Hastily she scrambled to her feet, filled with delight as she smoothed down her rumpled skirts and bundled her hair back into its confining snood.
In a daze of happiness she wandered back through the hayfield, swinging her sunhat, humming a little tune under her breath. There was no sign of him when she reached the cornfield.
‘Where did Matthew go?’ she asked Alice, plumping down beside her.
‘Back to the house – a messenger had come for him.’ Alice looked at her and clicked her tongue chidingly. ‘Turn round, Henrietta and let me re-lace your bodice, it is coming loose.’
‘Thank you Alice,’ Henrietta responded with a sly smile. It was all very well for Mistress Weldon to look prim, but she had a good idea where Alice's courting had been done.
How tiresome that business from London had intruded on this idyll. The workers were laughing and happy despite the hot sun and their labours, a nursery of babies were asleep under the shady trees while the little girls played cat's-cradle and rhyming games and the boys chased harvest mice among the few remaining stooks.
At last all was gathered in except one lonely stook in the middle of the field.
‘Mistress! This one's for you,’ they called and, smiling, Henrietta kilted up her skirts and took the proffered pitchfork. Old Tom gave her a hand and the last sheaf was safe delivered onto the wagon.
Strong arms lifted her up to stand on to the tail-gate and voices called for silence. ‘You have all done
well. Robert tells me this is the best harvest Winterbourne has ever known. You have worked hard this summer, and now it is time to play: harvest supper awaits us in the yard as soon as this load is home.’
There were loud cheers and the cart creaked off to the accompaniment of robust singing. Henrietta sat down on the tail-gate with an undignified thump as Alice was handed up beside her. The labourers straggled along in front and behind and one of the older boys tapped Henrietta on the shoulder. ‘I've made you a corn dolly, Mistress. Didn't think you needed one, Alice,’ he added cheekily.
‘You mind your manners, Cousin Harry. It's Mistress Weldon to you.’ But she was grinning all the same. ‘Pin it to your gown,’ she whispered to Henrietta. ‘I know it's heathen superstition, but they do say it helps with the getting of a child.’
Henrietta did as she was bid. She was feeling so happy and contented that she was quite willing to believe in Alice's white magic.
The ricks cast long shadows as the happy procession wound its way into the yard. The women left their menfolk and walked off chattering towards the house to help the kitchen servants set out the harvest supper of cold meats and cool ale, the best meal of the whole year.
The heavy horses were unhitched and led away. The last wagon would be left loaded until the morrow when the stacks would be finished and thatched. Willing hands lifted Henrietta and Alice down, all formality forgotten as she mingled with her people in her patched old gown.
‘I must see where the master is,’ she said to Alice. ‘Make him put aside whatever tiresome legal business has been brought to him from London and join our celebration. He must not miss his first harvest supper at Winterbourne.’
The quickest way back to the house was through the stableyard. As she stepped under the archway she saw to her amazement the big grey horse, Matthew in the saddle, his cloak strapped behind. He was dressed for travel, booted and spurred with his long sword hanging by his side.
‘Matthew!’ Henrietta started forward as a groom carrying saddle-bags and leading a second horse emerged from the stables. ‘Where are you going? What is wrong?’
Chapter Nineteen
‘Henrietta.’ He was looking down at her, his face darkened with emotion. Henrietta recognised anger there, although not with her, she sensed. Behind it was something more: anxiety, apprehension. It was as if he had glimpsed something terrible approaching and was steeling himself to meet it face to face.
She took hold of his stirrup leather in both hands as though her gesture could hold him there until she had her answer. ‘Matthew, you must tell me What is wrong? Where are you going?’
His face was blurred in the twilight. His gloved hand reached out as if to caress her cheek then turned instead and unclasped her fingers from the leathers. ‘I must not linger, Henrietta. I have a long and hard ride tonight if I am to reach London by tomorrow morning.’
Her hands were still caught in his, but at the mention of London her fingers jerked convulsively. ‘London?’ Her bewilderment deepened. ‘Why must you go to London now? It grows dark. And our people are expecting us at the harvest supper.’
Matthew hesitated, and for a moment she thought the yearning in her voice had swayed him. His horse shifted restlessly between his knees, recalling him to his duty. ‘Goodbye, Wife. I have no time for explanations. Nathaniel will tell you what is afoot.’
The big grey snorted and plunged forward as Matthew spurred him under the archway. The groom, taken by surprise, ran forward and scrambled into the saddle, kicking his own mount after his master, the pack-horse cantering behind. The beat of hoofs on the hard track carried for a long time on the still air.
Henrietta stood in the dim light of the yard staring blankly at the empty archway, her thoughts in turmoil. What could have occurred to send her husband from Winterbourne to London with such urgency? And what was the cause of his scarcely veiled apprehension? She turned to hurry into the house in the hope of finding some clue
A patch of shadow detached itself from a corner of the stable yard and Nathaniel Cobham barred her way. ‘You are in some haste, Mistress.’
His sudden appearance made her heart beat wildly with shock. ‘Cobham! There you are. What are you doing lurking in the shadows?’ Henrietta swept her skirts away from the crabbed figure, making no effort to disguise her distaste.
‘But I thought you would desire to know where the master had gone.’ His very servility was a calculated insult.
‘He is gone to London. Why do you imagine that I, his wife, would not know that? If you have been spying in that corner for the past few minutes you would have heard him tell me.’ Perversely she could not bring herself to ask this man she disliked for the information she so desperately wanted.