‘I'm glad something I say pleases you. But there are affairs I must attend to. My inheritance of this estate has disordered my life far more than yours, believe me. I have a legal practice in London, work I must reduce now Winterbourne is mine. That in itself will take time, but I have other duties.’ It was obvious to Henrietta that he was choosing his words with care.
‘Believe me, if it were my own business I would let it go hang now I know how eager you are to have me at your side.’ His voice was heavy with irony, but the tattered remnants of bay leaf he tossed aside showed her he was not as calm as he would have her believe.
‘So it is Parliament's business?’ Henrietta asked carefully. She must not precipitate another dispute.
‘Yes. And I have told you before, Henrietta, as my wife you are expected to at least make an outward show of loyalty, if only for your own safety and that of this household.’
Stung, Henrietta bit back, ‘And I have told you, sir, I cannot make pretence of loyalty to a regime I believe illegal. Out of duty I will hold my tongue in public, but you cannot direct my conscience.’
‘Very well, Henrietta, if you will not be persuaded I must command. I will return in four weeks, by which time I expect you to be ready in all respects to be my meek and obedient wife.’
He turned on his heel and strode from the garden, leaving Henrietta angry and frightened. Not even her father had commanded her to obedience in such a way. She forced the thought of him to the back of her mind with an effort, knowing he would have expected her to make any sacrifice for the sake of Winterbourne and its people.
*
When she saw Matthew next he was astride the Roman-nosed grey, his bags strapped on the back of Lawyer Stone's coach. Aunt Susan allowed her suitor to kiss her cheek, then settled him in the coach with much fussing over rugs and draughts. Henrietta stood silent on the steps, envying the older couple's open affection, the emotion that was banishing the years, making her aunt young again.
There was one person missing. ‘Matthew, where is your clerk?’ Henrietta looked around her, then saw Cobham's sharp features peering out from the shadows of the hall.
‘I am leaving him here to assist Weldon and to keep an eye on my interests while I am away.’ It was not the estate he was referring to and Henrietta knew it.
‘My thanks, Sir Matthew.’ Henrietta dropped a deep curtsy, knowing she should curb her tongue but unable to do so confronted by fresh proof of his distrust. ‘Knowing how indispensable he is to you, I am overwhelmed by your thoughtfulness.’
‘You will be in safe hands with Nathaniel, he will watch over you. And do not fear I will feel our separation too deeply – he writes to me daily.’
There was nothing veiled in the threat this time: Cobham had been left behind to spy on her. It was a complication she had not expected, and a deeply distasteful thought that Matthew was right not to give her his trust.
‘A safe journey, Sir Matthew,’ she said, schooling her expression, conscious of Cobham's chilly gaze on her back.
‘And a safe return to you both,’ Aunt Susan called as the coach wheeled ponderously around on creaking axles and lumbered down the drive, followed by Matthew reining the grey back into a controlled trot. The older woman took Henrietta by the arm as they entered the house. ‘My dear, I have had such an illuminating conversation with Lawrence about your betrothed. It seems Sir Matthew was a most devoted husband to Sarah, his first wife… ’
*
‘The master would want me to look at the rent books.’ Cobham materialised from the shadows at the head of the stairs, startling Henrietta as she climbed so that she grasped the carved newel post for support.
She had contained her impatience to talk to Robert until after the midday meal, then, with the clerk safe in his chamber, had walked openly up the main staircase as if going to her room. From there she could slip down the back stairs and out through the yard to the Home Farm.
‘The rent books?’ Henrietta struggled to hide her dislike of the dusty little man with the sharp black eyes. Her immediate instinct was to allow him anything he asked which would occupy him in the house while she and Robert planned what to do with the casket.
‘Yes, and the list of tenants if you please, Mistress Wynter.’ His very civility was patronising. Here was a man who believed all women were foolish, weak vessels and that, she realised, was a card she could play to her advantage.
‘Oh! I don't know… I'm not sure. Are you certain you need them now? Could it not wait?’ She widened her eyes and let one hand flutter at her bosom, the very picture of an alarmed and empty-headed woman. ‘Wouldn't you rather see the Home Farm this afternoon?’ She paused as though seeking a convincing excuse, seeing the dawning suspicion in his face. ‘It's such a lovely afternoon, and the walk is very pleasant. You'll understand the books much better for seeing the farm.’
‘Thank you, Mistress Wynter, but I think not. I would not wish to waste the Master's time in… diversions. The books are in the steward's room, I assume?’
‘I expect so, but Robert will know for sure.’ Henrietta toyed with the idea of fluttering her eyelashes helplessly at him, then thought better of it. No-one, surely, had ever fluttered their eyelashes at Cobham. ‘He's at the Home Farm now. Why don't you go over and ask him?’
There was a thin smile on the clerk's lips. ‘I will remain here. I will speak to Master Weldon after I have seen the books.’
‘As you wish.’ Henrietta hoped she was successfully concealing her own triumph behind downcast lids. ‘Perhaps if you see my aunt you will give her a message? Tell her I have gone to the Home Farm to see how the injured carpenter goes on.’
That should set him to work on the books with a will. He would assume she had gone to fetch Robert to conceal whatever secrets he imagined the books held. With a sketchy bow Cobham passed her and hurried downstairs leaving her free to leave openly. Henrietta changed her silk gown for a plain wool one and her house shoes for a sturdy pair of buckled leather, threw a light cloak around her shoulders and took the back stairs.
As she passed the sewing room she gestured to Alice, one finger on her lips, and led the ma
id further along the passage, nearer to where the steward's room door stood ajar.
‘I'm just going to the Home Farm with a poultice for Jack's leg. Look after Master Cobham, take him refreshment, see if he would like to see the cellars…’ It was a good thing Cobham could not see the look of almost comic astonishment on the maid's face or he would have had real grounds for suspicion. Henrietta permitted herself an unladylike wink, took a few jars at random from the stillroom shelves and walked into the warmth and bustle of the yard.