“Oh, I do beg your pardon, Sir Daniel!” Breathlessly, Will excused himself.
“Think nothing of it,” Daniel replied, recovering from the effects of having been nearly knocked off his feet at his own front door. “Y’are in somewhat of a hurry, I gather.” He regarded the scarlet-faced, redheaded young man with a questioning quirk of an eyebrow. “Were you going in or out?”
“Out, sir. I have been visiting Harry.”
“I rather thought that must be the case,” Daniel said gently. “It generally is. Well, do not let me detain you, my friend, since y’are in such haste.”
Will, much flustered, tried to admit that he was in a hurry whilst disclaiming that Daniel could in any way be detaining him. He managed to tie himself into such knots that his companion stared at him in astonishment. When the young man had finally taken his leave, Daniel went in search of his wife, who might conceivably be able to shed some light on this extraordinary behavior.
He found her in the January-bare garden at the rear of the house, cutting holly. “Just what is the matter with Will, Henrietta?”
She started at the question, dropping the armful of berry-laden foliage to scatter richly at her feet. “I don’t know what you could mean, Daniel. Why should anything be the matter with Will?”
“He appears to find the sight of me a trifle unsettling these days,” he said carefully, bending to pick up the prickly branches. “Which seems strange, considering how often he is in the house. Indeed, I begin to wonder why he bothered to move out.”
Henrietta pinkened. “D’ye object to his presence?”
“No.” Daniel shook his head, carefully filling her arms with the retrieved foliage. “Not in the least. Should I?”
The pink deepened and the brown eyes slipped away from his steady gaze. “Of course not.”
“Henrietta, if something is going on, I think ’twould be politic in you to apprise me of it sooner rather than later,” he said. “Somehow, I have the impression these last weeks that y’are hip deep in mischief again, and it is making me very uneasy.”
“Y’are not suggesting I might be behaving improperly with Will?” she exclaimed, seizing on this absurdity as a convenient way of altering the direction of the conversation.
“You are always in his company,” Daniel replied.
“But he is my friend.”
“That is what is making me uneasy. You wouldn’t be trying to help him in some way, by any chance?”
She began to polish a deep green leaf with a gloved finger. “Why should Will need my help?”
“If he has a grain of common sense, he will ensure that he does not,” Daniel replied, looking down on the bent head, resisting the urge to kiss the soft exposed nape, to run his finger along the groove in the slender column of her neck, where curled feathery corn silk-colored tendrils.
“That is not very kind,” she mumbled.
“The truth often isn’t.”
“I do not know what you are talking about. I must arrange these before dinner…Julia is here…There is a shoulder of mutton with redcurrant sauce, which I know you like so I hope you have an appetite.” Rattling on in this fashion, she hurried across the garden and back into the house, leaving Daniel even more mystified than ever, and even more uneasy.
He did not really believe that Will and Henrietta were conducting themselves as anything but friends, despite his occasional pang of envy at the special nature of that friendship—a dimension he could never have himself with Harry, based as it was upon such a shared past. But whenever he came upon them together these days, instant constraint sprang up. It had been so since their return from Madrid in September, and the only explanation he could think of was that they shared a secret from which he was excluded. Daniel Drummond did not like that explanation in the least.
Frowning, he followed Henrietta into the house. Nan and Lizzie were engaged in some competition on the stairs. It seemed to involve constant jumping, considerable excitement, and not a little altercation. Irritably, he administered a sharp rebuke that sent them upstairs shooting hurt looks at him over their shoulders.
He turned toward the parlor and paused, his hand on the latch. There was no mistaking the urgent quality to the low voices coming through the oak. He rattled the latch loudly before he lifted it and pushed open the door, saying, “Henrietta, those children are not to be permitted to play in the hall. Where is Mistress Kierston? Ah, I give you good day, Julia.” He bowed to the young woman, who had jumped up from her chair at his entrance and curtsied, blushing. For some reason, the very sight of him these days seemed to put everyone to the blush, Daniel thought humorlessly.
“She’s at church. I did not think they were doing any harm,” Henrietta said.
“They were making an unseemly amount of noise.” He walked to the sideboard. “If you do not wish to take charge of them, then they must accompany Mistress Kierston to her devotions. May I pour you a glass of wine, Julia?”
