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‘How long will you be staying here, sir?’
‘Until my business is finished,’ he said. ‘After that, I shall be returning to London.’ He looked at her again, taking her breath away. ‘Have you ever been there, Mistress Woodward?’
‘No…no, I have not. A visit was planned, but cancelled after the Lord Protector died.’
‘Should you like to visit there?’
‘Yes…I think so, but my uncle is too ill to travel and my aunt could not take me without him.’
‘I have a house in London,’ Justin said, surprising her. ‘My mother lives there for the moment. Perhaps she would invite you to stay.’
‘Why should she? She does not know me.’
‘No,’ Justin replied, a puzzling look in his eyes. ‘But she knew your parents well. One day you will meet her. I am sure she would like to meet the daughter of old friends.’
‘Your mother knew my father…my mother?’ Annelise was filled with a sudden longing. ‘Oh, if only I could meet her! I should like so much to hear what she remembers of my father. I was a small child when he was killed.’
‘Then I shall do my best to arrange it,’ Justin said, and his smile was so sweet that it reached out to her, seeming almost to embrace her. ‘I shall walk with you to the grounds of your home, mistress—and then I must say farewell. But do not forget to mention me to your uncle.’
‘No…’ Annelise lifted her eyes to his. ‘No, sir. I shall speak to him as soon as I feel he is well enough to listen…’
Chapter Two
‘I am glad to see you so much better, sir,’ Annelise said as she carried in the tray for her uncle’s breakfast. He was sitting up in bed, looking brighter than he had for several days. ‘My aunt told me you wished to see me. Is there anything I can do for you?’
‘Put that tray down and come here, Niece.’ Sir Hugh beckoned to her. His grey hair had been neatly combed that day and his man had shaved him. ‘I have neglected your affairs, Annelise. I should have arranged a marriage for you long since. It was remiss of me—but I am resolved to put things right. I shall this day have my steward send a letter to a cousin of your aunt’s. Mr Broughton is a good man, not yet forty, sober and clean in his habits. I believe we can trust him to take care of things when I am gone.’
‘You are getting better,’ Annelise said, gripped by a sudden fear she could not explain. ‘There is no need for haste. I should not wish to marry while you are ill.’
‘If it is God’s wish, I shall be spared to see you safely wed,’ he replied, giving her a compelling look. ‘Have I ever treated you ill, Annelise? Have I ever forced you to something that gave you pain?’
She hesitated, then lowered her gaze. There had been many times when her heart had rebelled, but that was because she was a woman and therefore sinful. Her uncle had sometimes been strict with her, disciplining her for the good of her soul. She knew she owed a duty both to him and to God.
‘No, sir, you have not,’ she said, ‘but I would meet with this man first. If…if I am unable to respect him…’
‘Then I would not force you to marry,’ Sir Hugh said, gazing at her with reproach. ‘How can you think I would marry you to an unworthy man? All I ask is that you will behave with modesty and keep an open mind. It is for your own good, Annelise. I shall not always be here to protect you. Besides, you are of an age to marry. You would not want to live alone? It would not be fitting. You need a good man to be your husband—and who better than a kinsman of your aunt?’
Annelise was silent. All that her uncle said made perfect sense. Indeed, she had expected this, even hoped for it. Her life had sometimes seemed dull. A husband and children would fill the hours that were occasionally empty…so why this reluctance to wed the unknown Mr Broughton?
It could not be because she had been unable to rid her mind these past days of the picture of a man’s laughing eyes, could it? She would be foolish indeed to put her faith in his vague promises.
‘I shall try to do my duty, Uncle—but I beg you not to make your decision before I have met Mr Broughton.’
‘You are a sensible young woman,’ he replied. ‘I have no doubt that you will accept your duty, as we all must.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Annelise hesitated. She had not so far mentioned Master Rochefort’s request to speak to her uncle for fear of upsetting him, but he was so much better. Surely it could do no harm? ‘I told you that Sir Robert Harris had come back, did I not?’
‘I dare say he has a right to claim the land,’ Sir Hugh said, frowning. ‘We must hope he is a godly man—but his presence here makes your marriage all the more urgent.’
