Romancing Robin Hood (24 page)

Yet, although relieved that she'd soon have word of her kin, Mathilda was concerned for the boy. If Allward was spotted spying around Twyford, without being able to give a good reason for being there … she reined in her imagination. There was no point in stewing over things she couldn't control. Wrapping her arms around her crouched legs, Mathilda wished that Robert would hurry up and come home so she could talk to him.

For the first time since she'd got to Folville manor, Mathilda was grateful to be locked in a cell so that there was no way she could be believed to be the killer … although someone obviously wanted her to be accused … otherwise why put the dagger there?

Mathilda heard the shouting even through the thick wooden door of her captivity. There were at least two male voices, and the pleading, placating tones of a woman, who Mathilda was sure was Sarah. Frustrated at not being able to pick out what was actually being said, Mathilda could tell that slowly the tones had changed from outrage, to the lower pitch of someone doing their best to keep their feelings under control.

After another ten minutes of waiting, the door to her prison swung open. Eustace had a preventative hand on Robert's chest as he attempted to push past into the cell.

‘Mathilda, I would like you to follow me, please.' Eustace gave his younger brother a warning glare, which clearly declared that although he'd dropped his hand, he could move it back at any time, possibly with his sword in it.

Following the small group meekly, Mathilda found herself back in the main hall, standing next to Sarah, and facing Eustace, Robert, and to Mathilda's dismay, a smug Richard, rector of Teigh, who managed to look as un-priestlike as ever. If he hadn't been there Mathilda would have spoken unguardedly, however his presence made her wary. He seemed far too pleased by recent events.

‘First,' Eustace paid no heed to either of his siblings and addressed the women, ‘Allward has returned safely from Twyford.'

Mathilda failed to contain her sigh of relief.

‘I see you are pleased, young woman.'

‘My Lord, I would have hated anything to happen to the boy.' ‘Indeed.' Eustace glanced at Sarah, ‘you told the girl of Allward's mission?'

The housekeeper bowed in respect, ‘When I took her some broth, my Lord. The girl was troubled about her family, and I saw no harm. I apologise if I did wrong.'

Eustace didn't respond to this, addressing Mathilda instead, ‘Your father and elder brother are well, although the sheriff's men may well be sniffing around them by the morning. A natural development, as the body of Master Hugo was found so close to your family home and workshop.' He shot another unreadable expression toward Sarah, ‘Our housekeeper has told you of the grisly finding around Vespers.'

‘Yes, my Lord.' Mathilda added, ‘Thank you for letting me know my family are safe.'

‘Safe for now, Mathilda. You know as well as I do that unless something is done the sheriff will want a criminal to go with the crime. I hope he doesn't decide to pick one based on convenience rather than guilt.'

Mathilda opened her mouth to protest at how unfair that would be, but closed it again quickly. Such statements were pointless folly.

‘Richard and I are going to prepare for our meeting with the Coterels. This matter I am leaving to Robert. Making sure the right man is accused is after all his passion, thanks to his love of stories. I trust his Robyn Hode will bring you comfort and suggest a few solutions. That is, of course,' Eustace gave his brother a stare, ‘if his common sense has kicked in and he has stopped blaming you.'

Mathilda blanched, forcing herself to keep her eyes on Eustace and not swing around to face Robert. ‘Me, my Lord. But I've been in your cell for hours?'

‘True. But the rector tells me when he checked on you while you slept, there was a dagger by your feet, and yet when we collected you just now there wasn't. Can you explain that, Mathilda?'

Dread gripped Mathilda. All she could do was repeat herself. ‘I have no dagger, my Lord, and I've been a prisoner since long before the hour of Vespers.'

‘And yet, Mathilda, why would a man of the church lie to his brother?'

Eustace and a smirking Richard looked at Robert, who in turn, stared at Mathilda with a face as creased with grief and resentment.

The rector gestured a lazy arm towards Sarah. ‘Get that woman to search the waif. The dagger was there, and so if it wasn't on the cell floor, it must be about her person.'

Mathilda stiffened, ‘My Lord, I really don't have …'

Eustace raised a hand to silence her, ‘Sarah, if you would please do as my brother requests?'