“No…no, I thank you, sir,” Julia murmured uncomfortably. “I was just leaving.”
“But you were to stay for dinner,” Henrietta protested.
“No…no, I cannot, really. But I thank you.” Julia headed for the door. “Perhaps you could visit me tomorrow, Harry.”
Henrietta accompanied her friend to the front door without demur and offered no excuse for her husband’s ill temper. She knew the reason for it, and sharing that knowledge would do nothing for Julia’s already fragile equilibrium.
“I am sorry the children were noisy,” she said in an effort to placate Daniel on her return to the parlor. “I did not realize it would annoy you so. But ’twas quite my fault.”
Daniel looked at her over the rim of his wineglass. What on earth had she been whispering about with Julia in such intense fashion? At the moment she looked as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, so demure with her hands clasped in front of her, her head a little to one side, her voice softly anxious.
“What are you up to?” he demanded.
Henrietta decided rapidly upon the combination of attack and half truth. “I am not up to anything, but I have told you that Julia has certain…well, certain private matters to talk over with me, and now you have frighted her with your bad temper. ’Twas not at all courteous. And it was not just to be vexed with the girls simply because you were in ill humor.”
Daniel gave up. It was perfectly reasonable for Julia to confide in Henrietta, and they would hardly be confidences that would interest him. The girl was probably in love, or in some parental trouble. And whatever was going on between Master Osbert and Henrietta would presumably be revealed all in good time. Whatever it was could not possibly be too important.
“Just how often does Mistress Kierston go to church these days?” he asked, as if there had been no acrimony in the last minutes.
“Once, sometimes twice, a day,” Henrietta replied, barely missing a beat as the mood inexplicably changed. “Today, there is a preacher come from London and she wished to hear him. I understood him to be a proponent of hellfire and brimstone, a doctrine that appeals to Mistress Kierston.”
“’Tis not a doctrine she has been successful in imparting to her charges,” Daniel observed with a wry smile. “I will fetch them for dinner.” He went abovestairs and Henrietta, relieved but with the uncomfortable feeling that the relief was only temporary, went into the kitchen to give order to the cook and Hilde.
Daniel came into the dining room, hand in hand with his now-merry daughters, whose sense of grievance had vanished with their father’s smiling summons to table. Dinner was a cheerful meal, much enlivened by the absence of the governess, although everyone forbore to comment on this fact. Afterward Henrietta went riding with the girls, allowing their chatter to wash over her as she wrestled with the new problem now facing Will and Julia—the problem that had led to Will’s precipitate departure and air of disarray, thus prompting Daniel’s uncomfortable questioning.
Lord Morris had been bidden by the king to set sail for Scotland without delay. He was intending to do so within three weeks, and his wife and daughter were to sail with him.
Will was in despair at the news, and Julia had seemed paralyzed. Neither of them thought there was anything they could do to prevent the separation, which left plotting to circumvent it to the considerably more energetic Henrietta. At this point, she could see only two alternatives. Julia could run away and Will return to England with her on the next ship, and they could throw themselves upon the mercy of his parents. Mistress Osbert was a thoroughly pragmatic soul, and would accept the situation after the initial scolding, which would no doubt be fierce. Or Henrietta could persuade Lady Morris to leave Julia with the Drummonds, on the grounds that it would be safer for her, more convenient for the Morrises until the fate of the Royalist cause was settled one way or the other, and Henrietta would love her company.
On the whole, Henrietta favored the first course as being the most decisive, but suspected that the protagonists would prefer the second for its general lack of decision. It would simply prolong the entrancement of courtship without requiring them to face any hard choices. However, it was their affair, she reminded herself, and her role simply that of facilitator. She would need Daniel’s permission to issue the invitation, of course; indeed, the invitation should properly come from him. Lady Morris would certainly consider it so.
“Harry, is that a kestrel? Is it, Harry?” Nan’s repetitive piping at last intruded on her reverie, and she looked up into the gray winter sky to where a hawk hovered seemingly immobile over a stubble field.
“Nay, I think ’tis a goshawk,” she said. “’Tis too big for a kestrel, and it has short wings. D’ye mark them?”
