The Blacksmith's Wife (6 page)

Children.
Joanna’s stomach heaved at the thought of children and what creating them would entail. The thought of anyone touching her in the way Roger had made her want to scream.

Simon gripped Joanna by the arm and pulled her to the back of the room out of Hal’s hearing. His face was stern.

‘It is good fortune you happened upon someone who did not take advantage and make you completely unmarriageable, but enough is enough,’ he growled. ‘I have wasted three years while you waited for his brother and I’m not prepared to wait any longer. Master Danby has clearly seen the advantages such a match will bring. I suggest you do the same. This man or Thomas Gruffydd, but no more waiting.’

He dropped her arm and stormed out, leaving Joanna in no doubt that he intended to be obeyed. Hal was watching closely, his mouth a thin line.

‘What advantages does he mean?’ Joanna asked as soon as Simon was out of earshot. She closed her eyes as the answer struck her with sudden clarity.

‘No, I understand. It’s guild business, isn’t it? How did you manage to coerce him?’

‘The idea was not mine. Your uncle suggested it.’ Hal frowned. ‘Why do you assume I want the marriage any more than you do?’

A feeling of nausea told her he was speaking the truth. Hadn’t Simon threatened to find her a husband only last night?

‘So you’re buying me?’ Joanna said, her voice shaking. ‘Do you gain admittance to the guild as a reward?’

‘Actually, I don’t!’ Hal said. ‘I’m not buying you. I gain nothing at this time other than a wife and the promise that I can petition for membership sooner than the customary year is up
if
I feel able. I’m not sure I get the best out of the deal.’

Hal stepped closer and put a hand gently on her shoulder. Joanna shrugged it off again violently.

‘I don’t love you,’ she said coldly.

Hal raised an eyebrow. ‘Nor I you. It would be rare if we did after such a short time knowing each other. I don’t expect you to feel for me what you did my brother, but perhaps in time we will become fond of each other.’

Joanna crossed her arms, the mention of her adored knight sending waves of misery through her. ‘If Sir Roger knew he would never let this happen. I need to speak to him.’

Hal’s expression became blank.

‘My brother has already left the city.’

Joanna’s shoulders sagged and she stifled a sob.

‘In truth, I have no real desire to marry you, knowing you are in love with him,’ Hal said. ‘However, as your uncle said, there are advantages for me. For both of us.’

‘What is the advantage for me?’ Joanna asked quietly.

‘Perhaps nothing,’ Hal admitted. ‘If you would prefer to wait and see which alternative husband your uncle can find for you I will not stand in your way.’

Those words were all it took. He was right; Simon Vernon would find her a husband and, being anxious to be rid of her, would take less care than he did over choosing his belt. Thomas Gruffydd’s face swam before her eyes and she shivered.

Joanna walked to the front of the workshop where the breeze cooled her cheeks and she could think more freely. Hal did not follow, though she could feel his dark eyes on her. She examined him out of the corner of her eye: a tall figure, handsome when he stopped frowning, but so like Roger that the sight of him tore her to shreds inside. Simon thought him honourable. Perhaps he was right. Hal had come to her aid in the camp when the guards had made their lewd comments and last night he had insisted on accompanying her home. For some reason known only to himself he had set himself as her protector.

Uncle Simon came back inside. ‘You’ve had enough time to think, so what is it to be? Make your choice, girl.’

Joanna swallowed, summoning the courage to speak. ‘I do not wish to marry this man, but you leave me no choice.’ Simon grunted his agreement. Joanna bunched her fists to stop her hands trembling and forced a smile she did not feel in the slightest.

‘Master Danby, I will be your wife.’

Chapter Six

T
he wedding was arranged with indecent haste, being only fifteen days in preparation rather than the customary forty. Lent was fast approaching and, perhaps fearing Joanna would change her mind, Simon Vernon was insistent that the ceremony took place before rather than afterwards.

