The Blacksmith's Wife (16 page)

Joanna’s disappointment at not being able to visit the market was understandable and Hal’s conscience prodded him uncomfortably at his refusal. She had caught him at an unfortunate moment and he had been rude and cold from the outset.

The bedroom was empty, too. Grumpily he pulled on a fresh tunic. He had not expected to find the house empty. He had become so accustomed to the sound of Joanna’s humming and the shy smile that she greeted him with that its absence was unsettling. His stomach turned over as he straightened the counterpane, running his hand over the side Joanna slept on, and decided to go in search.

He walked back outside where he noticed the sheets on the bushes and ran his fingers along one. Dry.

Disconcerted, he hurried to Meg Parry’s house and rapped on the door. Meg’s puzzlement at seeing him was answer enough before he had even asked if Joanna was there.

‘She was upset,’ Meg told him, accusation in her voice.

‘We quarrelled,’ Hal explained ruefully.

‘Upset before she spoke to you, I mean.’ Meg folded her arms. ‘We’d been talking about St George’s Day. She was telling me about the tournaments and how she missed them. She looked like she was trying not to cry.’

A knife twisted in Hal’s guts. He tried to think back to before he had spoken to her so harshly. Had he seen signs of her sadness when she entered the forge but ignored them? He could guess which part of the tournament she would be missing most. And who. He pictured how she had found him: filthy with sweat, hidden away in the darkness and responsible for deserting her in the middle of nowhere. No wonder the thought of Roger was enough to reduce her to tears.

‘Do you know where she is now?’

Meg pointed toward the moors. ‘She left as soon as she returned from seeing you. She isn’t back yet?’

Cold sweat crashed over Hal. Without another word he ran to the stable and saddled Valiant. He rode slowly, stretching in the saddle to scan the moors. If Joanna had strayed from the path he would blame himself.

A snatch of blue among grey rocks caught his eye. The slight figure was stretched at full length, one arm across her belly, the other tangled in the mass of hair that spread around her. He dismounted with a cry of alarm and ran across the moss, heart leaping to his throat at the thought at what he might find. As he neared Joanna she stretched and rubbed her eyes. She pushed herself to her elbows, staring up at Hal through sleep-bleary eyes.

Hal threw himself to her side, gripping her arms tightly.

‘What did you think you were doing?’ he roared.

Joanna recoiled. ‘You’re hurting me!’

Hal eased his grip slightly, but the thought of letting Joanna slip from his arms was unbearable.

‘I came back and you were gone. Have you any idea what passed through my mind?’ he said angrily.

Joanna pulled herself out of his grip.

‘I don’t know,’ she said coldly, turning away. ‘Did you fear my uncle would bar you from the guild forever if I died on the moors?’

‘What!’ Her words were a dagger to Hal’s heart. He sat back on his heels and stared at her furiously. ‘Is that what you think?’

‘That’s my only value after all. It’s why you married me,’ Joanna snapped.

‘That isn’t all you mean to me!’ He clutched her by the arms once more and pulled her round to face him. ‘I came looking because I was worried. For
you
, not my investment.’

The expression on her face was enough to show how little she believed him. Even in his despair a small spark of hope ignited. If it distressed her to think he felt nothing for her, did that mean she felt something for him?

‘I may not have shown it, but I care about your well-being. I—’ He broke off, the word he wanted to say too big and disturbing. He took her hands in his. ‘I...care about you.’

She looked disbelieving.

‘When you’re sad it pains me. When I thought you might have come to harm it near killed me.’ He pulled her close, enfolding her in his arms. She stood rigid, then just as Hal was about to give up hope she laid her cheek against his chest. Hal wondered if she could feel the force with which his heart tried to burst from his chest.

‘I wouldn’t have come to harm,’ Joanna said obstinately. ‘I just needed time alone. Meg told me it would soon be St George’s Day and it brought back things I hadn’t thought of for a while.’

‘You don’t have to explain,’ he said tersely. His heart twisted once more. If she spoke of Roger now he felt sure it would crack in two.

Joanna stared bleakly ahead, her eyes pools of misery. Hal’s irritation melted as the force of her loneliness struck him fully.

‘I miss the city and the crowds. The noise and colours and the excitement.’

‘I’ll give you that one day,’ he vowed. ‘When I become a swordsmith and join the guild we’ll have reason to spend time in York.’

He wished he felt as confident as he sounded. He stood and held his hands out. ‘Let’s go home,’ he said.