Nan squinted earnestly upward, and Henrietta hid her smile. She was such a little figure sitting on her small, barrel-bellied pony, her dark green riding habit a miniature of Henrietta’s own; and the bright black eyes of the Drummonds were so like her father’s. Would her own child have those eyes, also? Henrietta wondered. Daniel had at last agreed to take no more precautions against conception, and she waited with ever-increasing impatience for the moment when she could tell him she was bearing his child.
“Come, I think we should go home,” she said, suddenly realizing the time. The January evenings closed in abruptly.
At supper, she brought up the subject of Julia’s visit. “I should miss her most terribly if she goes, and she does not wish to leave in the least. I am certain, if you issued the invitation, her parents would let her stay with me for a little while. She could travel to England with us, if…when you must go and fight again.” She licked the tip of her finger and picked up breadcrumbs littering the table top, saying in a low voice, “I would draw much comfort from her presence at such a time.”
Daniel was silent for a moment, unsure whether he wanted to share his wife with Julia. It was bad enough having Will around so much of the time. But that was selfish of him, he decided. She had made no secret of her fears over the prospect of another battle, and they were not fears he would make light of. If Julia’s company would give her comfort and strength, then he would not deny it.
“Very well,” he said. “You may take my invitation to Lady Morris in the morning. I will write it tonight.”
But the invitation did not get written that night. An imperative knocking abruptly sounded at the front door, bringing Daniel to his feet with an exclamation of annoyance. “I trust that is not Will again.”
“Of course it is not,” Henrietta said with a touch of indignation as she defended her friend. “He would not come without invitation at this time of night. You know he would not.”
“I suppose I do,” Daniel agreed, going to the dining room door as he heard Hilde struggling with the bolts in the hall. “Why, Connaught, what the devil’s amiss to bring you out at this time? Come in and take wine.”
“Thank’ee, Drummond.” William Connaught came into the dining room, his usually ponderous mien enlivened by an air of excitement. “Lady Drummond, I do beg your pardon for disturbing you at supper.”
“Not at all,” Henrietta said politely. “Pray join us. D’ye care for some venison pasty?”
“Nay, I have supped, thank’ee. But I’ll be glad of wine.” He sat down and looked around the table with that same portentous air. “Drummond, news has just arrived that the Scots have crowned His Majesty at Scone. ’Tis a direct challenge to Parliament—one they cannot ignore.”
Daniel whistled softly, and Henrietta, feeling suddenly queasy, took a deep gulp of her wine. So, it had come at last—the inevitable that she had prayed would somehow be averted. Her husband would take sword, with so many other husbands and fathers, in a battle that both sides believed they fought for honor and principle, and in the name of God. And she would watch and wait, not caring who won or lost just so long as this husband and father came away from the field sound of wind and limb.
Daniel glanced across the table at her, reading her thoughts in her pallor and the liquid depths of those big brown eyes. “’Twill be some time, love, before Cromwell can respond to the challenge. We must wait for order from His Majesty.”
She managed a wan smile. “Then I will delay my fears ’till then.”
“I will call upon Lady Morris myself in the morning,” he said, hoping to comfort her.
Henrietta just nodded, feeling as if some natural justice was at work. She had used her fear as an added inducement to persuade Daniel to do what she wished; now it seemed she had received her just deserts, had somehow provoked the ill news. Did Daniel consider it to be ill news? Of course he did not.
Wordlessly, she clung to him when they were at last able to retire; but he had no need of words to tell him what she was feeling. He held her for a long time, imparting the reassurance of his strength until he could feel the peace of acceptance enter her, then he made love to her with slow gentleness, leading her down a long, winding road to oblivion. And then, when he knew her to be truly at peace, he possessed her again with a fierce passion that exorcized the demons of fear…for them both, he realized with a flash of self-knowledge the instant before all possibility of coherent thought was lost to him and the maelstrom engulfed them both.
“I love you,” she whispered against the salt-sweet slickness of his chest, where his heart still pounded beneath her cheek as she curled into his embrace.
“And I you, my elf.” He reached down to stroke the soft curve of her bottom with a lethargic hand.
“’Twould be a criminal act to keep apart two people who love each other in this way,” she murmured. “Do you not agree?”
“Utterly criminal, elf.” He yawned mightily. “But not as criminal as keeping me from my sleep after exhausting me so thoroughly.” He kissed the top of her head and fell instantly asleep.
