The Unconventional Maiden (13 page)

‘I don’t suppose there is any harm in your speaking to him about it,’ said Catherine. ‘But don’t say I didn’t warn you, as he will most likely reject the idea.’

Before the matter could be further discussed, the door opened and Gawain appeared. He smiled when he saw Phillip. ‘So you have brought Nick’s journal, lad,’ he said.

Phillip stood up. ‘Aye, Sir Gawain. But Mistress Llewellyn has not yet had the opportunity to look at it.’

Gawain glanced at Beth and raised an eyebrow. ‘You surprise me. I thought you’d have torn the wrappings off in your eagerness to get your hands on it.’

‘Butter,’ said Beth, licking a finger. ‘I was late rising and have only just broken my fast. Perhaps you would like to look at it first?’

‘If that is your wish,’ said Gawain, picking up the parcel as the serving man entered the hall, carrying a tray.

He set the tray on the table and asked Gawain if he wished him to fetch some food and drink. Gawain asked for more ale to be brought. As Phillip began to eat, Beth watched her guardian take out his eating knife and saw at the twine on the parcel. As if aware of her eyes upon him, Gawain looked across at her. ‘What is
it?’ he asked. ‘You look as if you want to say something.’

Beth glanced at Phillip. Instantly, he seized his cup of ale and took a deep draught and swallowed before saying, ‘Sir Gawain, I am of a mind to marry Mistress Llewellyn.’

Gawain narrowly missed slicing the top off his thumb and swore as he dropped his eating knife. ‘Are you hurt, nephew?’ asked Catherine, hurrying to his side.

‘It is nothing,’ he said, sucking his finger. ‘I am just wondering whether I’ve gone deaf. I thought Phillip here said that he is of a mind to marry Beth. Now who could have put that idea into his head?’

Catherine looked at the two younger people. ‘It is very sudden, but one can see the attraction.’

Gawain stared at the young shipbuilder and his heart sank; he could certainly see why marrying young Phillip Hurst was a far more attractive proposition than Master Bigbury to Beth if physique and health were what mattered in the marriage stakes. Young, vital, handsome, glowing with health and strength—what woman wouldn’t want to be made love to by such a Grecian, godlike figure? He wanted to throw him out of the house and prove to Beth that he, himself, could satisfy her in the marriage bed if only he were free to do so.

‘There’s nothing wrong with your hearing, Sir Gawain,’ said Beth, amused. ‘As soon as Master Phillip and I met we realised we had much in common and were able to speak our minds. He has confessed to me
that which he would most like to do with his life and I have told him my dream. Instantly, we saw a way that we could both have what we desired.’

Gawain scowled. ‘I’m damned if I know how marrying you would help Phillip when his life is already mapped out for him.’

‘Phillip doesn’t want his life mapped out for him, do you?’ she asked the younger man.

Phillip swiftly washed down a mouthful of food with more ale. ‘No, I don’t,’ he said firmly. ‘Mistress Llewellyn is in the right of it. I’ve had enough of being told that shipbuilding is what my father did and it’s what he wanted for me, as well as Chris and Nick. Nick wouldn’t buckle down and went and did what he wanted, so why shouldn’t I?’

‘But according to Chris, you’re already a skilled craftsman for your age,’ said Gawain exasperatedly. ‘He depends on you and when you finish your apprenticeship, most likely he’ll make you a partner in the business.’

‘He’s never said that to me,’ said Phillip, his blue eyes mutinous. ‘Besides, if I become a partner, I’ll be stuck at the yard for ever and never go off and have adventures.’

‘It is most young men’s dream to go travelling, to seek their fortune and have adventures, but that is all it is for most—a dream.’ Gawain glanced at Beth. ‘You should not be encouraging him by making him dissatisfied with his lot, which is a good one.’

‘He was already dissatisfied,’ said Beth, tilting her chin, annoyed that Gawain should blame her. ‘I simply
asked him what he would like to do if he could do whatever he wished and he told me.’

‘That’s true,’ said Phillip, nodding his flaxen head. ‘I want to join a troupe of travelling players and put on plays all around the country and at the king’s court.’

