Chapter Ten
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Father in so fine a spirit.’ Elizabeth signalled towards the banqueting table groaning with food.
The apples were studded with cloves and the mead flowed from shallow flagons like a waterfall. The tiers of cheese and bread that had been arranged to look like a wild boar had been applauded as they entered the room and were now almost unrecognisable. The boar itself had received a standing ovation.
‘Of course he’s happy.’ Alice adjusted her mask. ‘We’re surrounded by a lavish affair that doesn’t deplete his coffers.’
Elizabeth laughed. ‘True.’
Her father was easy to spot, with his hands full of food and his cheeks red from the candles and the people around him. He was always happy. Even their mother’s death hadn’t deterred him for long, but that was to be expected given their arranged marriage.
Being reminded of that part of her childhood only darkened Alice’s restless mood. ‘Although when hasn’t Father been happy at a party?’
‘No, this time it’s something else. I think he’s been happier since he’s begun spending so much time in London.’
London and her father and his mistresses. Always his mistresses. ‘I haven’t seen anything different. He’s the same as he’s always been.’
She was a wealthy wool merchant’s daughter and the King wanted gold and silver. So, though her father hadn’t quite forgiven King Edward for increasing his wool tax, her father was flighty enough to still be impressed by royalty.
The King, seeing an easy way of appeasing at least one rich merchant, often asked him to Court. And so Father’s mistresses had begun. Alice had been surrounded by them during her brief stay. She hadn’t liked that any more than playing the game for a seal in the Tower’s darkened passageways. She shivered just thinking of the dark.
‘No, there are rumours—’ Elizabeth said.
‘Can we not talk about Father?’ Alice couldn’t take any more. She’d been back for months already, and the Christmas festivities were truly starting now. She’d thought there would be a lead or something she could follow regarding the Seal, but there was nothing. Nothing...and her family was at risk.
This was something she could not fail at.
‘What is wrong?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘Your foot is beating like a hummingbird’s heart.’
She stilled her foot, but it didn’t help her restlessness. ‘Nothing’s the matter.’
Tonight there would be plenty of distractions and she could search Lyman’s private rooms. With any luck during the mummers’ dance she could search all the rooms.
‘Well, you are certainly in a foul mood of late, and tonight, it’s worse. If you mean to find a proper suitor—’
‘Don’t. Not tonight.’
‘Why not tonight? That is why you’re here. Lyman is throwing the largest party of the season, he’s got us wearing masks, and he can’t stop staring at you.’
Lyman was no doubt looking at her breasts.
‘Although why you’re interested in him is beyond me.’
She was interested if he was a traitor. What if he asked her to dance? She didn’t know what was worse. That any one of the men she danced with could be a traitor. Or that after she’d risked her reputation by searching their private rooms she could be forced to marry one of them. How could she ever marry Lyman?
‘I believe he may be misunderstood.’
‘Speaking of which—I think our father has changed.’
Her father was currently eating himself into a stupor. ‘I thought we had finished that subject.’
Elizabeth rested her hand against her arm and Alice stopped scanning the room. ‘I’m trying to tell you there’s someone special for him. He’s been seeing only her.’
Her father had been supposed to see only their mother, but that hadn’t stopped him from being with others. Still, it was hard to be angry with her father.He was always so happy, and her mother had not been miserable. In fact, she’d adored their father. Her father, from all she could see, only cared for himself.
Alice had never understood their relationship. Maybe that was why she took things too seriously. Why she tried to help others. Because her father never thought of anyone but himself. But if she sometimes thought of others...she always thought of Hugh.
‘Where is Mary?’ she asked instead.
‘Being doted upon, as always. Her having married an even wealthier landowner has made her quite popular. She’s sitting in the other room.’
The smaller room was much warmer, with plenty of cushions and sofas. Alice had looked at it longingly before heading to the hall. She needed to find a traitor, not rest in comfort.
‘Why are we dressed for a masquerade when everyone can guess who we are anyway?’
‘There are a few who look unfamiliar,’ Elizabeth said.
‘Oh, you mean the Alistairs? Truly, no one can guess them when already she is weaving around.’
Elizabeth covered her laugh. ‘All right, maybe not those two.’
Alice sighed. ‘I can’t believe Mary’s here. She’s due any day.’