Annelise did not ask why. She knew his opinion of the King’s followers all too well; he thought them disciples of the devil, sinful, lewd men. She had accepted his doctrine, but now she had begun to doubt. He was a good man, and she had been taught to obey, but she was an intelligent girl and her mind still questioned.
‘There is a gentleman staying with Sir Robert, Uncle. He begs you will grant him an interview.’
‘An interview?’ Sir Hugh started up, clearly alarmed. ‘Who is this man, Niece? When did he speak to you?’
Annelise glanced at her uncle’s servant, who had been discreetly moving about the room all the time she was present; he ceased his tidying and looked at his master in concern.
‘His name is Rochefort, sir,’ Annelise said. ‘I met him by chance three days since.’
‘Met him? Where?’
Annelise was disturbed by the expression in his eyes. It was not the wild, unbalanced look she had seen there before his seizure but one of fear.
‘In the wood,’ she replied, dropping her gaze. ‘I went for a walk and we met by chance. I knew him because he was in the village with Sir Robert the day I spoke with Goodwife Hale.’
‘This man…’ Sir Hugh’s hand clutched at the bedcovers. ‘Did he attempt to harm you…to say anything untoward…anything that disturbed you?’
‘Do not distress yourself, master.’ The servant came forward, glaring at Annelise. ‘You will be ill again.’
‘Be quiet, sirrah! I am speaking to my niece.’
‘Indeed, Uncle, there is no need to distress yourself,’ Annelise said hastily. This was not like her uncle, who was always courteous to his servants. ‘He…said only that he wished to see you on some private matter. I told him you were unwell and that I would mention his request when you were better.’
It was not quite the truth, but to reveal everything that had been said would rouse Sir Hugh’s temper and cause untold harm.
‘Rochefort…it may not be him, and if it is, I may yet prevent him…’ Sir Hugh muttered as though he were feverish. His fingers plucked at the sheets, showing the extent of his disturbance. ‘I must act without delay.’ He stared at Annelise, the pupils of his eyes seeming to narrow to black dots. ‘I shall save you, child. Fear not. Satan’s hand shall not fall upon you if I can prevent it.’
‘You are ill, sir,’ she said, his expression frightening her. She looked at the servant. ‘Call my aunt, please, John.’
‘No!’ Sir Hugh caught at her wrist. ‘John will tend me. I forbid you to worry your aunt. Go now, and send my steward to me. I have much to do and so little time…so little time…’
‘As you wish, Uncle.’
Annelise left him to the ministrations of his body servant and hurried away to do his bidding. She was anxious as she sought out Master Blackwell, and sorry that she had mentioned the stranger to her uncle. It had seemed to bring on another disorder of his mind.
What was it that her uncle feared so? It obviously concerned her. Why was he in haste to see her wed all of a sudden?
She wished she understood.
It was the following morning, and Annelise was sitting in the parlour alone, concentrating on the letter she had been composing. She finished sanding the wet ink and read anxiously through the fine script once more. Would it do? Was it wrong of her to have written without telling anyone? Ought she to throw it away and forget the idea altogether?
Earlier that morning, Mr Blackwell had told her that her uncle had so far dictated only the letter to Mr Broughton. Clearly he had no intention of seeing Master Rochefort, and, after his adverse reaction to her message from that gentleman, she had decided never to distress him over the matter again. Instead, she had written to Master Rochefort herself, telling him that her uncle was too ill to see him.
She sealed her letter with wax and used her father’s crest to mark it, then sat staring at it for a moment. Should she send the note with a servant or deliver it herself? It would be more proper to send it, of course, but if she did so her uncle might learn of it—since the servants would no doubt feel it their duty to inform her aunt, as they always did. She was sure both her aunt and uncle would consider it immodest for her to write to a man she scarcely knew—and one, moreover, who was not of their persuasion.
Could she, dared she, take it herself? Taught to behave with modesty, to listen and reserve her opinions as befitted a woman, she hesitated. Yet Master Rochefort had asked her to enquire whether her uncle was well enough to see him…
She would take it herself! It was but an hour’s walk there and back. She could pick wild flowers and herbs on her way home. Aunt Prudence was in need of certain ingredients for her simples, so the time would not be wasted.