Tight-lipped, Sarah inclined her head in agreement and went to steer Mathilda towards the curtained bedded area.

‘No.' The rector's words were already edged with triumph, ‘here, before all of us. I do not trust our housekeeper as much as you do, dear brother.'

‘But, sir,' Sarah appealed directly to Eustace, ‘I cannot strip the girl before you all.'

The rector however, was adamant. ‘I insist. My word has been doubted by a servant. You will do as you're told.'

An imperceptible affirmation toward Sarah from Eustace, and Mathilda found herself turned so that she was facing away from the men sat around the table, and her shawl, surcoat, belt, and dress were removed, so that once again she found herself before Robert in only her chemise and undergarments.

As Sarah ran her palms up and down Mathilda's arms making it clear to the onlookers that nothing was hidden beneath, Richard positively bristled with rage. ‘She must have it. Take her shift off!'

‘My Lord, I must protest!' Sarah's disapproval was joined by the previously silent Robert.

‘Brother, that is hardly a seemly request for a man of the cloth. I think it is more than clear that there is nowhere on Mathilda's person where a dagger could be secreted. You must have been mistaken.'

‘I was not mistaken!' The rector's face burned red in vehemence. ‘You are all in this together!' The churchman stormed from the room, his fists clenched, blaspheming in a way that would make a whore blush.

Chapter Twenty-six

‘I've tried to call Agatha to cry off the dinner date with Malcolm, but she isn't answering her phone.'

As she listened, Daisy crossed ‘check hay store supply' off her lengthy ‘Things to do before the wedding list', before speaking into the phone tucked under her chin. ‘Well, at least you have the sense to know you need to cancel it. Honestly, Grace, I was beginning to think you'd taken leave of your senses.'

‘All right, I know.' Grace ticked three boxes on the student development form in front of her. ‘I was trying not to offend and it all went wrong.'

‘More importantly, are you ready for tonight's date with Rob? I take it you have dived into M&S and swept the contents of the latest £10 meal deal off the shelves?'

‘Of course I have. Who wouldn't?'

‘Quite! Are you nervous?'

‘I am a bit.' Grace glanced up from her desk, and scanned her unnaturally tidy living room. Despite her determination that Rob should take her as she was, a fear that the extent of her usual untidiness would be a little too much in one go had forced her to tidy up just a little bit more. She'd decided it was kinder to inflict the extent of her chaotic muddled-ness up on him in small doses.

‘And you are wearing?'

‘Clean blue jeans, black vest, and semi-open black shirt. Any good?'

‘Sounds spot on.' Daisy smiled as she added, ‘check no guinea pigs due to give birth over honeymoon' to her list.

‘How about you Daze, no more last-minute nerves or anything?'

‘Not really last minute yet. There's two weeks to go. I have far too much left to sort before August 8
^th
to consider this being last minute. Did you get my email?'

‘Yes. When do you want me up there? I know you've sorted the overnight room for me, but did you want me to come to your place the night before we head toward Hardwick to help sort things out? Make sure flowers are there, that the guest list is up to date, get the seating plan sorted and stuff, or does the wedding planner do all that?'

The sigh that came from Daisy was one of utter relief. ‘Oh, honey, would you? Come early I mean?'

‘Of course! You only had to ask.'

‘I didn't like to. What with books, and students, and Rob, and work and things.'

‘I know I'm an obsessive with my work, Daze, but if I can't put things on hold for my best friend's wedding, then I'm not much of a friend, am I? And don't forget the undergraduates have broken up now. It's only the post grads I'm tutoring at the moment, so there is much more time for research and a bit of flexible time management.'

‘Talking of which, how is the paper going with Rob?'

‘Oh, hell!'

‘You hadn't forgotten about that had you?' Grace's silence down the line told Daisy all she needed to know. ‘Grace!'

‘I hadn't forgotten. I just haven't done anything about it. I've been so wrapped up in Mathilda.' Grace paused, before speaking more quietly, ‘I'm doing it again, aren't I?'

‘Doing what again?'