His wife followed suit, but not before she had decided that he had given his implicit approval of her efforts to ensure just such a happy conclusion for Will and Julie.
When she awoke in a cloud-dark dawn, this was also her first thought. It made her feel immensely more cheerful, for some reason. Propping herself on one elbow, she leaned over Daniel’s sleeping figure, drinking in the strong lines of his face that even unconsciousness could not weaken; the sharply delineated eyebrows; the long, curling black lashes that many a maiden would envy; the firm mouth, now relaxed. Without the habitual humorous quirk of his waking countenance, and the gentle amusement in the sharp black eyes, there was something a little intimidating about him, she found. Her hand roamed over his body, slipping beneath the covers to slide over his belly and between his thighs. With a contented smile, she felt the softness stir and harden beneath her gently squeezing fingers. She reached further, her fingers twining in the crisp, curly hair to caress the twin globes filling and hardening in their turn.
“What are you doing?” Daniel’s sleepy voice, that note of amusement lurking richly in its depths, drifted down.
“Do you not know?” she exclaimed in mock amazement. “And I thought I was doing rather well. Clearly, I should redouble my efforts.” With an agile twist, she dived beneath the covers, seeking him with her mouth in the warm darkness where the loamy scents of arousal, the languid melding of limbs and skin, mingled to create a hothouse and the flower of passion sprang into bloom at the first dampening stroke of her tongue.
Daniel yielded to the glory of the moment, his hands running over her pliant back, pressing into her spine, kneading her buttocks, drawing her backward until he could match her dewy caresses with his own, and the morning exploded with shared pleasure.
Daniel was in shirt and britches, humming smugly to himself as he shaved, and Henrietta was still lying naked and languidly abed, enjoying the moment of lassitude before she must rise and put on the day, when an urgent tapping came at the door.
“Daddy!” It was Lizzie’s voice and Daniel went instantly to open the door.
“What is it, love?”
“’Tis Nan.” Lizzie was still in her smock and nightcap and carried an air of importance mixed with alarm. “I think she has the fever, and Mistress Kierston has gone to church.”
“I think ’tis time the church put the bread in Mistress Kierston’s belly,” Daniel muttered for Harry’s ears, before striding into the passage.
Henrietta struggled into her smock and tumbled out of bed, following him into the children’s bedchamber. Nan was tossing and turning, kicking off the bedcovers.
“My head aches,” she moaned fretfully, as Daniel leaned over her, placing his hand on her forehead.
“She’s burning,” he said, unable to conceal his anxiety. “Pray God ’tis not the smallpox.”
“I doubt it is,” Henrietta said, feeling the child’s brow for herself. “There’s been no cases in The Hague for several months. Do you go about your business, for I know you have much to do today. I will look after her.”
Daniel’s uncertainty was for a moment writ clear upon his face. There were many things Henrietta could do better than anyone with his children, but she was not skilled at nursing, knew almost nothing of the art if the truth be told. Yet there was something about her present demeanor that inspired confidence, and she returned his look with a tiny smile that contained the hint of challenge.
“Very well,” he said quietly. “Mistress Kierston should be back soon.”
“I do not need Mistress Kierston,” she said, turning to Lizzie, who stood by the door, wide-eyed and big-eared. “Hurry and get dressed, Lizzie; then you may fetch some lavender water and bathe Nan’s forehead while I prepare a soothing draught.”
Daniel hesitated for one more second, then turned and went back to the bedchamber to complete his own dressing. When he returned to the children’s room, Henrietta asked him calmly to lift Nan while she removed the child’s soaked smock so that she could bathe her with the cool lavender water. He did so, holding the hot little body gently as Nan moaned and complained that her skin was sore.
“There’s no sign of a rash,” Henrietta reassured him, seeing the alarm in his eye. “’Tis only because of the fever. It’s always so. D’ye not remember from when you were ill yourself?”
He did and nodded ruefully. “I seem to forget everything sensible when they are unwell.”
Henrietta only smiled and slipped a clean smock over Nan’s head. “There, she will be more comfortable now. You may put her back on the bed and go off and do what you have to. You must have many people to see after last night’s news.”
“Are you trying to be rid of me?” he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.