Glancing from the parlour window, Annelise saw that the sky was cloudless. The weather was still very warm; she would have no need of a cloak.
Some half an hour later, Annelise was at the door of Longton Hall. She frowned over the neglected gardens. Only two years earlier they had been flourishing; now they had gone wild. She noticed some attempt had been made to clear a patch of brambles, and the paths nearer the house had been picked clean of weeds. At the back of the house, she could hear the voices of men working on the thatch. Clearly the new owner meant to restore the place to its former graciousness.
Annelise lifted the heavy front door knocker. A servant came to answer her. She was relieved that he was a stranger to her; servants tended to gossip, but this man did not know who she was. Perhaps her family would never discover her indiscretion.
‘I pray you, sir, tell me—has your master guests staying?’
‘Yes, mistress.’ The servant stared at her suspiciously. From his dress, he was not of the Puritan persuasion, and he distrusted all those who were. ‘What be your business here?’
‘Would you give this letter to Master Rochefort, please?’
‘Be no one of that name here.’
Annelise was taken aback. ‘But he was visiting—a tall man with black hair and blue eyes.’
‘That be His Lordship,’ the man replied with a superior air. He looked down his long nose at Annelise. ‘Don’t know as I can rightly give him this, being as it’s wrongly addressed.’
‘But I have walked here on purpose to deliver it!’
‘Might offend him…’
Annelise sighed. She ought never to have come here. She was about to turn away when she heard the crunch of boots on stones and turned to discover the man she sought was striding towards her.
He was wearing stained breeches and was naked from the waist up, his shirt slung carelessly over his shoulder; obviously he had been working and had taken it off. His hair was wet, as if he had put his head under the pump in the stableyard, and his skin gleamed like gold satin, bronzed, she imagined, by frequent exposure to the sun.
‘Good day, Mistress Woodward.’ Justin stared at her in astonishment. ‘Forgive my appearance. I had not expected to find a lady at the door.’
Annelise blushed, turning aside as he pulled on his shirt. But not before she had seen his powerful shoulders, and several scars on his back that looked as if they must have been made by the blade of a sword. When she looked again he was dressed, and regarding her through narrowed eyes, his expression one of disapproval if not censure.
‘I came to deliver a letter, sir. I have spoken to my uncle but he begs your pardon. He is too ill to see you.’
‘Could you not have sent your message with a servant? There was surely no need for you to come yourself.’
Annelise stiffened. His criticism stung all the more because she knew her behaviour to be unseemly.
‘I should not have come…’
She flung away, walking swiftly, her head bent. How foolish she was! It was very wrong of her to have been so forward. In her heart, she knew her reasons for delivering the letter had been more than a natural concern for Sir Hugh’s health. She had hoped to see this man again—but he thought her immodest! He was angry with her.
‘Mistress Woodward, wait!’ Justin caught up with her. He grabbed her arm roughly, swinging her round to face him. ‘Do not leave in anger. I meant not to hurt you. I was surprised to see you. Stay a moment, I beg you.’
‘I was wrong to come,’ she said. ‘It is just that…’ Her eyes misted with tears. ‘My uncle is so strange. When I asked him if he would see you, he talked so wildly. I think his mind has begun to fail. His steward has not written to you?’ Justin shook his head. ‘No, I did not think so. He dictated only the one letter…’ She swallowed hard, stifling the tears that threatened. ‘I thought it only right that you should be aware…’ Her breath caught on a sob.
Justin’s forehead creased as he sensed her acute distress. There was more here than she had told him. He offered her his kerchief, touched by her tears despite himself.
‘I am grateful for the intention,’ he said, his voice becoming soft, almost caressing. ‘If I seemed to censure you, it was only out of concern for your safety. We have spoken of this matter before, if you recall?’
‘Yes.’ She smiled through her tears, comforted by his tone. ‘It was foolish of me to walk here myself—but I was afraid my uncle might learn I had written to you and…’ She hung her head then, unable to meet his gaze. ‘I fear it was forward of me, sir.’
‘I understand.’ Justin looked at her thoughtfully. ‘If Sir Hugh will not see me…But you mentioned a letter. To whom was it addressed? Could it have been the Marquis Saintjohn?’