Gawain blinked at him in astonishment. ‘And what kind of adventures do you deem you will find as an actor, lad? Make-believe ones? It is true that some actors can make a decent living by entertaining the nobility, but not all. Consider also the travelling and that you could be living from hand to mouth in winter.’

‘Then I will come home to Mistress Llewellyn and we will beget children and I will be of help to her in her business,’ said Phillip. ‘She’s fair and comely and there is but two or three years between us. Many a young man has married a much older woman. Even the queen is several years older than the king.’

Gawain could not argue with that, but he certainly did not want Beth marrying Phillip. In truth, he didn’t want any other man having her. ‘Am I to believe that the pair of you did not fall in love at first sight? That this is simply a convenient match you speak of?’

‘Aye, love has naught to do with it,’ said Beth. ‘Although any woman would find Master Phillip extremely attractive.’

‘That may be so, but a wife needs a husband at her side, not one that spends most of his time travelling around the country,’ said Gawain impatiently.

‘I disagree,’ said Beth firmly. ‘I need a young lusty husband to get me with child and then I can happily
get on with the life I dreamed about. My father did not stipulate the kind of man I should marry.’

‘That might be true, but only because he trusted me to choose the right husband for you. No offence meant, Pip,’ said Gawain, getting to his feet.

He drew Beth to one side. ‘You need a husband who is there to protect you. Have you forgotten your situation so soon?’

‘I had for a while,’ said Beth, sighing. ‘Why did you have to remind me when I was having such an amusing time?’

‘So you find this episode amusing!’ Gawain swore. ‘Phillip Hurst is immature and you could put his life in danger if you persisted with this foolishness. Have you forgotten so soon the danger you could be in? I cannot allow you to marry him, Beth.’

Beth was guilt-stricken. ‘Aye, I had, but frankly neither of us believed for a moment you would agree.’

Gawain groaned. ‘Then why did you bother continuing with this farce?’

She sighed. ‘I understood his frustration for not having had the opportunity to do what he so longs to do.’

‘We all have our frustrations, Beth,’ said Gawain, his dark blue eyes fastened on her mouth, ‘and must deal with them as best we can. Still, I wonder if Chris Hurst knows of Pip’s ambition to be an actor.’

‘No, he does not,’ said Beth, frowning. ‘Which I deem is a pity. If he did know, then perhaps he might allow his brother to live his dream for a short while? Even if it is simply in the hope that Phillip will see the
perils and pitfalls that such a life would entail so that, when he returns home, he will be content to settle down again.’

‘Perhaps you have a good idea there,’ said Gawain, struck by her perception. ‘I will speak to him, but in the meantime you can read Nick’s journal.’

Beth nodded. ‘Pip seems to think it can be improved on.’

Gawain raised his eyebrows. ‘An expert, is he?’

‘He told me that he is a storyteller,’ said Beth. ‘If he is good, then he could earn himself a fair purse in the halls of noblemen.’

‘Perhaps, but that is not my concern,’ said Gawain. ‘Hopefully I will also be able to read the journal before we attend Bartholomew Fair.’

Beth felt a stir of pleasurable excitement. ‘I will need to arrange with Master Stanton and the bookbinder when the journal can be printed and bound. Hopefully it will be done in time for Nick Hurst’s birthday.’

Gawain nodded. ‘I can see no cause for delay. Now you may go whilst I speak to Pip. Don’t forget the journal. I am hoping it will guarantee that you will stay out of mischief,’ he added drily.

Beth smiled. ‘May I ask of you a boon?’

‘If it is in my power to grant and is within reason,’ he said cautiously.

‘I am in no mood to entertain Master Bigbury. Could you not send a message saying I am indisposed? You can cross him and Phillip off the list of suitors,’ she said, her eyes twinkling. ‘We shall have to conjure up some others.’

He shook his head at her, a smile hovering about his lips. ‘All right! But go now before I lose all patience with you.’

Without thinking, she blew him a kiss and went to collect Nick Hurst’s journal and took her farewell of Phillip before hurrying from the hall.