‘Getting lost in the past. Losing myself in my writing so I can avoid thinking about the scarier aspects if seeing Rob, and the wedding, and trying to think how to let down Malcolm without upsetting Agatha, and …'

‘Woah!' Daisy spoke with her puppy training voice, ‘Don't you see. You aren't doing it, not this time. You aren't lost in the fourteenth century any more. I mean, a bit of you is. You wouldn't be you if a part of your soul wasn't off climbing trees in Sherwood with Robin Hood while giving Will Scarlet the eye. And the novel has to happen or you'll never forgive yourself, but its
real
life that is consuming you right now. My wedding, not upsetting Agatha, and spending time with the lovely Rob. Not the mess that was medieval England. I think you may finally have joined the twenty-first century!'

‘God, that's a scary thought.'

‘No it isn't; it is real though.' Bringing the conversation back to her wedding before Grace disappeared into paranoia, Daisy said, ‘Do you really think you could come up a bit before the wedding? I was going to ask if you'd come here on the 6
^th
, then help me at the Hall on the 7
^th
before the kick off the next day.'

‘No problem at all. We need to go and collect the dresses anyway. We could go on into Sheffield on the Wednesday, that way if we've lost too much or put on too much weight since we last tried the dresses on, Ashley can wave her magic wand and fix them for us.'

‘You don't think you've lost weight, do you?' Grace detected a veiled horror in Daisy's question.

‘I wish! I just meant it would be good to try the dresses on once more in the place where adjustments can be made if required. Sorry, Daze, I didn't mean to worry you.'

Daisy dropped her pen and ran a hand through her mass of curls, ‘You didn't really. There's so much to do, and it's so daft. We'll be exactly the same people after the wedding as we were before. Seems a lot of paraphernalia for a piece of paper.'

Grace frowned; it wasn't like her friend to be dismal. ‘It's rather more than that, Daze! You're showing the world that you're in love. It's a celebration. It'll all be incredible, I promise.'

‘Thanks, Grace. I'll make up the spare room bed ready for you today, and then I can write it on the list of things to do, and then enjoy crossing it off straight away!'

‘Why not have a rest now, and then I'll make up my bed when I get there. In fact, why not leave anything we can tackle together until I arrive. It'll be fun!'

‘Thanks, Grace. Now, you'd better go and peel back the lids and shove things in the microwave.'

Grace glanced at the clock she'd been keeping half an eye on ever since she'd first started talking to Daisy. There was half an hour until Rob's train was due to arrive at Leicester station. ‘It's a shove in the oven job, actually. I thought I ought to make half an effort! I think I'll go and pop it all in the oven, and then brush my hair and stuff.'

‘Don't tell me you haven't brushed it already?'

‘Of course I have, but I'm nervous. It'll give me something to do!'

‘Call me tomorrow! Good luck.'

Grace ran the brush through her hair for a third time and stared at her reflection in the circular mirror that hung on the hall wall. She was conscious of a faint sheen of nervous perspiration that had coated her palms and the back of her neck. ‘Oh don't be so ridiculous, Grace!'

Heading to the bathroom to wash her hands under the tap, Grace gave herself a mini lecture. ‘It's bad enough to give him a pre-prepared meal, and introduce him to your muddle; you can't expect him to have to hold a clammy hand as well.'
Assuming he wants to hold your hand of course
.

Niggling doubts about her blossoming relationship with Rob began to whisper at the back of Grace's head.
Why haven't I heard from him much this week? One email isn't exactly the sign of keenness, is it?

Grace looked out of the kitchen window, peering as far as she could see down the street. If Rob intended to take a taxi from the station then he'd be here very soon now. If he walked, he'd be another half an hour yet.

Deciding to be sensible, having already arranged and rearranged the table with cutlery, wine glasses, and plates, and with the freshly cooked chicken and ham in cheese sauce plus potato gratin staying warm in the oven, Grace knew there was nothing to be gained from staring out of the window.

Her nerves would only get worse if she hovered around without doing anything. So sitting back at her desk, Grace shuffled through her notebooks and found where she'd scribbled the proposed title for the paper she and Rob had decided to write together, wondering how he'd got on sorting through all the primary evidence she'd lent him.