“Aye,” she confirmed affably. “I am. You will worry too much if you stay here, and there is nothing you can do that I cannot do as well.” She shooed him toward the door. “You can go downstairs and make sure Lizzie has eaten her eggs. You know what she’s like about breakfast if no one is watching her, and then she gets so cross and hungry long before dinner.”
He kissed the tip of her nose and did as she said, reaching the dining room just in time to forestall his elder daughter’s attempt to dispose of the detested eggs out of the window.
“Let’s pretend I did not see you,” he suggested amiably. “Sit down and eat them all up.”
Lizzie complied without demur, far too relieved by his suggestion to do more than wrinkle her nose at the laden platter in front of her. “Is Harry going to look after Nan?”
“It would seem so,” her father replied, helping himself to bacon. “You will have the great pleasure of Mistress Kierston’s undivided attention.”
“But d’ye not think I should help Harry?” Lizzie regarded him hopefully across the table.
“And leave poor Mistress Kierston with nothing to do?” he exclaimed in mock horror. “How could you be so unkind, Lizzie?”
Lizzie did not look as if she appreciated this little joke. She finished her breakfast with a moue of distaste. “May I go, Daddy?”
He glanced at her empty platter and nodded. “Ask Harry to come down and have her own breakfast. You may sit with Nan until Mistress Kierston returns.”
Lizzie scampered off, and Henrietta came down within five minutes, just as Daniel was preparing to leave the house. “How is she?”
“Sleeping,” Henrietta replied. “’Tis the best medicine.”
“Aye.” He stood frowning, his hand on the door latch. “Should I summon the physician, d’ye think?”
“We will see how she is at dinnertime. Did Lizzie eat her breakfast?”
“With a degree of encouragement. I arrived just in time to rescue the eggs.” He still hesitated at the door. “You had best have your own, Harry.”
“I am not in the least hungry. Now do go, Daniel.” She gave him a little push. “D’ye not trust me to look after things?”
Daniel didn’t know whether he did or not. She still struck him as such a little person, but she did seem to be radiating a fair degree of confidence at the moment. “I will be back as soon as I can,” he said, and left her smiling in the hall.
When he returned at dinnertime, he found all peaceful, Henrietta calmly in charge in the sickroom, Mistress Kierston and an obedient if resentful Lizzie at their lessons in the schoolroom, the cook in the kitchen, from whence emanated toothsome aromas, and Hilde polishing the furniture with beeswax.
“I cannot imagine why I expected to find chaos,” he said, bending over Nan, who offered him something resembling a smile. “How’s my little one?” He kissed the hot forehead.
“I’m very sick,” Nan informed him in a croaky voice. “But not as sick as this morning.”
Daniel glanced at Henrietta, who nodded in confirmation. “Well, that’s good to hear,” he said cheerfully, sitting on the bed. “Does your head not pain you anymore?”
“Not much,” Nan croaked. “Harry’s been playing her guitar and it makes me go to sleep.”
“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or not,” Harry said with a chuckle. “I’m going to fetch you some broth, and Daddy will help you eat it.”
Lizzie catapulted into the room at this point. “You do not know how lucky y’are to be sick, Nan,” she announced disgustedly. “I have been learning dreary psalms all morning, and I think it’s quite stupid.”
“I do not think y’are qualified to be the judge of that, my child,” Daniel said. “And ’tis certainly not an opinion I care to hear you express.”
Lizzie, crestfallen, looked at her stepmother for support. Harry winked at her. “Run down to the kitchen and ask Cook to give you a bowl of broth for Nan.”
Lizzie disappeared, grinning, and Daniel, who had not missed the wink, said sternly, “If I take issue with Lizzie, I do not expect you to undermine me, Henrietta.”
“But they are dreary,” she said. “And it is stupid to waste a whole morning learning them. There must be more useful things she can learn.”
“Like self-discipline and restraint,” he declared. “Learning psalms will teach her both.”
Henrietta’s eyebrows lifted in skeptical response and Daniel could not help laughing. “Oh, mayhap y’are right. ’Tis probably past time I reviewed matters with Mistress Kierston.”
“Will ye tell her we’re not to learn psalms?” Nan’s question reminded them that they had an audience, and Daniel shook his head ruefully at Henrietta.