Hal had returned home to speak to his father the same afternoon as their betrothal had taken place and had not returned to the city. In vain Joanna hoped that his petition would be refused, but six days later a messenger hammered on the door of the house, bearing a letter for Simon agreeing to the proposed date and asking him to acquire lodgings for Hal and Joanna for the nights following the ceremony.

To Joanna the speed with which matters were put into place was the final seal on her hopes of escaping the betrothal.

‘I agreed too rashly,’ she muttered, pacing the floor of Simon Vernon’s house as the day drew closer. ‘I should have asked for more time to consider, or delayed somehow.’

Mary Vernon ceased her sewing and frowned. ‘What good would waiting have done?’

‘Sir Roger loves me,’ Joanna said. ‘He will never let the marriage take place. When he knows what I am being forced into he will come back for me, but the sooner the wedding, the less chance he will receive my letter in time.’

‘You’ve written to him?’ Mary frowned. ‘If my husband finds out he’ll be furious!’

‘He won’t find out. You won’t tell him, will you?’ Joanna pleaded. She stared into the fire where she had cast letter after letter before finally deciding on the words to explain her plight. She had sent the letter ahead to Windsor the day Hal had left York and nine days later there had still been no reply.

‘Windsor is a long way,’ Joanna said firmly. ‘It will take time.’

No answer came, but three days before the wedding Simon Vernon returned home and tossed a bulky leather pouch to Joanna. With a thumping heart she opened it and tipped the unexpectedly heavy contents into her hand.

It was a brooch. Joanna’s stomach plummeted as the meaning of the gift became clear and she could no longer deny what was happening. Hal must have made it and this was his marriage gift to her. The brooch was small, made of three strands of iron twisted around each other to form them into a ring. It was unadorned with gems or other ornament. It was neatly finished but a workmanlike piece. A marriage brooch suitable indeed for a match without passion. Joanna closed her hand over it, but Simon demanded to see what she had been sent.

He held it up to the candlelight. ‘Your husband-to-be may be skilled with plough blades and horseshoes, but he’ll need to improve his fine work if he wants to achieve the status of a master.’ Simon laughed.

‘Perhaps you should tell him how far away he is and he may decide to end this betrothal,’ Joanna suggested.

Simon laughed. ‘Don’t be foolish, nothing is going to prevent this marriage.’

Joanna held a hand out. ‘May I have my brooch back, please?’ she asked coldly. He placed it in her hand and she excused herself and climbed wearily to her room. She took the brooch out again and noticed something else in the pouch. She opened it and in surprise found a letter from Hal.

Please accept this as a token of my fidelity to you. Although I am not the husband of your choice I hope in time we can be happy. Henry Danby.

The script was neat and precise. The author’s hand was sure and bore signs of an education, but of course Hal was a nobleman’s son.

Joanna smiled wryly to herself. In all the time she had known Roger he had never written to her. Now she began to suspect that he never would, or that if he did the message would come too late to save her.

* * *

On her wedding day Joanna woke with dry eyes, having spent all her tears the night before. She had hoped for rain or a black sky, something better suited to symbolising her mood, but the sun broke through wispy clouds. Mary eased herself into the room, panting gently. She handed Joanna a cup of warm milk, easing herself on to the end of the bed. Joanna stared at her aunt’s swelling belly, which seemed to grow more each day. She had borne five children, four of whom had lived, and now a sixth was expected already.

Mary saw her looking, rubbing her hands over the bulge. ‘It gets easier each time,’ she said. ‘You’re wide in the hip, you won’t have any problems when it’s your turn.’

Joanna blushed. ‘It isn’t bearing the children that worries me,’ she admitted in a whisper. Mary drew her into an embrace.

‘That is bearable too. Not at first, but you learn to tolerate it. Some women even find pleasure in it.’ Her lips narrowed disapprovingly. ‘Or so I’m told!’

Joanna gripped the cup in her hands. A sob welled up in her throat and Mary patted her briskly.

‘Come now, there’s no use in fretting over what you can’t change. Your new husband is handsome enough. I’m sure you’ll find you’re as happy as any woman can expect to be.’