Gawain stared after her hungrily and wished they could have kissed in reality. She had such soft lips and he longed to explore the sweetness of her mouth. He groaned inwardly and knew he must soon remove her from his sphere before he gave in to temptation. If only he had thought to discuss his marriage with the Cardinal whilst he was there, he might have known where he stood in regard to his relationship with Mary, but it had been somewhat of a hasty meeting. Perhaps next time.

Beth had forgotten completely about Gawain’s plan to speak to Cardinal Wolsey. Instead her mind was occupied with deciphering Nick Hurst’s handwriting, but she had no real difficulty as it was clear and precise. She soon realised that his younger brother had hit the nail on the head in his opinion of his brother’s writing.
Restrained
was the word, thought Beth. There was much to interest and fascinate and it just needed some alteration here and there.

When Beth had finished reading the journal she handed it over to Gawain on his return from the Weald two days later.

‘So, what is your opinion of Nick Hurst from what you have read?’ he asked, gazing down at her.

‘He’s probably the right kind of man to have with you if you find yourself with your back against the wall,’ she replied.

‘Definitely one of your brave and daring heroes, then,’ said Gawain, his fingers brushing hers as he took the journal from her.

Their eyes caught and Beth found herself waiting expectantly as her heart raced at that brief contact with his skin, which had sent a tingle right through her.

Gawain cleared his throat. ‘You have nothing more to say about him?’

Beth recollected herself. ‘Disappointingly he also seems to be a man lacking in wit.’

‘Perhaps he thought it would be wasted if he was only writing for himself,’ said Gawain, knowing that he must keep his thoughts firmly focused on the subject in hand instead of ravishing her. ‘He does have a dry sense of humour.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ said Beth. ‘There are also some drawings that would make excellent woodcuts. Especially for those readers interested in shipbuilding.’

Gawain turned over the well-thumbed pages. ‘I see what you mean. The Portuguese ocean-going vessels are different in construction from the English ships that are used to sail along the coast and cross to Europe.’

‘Perhaps he is of a mind that one day Englishmen will decide that they, too, would like to see the New World for themselves,’ said Beth in a careful voice.

Gawain glanced at her swiftly. ‘Are you hinting that there is work for our shipyards if this were to happen?’

‘Aye, but perhaps Master Nick Hurst would rather not have those drawings included in any book of his travels that we might decide to print for the general reader,’ said Beth. ‘He might wish to keep them to himself.’

‘Clever, thoughtful Beth,’ said Gawain, respect in his eyes. ‘I will read this and we will discuss it when I have done so.’

Beth almost burst with pleasure due to the compliment he had paid her. As she went upstairs to her bedchamber to change for supper she thought how good it was to converse with him on matters that interested them both. She was glad that he had made no more mention of selling the business or buying shares in it, but had found work for the presses instead.

It was several days before Gawain was ready to talk to Beth about the journal.

‘So, what is your opinion of it?’ asked Beth eagerly. ‘Do we print a hundred copies?’

‘Not so fast, Beth,’ said Gawain, grinning. ‘Certainly print a single copy of the actual journal as it is for Nick, but then I would split it into two separate slim volumes, one to be a tale of his adventures. You might wish to involve young Pip in any improvements to make it more exciting than it is at the moment.’

She was disappointed, although she knew what he said made sense. ‘And the other volume?’

‘A shipwright’s handbook with drawings, but it
might require more information. We would need to speak to Chris Hurst about that in Nick’s absence.’

‘Having read it, are you not tempted to build one of these ocean-going vessels in your shipyard?’ she asked.

‘Perhaps, but I am no shipwright and have no love of the sea or travel,’ he said. ‘My heart is in the land.’

Beth could understand how he felt. She had grown fond of this corner of England despite her eagerness to visit the print room again. ‘Can a messenger be sent to the Hurst household to inform the brothers of our plans?’

Gawain nodded. ‘I am glad that you are able to accept that it is best that we work together, you and I, so that your business continues to be a success.’

Had she accepted that they work together? thought Beth. ‘Are you still of a mind that I should sell shares in the business?’ she asked in a careful voice.