Joanna took his hands. Scraps of parchment fluttered in the wind as she stood. With a cry of dismay she broke away, catching them up and stuffing them into her bag with her back to Hal. She missed one and Hal trapped it beneath his boot. He slipped it into his pouch, intending to return it later.

Joanna sat before him as they rode slowly home. With his arms around her Hal was in no rush for the journey to end. She’d coiled her hair back up and fixed it with a handful of pins at the base of her slender neck. The twists transfixed Hal. Her neck cried out to be kissed, the knot to be unwound, but more than that he wondered how they’d look twisted into gold adorning a pommel.

Doubts crossed his mind as he remembered his discarded attempts, but he stamped them down. He leant forward and kissed the top of Joanna’s head, so softly he was unsure she had felt it. Somewhere he needed to find inspiration for his work and maybe it was closer than he’d previously thought.

Chapter Sixteen

G
entle tapping on the door broke Hal’s concentration. He dropped his auger and punch on to the workbench and pulled the door open, expecting to find Matthew Shaw come to collect his pitchfork.

Joanna stood there. She looked as hesitant as she had the previous day.

‘If you’re busy I’ll go,’ she said, her manner reminding Hal of a rabbit about to flee from a hawk.

‘No,’ Hal said quickly. He could ill afford to spare the time, but his stomach had clenched at the sight of her and the cause was more than hunger. He put an arm around her before she could leave.

‘Watt, you can stop now,’ he called.

They walked to the river and sat on the bank side by side. Watt ran ahead, chasing ducks. Joanna laughed at his excitement and Hal smiled instinctively at the sound he had not heard very often. It suddenly became essential to him to hear it much more frequently.

He unwrapped Joanna’s cloth to find two slices of fresh cake. Two. He raised an eyebrow at Joanna who blushed.

‘I hoped you would ask me to stay,’ she said shyly.

Hal wolfed his cake in three bites, then lay back on the grass watching Joanna. Work called him but he ignored it. Crumbs glazed Joanna’s lips and Hal’s pulse began to race at the thought of slowly licking them off. She did the job herself, tongue darting deftly out. A tremor of desire ran through him. When a cloud covered the sun Hal shifted and sat up. If he did not move soon he would still be sitting watching her at nightfall.

‘I have to make a delivery at Gaskell’s farm this afternoon,’ he said. ‘It isn’t far so why don’t you come with me? Meg can take care of anything you still have to do in the house.’

She looked suspicious for a moment, but her face lit up.

‘I’d like that.’

* * *

She joined him as he finished loading the cart. Their fingers linked as Hal helped her into the seat and climbed up beside her. Last time they had sat together here Joanna had been stiff and awkward. They’d been strangers then but now, as their legs and arms touched, she merely looked down at her hands. Her long eyelashes concealed whatever emotion her eyes showed at the closeness and Hal wished he could see into her mind to discover what his touch woke in her.

Hal picked up the reins.

‘Perhaps one day I could teach you to handle a cart and horse,’ he said. ‘It isn’t too hard if you’re firm with the animal.’

Joanna turned to face him, her eyes glinting.

‘I know already,’ she said. ‘I used to join my uncle on deliveries. Sometimes, when he’d taken a cup too much wine with his customers, I’d drive home.’

‘You never told me,’ Hal said, surprised.

‘You never asked.’ Her smile vanished as her expression darkened. ‘You never asked me anything.’

It was true and he wrinkled his nose at his own stupidity. He still knew little about her and had made poor effort to discover it. He’d even resented the fact she had not come to the forge after the first day, but he had never asked her. She’d been the one to approach him and he wondered if he was wrong to assume her heart was not for winning.

‘I’m asking now,’ he said, passing the reins to her and enjoying the look of astonishment and delight that crossed her face.

‘We’ve got all afternoon, tell me everything.’

* * *

They arrived back to a late afternoon that was turning colder. Joanna had driven well, guiding the carthorse with steady hands that only tightened on the reins when she spoke of the parents she’d lost and the relatives she’d gained in their place.

Hal’s veins had filled with molten steel as she talked of the way Simon Vernon had made it clear her presence was an inconvenience. If he’d known her better he would have stopped the cart and folded her in his arms to comfort her. As it was he sent private thanks to the icy gusts blowing in from the sea for allowing him the excuse to pull Joanna closer and put his arms around her as she shivered.