Joanna bit her lip. She was devoted to Sir Roger with all her heart but even his touch had left her skin crawling. She remembered the last time they had kissed; Sir Roger’s hands on her body, fingers nipping and twisting, digging into her flesh while his tongue forced its way between her lips. How could any woman endure, much less enjoy, such a thing? If it was like that with a man she loved, what would it be like with one she didn’t?

Dressed in a pale-blue kirtle laced tightly beneath a darker-blue, sleeveless cotehardie, it was a source of amazement to Joanna that she managed to walk to the church without fainting. She stopped abruptly at the gate, every fibre of her body urging her to run, but Simon tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her through.

Hal was facing the church door, which gave Joanna plenty of time to observe him as she walked up the path. How ironic that this angle had been her first glimpse of him too. Whenever they had met Hal had always worn plain clothes, but today he was dressed in a dark-green jerkin with gold embroidery at the sleeves and collar over a black tunic. A wide belt pulled his waist in in a manner that accentuated the broadness of his shoulders and back and his close-fitting hose revealed well-formed legs. His hair had been drawn back into a neat cord at the nape of his neck, but dark curls were already beginning to break free, as unruly as ever. He turned as she approached and his eyes widened in obvious appreciation. Joanna smiled nervously at him and for a moment she allowed herself to believe things might turn out well. Hal’s eyes slid to his brooch pinned over Joanna’s heart. She raised her hand to it.

‘Thank you.’

He broke into a wide smile full of pleasure. As reluctant as she was to become his wife, Joanna had to admit she was marrying a handsome man. If only it was his brother her happiness would be complete. She stifled a sob as Simon pushed her forward to stand beside Hal. The priest began intoning words that washed over Joanna’s head and the ceremony began.

When she was later asked to describe her wedding, Joanna had no recollection. She did not weep and was proud of that. She spoke the required words in a clear voice, made and received promises. They must have exchanged rings—the plain narrow band that felt as heavy as a manacle on her finger was evidence of that. Throughout it all she kept her eyes downcast as a modest maiden should. No one would expect more, or censure her for her reticence.

There was stillness and the churchyard filled with an expectant hush. Finally Joanna raised her eyes to meet those of her husband.

‘I believe a kiss is customary,’ Hal said quietly.

‘Oh! Of course.’ Joanna obediently raised her face.

Hal hesitated before stepping towards her. He put his hands at either side of Joanna’s face. They were warm and rough. The hands of a craftsman, not a noble. His fingers spread wide so that his thumbs caressed her cheeks and the little fingers brushed against the base of her skull. He leaned down, closing his eyes as he moved towards her. Much gentler than Joanna had expected he brushed his lips across hers.

With their lips still touching Hal opened his eyes. Joanna tilted her head back and parted her lips, waiting for the assault of his tongue but it never came. Hal’s eyes narrowed and he frowned.

‘Well, Mistress Danby,’ he said gruffly. ‘The deal is done.’

* * *

The wedding feast took place at the Guild Hall in Bedern. Seated at the centre of the high table Joanna and her husband were toasted and fêted, though in reality neither played much of a part in the proceedings. Her own connections were few, but it struck Joanna suddenly that her husband had brought no guests of his own. Even his best man had been one of Simon’s older apprentices. There had been no one who might have tried to prevent the marriage from taking place.

Glad to be ridding himself of his niece, Simon had spared no expense so that all might know he was the host.

Once or twice Joanna caught her husband looking at her when she glanced his way but he quickly turned his attention elsewhere. What would they have spoken of anyway? Their kiss played through her mind. She was aware that somehow her response had been incorrect but did not know how.

Hal’s plate was as untouched as hers and somehow seeing this was reassuring. He clearly felt as at odds with events as she did and this made her bolder.

‘Do you regret what we have done?’ she asked softly.

Hal put down his goblet and turned in his seat to face her. ‘No, though I shall be glad when the day is ended and we can return to the inn. I dislike all this pageantry.’

A troupe of musicians struck up a lively tune. Mothers swept children out of the way as laughing couples filled the floor. Before long the sickly-sweet scent of lilies, crushed between the rushes on the floor, filled the air.

