Grace waited for Gabriel to fall asleep in his makeshift cradle then, after she heard Will haul himself to his bedroom, she rummaged behind her pallet bed for the knotted rope ladder entwined with feathers. She found the little doll she had made for the baby and took it out of his cot, examining the heart-shaped spot of blood on the fabric that Nathaniel’s pricked finger had left behind. She wrapped both items carefully in a small blanket – it was summer now and Gabriel would not need to be covered too heavily – and she placed them all neatly in a wooden box that Will had painstakingly made for Anne to store her needlework in not long after they had married. Then she went downstairs quietly into the garden, finding the old ladder, simple wooden rungs joined together by a pole, which Will kept to access the thatched roof to make repairs. She brought it inside noiselessly, careful not to wake her father, and leaned it against the chimney breast, lifting her skirts and climbing steadily, the box under one arm.
She was looking down from up high, near the top of the thatch. She felt giddy as the ladder shifted beneath her, but she placed her hand against the chimney breast and found a wide gap in the stones, easing the box inside. No one would find it there. She scrambled down the ladder again and checked that the baby was sleeping. Her spirits lifted: suddenly she felt safer. She had taken her grandmother’s wise advice and the thought made her smile as she spoke softly. ‘So, it is done. Now everything will be well.’
May became June, the weather humid and brooding, and over the next few weeks, Grace heeded her grandmother’s words: she stayed away from Ashcomb, from the loose tongues of George, Nancy and Kitty, spending her days milking the cows in the barn and her evenings listening to the babbling well and tending the plants in the garden. Gabriel was sitting up now, taking notice of everything around him, keen to pick up and explore every object, which included putting anything he could find in his mouth. By day, Grace kept him close to her while she sat on her milking stool, turning everything she did into a game to keep her child’s attention.
Jennet spent most of the time talking to Margaret and Joanna about her new young man, Henry Brewer, whom she said was the love of her life and more of a proper man than Ned Shears. Grace listened but made no comment. At the end of the day, she was glad of Alice’s company, when her friend would visit her before she walked home, often with a basket of eggs or cheese or a piece of mutton. Grace would examine Alice’s face for any sign of change, but she lacked the glazed stare and the softness of her chin that were the tell-tale signs of being with child. Grace smiled as Alice lifted Gabriel and kissed his cheeks, but she was secretly sad that Alice’s many and varied efforts to help her conceive had not yet resulted in pregnancy.
One Saturday evening, Grace was in the garden with Gabriel, showing him the new plants. All the blossom had fallen from the blackthorn, the foliage now green, masking the sharp thorns Grace always told her son to avoid. Herbs were flourishing: parsley, dill, comfrey, sage and lavender smelled sweet and Gabriel held a handful of summer savoury, attempting to push it in his mouth. Grace lifted him high and laughed, gently tugging the long leaves from between his lips. She knew the herb was good for digestion, it prevented nausea and restored loss of appetite, and she explained this to Gabriel as he smiled into her eyes and she sat him back down on the grass.
Then there was a figure at the gate, a young man in his best clothes, leaning on a wooden stick. He waved, and she called back. ‘Ned, it is good to see you.’
He limped towards her eagerly, holding out a bunch of flowers. ‘I picked these for you, sweet Grace. I hope you will enjoy them.’
She held them to her nose. ‘Thank you. Columbine, thrift, foxgloves and daisies. They are wonderful.’
He stood in front of her; Grace could tell that he was thinking of what to say, then he murmured, ‘How fares young Gabriel?’
Grace swept the child up from the ground in her arms. ‘He thrives.’
She watched as Ned held out a finger and Gabriel grasped it in his pudgy fist and chuckled. Then Ned’s eyes met hers and his voice was low. ‘How fare you, dear Grace?’
‘I am well.’
‘And have you thought again about my words, when we last spoke at the May dance?’
‘I have.’
‘Do you have an answer for me then?’ Ned’s words came in a rush. ‘I think of nothing else but you and I hope that you will spare me the anguish that is in my heart for fear that you will say no.’
‘You are a kind, gentle man, Ned, above all others.’
Grace saw the colour drain from his face as he exhaled. ‘Does this mean you will say nay, when all I want in the world is to wed you?’
‘No, Ned, I am not refusing you.’ She noticed his expression, both fearful and hopeful, and she was filled with soft feelings of sympathy. ‘I will marry you, if my father gives his blessing, but I want us to wait until the spring.’
‘Oh Grace, my heart is full of you.’ Ned grasped her hand. ‘But why should we wait?’
‘Because it will give Gabriel time to get to know you and…’ Grace lowered her eyelids. ‘It will give us time to grow together. It will give me time to care deeply for you, which I know I will.’
‘You do not love me as I love you.’
‘I know that I will learn to, in time.’ Grace smiled, believing that her words were true. He was the kindest of men, and she resolved to try her hardest to love him as he deserved. ‘You are the best man I have met, Ned Shears, and I will be proud to be made a wife in the coming spring.’
‘Not sooner?’ Ned put an arm around her and the baby, drawing them both close. ‘Not at Michaelmas, or Yuletide?’
