was glad he would be seeing her on the morrow. What would they talk about on the journey? What would she think of Master Caldwell’s mention of having seen her father’s ghost? Somehow he could not imagine her dismissing it lightly, but it was not for him to discuss the matter with her. Even though both of them, no doubt, preferred him to remain buried in the past.
Chapter Two
Rebecca had spent a restless night and woke from a dream in which she was wiping the paint from Pip Hurst’s almost-perfect features amongst other things. The intimacy of the vision unsettled her and she wondered why the Almighty had decided that now was the time for their paths to cross again. Whilst married to Giles she had prayed that she would forget Pip and had managed, most of the time, to put him out of her mind. Then she had seen him at Greenwich Palace and the desire she had felt for him had been reignited and he had figured prominently in her thoughts after that. She felt hot and bothered thinking about those times. Now here he was, but still as unattainable. Despite his flattering words, he’d made it plain there was no room for a wife in his life. It also appeared that he believed that she had been in love with his brother, Nicholas, until Giles had come along. Obviously, he did not suspect that it was Pip, himself, that she had lusted after. It was true that she admired the older Hurst brother, who had kept a journal of his travels in the Americas. How excited she had felt when she had held a copy and read the words for herself! Pip and her friend, Lady Beth Raventon, who had inherited her father’s printing-and-stationery business in London, had shared the preparation of getting the journal into print as a birthday gift for Nicholas six years ago.
The book had sold well and, after Rebecca had blurted out how much she wished she could read the book for herself, Beth had taught her to read and write. It had proved a task that had given them both great pleasure. But however much she had enjoyed the book, Rebecca had never considered Nicholas Hurst, explorer and merchant, as a possible husband for herself. After Beth had married her guardian, Sir Gawain Raventon, Nicholas had sailed away and disappeared from Rebecca’s life.
A sigh escaped her and she turned over in bed. It was at times like these that she had missed Giles during those first weeks after he had died. A child would have been such a comfort. Fortunately her desire for children had been partially satisfied in helping to care for her young nephew and his half-sisters. But now Phillip had re-entered her life, she could not deny that he affected her still in a way no other man had ever done. Yet would she ever see him again? By the time she had left James sleeping, Simon had gone to bed and Phillip had vanished, just as her mother had done, without any words of hope for her to cling to that they might ever see each other again.
Rebecca felt that sense of rejection experienced on waking as a child, knowing that her mother had not loved her enough to want her company. She sighed, knowing there was nothing else to do but to get on with life. She noticed that it was getting light. Time to get up. She dressed swiftly and as silently as possible and, lifting the latch with care, slipped through the gap between door and jamb. She went downstairs and outside to fetch water from the butt by the door. She had a drink, then she spotted Phillip’s gown and wig. She felt her pulses quicken. He would be needing them that day, so perhaps she should take them to him. It should not be so difficult to find the covered wagon he had spoken of.
She fetched her cloak and set out towards Witney, hurrying up the hill, past a stream that dashed over rocks on its journey to the valley floor. The water was so clear that one could see the pebbles at the bottom and darting fish. It was as she rounded the foot of the hill that she caught sight of Phillip going up the hill in the direction of Draymore Manor House. Her heart leapt. The house was situated a short distance from the village of Minster Draymore and hidden by trees. How odd. Before she could call out to him, he disappeared from her sight. Had he come to collect the gown and wig and taken the wrong path? She set off in his wake. When she reached the brow of the hill she could see the surrounding area as far as the church spire of St Mary’s in Witney, but there was no sign of Phillip. She dithered, trying to decide whether to remain where she was and to watch out for his return or to walk to the manor house.
Several birds flying up from the trees below made her think they had been disturbed by Phillip’s passing and she set off in that direction. She passed through the copse until the trees opened out to reveal an overgrown garden and a path in need of weeding that led up to front door of the manor house. It was a heavy door with studs on it and she had not really expected it to give way when she gripped the sturdy metal ring set in the wood, but the door creaked open. She hesitated before entering, remembering that Simon had told her to stay away from the house and not to take the children there as it was not safe. Even so, if the door was unlocked, that meant he must have forgotten to lock it yesterday.
She placed the gown and wig in the corner behind the door and gazed about the hall. It was small in comparison to the one at Raventon; there was a pile of rubble and one of the walls appeared to be crumbling in places. She guessed that the building dated back maybe more than two hundred years ago to the time of Edward II who had married a French princess, Isabella. This royal lady had taken a lover called Mortimer, the first Earl of March, who had lived at Ludlow Castle. That Rebecca and her brother shared the same surname had caused Davy to wonder aloud whether they were descended from Mortimer and Isabella, who, if she had been a man, would have become the ruler of France. Such ancestry was what caused King Henry to fund the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles, betrothed to Henry’s daughter, Mary, to fight the French in the hope that at least his descendants would sit on the throne of France if Charles was the victor in that conflict. Rebecca was of the opinion that the closer one was to the throne, the more dangerous life could be. Mortimer, lover of Isabella, had been executed for treason, although she and their offspring had been pardoned by Edward III. She wondered what Phillip thought about King Henry and his ambitions in France and whether one day he would write a play about such stirring royal events from the past.
She came to a decision and walked carefully across the hall to a door at the far end, noticing that some of the walls were blackened with smoke. She was startled by a shout and her first instinct was to head straight back to the front door and outside. Then she heard a banging and a crash; hesitating no longer, she ran towards the sound, almost tripping over a clump of fallen stone, thinking perhaps that Phillip might be under attack from ruffians. She came to a small chamber. The door was half off its hinges and on the opposite wall was shelving. Possibly it had once been a still room. There was a smashed jar on the uneven floor and a couple shrouded in cobwebs on a shelf. The room appeared to be empty, but cautiously she went inside to make certain, stepping over more rubble. The next moment she felt an arm go round her throat. Fearing she would be choked to death, she sank her teeth into the wrist of her attacker. Her captor released her and she wasted no time in trying to escape, but he seized hold of her again. With fists flying, she aimed for his chest, only to realise that it was Phillip.
‘Damn it, Becky, what are you doing here?’ he said harshly, seizing both her wrists and holding her arms aloft.
‘I was searching for you, but I didn’t realise that my attacker would be the person I sought!’ she cried. He released her abruptly and she fell against him. Instantly, she was aware of the hardness of his chest and the heat emanating from him as his arm slipped around her. ‘What a fright you gave me!’ she gasped. ‘I was convinced you were about to throttle me!’
‘I thought you were the ghost,’ he said drily. ‘As soon as you bit me, I knew better.’
