The Brewer’s Tale

Much to my delight, the steady seas and Midsummer’s Eve brought a reply to my letter to Sir Leander and, to my shock, one from Tobias as well. Too busy to read them at first, I tucked them in my bodice, intending to read Tobias’s later and, like a fine repast, savour every word his master had written.

Midsummer’s Eve was a time for celebration and yet, as was our wont of late, we eschewed the town’s festivities to create our own. Even so, all day long people arrived at the church to set the bonfire that would blaze long into the night. Minstrels, jesters and other mummers who would perform appeared in the neighbouring yard, their colourful costumes, loud hails and cheers as well as music adding jollity to our day. There would be food, dancing and much merrymaking, all of which meant the alehouse was extraordinarily busy.

Perhaps to make up for missing the public festivities, Blanche outdid herself, preparing venison pie, baked sturgeon, cheese tarts, lamprey, and custard swimming with almond milk, as well as beautifully shaped marchpane for us to relish. We ate late in the afternoon, around none, Father Clement briefly joining us, his efforts to persuade us next door unsuccessful. We took it in turns to tend the alehouse. Conversation flowed, and laughter. It wasn’t until Father Clement left to honour vespers, the servants closed the alehouse and began to clear away dinner, and Louisa took the twins to the nursery, that I had the opportunity to retire to the solar and read my letters undisturbed.

Outside, the flames from the bonfire licked the sky, the smoke spiralling into the evening. Laughter, song and good cheer accompanied me as, tempering the tiny thrills that raced through my chest, I broke the seal on Sir Leander’s missive carefully.

I cannot say what happened to alter the attachment I felt growing between myself and Sir Leander, but as I read the first few lines of his letter, the light of anticipation burning inside me all day was swiftly doused. The brevity of his note merely enhanced this. With a sinking heart, I read.

I send my greetings and God’s blessing and mine to you, Mistress Sheldrake (why the formality when I believed us exempt from such things?). I’ve given some thought to young Karel’s situation and feel it would be in everyone’s best interests if you accepted Muire’s most generous offer. If Karel should excel as a clerk, which I’m in no doubt he will, then being apprenticed to the likes of Muire, with his connection to the Justiciars, means a career in law is not out of the question. Tobias informs me your father began in law before turning to a merchant’s life, so legal blood may yet be proven to flow in Karel’s veins. While this might go against your better judgement, to take help from the husband of someone who has caused you grievous injury, it’s to the future that you must look no matter what the past may have seemed to promise.

May God have you in his keeping and give you the grace to do as well as you know I would want.

Leander Rainford.

I froze, my back straight, my face unmoving, the letter utterly still in my rigid fingers. What was this? Where was the warmth? Our mutual understanding? Our mutual admiration? Or had that been a figment of my colourful imaginings? What happened to, ‘I am yours to command’? Or, ‘All it would take is your expressed need’? It was as if the friendship I believed we’d nurtured had somehow wasted away. What had I done? My chest became heavy, solid. I know it was unreasonable, but until that exact moment, I didn’t know how much I depended on Sir Leander to offer me hope — and not just over Karel. I confess, I’d secretly longed for another solution to Karel’s situation, one that Sir Leander would provide and for which I’d be most grateful. But instead, he pushed me towards a course which filled me with despair, as it announced to the world that our standing had forever changed. Allowing Karel to become an apprentice to one of Master Makejoy’s acquaintances confirmed how far we’d fallen on the social scale.

I put Sir Leander’s letter aside and opened Tobias’s. It was a few pages and my eyes flew across the untidy words.

Greetings dear sister,

I trust this finds you and the twins well and in God’s good graces. Sir Leander told me of Will Heymonger’s death and you have my deepest sympathy. It would be remiss of me, Anneke, if I did not remind you that I warned of what might happen if you ignored the advice of those who know better and proceeded with the alehouse. It is therefore God’s judgement that you now bear the consequences of your wilful sins and foolish decisions, and I hope you’re doing this with good grace and many prayers. I expect that if you’ve not already relocated to Cousin Hiske’s that you will have done so by the time we next meet. Understand, Anneke, there’s no shame in companionship, not even to one such as our cousin and, over time, memories of what you did and what your poor choices led to will be forgotten. For certes, if from this day forth you demonstrate the good sense and modesty which I know resides within you, they will be forgotten by me.

If Tobias had been before me at this moment, I think, God forgive me, I would have slapped him again. The self-righteousness, the smugness, was more than I could bear. I scanned the rest of the letter quickly. He wrote about his travels along the Dalmatian Coast, the islands they encountered, the people. Lacking Sir Leander’s playfulness and eye for detail, his tales didn’t hold my interest, not when he held such a poor opinion of me.