‘Perhaps,’ Grace said. ‘Let us spend this summer together, here in the garden or walking in the lanes and the fields, you and Gabriel and me. I give you my promise now that we will wed, once you have spoken to my father and he has given his blessing. But when the summer becomes the autumn, then we will set a date for it.’
Ned kissed her cheek tentatively. ‘My Grace, I want nothing more than to be yours.’
‘Then it shall be.’ Grace closed her eyes happily. Her grandmother had been right: she felt safe, supported, cared for; Ned loved her and he loved her child. Their future would be good, better than good. It would be a blessed one. There would be brothers and sisters for Gabriel; Will could work less in the fields; Grace would wrap the growing family in her arms and give each and every one of them so much care and devotion. And she would learn to love Ned for the honest, good man that he was. All would be well.
She opened her eyes and saw Ned’s face, flushed with pride. He took her in his arms and kissed her lips. ‘Believe me, Grace, we will be the happiest family on God’s earth. I will not let you down. Now let us go and speak with your father.’
The following Monday, the twenty-first, Midsummer’s Day, was a humid day, too hot for milking cows. The beasts were uncomfortable in the strawed-down barn, their usual placid temperament less compliant, bothered by the heat and buzzing flies. Jennet was in a foul temper too; she had argued with Henry Brewer, who had told her that he would not marry until he was twenty-five, and Jennet had refused to court him again. The air was sticky and still, and Gabriel cried often, his face flushed on one side. Grace had noticed that day that his gums were red, and she had rubbed them with her finger and a little valerian and chamomile flower to soothe the new tooth that was coming. He was fractious, waking from sleep and crying, holding out his arms for his mother.
Jennet was irritable. ‘Peace, Grace, for the sake of God. I do wish that baby would stint. His crying is making the cows grow stubborn. This one will not let down her milk and Alice will be here soon to check the pails and she will be angry with me again.’
Grace rocked Gabriel in her arms, placing a finger in his mouth to soothe him, and his crying stopped. She continued to milk the cow with one hand, listening to the squirting liquid in the pail, and her expression grew thoughtful. Soon she would have a husband, the kindest of men, and one day she would have a large family to care for. She imagined the garden at Slaugh Cottage crammed with flowers and plants, the blackthorn tapping its branches against the shutters in a light wind, water chattering at the bottom of the well, children playing on the grass. In her imagination, they were surrounded by animals: hares, foxes, rabbits, small hedgehogs and songbirds. She gazed down at the baby; he was sleeping softly now and she placed him in his crib and resumed milking.
By early evening, the sky grew leaden and overcast. Margaret frowned, ‘I hope a storm will not come. It is a long walk back to Ashcomb with puddles across the field. I fear my dress will become wet.’
‘There will be a storm,’ Joanna said. ‘We need a good storm to clear the air – it is murky and too hot.’
‘There will be no storm.’ Jennet pointed towards the sky. ‘Look yonder – the sky is lighter. We may have a little rain, then it will be sunny again.’
Grace’s pail was full. She patted the cow’s hindquarters and whispered thanks, then she was about to untie the cow when Alice appeared, carrying a basket covered with a linen cloth.
Alice looked sharply around the barn, her eyes falling on Jennet. ‘Why is it that you girls do not fill your pails as quickly as Grace?’ Her voice was irate. ‘Is it because you spend all day gossiping? You have the tongues of bawds.’
Jennet made a face, implying that Alice had become exactly like her mother-in-law. ‘It is too hot, Alice, and the cows will not let down at all – I swear their udders are dried…’
‘Cease your prattle,’ Alice snapped. She turned to Grace and held out the basket. ‘Would you mind taking this down to the fallow field to Nathaniel? I fear he will be late to supper and I have prepared bread and meat for him.’
Gabriel made a snuffling noise and Grace plucked him from the barrel crib, holding him against her. ‘Gabriel is pained by his new tooth coming, Alice.’
‘I will go to take Master Nathaniel’s basket in her place,’ Jennet offered. ‘It would be pleasant to wander across the field rather than to sit in this stinking hot barn.’
‘Grace will go. I have said it.’ Alice folded her arms stubbornly. ‘I have an aching back and I must lie down in my bed soon.’ She placed the basket on the ground and held out her arms. ‘But I will hold Gabriel while you take the basket, Grace. Give him to me.’
Jennet leaned towards Margaret and whispered loudly, ‘My sister is no better than Mistress Harriet now. And I believe Alice has her monthly bleeding again. I am not surprised she is in a bad humour. Her husband will be angry too when he discovers her condition…’
Alice shot Jennet a mean look; her cruel words had hit a tender place. She hugged Gabriel closer to her and Grace said, ‘I will take the basket. But if he cries, please take heed – the end of a finger on his gum will ease his pain. I will not be long.’
Alice smiled and rocked the baby in her arms, kissing his cheeks over and over. She had not heard Grace; her eyes were only for Gabriel as she made soft soothing noises.