‘Oh, no,’ she replied, a little surprised. ‘It was to my aunt’s kinsman—a Mr Broughton.’ A flush stained her cheeks. ‘My uncle intends…to arrange a marriage…’
Now why had she told him that? Annelise looked away. She was embarrassed by her own indelicacy. This man was a stranger to her. She could not discuss matters of such intimacy with him.
‘Does the idea please you?’
Annelise looked up, her heart racing. Something in his expression made her blurt out the truth.
‘No! No, it does not. I have never met Mr Broughton.’ Her cheeks were flaming. ‘My duty is to obey my uncle, but…I do not wish to marry unless I truly like my husband.’
‘Will your uncle force you to the match?’
‘I am not sure. He will expect me to do my duty.’
‘I see.’ Justin’s mouth drew into a tight line. Featherstone had no right to choose her husband. His haste to arrange the match was clearly an attempt to forestall anything that the Marquis Saintjohn might be planning for his niece. ‘But he will not force you?’
‘Not at once,’ Annelise said on a sigh. ‘I shall not be locked in my room or beaten, but there are other ways of commanding my obedience. I should not like to be the cause of distress to either my aunt or uncle, especially now.’
Justin was thoughtful. The girl had been taught to obey. These damned Puritans had almost succeeded in making her something nature had never intended. She might resist in her heart, but she was a dutiful girl who would accept her uncle’s dictates in the end. The idea of her being tied to the kind of man Sir Hugh had no doubt chosen filled Justin with revulsion. It must not be allowed to happen! Yet he must tread carefully here.
‘Thank you for your visit, Mistress Woodward,’ he said. ‘Shall I send a servant to escort you home?’
Annelise felt as if he had thrown cold water over her. She was not sure what she had expected, or if she had expected anything. In the woods, he had spoken of a visit to his mother, but now he was dismissing her—his manner one of indifference. She had foolishly placed too much reliance on what had obviously been a careless promise.
Why should he care for her problems? She hardly knew him. It had been wrong of her to discuss her uncle’s affairs with a stranger. She raised her head, her expression one of pride.
‘I shall be perfectly safe, sir. You need not trouble yourself on my account.’
But that was exactly what he must do, thought Justin. He should have insisted on seeing Featherstone weeks ago, but he had allowed the matter to drift. Now he must act.
‘Since you are determined to be independent, I shall allow you to have your way.’ Justin smiled inwardly as he saw the spark in her eyes. For all their mealy-mouthed ways, the Featherstones had not succeeded in crushing her spirit. ‘At least in this. I must beg to take leave of you, mistress. I have urgent business…’ An air of disappointment about her stopped him as he started to leave. He reached out, taking a fine strand of hair that had escaped from beneath her cap between his fingers, then let it fall. ‘Do not fear, Mistress Woodward. I have your interests in hand. Do not give your word to Mr Broughton or your uncle on this matter and all will be well.’
Annelise stared after him as he strode away. What could he have meant by that? Her heart took a dizzying leap. She was suddenly glad she had come here, no matter what her aunt or uncle might say.
She was drawn to this man of conflicting moods. When he was stern, she was a little afraid of him…but when he smiled and spoke to her with kindness she liked him.
She liked him more than any other man she had ever met.
Annelise heard the shouting coming from her uncle’s room the next morning. Her heart caught with fear. Was Sir Hugh ill again?
‘What is wrong?’ she asked as she reached the landing and saw her aunt emerging from Sir Hugh’s room. ‘Is my uncle worse?’
‘Send someone for the physician,’ Lady Featherstone said. ‘Your uncle has had another fit, Annelise. He was reading a letter that upset him terribly and he tried to get out of bed; he fell and hit his head on the oak hutch…’ She gave a little sob of distress. ‘He is unconscious, Annelise. I think he may be dying.’
‘Oh, no!’ Annelise looked at her in concern. Despite her uncle’s stern manner, he was a good man at heart and did not deserve this. ‘I will send for the physician immediately, Aunt.’
She ran down the stairs, calling for Master Blackwell. He came almost at once, shaking his head at the news.