‘Nothing will stop her from visiting home during Christmas season—you know that. Although her husband is certainly trying to keep her off her feet.’
‘And where’s John?’
‘Talking with the burghers even now. He’s constantly working.’
Elizabeth sounded all too proud of that fact. As the most prosperous wool merchant and landowner, it should have been up to her father to be mayor of Swaffham, and he had played at it several years ago. Played at it poorly. When it had been suggested that John become mayor instead, her father had readily agreed. He got the power of his wealth and John got to do all the work.
Yes, the Fenton family had all the power in Swaffham. Both her sisters had married well.
And then there was her. A spy.
‘Mitchell is looking quite handsome tonight,’ Elizabeth pointed out.
Alice forced herself to concentrate on those around her. Wearing a mask, but still recognisable, Mitchell was laughing with other merchants. There was a sense of pride about him again. She was all too happy to see it.
‘He should be looking tired,’ she said teasingly.
‘Oh, you’re not turning into a tyrant, are you? You know you are lucky Mitchell has the temperament he has. Not many men would allow such industry with a woman.’
Mitchell was gracious, but he was also desperate. She and her sisters knew they were lucky that their father cared for no industry at all. Mary most of all, because she thrived on it when she lived at home. But Elizabeth and she also had an understanding, since they’d grown up with the farms and the sheep.
Although Alice cared more for helping those less fortunate, she couldn’t help but be excited by the project. Despite the weather and the season, they had been able to get more carpenters and tradesmen. The barn restoration was coming along nicely, and supplies for the Great Spinning Wheels were soon to be delivered.
‘I’m surprised you’re not exhausted,’ Elizabeth said.
She was exhausted—which didn’t help with her restlessness or her anxiety. She wanted to spend time with William, with the barn and the families it would help.
Instead she was scanning a Great Hall, with anxiety fraying her every nerve.
‘I am tired,’ she said. ‘But thrilled. You should see the barn. They are repairing the west wall and adding a fireplace, and I’m thinking we need another fireplace on the other side, too.’
‘With all that wool and wood? I can’t imagine the damage if a spark is let loose!’
‘But in the winter the women may argue on who sits near the fire.’
‘Why will the spinners argue?’ Mitchell said, joining them.
Alice moved to make room and gave him a smile. ‘In the winter, with only one fireplace, they’ll all have to take turns to sit near it.’
‘You want more fires in the building?’ Mitchell shook his head. ‘The workers have several fires lit and the supplies are lying near. Already we’ve had near misses. Can’t imagine what that would do inside a closed building.’
‘Is there something you can put between the sparks and the spinners?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘I’ll see if it’s possible,’ Mitchell said. ‘But these men have been gathered hastily, and most haven’t worked together before. Their differing opinions only increase in the worsening weather. Something happened today I’ve been wanting to tell you about.’
As Mitchell launched into a surprisingly humorous story, Alice couldn’t help laughing. Elizabeth was right. He was looking handsome tonight; he was also quite charming. How easy it would be to fall in love with him. They would have moments like these to share. They both knew the wool trade, and with his ideas and partnership, they could be successful.
Except, as handsome as he was, her heart didn’t stop at the mere thought of him. He wasn’t, nor could he ever be, Hugh.
* * *
Over the din and overly bright laughter, the sight of Alice stunned him. Hugh stood thawing from the cold in Lyman’s Great Hall, but it wasn’t the fires or candles warming him—it was her.
He had expected the crowds to hide Alice’s petite form, or her mask to cover her turned up nose, but his eyes unfailingly found her.
Her golden-brown hair gleamed in the candlelight. Some elaborate confection that curled and framed the face that he had never forgotten, but which had changed since he’d left. She was even more exquisitely beautiful to him than before. Tonight it was painful.
The heat of the crowd and the room had brought a flush to the creaminess of her cheeks. Her grey eyes danced behind the light blue mask more brightly than the flickering candles.
The gown she wore was a blistering bright yellow that skimmed over curves that shouldn’t be noticeable under the acres of cloth covering her, and yet the style and ties of her surcoat tightened the blue chemise beneath, accentuating what every man coveted.
There was no denying her form, no stopping his body tightening in recognising it. And he wasn’t even close to her. God, he needed to be close to her.
