My mind was whirling. I wanted to fling open the window and shout my small victory to the shire. I’d taken the first step in my independence and, no matter what happened from here on in, I wasn’t going to fall.
“I am, your lordship.”
“No matter what they entail?”
“Whatever they entail, your lordship,” I said, smiling as Master Makejoy entered, his portable desk strapped to his hips, parchment and quills under his arms. “I’ll gladly sign.”
And with that cavalier dismissal, I made my first mistake.
Six
Between Scales Hall and Holcroft House, Elmham Lenn
The same day in October
The year of Our Lord 1405 in the sixth year of the reign of Henry IV
As Adam and I left Scales Hall, the chapel bells sounded, their chimes echoing around the valley and following us through the village, a joyous song that matched the one resounding in my heart. I’d been granted the time I needed to earn a living, to keep the house and thus prevent us from becoming little more than Cousin Hiske’s servants. That this came at such a cost, being beholden to the man I’d come to regard as the source of all our woes, that I was placing myself in a situation akin to that which Father had, was not something I wanted to consider. Not until it was forced upon me. In the meantime, I’d plans to make and work to do. In order to achieve any of this, I needed the help of the servants.
We rode in silence, but my thoughts were so loud and busy I wouldn’t have been surprised if Adam had begun answering the conundrums I posed myself. We left the village and traveled along the muddy road that ran beside the river, careful to avoid the deeper grooves so as not to bog our vehicle. Swaying from side to side, I replayed the conversation with his lordship, still not quite able to believe I’d managed to reverse his initial refusal. Sending a swift prayer of thanks to the Holy Mother and my own, the thing that struck me most was Lord Rainford’s reluctant acknowledgment of his affair with Mother, that he’d used her so disgracefully. I hadn’t expected that and, I confess, it hurt. I’d half-hoped he’d scoff at my accusation and demand I leave his house. But one would only have to see Tobias next to him to know any denial of paternity would be moot. My stomach lurched. Others must realize what to me was now so apparent: the resemblance was uncanny. I glanced at Adam, his concentration fixed on the road, on guiding Shelby onto the slightly higher ground. Was it possible Adam knew? That he’d known all along? That Saskia, Blanche, and the entire household knew what I’d only just confirmed? That Tobias was a Rainford? I chided myself. My brother was only partly a Rainford. He was also a de Winter—just like me.
No wonder Papa not only kept away as much as he could but also sent Tobias from his sight at the first opportunity. That must be why he’d resigned all his offices, withdrawn from public service, and taken to the oceans; his pride wouldn’t allow him to do otherwise.
Bringing Cousin Hiske into the household simply gave him less reason to come home and face his shame. Torn between pity for my father and angry disappointment that he could treat us in such a fashion, I was conflicted. Did Cousin Hiske know? She’d never met Lord Rainford as far as I knew . . . My chest went cold and I gripped the cloak at my throat, the parchment of the contract rustling as it was crushed.
But Master Makejoy would know . . .
The idea that Mother’s dreadful secret had never really been one made me feel peculiar. It was a mixture of both release and acute humiliation. But what about Tobias? Was he yet to discover the truth of his birth? And what about Leander Rainford, Tobias’s master and his lordship’s youngest son? He must know. How did he feel? Did he even care? If Sir Leander was anything like his father, it would make not one iota of difference to him; men of his rank sired bastards everywhere and he no doubt had a brood of his own being raised around the countryside.
Or was I creating drama where there was none? If the truth of Tobias’s birth was known, why had no one come forward before? Of all those in my small circle of acquaintance, Hiske wouldn’t have remained silent. I could just imagine how she’d deploy such knowledge. Saskia would have intimated something before now as well. I glanced at Adam. Perhaps no one knew after all—and, really, what difference did it make? Mother was dead, so was Father. Tobias was secure and, just as Mother intended by confessing to me, it had given me an advantage and I’d been able to attempt to shore up a future.
The lilac hues of approaching evening began to transform the blues of the sky into something softer. Knowing we still had a while before vespers and spying the friary wall looming in the distance, I asked Adam if we might stop for refreshment. The friary ran a guesthouse that offered passing travelers cheap ale and some nourishment. I needed to order my thoughts before we arrived home and Adam deserved to know what had happened in Scales Hall. He wouldn’t ask me because he was far too circumspect and aware of the differences in our station—a situation Father’s death had made more apparent as overnight I changed from being the master’s daughter to mistress in my own right. I started to piece together what I would tell my steward about the contract I’d made, knowing that portions of what Lord Rainford and I’d discussed, the leverage I’d used to persuade him to aid me, would never be revealed—not by me. Not until there was no choice.
Adam touched his cap in response to my suggestion. “Good idea, Mistress Anneke. It will give the road a chance to clear.”
It wasn’t long before we were inside the walls of the friary. An ostler took Shelby’s head and, after tying him to a post, provided a nosebag. Dismounting, Adam tossed him a coin as another servant ushered us toward the guesthouse. Sat at table, we were swiftly brought beakers of watery ale and asked if we wanted something to eat. We both declined. Through the smoke haze filling the room, others enjoying a rest from the road could be discerned. An older couple sat next to each other on a bench, a trencher and pints of ale between them. Nearby, a group of merchants, wool from the color of their hoods and insignia, gathered around a table arguing, their brows furrowed, their greasy fingers stabbing the air. Remnants of a meal sat on the table, hardening in the heat of the fire. A mangy dog lay by the hearth, its head resting on its paws, its eyes fixed on an old man sitting on a stool, his chin lowered to his chest as he slumbered. Apart from the merchants, conversation was low, the room stuffy, and the atmosphere constrained. I waited until a servant carrying a tray passed us, then brought my stool closer to Adam.
I quickly filled him in on my meeting, mentioning Lord Rainford’s initial reticence, but omitting anything to do with Mother or Tobias. “In the end, Lord Rainford agreed to give me until Hocktide to find the monies needed to pay the lease.”
“He will underwrite the costs of the house until then?”
I nodded. “He will. And providing we manage the crofts, we can continue to take a percentage of the rents as well.”
Adam eyed me carefully before drinking from the beaker. Pulling a face at the sour taste, he put it down. “Six months give or take a few days,” he said slowly, swiping a hand across his lips. “I didn’t expect such generosity from his lordship. It’s more than he’d do for your mother or father.”