“That is no concern of yours, Nan,” he said firmly. “Here’s Lizzie with your soup.”
“Daddy’s goin’ to tell Mistress Kierston that we’re not to learn psalms anymore,” Nan, shamelessly taking advantage of the license permitted an invalid, informed her sister as Daniel lifted her against his shoulder.
“I did not say that,” her father insisted. “I said any conversations I have with your governess are no concern of yours.”
“But that’s what you meant.” Nan opened her mouth for the spoonful of soup he held.
Lizzie clapped her hands gleefully. “Will ye tell her this afternoon, Daddy?”
Henrietta doubled over with laughter in the doorway as Daniel floundered. “Get out of here,” he ordered. “Y’are nothing but trouble!”
Still laughing, she went downstairs.
Daniel joined her in a short while. “You are the most appalling influence,” he declared. “I am beginning to regret the errand I ran for you this morning. You do not deserve the consideration.”
“Oh, did you visit Lady Morris?” In all the morning’s concerns, she had completely forgotten that complication in her life.
“I did. Canary?”
“If you please.” She took the goblet and waited patiently for him to continue. When, wickedly, he remained silent, apparently savoring his wine, she came over, stood on tiptoe, and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I crave pardon for being nothing but trouble. I had thought I was rather useful this morning.”
He dipped a finger in his wine and very deliberately traced the curve of her lips. Her tongue darted to lick the wine-tipped finger, and, smiling, he repeated the process, clearly enjoying the funny little game, until she suddenly sucked his finger into her mouth and closed her pearly teeth upon it. “Vixen!”
“Tell me what Lady Morris had to say.”
For answer, he took a deep draught of wine and clasped her head firmly, holding the wine in his mouth as he slowly brought his lips against hers, forcing them open and filling the warm, sweet cavern of her mouth with the wine from his own. Henrietta found it the most enticing sensation, the coolness of the wine mingling with the warmth of his probing tongue, the taste of wine and Daniel so deliciously melded that she forgot all else in her utter concentration on this unusual and entrancing kiss.
When he finally took his mouth from hers, she remained perfectly motionless, as if her head were still held, face upturned, eyes closed, lips slightly parted. “More?” he asked. She nodded vigorously, still without opening her eyes, and he chuckled. “Such a sensual little thing y’are, my elf.” Taking another draught of wine, he kissed her again.
“Oh!”
The startled gasp from the door brought an abrupt end to the game. Daniel looked over Harry’s head to where Lizzie stood, wide-eyed.
“I thought ’twas dinnertime,” she mumbled.
“It is,” Henrietta said cheerfully, turning around. “There’s no need to be uncomfortable, Lizzie, just because Daddy was kissing me. Married people do it all the time.”
“They also prefer other people to knock upon doors before they open them,” Daniel said wryly. “Try to remember that in future.” A brisk pat sent the child ahead of him into the dining room. “I give you good day, Mistress Kierston.”
“Good day, Sir Daniel.” The governess was standing at her usual place at the table and curtsied to her employer before turning her attention to Lizzie. “You have neglected to comb your hair, Elizabeth. I do beg your pardon, Sir Daniel, but I was busy with Nan and failed to notice.”
“I am certain we can overlook it today,” Henrietta said. “It has been a troublesome morning and Lizzie has been most helpful, has she not, Daniel?”
“I am sure of it,” he said, meeting his wife’s gleaming eye. “I do not think we need worry ourselves over a little untidiness on this occasion, Mistress Kierston.” He began to carve the green goose, generously heaping the governess’s plate with the cuts he knew she preferred.
“Are we to have the pleasure of Julia’s company, Daniel?” Henrietta inquired, passing a dish of Jerusalem artichokes to Mistress Kierston, who was finding it impossible to maintain her air of hurt disapproval under these attentions.
“Lady Morris was happy to accept the invitation for Julia,” he responded. “Lizzie, do you prefer a wing or breast?”
“Both, please.” Lizzie’s appetite made up at dinner what it lacked at breakfast.
