The Unconventional Maiden. June Francis

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СКАЧАТЬ hands together despite knowing she would feel so much safer if she did so once the horse broke into a canter. Instead she gripped the back of his doublet and hoped for the best. ‘How far is your home?’ she asked.

      ‘Tenderden is less than a league’s distance from here. Most of the timber for the boat-building yards is transported by river via the town.’

      Beth gazed about her as they made their way out of the port of Smallhythe. ‘Tell me more about the area, if you would?’

      Gawain was pleased by her interest. ‘Tenderden is a centre of the broadcloth industry and so there are many spinners and weavers plying their trade. Some are of Flemish descent. Edward III forbade the export of unwashed wool and so they brought their specialist skills here.’

      ‘How interesting,’ said Beth, her fingers tightening their grip as the horse broke into a trot. She shifted closer to him and felt more secure moulded against his back and even a little excited. She blamed that on the speed at which they were travelling.

      Conscious of Beth’s comely form in a way that he knew was not sensible, Gawain attempted to block out such thoughts by pointing out the church of St Mildred on the hill as they came into Tenderden. He thought of Mary and how glad he was that they had not married at the parish church. The one in Smallhythe had burnt down and in one of her rants she had stated it was a sign from God that their marriage was not of his will. His eyes darkened. In the light of what had happened since, it seemed she was right.

      As they approached the house, Beth’s stomach began to tie itself into knots. What if the elderly sick relative had died and Sir Gawain’s wife had returned? She might resent his having brought a strange young woman to her home. Whilst Beth did not doubt that Gawain was the master in his own home, she knew enough about her own sex to realise that if his wife took a dislike to her, then she could make her stay very uncomfortable, indeed.

      As Gawain reined in his horse in front of Raventon Hall, Beth saw that whilst it had decent proportions, it was not large, as he had mentioned, so she would not have to worry about finding her way about. It was half-timbered, with mullioned windows that reflected the sunlight and had a welcoming aspect.

      A metal-studded wooden door opened and out came a tall lanky woman. She wore a brown gown trimmed with lace and wisps of greying hair clung to a damp, smiling face framed by a starched white headdress. ‘You have returned safely, nephew,’ she cried. ‘I cannot express too much how glad I am to see you.’

      ‘It is good to be home,’ said Gawain, a question in his eyes.

      She glanced briefly at Beth, flashing her a slight smile, before saying to her nephew in a low voice, ‘A missive arrived, addressed to you in Mary’s hand. I have placed it in your bedchamber.’

      He felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, but his voice showed no emotion when he spoke. ‘May I introduce my ward, Mistress Elizabeth Llewellyn. Beth, this is my aunt, Mistress Catherine Ashbourne.’

      ‘Mistress Llewellyn, you are very welcome. I extend my condolences on your very sad loss,’ said Catherine, inclining her head.

      ‘Thank you. It is good to meet you and I am pleased to be here,’ said Beth politely with a smile, relieved that his wife must still be away if the mention of a missive was anything to go by.

      Gawain dismounted and, with a brief word of apology to Beth, headed for the house. The smile on her lips died and she managed to get down from the horse, unaided. ‘You must forgive my nephew,’ said Catherine. ‘It is some time since he has seen his wife and daughters and he is impatient to have news of them. I dearly miss the girls myself. The house is not the same without them. Do come inside.’

      Beth followed her and paused just inside the doorway to gaze about the hall. It had a timbered ceiling that ran the full length of the house. Sunlight flooded in from a window at the other end of the hall, to the side of which was a raised area, partially concealed by an intricately carved wooden screen. Two settles with cushions stood close to the hearth where a fire burnt, a necessity even though it was summer because the stone floor struck chill through the soles of her shoes despite the rushes and herbs that covered it. Against one of the walls were a couple of benches, trestles and a table top. Set against another wall was an iron coffer and a large wooden chest with metal bands and a large keyhole. Perched on top of it was a travelling writing desk and several books. On two of the walls there were tapestries.

      ‘It is a fine hall,’ said Beth, curious to inspect the books as she remembered Sir Gawain mentioning his own reading.

      ‘Do sit down and I will have refreshments brought to you as it is still a few hours until supper,’ invited Catherine. ‘Whilst you take your ease, I will ensure that your baggage is taken up to your bedchamber, so your maid can unpack for you. There is a small antechamber adjoining yours with a truckle bed where she can sleep.’

      Beth thanked her and relaxed against a cushion, wondering what Gawain had learnt of his wife and daughters and whether he would be joining her for refreshments.

      Gawain entered his bedchamber and wasted no time breaking the seal of his wife’s missive. Not once had she written to him since that first note she had left on his pillow after she had disappeared. That had been brief and to the point, simply stating that she could no longer live with him and that he must not try to find her and the girls. He unfolded the sheet of paper and spread it on the small table over by the window and began to read.

      Gawain,

      It has come to my ears that you have been searching for us. I should have expected this, but I hoped that you would heed my wishes, but no, you have grown obstinate and uncaring since I first met you. In the past I respected and admired your strength of character and appreciated your generosity and warmth of manner, but I have to tell you that I only went through a form of marriage with you because Father insisted on it. I loved another. We met whilst I was staying with distant kinsfolk of my mother’s. We were scarcely more than children when we plighted our troth without benefit of clergy, but simply in the eyes of God. Then our parents parted us and we were both forced into marriages not of our making.

      Gawain gave a mirthless laugh. He could remember no force being exerted. Rather he recalled how willingly Mary had come into his arms. He found it hard to believe that it had all been a pretence on her behalf. He was tempted to screw up the letter and throw it away, but he needed to know how his daughters fared and the identity of the man she was now claiming was her husband. He read on with growing incredulity and anger.

      Despite our conviction that we were really tied to each other and our other marriages false, I dared not cause a scandal and bring my father’s wrath down on my head. We did not see each other for a year or more after I went through a form of marriage with you and then fate intervened and we met again and became lovers. Then my dear love’s so-called wife died in childbirth and shortly after my father passed away. We decided that we could no longer live apart and so I went to him. Of course, I could not leave my sweet girls behind; besides, it is possible that Tabitha could be my dear love’s daughter. Accept, Gawain, that we will not be coming back to you. I was never, in truth, your wife, Mary.

      Gawain’s emotions threatened to choke him. Who did Mary think she was, deciding what was lawful and what was not? He knew that in some cases such ceremonies were accepted as binding, but as far as he was aware they were only considered legal if the parties lived together afterwards. He needed to know where Mary and this man were living and sort this matter out even if he did not want her back. Separating the girls from him was cruel. Gawain had always been the girls’ provider and protector. He knew they looked up to him. What had Mary told them about him and this other so-called husband? They must be utterly confused. He ran a СКАЧАТЬ