Ever since their meeting at the market, lust, need and raw want had haunted his days. It wasn’t because of her words, or the fact she could be the King’s mistress, but how she was with the children and workers. He’d tried to look at her as only a pawn in this game he played, but couldn’t. With her so lovely, and knowing her heart was still kind, he could barely breathe.
‘It’s hasn’t changed, has it?’ Eldric said.
He pretended to look around, though he didn’t want to see any of it. Too much reminded him of a past he wanted to forget. The fact that the town of Swaffham had become wealthier since he’d left did little to improve his mood.
‘It’s prospered since I left,’ he said.
He had some wealth in his own right and he was a knight. Any lineage he had now was his own. But returning to this town only reminded him of the time when he had been helpless against the disparity between his own life and that of Alice’s family. Of a time when he had known he wasn’t good enough for her.
Coin he might have now, but he still wasn’t good enough for her.
‘Lyman’s hall has had many improvements...’ Eldric interrupted his thoughts ‘...but we both know you were looking at her.’
‘You wouldn’t be much of a spy if you hadn’t noticed.’
‘You watch her quite a bit.’
‘Something you wouldn’t notice unless you are watching me. And is there a reason I shouldn’t watch her? Perhaps you don’t like the injuries she gives to you?’
‘Are we to talk about St Martin’s dinner again? Because I thought I’d explained my interest in her is harmless.’
‘Yet you showed it anyway.’
Hugh still didn’t know why Eldric, who had ignored Alice since then, had flirted with her that night. Had Eldric been testing his regard when it came to her? Hugh was always either near or with Alice. No doubt Eldric had his answer regarding Hugh’s feelings by now.
‘Her sister says she intends to marry. Best get used to it if you won’t pursue her.’
Hugh adjusted his shoulders. ‘Tell me again why you are here?’
‘I have told you,’ Eldric said.
He was trying to find the archer who had marked him.
‘I haven’t seen you making enquiries.’
‘Perhaps it is you who watch me?’ Eldric suggested. ‘Remember, I was here before you arrived. Maybe I should be making enquiries of you.’ Eldric took a drink and waved his goblet. ‘Anyway, it’s winter now, and I’m for warmth. The King knows where to reach me.’
And Edward knew how to reach him...and Alice. All here in Swaffham.
He knew Eldric’s duties, and he knew his own. What he still hadn’t figured out were Alice’s. Days now of watching her, and still he couldn’t come up with any answers. Who was she?
Time did change people, but her lively behaviour...her provocative words...were beyond what he’d expected. It was as if she had become someone else.
And he couldn’t accept such a change.
Naïve, perhaps, but in all the corrupted world he had hoped she remained constant. Many a dark night, after many a dark deed when he had blackened his own soul, he had thought of her. As if simply knowing her made him a better person.
Yet she was more beautiful than she had ever been. Though he wanted her more, needed her more, she had changed.
Her overly bright laughter, her extravagant gowns, her attendance at parties. Her private meeting with the King, her blunt words to him. This woman who attended tonight could command a king. She commanded him though they’d never touched.
But even so... It was too much of a change. He refused to believe her to have changed so much.
Especially in the ways she remained the same. The restoration of the barn, her laughing with that little girl, her kindness to the boy William. That was the Alice he recognised.
The other one who sparkled too brightly made him suspicious. Something was not as it should be.
As the Boar’s Head festivities spun around him, and distractions and drink flowed freely, he wondered if tonight he would find the truth.
‘The music’s good, at least,’ Eldric said. ‘The perfect opportunity to dance.’
Bemused, Hugh turned to his friend. ‘You dance?’
Eldric shrugged. ‘I’ve been known for it. Plus, there was this woman as we walked in. Did you see her?’
He had noticed no woman except Alice. He couldn’t stop thinking of what she had said to him at the market. Words that he had forced inside him, so he could do his duty, and follow her.
But he had forced them in and he couldn’t forget. They haunted him all day at the barn. Then in church there had been a flush to her cheeks, a curiosity and a hunger in her eyes that had burned through him. He had expected to see her there, but hadn’t expected—
‘Are you certain you did not see her? She came to about here.’ Eldric pointed to his lower chest. ‘And was about this big around.’