He lifted her to the ground and she put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. They stood silently facing each other, bodies close. The urge to kiss her was so strong Hal felt his breath catch in his throat. His hold around her waist tightened. Joanna was the first to move. She stood on tiptoe and brushed a kiss lightly against his cheek.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Hal’s heart both sang and plummeted at the gesture that was intimate yet somehow sisterly. He could hardly seize her up and kiss her with the passion he wanted to after that. He took her hand and lifted it to his lips.

‘Let’s go to Pickering Fair,’ he said impulsively.

Joanna’s face glowed, then her smile dropped.

‘Can you spare the time?’

A day ago Hal would have said no, but he could not banish the picture of Joanna’s sorrowful face as she talked about her loneliness. He’d been content to live his own life while she settled into hers as best she could. They had been wasted weeks when he could have been trying to gain his wife’s affection, but now the thought of more time spent in her company was irresistible.

‘I have to work now, but yes.’ He walked round to the back of the cart and put his hands on his hips as he stared at the contents. ‘I’m afraid I shall have to leave you to deal with your new purchases alone.’

Joanna joined him, laughing. A lidded wicker basket gently rocked as the dozen chicks it contained cheeped indignantly. Beside it a wiry, grey dog of no discernible breed stared up mournfully and scratched an ear that obstinately refused to turn the right way out.

‘Every home needs a dog,’ she said, leaning forward to unknot the rope that held the dog in place. ‘I couldn’t let this old boy be drowned!’

‘Hmm, Mistress Gaskell knows when to spin a sad tale to a soft-hearted woman,’ Hal mused. ‘Though a larger hound would be better suited for a farm and no fine lady would countenance an animal like this.’

Joanna paused halfway through the knot. ‘Perhaps not. But I’m no fine lady,’ she said.

She led the dog to the house. Hal watched her go, her small figure swaying as she walked. Had her statement contained sadness or had it been merely resignation that tinged her voice. She’d used the word
home
not
house
. Perhaps he’d laid too much significance on that, but it glowed in his memory. Hal wished he could see into her mind, or better still, her heart.

He lifted the basket of hens from the cart and carried them to the door before dealing with the horse and returning to the peace of the forge. Watt had spent the time in Hal’s absence laying tools to order. He began to work on the hinge he had left off before Joanna interrupted earlier. His smallest auger was missing and he spent a frustrating amount of time searching for it before he recalled slipping it into the pouch that he wore at his waist.

He reached in and his fingers closed around something unexpected. He pulled out Joanna’s fold of vellum. He’d completely forgotten he’d captured it. Joanna had been at considerable pains to capture the sheets yesterday and he itched to know what secret it held.

He turned it over thoughtfully. Temptation whispered in his ear and his fingers were halfway to unfolding it, but he bunched it in his fist, then put it to one side on the workbench. He had enough secrets of his own; let Joanna have hers. He would return this one to her as soon as he saw her again. His eyes slid to it once more. Was it a recipe she’d been writing? A list of goods she wanted to buy? Worse than that, a love note?

He held it out. ‘Watt, can you take this to Mistress Danby?’

The boy took hold of it and walked to the door.

‘Oh, that’s pretty!’ he exclaimed.

Of course he had placed no injunction on Watt not to unfold it. Watt’s words were so enigmatic his resolve to allow Joanna her privacy disappeared. He took the parchment from the boy and held it up to the light of the furnace. In the glow of the flames an eagle stared back. Hal spread it out on the anvil and stared at it in astonishment. It was not merely an eagle but a sword, the bird’s head a pommel and a cross guard formed of wings spread wide. He traced his fingers over the lines of feathers on the hilt.

It was beautiful and Joanna had created this? No doubt her other sheets contained similar sketches. Hal had struggled for weeks to find inspiration and all along she had these in her possession. He sighed in annoyance, but he caught himself as her earlier words came back to him.

You never asked me anything.

She was under no obligation to volunteer the information. He’d never asked why she’d been in Simon’s workshop when he called to bargain for her hand. The first day she’d come to the forge she’d made tentative offers to help and he’d bullishly scorned her. The fault was entirely his.

He leaned back against the wall and stared into the flames. He could return it to her. Or...

He picked the parchment up once more. He could make this and make it well. He had the skill. It had been the idea that had eluded him. He’d work in secret and present it to her once it was completed. At that point he’d admit his knowledge of her secret and beg her pardon. He took a nail and secured the drawing to the beam of wood above the furnace.