Henrietta helped the child to vegetables, her mind now running on another course. She must somehow let Will know of this success. He had been so wretched yesterday when he left them that she had ached for him in his unhappiness. But at that point she had not had time to formulate any plan and had had no opportunity to speak with him since. She would visit him after dinner. No, she could not do that, not with Nan still feverish. She had taken on that responsibility and would not hand it over to the governess. Daniel was bound to go out again, so would not be able to sit with the invalid. But Lizzie could take a message. The child was quite old enough to walk three streets and deliver a letter. She must take Hilde with her as escort, but that should prove no problem.
The plan proved easy to implement. Lizzie was delighted to be given such responsibility and, since Will was one of her favorite people, even happier at the prospect of visiting him. Nan had woken from a long nap, fretful and demanding that Harry read to her. Mistress Kierston had retired to her own chamber with her sewing, telling Lady Drummond that she would be happy to attend in the sickroom whenever she was required, and Daniel had gone out about the king’s business.
Harry wrote a brief note to Will, telling him that she had a plan and he was to come to the house as soon as possible, explaining why she could not come to him herself.
“Now, you know the way to Will’s lodging, Lizzie.” She folded the paper carefully and handed it to the child. “Just tell Hilde that she is to leave her tasks for the moment and accompany you. ’Twill not take you above half an hour.”
Lizzie, with an air of great importance, put the letter into the pocket of her apron.
“Wear your thick cloak,” Henrietta said. “There’s a bitter wind.”
The child ran down to the kitchen in search of the maidservant, who was nowhere to be found. Lizzie stood thoughtfully in the empty kitchen. Hilde was presumably to be found in the attic, taking a little time to herself after her labors of the morning. It didn’t seem very kind to expect her to go forth into the freezing afternoon when Lizzie was quite capable of making such a journey unaccompanied. Besides, it would be much more amusing to go alone. On which undeniable conclusion, Lizzie set off.
It was at the corner of the first street that she ran into her father.
“Where on earth are you going?” Daniel stared in astonishment at the small cloaked figure of his daughter.
“To see Will. Harry wants me to take him a message because she couldn’t go herself because she was looking after Nan.” The explanation poured without punctuation from her lips, but did not appear to have the reassuring effect intended.
“Henrietta sent you out to run such an errand alone?” he demanded in disbelief.
Lizzie shuffled her feet on the cobbles. “She said I should take Hilde, but I could not find her and ’tis not so very far.”
Daniel stood in frowning silence. Just why did Harry need to send messages to Will? Not one day could pass, it seemed, without some communication between them. And she had no right to involve Lizzie in whatever it was. If she needed an errand run, then she could have asked him. The fact that she had not done so struck Daniel as most suspicious, merely confirming his earlier conviction that his wife and Master Osbert shared a secret from which the husband was excluded. It was time to put a stop to it, that husband now decided.
“Give me the message,” he commanded.
Lizzie looked uncertain. She had no desire to relinquish her commission. “But ’tis Harry’s message for Will,” she ventured.
“I am not going to be obliged to repeat myself, am I?”
The consequences of further procrastination were not to be invited. Lizzie delved beneath her cloak, into the pocket of her apron, and handed over the folded paper.
“Thank you.” Daniel slipped the document into the pocket of his doublet. “I will deliver it for you. ’Tis not meet that you should roam the streets unaccompanied, as ye well know. Come, I will take you home.”
He escorted her back down the street to the house, saw her inside, then strode off in search of Master Osbert.
Henrietta heard the front door and emerged from the sickroom, leaning over the banister. “That was quick, Lizzie.” Then she saw the child’s downcast expression. “What’s amiss, love? And where’s Hilde?”
“Daddy has taken the message to Will.” Lizzie climbed the stairs without her customary bounce. “I could not find Hilde so I went alone, and I bumped into Daddy and he said it was not meet for me to be out alone so he brought me back and took the message himself.” She paused for breath. “He was not at all pleased. Should I not have given him the message?”
“Of course you should,” Henrietta said promptly, hiding her dismay. Lizzie must not be allowed to imagine her stepmother held secrets from her father, or that she would advocate filial disobedience. “Why would you think otherwise? But you should not have gone alone, you know that. You had best go to Mistress Kierston and do some sewing.” Her tone was sharp, and Lizzie, unaccustomed to being chided by her stepmother, obeyed, unhappily but without a murmur of protest.
Henrietta returned to Nan’s bedside and settled down uneasily to wait for whatever was about to transpire.