Chapter 13 #2
‘Up you get, madam.’ They had reached the bottom of the hill at last. The road was cleared of snow and the driver was waiting to help her back inside the carriage. ‘I’ll not have any charge of mine arriving dishevelled and on foot,’ he continued. ‘Let me drive you to Sir William’s door.’
Marris handed Richard back to Jane, the nurse; the baby immediately felt the loss of warmth, opened his mouth and started to cry lustily.
‘What a pair of lungs he has!’ The coachman was admiring.
He set the horse to a brisk trot, pausing only to shout down to a street vendor for directions to ‘Sir William Sharington’s hall’.
Marris did not hear the reply. Hidden behind the leather walls of the carriage, she could see little of the town that had previously been so well known to her.
She knotted her fingers together in her lap and stared straight ahead, whilst Jane fed Richard.
Darkness had fallen by the time they reached a gated driveway and paused once again, whilst the coachman had a conversation with a man Marris assumed was the lodge-keeper.
She felt suddenly exhausted, utterly unequal to whatever situation she was about to face.
Pulling back the leather flap, she felt the sting of new snow against her face.
There was a house up ahead, some walls rough and unfinished in the flaring torchlight, but built of fine stone.
It looked familiar, warm pinkish grey in colour, comforting in an odd way.
Marris bit her lip, realising that the new house was being constructed from the priory stone.
Yet it was comforting; the priory would be giving her shelter once again, albeit in a different form.
Voices roused her, loud and demanding, and the crunch of footsteps in the snow.
‘Who seeks Sir William Sharington on such a benighted evening as this?’ Marris recognised his voice, brisk, impatient, and despite her fears, despite everything, it made her smile.
‘I do,’ she said, throwing back the leather curtain to face him. ‘Pray give me your hand, sir, so that I may greet you properly.’
She saw the flash of pleasure in his eyes when he saw her and the smile that started to curve his mouth. He could not hide his joy, yet then he remembered all that had happened between them, and Marris saw the light fade from his face then to be replaced by a mask of imperviousness.
‘Madam.’ He extended a hand, very properly, to help her descend.
‘This is a surprise indeed.’ His gaze took in the baby, whom Jane was cradling.
Marris thought his jaw might drop but he clamped it shut, merely giving her one long, inscrutable look.
‘You are indeed full of surprises, my dear,’ he repeated dryly.
‘Come inside. Let us get you all into the warmth. I have a housekeeper now, a Mrs Wood,’ he added as he steered Marris up the steps and inside the hall.
‘She may take care of the wet nurse and the child, whilst you and I talk, madam.’
‘I see,’ Marris said frostily.
Will shot her a grin she remembered, and immediately it cut through the defences she had tried to erect against him, and she started to feel; overwhelmingly, painfully.
‘She is not that sort of housekeeper,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Mrs Wood is a cousin on my mother’s side and a most respectable widow, I assure you. Margaret—’ he gestured to an older woman to come forward ‘—may I make you known to my wife, Lady Sharington? Marris, this is my cousin, Margaret Wood.’
The woman bobbed a curtsey. She did indeed look the epitome of respectability in a plain gown and white cap.
Marris managed to find a smile. ‘Mrs Wood,’ she said.
‘I am glad to meet you. I would ask you to take care of Jane—’ she gestured to the maid ‘—and baby Richard, who both need food and warmth.’
‘Of course, my lady.’ The housekeeper had a face that, like Will’s, was schooled into impassivity, as though the arrival of the mistress of the house, without warning and in company with a month-old child, was nothing to cause wonder.
‘Some food for us too, Mrs Wood, if you please,’ Will added as he took Marris firmly by the arm. ‘We shall be in the library, as there is already a fire in there.’
The room was gloriously warm. Marris shed her cloak and dropped into a chair with a sigh, closing her eyes for a moment before she forced them reluctantly open to see Will watching her.
‘Forgive me,’ she said. ‘It has been a long journey.’
‘From London?’ He sounded no more than politely curious. He gestured to the sideboard. ‘A glass of wine whilst we wait for our dinner?’
‘Thank you.’ Marris sat up straighter. ‘No, we have travelled from Surrey. From Bletchingley Manor. And yes, I will take a small glass of sloe wine, if you please.’