Hugh shook himself. He’d lose his head if he let his guard down. ‘It was a child.’
‘None of the children have masks,’ Eldric said. ‘And she had this look in her eyes... You didn’t see her? I would like to dance with her.’
Who he did see was Mitchell, his eyes roving over Alice as they laughed. Mitchell stepping closer to whisper in her ear.
‘Dancing’s not the reason why I’m here.’
Eldric’s brow rose. ‘There’s a reason you’re here?’
Distracted. Too comfortable. He truly would lose his head. A mere slip of his concentration and he had alluded to his orders. To watch Alice and all the Fentons, as he had told the King he would. At the same time to find some hint of a reason why Lyman would be the traitor with the Half-Thistle Seal. To at least point doubt so the King wouldn’t look too closely at him.
Hugh smiled. ‘Of course, there’s a reason. I can only supply so much ale when you’re drinking it.’
Eldric lifted his shoulder. ‘I’ve had enough of ale. I’m finding that woman.’
Hugh raised his glass as Eldric walked away. He didn’t want to move at all. From this vantage point he could watch every detail of Alice, but she hadn’t yet seen him.
What would it be like to dance with her? Had he been a spy for the King so long that all he could do was watch?
A carol had started. Groups of people were gathering in a circle, their right arms raised, their left clasping their partners. Grand circles of people that would become smaller. He knew this dance well. It was one of the few that allowed touch.
Soon either Lyman or Mitchell would ask Alice to dance. Would hold her hand as they circled each other and her skirts brushed their legs.
Like hell.
He wasn’t about to stand by watching another man...any man...hold her. Not while he had breath in his body.
* * *
Alice freely tapped her foot to release her restlessness. Elizabeth was busy talking to Mitchell and now Lyman had joined them, and she didn’t think either of them would notice.
Lyman came to tell them the mummers’ dance would soon begin. It would be the Wedding Dance this year. It was one of her favourites, but she would miss it. Because when the mummers were dancing she’d make her excuses to search his rooms.
She was getting good at excusing herself. All she needed to indicate was her need for the garderobe and then simply go somewhere else. To forage through desks, wardrobes and purses if she was lucky.
Most often there wouldn’t be enough time. At least tonight there’d be entertainment. If the dances didn’t provide enough distraction, the food and talk would.
She truly did need time tonight, since she’d been unlucky in other homes she’d searched. Part of it was the lack of time she had, the other was her lack of information. The King had provided no insight as to whether the Seal was wood or metal. If it was the size of a man’s hand or as tiny as a thumb. All she knew was that the impression it made was not very big. Which meant she looked for something possibly easily hidden.
How was she supposed to find it?
What would happen if she didn’t?
‘Do you want to dance?’
Alice stopped tapping her foot and turned to Hugh, who had caught her unawares.
And he continued to catch her unawares: his appearance was startling to her every sense. It seemed impossible that he had returned to Swaffham. And after all this time it should have been impossible for her to be so affected by him. And yet she was.
Tonight his clothes were as fine as any nobleman’s. The burgundy lines of his tunic framed his lithe build and were trimmed in velvet. The silver around his belt and boots glinted. During his time here his hair had grown, curling now around his collar. None of which softened the hard slant of his jaw or his piercing storm-filled gaze.
‘Which dance?’ Her eyes strayed to the lock of hair that fell loose and soft over his forehead.
There was a quirk to his lips. ‘The one that’s beginning right now.’
Aware of eyes on their exchange, Alice carefully chose her words as she looked to Lyman and Mitchell, hoping they would get her hint. ‘Yes, I would like a dance.’
‘Then let’s begin,’ Hugh said, taking her hand in a sure grip.
His hand shouldn’t have felt possessive, nor familiar, and she almost yanked it away. It wasn’t that she wasn’t above making a scene when it came to Hugh. She had done so many times in the past. However, tonight was her only chance to search Lyman’s house, and she couldn’t argue or have more delays.
So she allowed his hand to stay, and it held hers longer than the dance provided. The dance that she knew well, but for the first time somehow didn’t know at all.
It was because Hugh was holding her hand. His palm pressed to hers, their fingers tangling, his callused fingertips brushing her wrist. The fact that he drew her closer as they joined the other dancers.