He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Shall we make a decision about that after our visit to London to attend Bartholomew Fair?’ he suggested. ‘What I do suggest is that, if Chris Hurst agrees, we start by printing the hundred copies of Nick’s adventures I put to you earlier.’

She agreed, believing that they would sell and knowing she was looking forward to spending time in the city with Gawain, hoping to enjoy all the fun of the fair despite that which still gave her cause for concern on occasions: finding her father and Jonathan’s murderer.

B
eth unfastened her cloak and hung the garment on the back of the door of her bedchamber at her London home. She had experienced a deep sadness entering the building, knowing that she was the last of the family who had once spent happy hours here. As she had passed through various rooms, she could almost hear her mother’s warm voice welcoming her. In a way it was good to be home because there were so many memories tied up with this house. Yet at the same time she questioned whether she’d ever be able to become accustomed again to the noise and the bustle, as well as the stench of the narrow city streets in high summer. Already she was missing the fresh Kentish air of Gawain’s manor, but at least he was here with her. An overwhelming happiness shot through her at the thought of spending the next few days in his company. Up until recently, Catherine was supposed to be
accompanying them to London, but then suddenly she had changed her mind, saying that she could not cope with the hustle and bustle of the city. Beth did attempt to try to persuade her to come, but Gawain’s aunt would not budge.

Beth hummed a country tune as she unpacked and thought how it would be good to lose themselves in the crowds. For a moment she thought of Gawain’s wife and then she tilted her chin and told herself that she was not going to feel guilty. If Mary bore him any love at all, then she should be spending time with him herself. Beth was beginning to have her doubts about Mary’s reasons for staying away so long. Even if the old aunt was ill unto death, surely she had servants enough to take care of her so as to allow her niece to go home every now and again with her children to visit her husband?

The song died on Beth’s lips and she sighed, wishing Gawain could be honest with her. If he had made an unhappy marriage himself, she wished he could swallow his pride and tell her. If it were so did that bode well or ill for any advice he might give about her entering the matrimonial state?

She changed out of her travelling garments and washed her hands and face and tidied her hair before taking Nick Hurst’s journal and two handwritten revised copies of it from the top of the chest where she had placed them. As she left her bedchamber and went downstairs there was no sound or sight of Gawain. Neither could she see Jane anywhere, so she must be doing
what she would said she would do and was hiring a cook and a couple of maids for their sojourn in London.

Beth went into the yard to the rear of the house and passed through a door in a dividing wall, so entering her other premises. She walked up the yard and into the printing workshop to discover that Gawain had arrived ahead of her and was talking to Master Stanton, the master printer. She stood watching them, feeling slightly put out that her guardian had not waited for her so they could enter the building together. She breathed in the familiar, comforting odours of ink and glue and leather and watched the compositor locking lines of lead type together in preparation of inking them with a leather pad ready for the printing press that was not in use.

The bookbinder and his apprentice sat at another bench, sewing pages together and appeared completely absorbed in their task. She noticed printed pages hanging on a line for the ink to dry and thought of her father and the pride he had taken in producing tidy copy. She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

Suddenly Gawain turned his head. ‘So there you are,’ he said, smiling.

‘Aye, I’m here,’ she said lightly. ‘And little seems to have changed, except for—’ She did not finish because there was no need.

A pause and then her master printer said, ‘It’s good to see you back, Mistress Llewellyn. I don’t think I need to say what is in my heart about the master as you know how fond we all were of him.’

‘Of course I do,’ said Beth, walking slowly over to
Master Stanton. She shook his hand and then asked what work it was that was on the press that was in operation.

‘It’s a reprint of Chaucer’s
The Canterbury Tales
,’ he replied. ‘It was Sir Gawain who suggested it when he was last here. With all the folk in town for the fair, he thought that we could sell quite a number of copies if we had them in the shop in time.’

Beth considered it an excellent idea, but why had Gawain not mentioned it to her? Surely they should have discussed it before his giving the order to go ahead with the print run. She tried to conceal how she felt as she did not wish to spoil this time together, so said, ‘What an excellent notion of yours, Sir Gawain! The very best of books for those who have travelled in any kind of company to get here.’