Grace picked up the basket and headed across the fields along the narrow path. To one side, the fields were full of growing wheat, pale stalks waving in the light breeze. She hoped Gabriel would be all right with Alice; she trusted her friend, but Grace was anxious that she wouldn’t know how to soothe him. She hurried forwards; Nathaniel was two fields away: she could see him on horseback, circling two men who were standing by a stone wall, waving an arm in instruction. Grace increased her pace: she was not looking forward to meeting Nathaniel, but she would simply offer the basket and rush back to the barn, to her son.
Grace could hear Nathaniel’s voice as she approached, giving orders. She recognised the two men in the field. One was George Shears, Nancy’s husband, and the other was an older man, the same age as her father, Francis Barnes. They were rebuilding a stone wall while Nathaniel rode on his horse, Squire, a dark beast whose supple coat was glossy in the sunlight.
She opened the gate and approached quietly. Above, a cloud hung low, heavy and ragged. A warm drop of water fell on Grace’s face, followed by a second.
Nathaniel thundered over towards her on the horse; his eyes were coal-dark as he saw Grace. He brought the stallion to a halt as she held out the basket and set it down. ‘Alice asked me to bring this to you for supper.’
‘Grace.’ He surveyed her in the cap and plain dress. ‘How are you? How is the child?’
‘We are both well.’
‘And my wife, when you saw her at the barn, how was she?’
‘She was tired, a little.’
The dark horse snorted through wide nostrils and Nathaniel made a similar sound. His voice was bitter. ‘How can it be, Grace, that you can get with child and yet my wife cannot, after all this time? Tell me – you know these things.’
‘It takes time… Be kind to her.’
‘No, it takes a proper wife, a woman, and she is a but a dried husk.’ Nathaniel sneered. ‘Did I choose the wrong woman to wive? Tell me, Grace – did I?’
‘I know not.’ Grace looked down at her feet for fear that Nathaniel would read her expression: she wondered how differently her life might have been had he chosen her. But he had chosen Alice, and Grace would not speak ill of her. She said quietly, ‘You are wed to Alice and she is my good friend.’
Nathaniel frowned. ‘Or did you curse me? The day I was in your house, and you had made a poppet and I was pricked by the blackthorn?’
‘It was not blackthorn, simply a needle in my sewing.’
‘Pass me the basket,’ Nathaniel said angrily.
Grace lifted it and he took the handle. He turned the horse round fully, so that he could speak to her again.
‘I hear your son is a fine boy.’
‘He is.’
‘And I believe that he favours me, his dark hair…’
‘Gabriel is mine.’ Grace stood as tall as she could, her eyes hard as she met his gaze. It had started to rain now, large drops cooling the air.
‘It is a pity.’ Nathaniel laughed bitterly. ‘You have no husband and I have no son and heir.’
‘But that may change soon, for both of us.’ Grace’s thoughts flew to Ned. She felt loyal to him, grateful for his kindness, but she recalled the way Nathaniel had kissed her once and she was filled with new sadness.
Nathaniel’s dark blue eyes flashed. ‘Are you to wed?’
‘I hope to.’
‘Then you may have more sons.’ He shook his head, his face flushed with anger. ‘And I am bound to barren Alice for the rest of my days.’
‘I wish you good fortune,’ Grace said. ‘I wish you happiness.’
Nathaniel was suspicious. ‘I do not think you wish me good things at all, Grace. I rather believe you hate me and wish me ill.’
‘I do not.’
‘I fear that you have blighted my wife’s womb with your charms, that you have spoken dark words while you stand in your garden by the blackthorn, and that I am cursed for all my days.’
‘No, do not say that, Nathaniel. I loved you once. How could I wish you harm?’
‘Then why am I thus cursed with my wife? It can only be at your hand, Grace. My mother has said so, others believe so. I think there is only Alice who trusts you, and look how it serves her to be your friend.’ He spat on the ground. ‘And I have heard many stories. My men say that you brought a sheep to life and that you blasted Ned Shears’ leg.’
‘I would not harm him. Ned and I are to wed.’
‘Perhaps that is how you enchanted him, by cursing him? No other woman will have him now.’ Nathaniel’s face was fierce. ‘I know you cursed me when I stood in your garden by the chattering well. You put a charm on me so that I couldn’t resist you. I thought you beautiful then, soft and kind. But now I know what you are, I will not utter the word aloud.’ His voice was low with menace. ‘Stay away from me, Grace, and stay away from Alice.’
‘Nathaniel, that is not true…’
Nathaniel lifted an arm as if he might strike her. Then he breathed deeply; rage filled his body, and he yelled an order in the direction of George and Francis who stood watching as he turned Squire with a jerk of the reins. Nathaniel dug his heels hard into the stallion’s sides, demanding instant speed as the black horse galloped towards the two men. Then, all of a sudden, Squire stumbled on the rough ground and fell, sending Nathaniel crashing down hard and the horse rolled on top of him. Grace stared in shock: the two men’s voices rose in alarm as they ran over to Nathaniel, who lay on the baked earth not moving as his horse staggered to its feet and bolted away.