It was a polite dance, with simple steps, but the revelry had started long ago and drinking had blurred the lines of formality. Already the dancers were bumping into each other, and parts of the circle were too tight. But Hugh arranged them in a space, and Alice attempted to concentrate on the other dancers and not the man still holding her hand.
But for every step she took he was there beside her. For every nod and smile to the dancer on her left, she had to give a nod to Hugh. And while one movement was mere polite formality, the other felt like something else. A dance, surely, but one she didn’t know the steps to.
And with every precise turn of the bodies within their large circle she became all the more aware of every precise step that she took with him. As if she did two dances. One with the circle of people around her, and one that encompassed only him.
‘You talk much with Mitchell,’ Hugh said, inclining his head in order to be heard without shouting.
‘As you know, there is much for us to talk about.’
Alice turned, released Hugh’s grip, turned again and he took her hand.
‘The barn restoration is on your property.’ Hugh stepped forward again. ‘And yet you spend a lot of time in each other’s homes.’
They kept their voices low, and this wasn’t a conversation she wanted heard by anyone. It seemed the dance agreed with her, for the music and the circles changed.
Hugh released his hand and crooked his arm with hers. Locked as they were, their swaying brought them closer. She felt the pull of his sleeves against hers, his scent, the warmth of his body. The pressure and strength of his arm linked with hers. With the raising of their right arms, his left tightened to hold her for the turn. She knew the deadly strength in his arms, felt the keening need to know more.
The turn was successful, and she released her breath and her arm.
He had sounded almost jealous—but he’d sounded like that before, in the garden. When he’d followed her there to find information regarding the King.
‘You are following me.’
‘It’s a small town,’ he said.
Which made her all the more suspicious.
‘One you’ve returned to though you have no ties here.’
He locked his arm with hers again, tensing it more than required by the dance steps. It brought her closer to him.
‘No, I wouldn’t have ties to the merchants here, now would I?’
What did the merchants have anything to do with anything? He was from nobility, and far above her station.
‘Your father was a knight.’
This time he purposely brought her closer. ‘Do you think I’m an outcast and should have remained one? I wasn’t born here, so therefore don’t belong?’ A quick turn of their bodies and their backs were to each other before he was at her side again. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I have a right to be here as much as you.’
She stumbled. His arm linked with hers and supported her until she matched his step again. He didn’t say any more and neither did she.
She couldn’t. It hadn’t mattered to her that he wasn’t born here. But it was clear it mattered to him.
All those years he’d helped his father, fought the boys in the town who had made fun of his poverty, of his father’s drunkenness.
She had only seen it as heroic, had only ever seen the decency and the goodness in him. Never had she seen his childhood and his actions as a source of shame. And yet his words cut with embarrassment, with pain.
Run away, Alice, before you do something you’ll regret.
She had run away, only thinking of his rejection, never thinking of the meaning behind his words that day. Yet now, here, with him in this dance, whirling around with the candles happily lit, and laughter and cheer surrounding her, she saw his past in a darker light. As something filled with anguish and shame. Did he think she would regret him?
Another step and he was beside her. His face implacable, his jaw tense. His arms held her at just the right angle, holding her assuredly, but no longer possessively. They kept circling...circling.
Her life with him might have always been this way but those few words had revealed something else. Something in the heat of anger, in the sweep of the dance, that he hadn’t meant to say.
The dance sped up and no words could be said. It brought their bodies closer together as they stepped in and out. Her full gown and sleeves trailed in the sweeping movements, looking like waves crashing to shore.
She felt like those waves, and Hugh was her shore. She vowed she wouldn’t run away again. She was only now realising where she should run to.
When the dance ended, they parted without words. The mummers’ dance would start soon, and she would begin her duties to the King.
She watched as Hugh walked away, saw the breadth of his shoulders, the assuredness of the way he held himself, parting the crowds as if it was his due.
He didn’t look back, almost as if he hadn’t asked her to dance, as if he hadn’t commented about her being with other men or whoring with the King.
That day in the market, in the heat of his words, he had let slip that there was something between them. Was it possible? Was it true? She was beginning to believe it wasn’t only her. But if so, he held himself away still. As if it was he who was running.
Circling. Circling. She felt no more or less than wool on a Great Wheel.
But tonight she could do no more.