* * *

Pickering Fair was loud and bustling, a shock to the senses after the solitude of Ravenscrag. Joanna’s eyes lit up as Hal helped her down from Valiant.

‘Aren’t you coming with me?’ she asked as he directed her to the weavers’ row and took hold of Valiant’s bridle.

‘I have business to attend to that I need to complete today,’ he said.

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, but already the shrill music of pipes in the square and the calls of the hawkers with their wares were calling her away from him.

He watched her weave her way through the crowds until she was swallowed up, a small figure with a skip in her step. Her money was well concealed, she was modestly dressed and she was a grown woman. Even though the thought of her coming to harm was enough to cause him to break out in sweat, Hal let her go.

* * *

He had moved swiftly, completed his own errands and was waiting for her by the castle steps within the allotted hour when she returned bearing packages that would fill Valiant’s panniers to overflowing. Her cheeks were flushed and Hal’s face split into a grin.

‘Is there anything left for anyone else to buy?’ he asked.

Joanna tossed her head amiably. ‘I doubt I’ll be somewhere this big for months. I didn’t want to miss the opportunity.’

Her voice was without resentment.

‘I have something to show you,’ Hal said. Taking her by the hand, he led her down the snicket beside the castle gate. The alley was silent and cool, a tempting place to stop and steal a kiss, but Hal didn’t delay. He grinned to himself. Even more appealing than bundling Joanna’s tempting curves into his arms was the prospect of her reaction to his surprise.

They emerged by the stables. Valiant snickered in welcome as he heard their voices. They set their packages down. In the stall beside him was a tawny-coloured palfrey. Hal stopped in front of her and waved his arm with a flourish.

Joanna’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

‘She’s yours,’ Hal announced.

The horse had been an extravagant gift he could little afford, but as Joanna’s hands flew to her mouth and her eyes widened Hal decided every coin had been well spent. Long afternoons riding would be the perfect opportunity to spend increased time in her company. Without warning Joanna flung her arms around Hal’s neck and kissed him full on the lips. She pulled away and blushed at her forwardness before he could trap her for longer.

‘Thank you! I love her!’

Hal’s heart thumped, startling him with its strength. When the word
love
left her lips a shiver had shaken his entire body. For one moment he had thought he was the recipient of her affection and realising he wasn’t caused his heart to plummet to his belly. He held his hand out for the mare to sniff and avoided looking at Joanna in case she read the disappointment in his eyes.

‘Her name’s Rowan. She isn’t too young, but she’s biddable and ideal for a novice rider. I’ll teach you to ride as I promised.’

Joanna held her hand out beside Hal’s. Rowan snuffled at it and Joanna ran her palm across the mare’s warm neck. She gazed in admiration at the horse, murmuring soft endearments beneath her breath.

Hal only had eyes for his wife.

* * *

‘I’d better go rescue Watt from the geese,’ Hal murmured sleepily. He clambered to his feet and helped Joanna to hers before strolling along the riverbank.

Joanna stood and brushed her skirts down briskly to rid them of the grass she had caught up as she lay across Hal’s lap by the smithy. Since the day they had visited Gaskell’s farm this had become a habit. Each day at noon she would venture to the smithy and bang on the door for Hal to join her to eat. Some days he needed no asking but was already outside, his eyes fixed on the path from the house waiting for her arrival. She wondered idly how different the last weeks would have been if she had done this every day.

Hal had been more content in the last week than she remembered since they had married. He still left the house at sunrise and returned late, but the evenings where he stamped around the house moodily were a distant memory.

She returned to the house and began to prepare dinner, stewing meat and kneading pastry, humming an old tune of summer she remembered from childhood. Simon the dog pushed his nose against her skirts and whined. She reached down and scratched the old animal behind his out-turned ear.

The name had been Hal’s joke and for want of a better one it had stuck. The grin they exchanged whenever one of them said it more than made up for the worry of what her uncle would say should he ever encounter his namesake.

A particular design that had been refusing to leave her for days rose in her mind. She rolled the offcuts of pastry into strips, plaited and twisted them together, then pressed the design on to the crust, laughing at her foolishness. If she could not work with iron or steel she would make do with what she had.

She wondered if she had been mistaken not to tell him about her designs. A cloud passed over her mood. For all their increased closeness, and despite knocking for Hal to join her every day, she never crossed the threshold into the forge and Hal said nothing of his work, changing the subject or answering in a monotone whenever she broached the subject. It was a part of his life he seemed determined she would have no part in.