Automatically her fingers took over, plucking out the wistful air of a traditional country tune she'd known since childhood, while her mind was absorbed with the recollection
s of that night three years ago. The listeners might construe her absent expression as concentration as the music filled the intimate chamber, but her eyes saw only her brother James kneeling where Matthew had just knelt, his fingers hooking into the knot-hole to lift the loose boards and reveal the priest's hole below.
‘You need know nothing about this package until a messenger comes for it,’ he'd whispered as the long-case clock struck two in the silent house. ‘It's safer for you to be ignorant, Sister, but you must know its whereabouts in case anything happens to me.’ She'd clutched his arm in denial of the thought that he might not return, uncaring about the contents of the casket he'd placed on a ledge below the boards, but he brushed aside her fears. ‘Swear you will reveal this to no one but the messenger sent to fetch it.’
Henrietta had sworn, one hand clasped on the plain gold cross at her throat, before she'd tiptoed back to her room through the sleeping house. The next day James had gone, never to return.
Since then she'd hardly spared a thought for the casket or its hiding place. She'd supposed, in time, someone would come for it but no one had and James's death and the responsibilities it thrust upon her left no room for speculation, save to guess that it was undoubtedly something to do with the King's cause.
She struck a discordant note, jerking herself from her reverie. This was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts, especially after what had passed over supper. Matthew Sheridan was no crop-headed Puritan, but he was a Parliamentarian and master here now.
She must speak to Alice tonight, send word to Robert to fix the board before Matthew had the carpenter lifting half the floor. Robert was her father's man and, even if he was ignorant of the casket and its contents, as a loyal Royalist he would know the best thing to do.
‘Sing for us, my love,’ her aunt urged. ‘That pretty air you sang for me the other evening.’
‘Excuse me, Aunt, but I am quite out of voice tonight. If the gentlemen will forgive me, I will retire.’ She laid the lute on the window seat beside her and stood up as both men rose, Matthew crossing to take her hand to conduct her to the door.
His eyes as he looked down at her were grave and assessing and once again she was aware of the intelligence in their green depths. No fool, Matthew Sheridan, she would have to tread very carefully indeed in her dealings with him.
‘Goodnight, Henrietta.' He raised her fingers to his lips, brushing them with the briefest kiss.
‘Goodnight, Sir Matthew,’ she murmured meekly.
Suspicion flared briefly in his eyes, and his voice when he spoke was a soft whisper. ‘Do not play games with me, Henrietta. I do not know what you are about but, I warn you, I am not easily bested.’
‘You mistake me. I do not seek to play games. It is merely that this day has been eventful and my head aches so.’ Henrietta let a plaintive note quiver in her voice and noticed the suspicion clear from his face.
So, that tactic worked even with men as astute as this one. It hadn't occurred to her before to use on Matthew the wiles she employed to keep other suitors at bay – perhaps even the most intelligent man could be hood-winked. She must keep her pride and her intelligence in check and if she could only let him underestimate her she might scrape through this unscathed.
Chapter Six
As soon as the door had closed behind Matthew Henrietta hurried upstairs to her chamber, knowing Alice would be there already, lighting the candles and turning down the bed.
‘Alice, where's Robert? I must speak with him,’ she said the moment she was inside.
‘At this hour?’ Alice looked scandalised. ‘In your chamber?’
‘No, you silly wench, not in my chamber. Is he at the farm? Come on, just answer me.'
‘He's gone to Farmer Johnson's to see if the jobbing carpenter's still there. That young idiot Daniel fell off the roof of the Long Barn this afternoon, broke his leg and now they'll not get the work finished unless he finds another carpenter.’
‘But that’s half a day's ride away.’ Henrietta sat down on the bed and threw up her hands in frustration. ‘But, there's one mercy.' She steadied herself and thought rapidly. 'At least there's no carpenter about to lift that board.’
‘You're overwrought. Lie down,’ Alice pleaded. ‘Or let me call your aunt, and fetch you a soothing draught. Does your head still ache? Pray heaven it's not a brain fever.’
‘Alice, sit down and listen. I am perfectly all right, but I must have Robert's help, and quickly. I am sworn to secrecy, but I must tell at least you and Robert.’
Wide-eyed, Alice scooped up her skirts and perched on the end of the bed. ‘Go on.’
‘You remember the morning James left for the last time?’ Alice nodded. ‘Well, in the night he roused me from my sleep, took me to the front parlour and showed me a priest's hole.’
‘The one under the window seat,' said Alice, nodding.
‘How do you know about it? I didn't until that night. Who else knows?’ This was dreadful news. She could imagine one of the more garrulous old servants telling Matthew of Winterbourne's curiosities.
‘Only me. James hid in it once when we were children and jumped out to scare me. He made me promise to tell no one else, but I thought you must know.’
‘He put a casket in it, but he wouldn't tell me what its contents were. His only instruction was to wait until a messenger came for it. Now Matthew has noticed the loose board and will order it repaired. And Alice, if any messenger does come, he will ask to speak to the master of the house, not knowing he is a sympathiser with Parliament.’ She dropped her head, now aching in truth, into her hands. ‘I can trust no one except you and Robert. My aunt must know nothing of this, she would be worried to no purpose. And, besides, I am probably breaking my oath telling you and Robert of this.’