‘We should dance,’ Hal said, pushing his chair back and helping Joanna to her feet. He was quick on his feet and graceful. Under any other circumstance dancing with him would have been a delight, but as he led her through the steps Joanna’s thoughts were on his last words. When the day ended they would return to Hal’s lodgings with all that must happen between a husband and wife. The thought made her feel nauseous and she stumbled her footing through the next steps of the reel. Hal’s arm came about her waist, leading her back into the rhythm.

‘Are you ill?’ he asked, concern clear in his voice.

‘Just a little tired,’ Joanna answered.

As she passed down the line one of Simon’s associates overheard her words. He grasped her round the waist and lifted her high. ‘The bride wishes to sleep,’ he cried. ‘We shall have the bedding ere long!’

Joanna’s blood froze in her veins. That part of the wedding night had kept her awake night after night. She had steeled herself to bear whatever her husband bade her do, but to be disrobed in front of the guests would be unendurable. Cheers soared around the room, echoing his words. Joanna felt herself passed from guest to guest through the steps of the dance. Her protestations were ignored as hands gripped her skirts, pulling at the cloth as if they would begin undressing her right there. Laughing faces leered at her as for one terrible moment she became the centre of a circle of dancers before a pair of strong arms gripped her and she was clasped against someone’s chest. She tried to pull free but a soothing voice hushed her, brushing her hair from her face.

‘I’m sorry to disappoint you, gentlemen and ladies, but there will be no bedding,’ Hal said.

Joanna gave a gasp of relief. He smiled down at her with eyes full of intent that caused a shiver to race along her spine.

‘My wife is my own tonight,’ he said quiet enough for only her to hear.

Joanna leaned against Hal weakly to catch her breath and felt his arms tighten reassuringly around her. Her heart thumped as he led her through the last steps of the dance and back to the table.

‘Thank you,’ she breathed.

‘I have no desire to put either of us through that humiliation,’ Hal muttered under his breath.

* * *

Curfew had passed long before the guests began to depart from the hall. Hal and Joanna were escorted through the streets by a crowd reluctant to see the end of the festivities. Joanna’s throat tightened at the thought that, despite Hal’s insistence, they would be accompanied into the inn and into the bedchamber itself. She need not have feared as Hal firmly bade the guests goodnight and shut the door behind him before leading Joanna up the narrow staircase to his room.

The chamber was large, clearly the best in the inn. Lamps glowed in the corners of the room and on the table where a jug of wine also stood. A large, low settle stood in front of the fireplace that burned brightly. The bed stood against the furthest wall. Joanna tried to ignore it.

Hal removed his cloak and took Joanna’s from her hand. He hung them on the peg behind the door, removed his outer tunic and untucked the shirt from his breeches. He sat on the edge of the bed and began to remove his boots.

Silently Joanna began to undress. She slipped her cotehardie off and let it fall to the floor. With her outer layer gone she became conscious of how closely her kirtle emphasised the curves of her figure. With trembling fingers she began to undo the laces at the side, but only succeeded in pulling the knot tighter until it was impossible to undo. She exhaled loudly in frustration.

‘What’s wrong?’ Hal asked, looking up.

Joanna’s cheeks began to flame as she admitted her predicament. Hal grinned, his brown eyes crinkling with amusement.

‘Don’t laugh at me!’ Joanna cried, pulling angrily at the laces.

Hal crossed the room in easy strides and stood before her. Joanna’s chest tightened. Shadows played across his face and torso where the light flickered. He exuded an air of unfettered masculinity that sent Joanna’s stomach lurching with alarm. Despite the roughness of Roger’s touch and kisses once they were in private, in public Roger had always appeared restrained, behaving with the decorum that etiquette had demanded. Now alone with Hal, Joanna was aware of just how different the brothers were. Facing him felt as though she had stepped from the saddle of a highly trained thoroughbred only to be confronted with an unmastered stallion.

‘Put your arms out to the side,’ Hal said.