Gawain’s eyes rested on her face. ‘I am glad you feel like that. I should perhaps have consulted you, but there was not much time. And talking of travellers—do we not have a different kind of traveller’s tale for the presses, Beth?’

‘Oh!’ said Beth, taking the journal and manuscripts from beneath her arm. ‘You have mentioned it already?’

‘Only briefly. Your part in preparing it for the presses has been much greater than mine and you know much more about the whole process of printing, so I thought you’d enjoy explaining exactly what you want done to Master Stanton yourself.’

She thought his words went some way to lessen her concern that he might ease her out from too much involvement in the business. ‘That is generous of you,
but if you were to stay here long enough, then I’m certain you will soon know as much as I do about the whole process.’

‘Another time,’ he said, touching her cheek lightly. ‘There are people I must see before tomorrow.’

She felt a mixture of relief and disappointment. ‘Will you be back in time for supper?’

‘Hopefully. In the meantime, see what you think of the suggestion I have made to your master printer.’ He took her hand raised it to his lips and kissed it before taking his farewell.

Beth brushed her lips with her hand where he had touched it and sighed. Then she became aware that the men were watching her and she flushed before turning to Master Stanton. ‘I would like some woodcuts made of the drawings that you will find within the board-bound pages here, but they are also to be included in the pages I have tied with a blue ribbon. I want just two copies of the original journal and a hundred of the thicker of the other two manuscripts. Hopefully we will need to print more of that one if the first hundred sells well. See the original journal is taken to the woodcutter today. You will store it until then in the metal box. Also make certain the other two manuscripts are placed with your other copies waiting to be printed in the iron chest here and locked away.’

‘Certainly, Mistress Llewellyn. When do you want us to make a start?’ he asked.

‘As soon as you have finished the work you have on the presses at the moment.’ She smiled. ‘So what did Sir Gawain suggest to you?’

‘That the wood from his forest on the Weald be used for the woodcuts,’ said the master printer. ‘He will supply it free of charge.’

‘That is thoughtful of him.’ Beth hesitated before asking her next question. ‘Have there been any unsavoury characters snooping around here after the news of my father’s murder was made known?’

‘None that I noticed, Mistress Llewellyn.’

‘And our regular customers—they have not fallen away because of what happened?’

He shrugged. ‘One or two, but most appeared as shocked as we were by your father’s murder and want to continue to give you their support. Don’t you worry, Mistress Llewellyn, I’m sure the filth who perpetrated this terrible crime will be caught before he can do any more harm.’

Beth could only hope that was true and left him to get on with his work, whilst she checked the accounts. She thought again of her father and wished he could see her now and be pleased. She spoke to the other men and the apprentice, helping to carry in some of the books that were ready to be sold; one she took home with her, loving the feel and smell of the small volume, straight off the press.

Several neighbours had got wind of her return and had come not only to express their condolences in person, but were also curious about Sir Gawain, wanting to know if her return was permanent or whether she would be returning to his country house. She decided it was best to provide them with no definite answer. It
was a relief when Jane arrived with the women she had hired and her neighbours left her alone. She approved Jane’s choice of temporary servants and then, after deciding what to have for supper, she retired to her parlour to read about Chaucer’s pilgrims until her guardian returned.

Beth glanced up with a welcome in her eyes as the door opened. Gawain entered the parlour, but he looked none too happy and the light in her face died.

‘Dare I ask what is wrong?’ she asked.

He did not immediately answer, but slumped on the settle across from her and gazed into the fire. She waited several moments before saying, ‘You’re late, so I thought if you had not eaten you could have supper in here.’

He nodded. ‘That’s fine.’

‘Good.’ Beth closed her book and, getting up, placed it on her seat. ‘Have I done something to vex you?’ she asked.

Gawain lifted his head and looked across at her. ‘Not you, Beth.’

‘Then who?’

He washed his face with his hands and rubbed his eyes. ‘God’s blood, I’m tired.’

‘It’s been a long day,’ she said softly.