* * *
Frustration, anger, and need warred within him. Hugh stormed through the Great Hall, looking for a reprieve or a distraction. Eldric was nowhere in sight.
Why had he danced with Alice? It could never be simply a dance with her. Stupid to think otherwise, but he’d been consumed with jealousy.
He’d had no right, and yet he’d taken it. Given her no choice although she had noticeably tried to escape his request.
Instead he had taken her hand, which had held some of the strength he ached to feel. Taken her hand, brought her as close as the dance allowed. Brought her closer when even that was too far away. Had seen her eyes display every emotion in their short exchange. Umbrage. Pride. And the last. The last...
Why had he said the words he had? They revealed too much about himself to her. And he had seen every aching awareness and understanding flaring in her steady gaze.
He had just laid every hurt he’d ever felt at her feet as if she would care. She couldn’t care.
And yet...her grey eyes had watched him carefully, so he hadn’t dared to speak again. She fixed things. If she saw a wrong, she set it to rights. She’d done so all her life.
The one shining light in his life was that she had never tried to fix him. Never pitied him. When all the others in Swaffham had given him handouts or disdained him, she had acted as if he was unflawed.
That fact was the one untarnished part of him. Now he had revealed the shame from his past as if...as if begging for her to remedy him.
Angry at himself, he grabbed a flagon that was thankfully still full of ale and looked for a goblet.
The moment the King had ordered him to spy on the Fenton family he’d dreaded it. He’d avoided even thoughts of Alice since that day in the field when he had almost killed her...kissed her. He should have kissed her. Maybe then the ache of those years away would have been less.
There was only one remedy tonight, and that was what was in his hands. The King’s orders be damned. There would be no spying tonight, no more observation. He would steal this drink and return to his own home.
Who was he to her? He had the wrong background, the wrong family. Her father, delighted with nobility, completely ignored Hugh’s lineage. His father had seen to that disgrace.
He should ignore Alice now. He didn’t know her, there were questions with her involvement with the King, with her asking questions, her projects, and kindness to others.
Too many questions, and too many traps to be caught in. Eldric did watch him regardless of his glib remarks. And yet...
Almost out of the room, he turned as if unable to help himself. One last glance saw Alice approach her sister, Mitchell and Lyman. Others were there as well, but his eyes were only on Alice as he looked for some trace of pity still lingering. Some glint in her eye to show that she intended to arrive at his door tomorrow to remedy a wrong.
None of that was there. Instead Alice craned her neck around her would-be suitors. She tapped her foot impatiently as Mitchell laughed.
This wasn’t the woman he had observed earlier in the evening. The one who had laughed too brightly. This wasn’t the woman he’d observed over the last month, partaking of all the festivities and wearing ribbons in her hair.
Right now there was a hint that she was the Alice who didn’t care for such lavish banquets because it didn’t help those less fortunate. His lips curved at her impatience and disapproval.
Maybe when this was all over and he returned to the King, he could forget the Alice at Court who laughed too loud and wore extravagant dresses. Maybe he could continue to remember her as he had always done. Helping children, and frowning at banquet waste.
She gave another glance over her sister’s shoulder. He saw her more clearly now. Her eyes were wide, with a line deeply drawn between her brows. Her mouth was downturned, her bottom lip clamped by her teeth. This wasn’t impatience...it was something like worry or...fear.
He shook his head and put the goblet down. This wasn’t right. Her tapping foot no longer looked impatient. It looked restless with nerves.
This wasn’t the Alice with her projects either.
Alice was not as she should be, or what he thought she should be.
Maybe...she put on a facade. Perhaps he saw the contrasts with her because one wasn’t her. But which one, and why the contrasts?
He had nothing to go on but her conversations regarding the King in the garden and at the market. Her questions regarding his presence and neatly not answering his own. Her disappearing at every party and in every home they attended together.
He had dismissed all those moments because he hadn’t seen her in six years. Dismissed their connection, his awareness of her, because he hadn’t wanted to look too closely. Hadn’t wanted to feel the ache. Because he had been jealous when he had no right to be.
But now he did. Now he saw her nervousness, the façade slip. Now he saw her craning her neck to observe the mummers approaching the stage.
When she slipped away he couldn’t dismiss anything.
She was up to something, and he aimed to find out what it was.