Disheartened and about to toss it aside, the last few paragraphs caught my eye.

I also write to inform you that though we’d hoped to return to Elmham Lenn before the end of summer, another pleasure has been afforded us. Sir Leander and I will be docking in London where, in the first week of August, my master will fulfil long-held plans of marrying his betrothed, the Lady Cecilia, widow of the former Chancellor of the Exchequer, Sir Walter Barnham …

My vision became distorted. The roaring in my ears grew. Marrying? Cecilia Barnham? Long-held plans? I tried to place the name, conjure a face. Why, she was a very wealthy widow, but old … so old … my eyes dropped back to the letter.

Good King Henry arranged this excellent match as a favour to Sir Leander’s father for, as you can imagine, being the youngest son and carrying an affliction as my lord does, a suitable union was difficult to arrange. But, typical of my master, who does not let that which would defeat a lesser man discommode him, he manages not only to find an heiress, but a noble one as well.

While Sir Leander wished to bear these good tidings to you and does intend to do so, I would not be fulfilling my brotherly duties if I did not inform you first. Perforce, I am also using this opportunity to call you to task once more. This gives me no pleasure, Anneke, but it must be said. It is apparent to me, and no doubt others, that you harbour improper feelings for my master, ones unbecoming of your station, as your shameless display Christmas Day and frequent missives to him attest. It is my solemn wish that upon learning of his forthcoming nuptials you will banish whatever foolish fancies or imprudent desires you may have accommodated, for such are the vagaries of females I do not doubt that you imagined some romantic attachment between yourself and my lord. Sir Leander was always destined to make a fine marriage and you were prideful to think otherwise. I hope this news reminds you of your place and duties. For now, you must set your sights on restoring your reputation and the name of the family in the hope that one day I can secure for you a match worthy of a Sheldrake.

I know you will add your felicitations to those I’ve already expressed to Sir Leander and I will be sure to pass these on.

May God have you, Karel and Betje in his keeping,

Written in haste, Trinity Sunday,

Your loving brother,

Tobias Sheldrake

Waves of emotion washed over me. A mixture of disbelief, outrage that Tobias could presume to second-guess my feelings and address me so brutally, and frustration I couldn’t defend myself, raged within. Most of all, I felt sadness. Sadness that my brother could write to me thus and sadness that Sir Leander hadn’t seen fit to tell me himself about his pending nuptials. I now understood the coldness in his letter. He’d already begun the process of distancing himself, of placing me at arm’s length.

Cecilia Barnham. Cecilia Rainford. Lady Cecilia Rainford. Why hadn’t he told me?

There’d never been so much as a hint of it. But why would there be? Sir Leander was under no obligation to confide in me, to discuss his private affairs … I knew so little about him. Only that, whatever I may have thought at our first encounter, I was wrong, hasty … Just as he confessed he’d been about me.

The way he kissed me … I thought … I hoped … I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply. I’d no right to hurt so.

I could hear my heart beating in my ears, feel it hammering against my ribs. It was hard to breathe. Tears pricked my eyes, and I fought them back. The noises from the churchyard next door were more subdued but no less joyous. They simply compounded my growing misery.

Opening my eyes minutes later, the room was darkened, the melting candles throwing only the faintest of lights as the velvet hues of evening and the crackle of the church’s bonfire closed around me. I glanced at the letter again and, though it was too dim to make out the words, they were burned into my memory. I wanted to deny Tobias’s accusations, point out to him how ludicrous, how priggish … Only … I did have feelings for Sir Leander. But they weren’t improper. How could they be, when they sprang from deep affection, friendship and trust?

As for my shameless display at Christmas, why, Sir Leander had initiated that kiss.

Aye, but you did answer his passion with your own …

Oh God. And I would do it again — over and over …

Holding Tobias’s letter at arm’s length, I stared at it, the words beginning to blur. Leander Rainford was getting married. Soon. He was my confidant, a friend, nothing more. Nothing more … I wasn’t a fool. I wasn’t.

Except in your wildest and most secret imaginings …

Perhaps there, but only there, where dreams could run free …

‘You’re wrong about my feelings for Sir Leander Rainford, Tobias Sheldrake,’ I spoke to the empty room, my voice quivering. ‘I do not love him. Love and even imprudent desires have never entered my reckoning, nor will they. Not ever. Not where your master is concerned. Marriage is a call for celebration, not rebuke, nor false fancy.’ I picked up my goblet and drained it. ‘Do not concern yourself with my heart or, for that matter, my reputation, Tobias. They’re mine to give, mine to make; and I will do so.’

Tossing my head, I walked slowly from the solar, proud that I’d shed not one tear.

Not yet.

THIRTY-TWO