‘Aye, but it is not that which is the problem. I went to see Wolsey, but he is away on the king’s business. Tom was outside York Place. He’d been keeping an eye on Cedric and had followed him to his uncle’s house in Berkshire, but on the departure of the king
and his entourage, he left with them. Tom decided he wouldn’t have any difficulty following their progress, so he decided to have a rest as he hadn’t had much sleep. When he eventually traced the king and his train to the next noble house on his itinerary, he had no sighting of Cedric. When the king moved on again, Cedric was not amongst his followers, so Tom decided to head back to London, knowing I was coming here for the fair.’

‘So he has lost him.’ Beth counted silently to ten before saying, ‘I will make no further comment at this point, but fetch your supper and a jug of ale.’

‘Thanks, Beth. You can imagine what I said to him.’

‘Aye, but you do not have to repeat it,’ she said with a wry smile, placing a hand on his shoulder. ‘At least you are not to blame.’

Gawain covered her hand with his a moment before withdrawing it and changed the subject. ‘Have you had any visitors?’

‘Aye, but none for you to worry about.’ She hesitated. ‘I did wonder, when you were away so long, whether you had been to see your wife and children.’

He shook his head.

After a few moments, she left the parlour, wondering why she had felt she must remind him that he was married. Perhaps because there was a certain intimacy in them staying in this much smaller house without his aunt to chaperon her and her tending to his needs.

Gawain gazed into the flames, thinking about his feelings for Beth, and decided he had to tell her the truth. It was possible that by doing so he would give
her reason to believe he was untrustworthy, but he felt he could not continue living a lie.

The door opened and Beth entered, carrying a tray. She set his supper down on a small table close to the settle. ‘I brought you wine as the ale seems to have already run out. Most likely Jane did not order enough. I will see that she does not make the same mistake on the morrow.’

‘You have not brought a cup for yourself?’ asked Gawain.

‘No, I had a cup earlier and too much red wine can bring on a megrim.’

‘But you will sit down,’ said Gawain firmly. ‘There is something I have to tell you about Mary and the children.’

Beth gazed across at him and her heart gave a peculiar leap. She did not know whether after all she was ready to hear what he had to say about his wife. Knowing so little about her and not having seen her, she was a shadowy figure and, if she were honest, Beth preferred her that way. ‘Do you not think it best if you eat your supper first before it gets cold?’ she said rapidly.

‘No, I have to get this off my chest now,’ said Gawain and took a gulp of wine. ‘I have not been honest with you, Beth.’ He hesitated.

Her heart began to thud. ‘Go on,’ she said breathlessly, holding his gaze steady.

‘She and the children are not staying with her aunt. I lied about that so people would not suspect the truth. She has left me for another man,’ he growled.

‘I—I see,’ said Beth carefully, shocked beyond
belief. How could Mary possibly prefer another man to him? ‘Who—who is this man?’ she added, twisting her fingers together.

‘I do not know his name. On the day I returned to Raventon Hall with you, I found a message from her.’ He took another gulp of wine. ‘She says he is her true husband because she went through a form of marriage with him before she married me.’

‘What!’ Beth’s brown eyes mirrored her incredulity. ‘Are you saying that she married you bigamously?’

He lifted his head and smiled wryly. ‘Now that was not a word she used. Maybe she should have done. If I could find the pair of them and get them to agree to attend a court of law, then my marriage could hopefully be annulled.’

Beth’s spirits began to soar. ‘Was their marriage in front of a priest?’

‘No, and there is the difficulty. Apparently she and her lover were very young when they plighted their troth simply before God.’

Beth’s heart sank. ‘I have heard of such matches being made in the past being accepted as binding, but are they still legal?’

‘That I do not know. I have spoken of this only to my aunt. She realised that something was very wrong when Mary left with the children without saying where she was going. I searched for them, of course, but then I had to go to France without having found them. I told my aunt of the contents of the missive Mary had sent me. I wish now that I had kept my own counsel because she spoke of it to Father Hugh.’

‘Father Hugh!’ exclaimed Beth. ‘So that is what she meant at the wedding and what he was hinting at when he spoke of you to me!’

‘What did he say?’ demanded Gawain.

Beth flushed. ‘It does not matter right now. Carry on with your story.’