‘The sloes grow well in the park here,’ Will said, adding: ‘As you know, of course.’
Marris’s gaze took in the room properly for the first time.
It smelled new, of fresh wood from the panelling and a hint of plaster, yet it already felt homely, not too large to be comfortable.
She could see a book discarded over the arm of a chair, suggesting that Will had been reading when they had arrived.
On the table some papers were scattered; plans, she thought, drawings for further designs for the house or garden.
It made her sad, all of a sudden, that she had had no part in planning their home. She hoped it was not too late now.
‘The house is beautiful, Will,’ she said sincerely. ‘I look forward to seeing more of it.’
‘Thank you.’ After that first moment of connection, it seemed Will was not prepared to let her close. He sounded formal. ‘It is not finished, of course, but I am pleased with the way it is developing.’
A silence fell. Marris realised that he would not break it, nor make matters easy for her. There was no reason why he should, she reasoned, but she was too tired for finesse herself.
‘The baby is called Richard,’ she said baldly, when Will brought her glass over to her. ‘Richard Swan. I hope you will offer us shelter here until such a time as I can find him a home.’
‘You managed to pull it off then?’ Will’s mouth twisted. ‘I freely admit I thought it unlikely the Lady Anna would be able to carry a child to full term undetected, even less that she could give birth in secret.’ He raised his glass in a mocking salute. ‘Congratulations for proving me wrong.’
‘It was not so difficult,’ Marris said tiredly.
‘Anna has been living quietly these past six months in order to settle into her new life, and indeed to give Queen Catherine the chance to adapt to her new role too. She has been seldom at court. When people noticed she was getting fatter they assumed she had a penchant for sweetmeats.’ She took a mouthful of wine.
‘Two months ago, we removed to Bletchingley with only the most trusted of her servants. The birth went smoothly and the child was delivered to the wet nurse and now—’ she made a slight gesture ‘—here we are.’
Will inclined his head. ‘How fortunate that there was a place you could bring him,’ he said. He looked up and met her eyes directly. ‘Are we to call the boy our own? Is he to be my heir?’
Marris swallowed hard. ‘No,’ she said. She could see the bright anger in Will’s face now and felt her heart start to race.
‘I would never ask that of you, Will,’ she said.
‘All Queen Anna wishes is that we keep the secret of his birth and find him foster parents who will give him a good upbringing. We will put it about that he is a son of a former nun here at Winterhill who died at his birth. I am his godmother and so have taken responsibility for his future.’
She stopped abruptly as Will made a quick, violent movement.
Tears rose in her throat as she remembered the absolute, heart-breaking courage Anna had shown on parting with her son.
She did not think she could ever do such a thing herself.
But she could not tell Will any of that. He would not want to hear it.
She looked at him as he stood half-turned from her, his shoulders slumped.
‘It would be better,’ he said, ‘safer for the boy if we raise him as our own. None would care to dispute it, I think.’ He turned to look at her.
‘If he grows to look too much like his sire, we shall just have to accept that people will gossip that you and the King were well-acquainted. No doubt we can both make that sacrifice if needs be.’
‘You would be happy to be thought a cuckold and I a whore,’ Marris said, expressionlessly. ‘That is generous of you, Will.’
‘It is generous of me.’ Will slapped his hand down on the table.
‘You have already seen how much I would do for you, Marris! I kept your secrets – I kept Queen Anna’s secret, though it could still kill us all.
Now I am offering the best protection I can because I love you.
’ He stopped, looking almost comically shocked that the words had come out. Then he smiled ruefully.
‘Aye, that’s the truth. I still love you with all my heart. I would do anything for you. So, take the offer. Richard will be our son.’
Marris stood up. ‘I cannot,’ she said. She walked towards him and took his hands in hers.
He did not resist but nor did he respond.
‘I honour you greatly for that generosity, Will,’ she said softly, ‘but I cannot accept it.’ A tear ran down her cheek.
‘I am sorry, too, that loving me is such a burden for you. I am sorry that my sense of duty prompted me to put Queen Anna ahead of the two of us and of our future. For I love you too.’
He was staring at her, his eyes so dark and searching. He turned her hands over and interlocked his fingers with hers and she felt a rush of relief and hope.