‘What is wrong, John?’
‘I wo
uld have liked to be home before dark with the roads like this. There are too many masterless men abroad and our horses are weary.’ He turned in the saddle and called, ‘You two at the back, there, keep a sharp look-out and your cudgels at the ready.’
‘Surely there is no danger.’ Henrietta began to feel alarm for the first time. John was usually so stolid and unruffled, not a man to imagine boggarts behind every bush, yet now he was on edge, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Her worries sharpened. Was the country in such a state of ferment that it was unsafe to travel a day's journey from home? No wonder Matthew had been so reluctant to leave her, even with a reliable armed escort.
‘Winterbourne, Mistress,’ Letty called at last, undisguised relief in her voice as the lights of the outlying cottages appeared in the darkness.
The village showed no signs of life save for the smoke from the chimneys and the flicker of rush-lights. All doors were shut and barred against the cold and whatever else the night held.
‘Who goes there?’ They were challenged by a guard on top of the Tudor gatehouse as they approached.
‘Your mistress, safe back from Hertford!’ John shouted back, relief at their safe return plain in his voice. One of the grooms spurred his tired horse into a canter to go ahead and rouse the household and Henrietta's spirits rose as the front door opened wide, spilling light on to the gravel before them.
‘Where is Alice?’ Henrietta asked, surprised to see Martha holding the lantern as John lifted her, stiff-limbed from her saddle. With Aunt Susan now Mistress Stone and Henrietta away at the wedding, Alice had assumed control of the household and Henrietta had expected to see her waiting on the threshold. ‘Is she well?’
‘Confined to her bed, Mistress.’ Martha bobbed a curtsy and lifted Henrietta's sodden cloak from her shoulders. ‘Pains came on this morning, but then they went away again. Mistress Perrott, she says it's early days yet, but Cook do think – ’
‘That will do, Martha. Stop gossiping and see to our supper. John, when you have seen to the horses, call at Home Farm and tell Master Weldon we are safe returned and ask after Mistress Weldon.’
The room was swaying. Henrietta still felt the rhythm of the horse after so many hours in the saddle and she clutched at the back of the chair to steady herself
‘Henrietta.’ Matthew ran down the stairs and took her in his arms. Her spirits lifted as she saw the relief on his face. He had missed her, been anxious for her. ‘Thank God you are home safe. I have been cursing myself for a fool for letting you travel from Hertford alone. If anything should have happened to you – ’
‘I was not alone. You had left me John and Peter and the others, armed to the teeth and watching every bush.’ She was touched and happy at his obvious concern for her. She had intended to tell him about the child immediately, but perhaps it would be as well to let his worry abate, or he would never let her beyond the gatehouse again.
Matthew released her, but her feet were so numb with cold that she staggered and almost fell.
‘Bed, Mistress.’ Letty put her arm around her waist, directing a disapproving look at Matthew. ‘Martha, bring broth and bread and butter and a flask of the best sack. The mistress has caught a chill on the road.’ She lowered her voice and whispered, ‘Don't want them gossiping yet a while, it is early days yet.’
‘You are so cold, Henrietta.’ Matthew stood chafing her hands. ‘Why did you not break your journey at the Silver Swan in Harpenden?’ Letty snorted. ‘Or at least take a heavier cloak?’
'Oh, it seemed all right when we left, it was such a warm day, I did not expect the weather to turn as it did, despite the rain.’
As she set foot on the first tread of the stairs Matthew added, ‘Well, we must get you a heavy winter cloak, a fur-lined one.’
‘Oh, no need for that, Master. The mistress has a fine one, new last year. Here.’ Helpfully Letty lifted the lid of the chest and pulled out the cloak, shaking out its creased folds.
‘No! Letty!’ Henrietta started forward, but it was too late. The gloves with the message fell at Matthew's feet. He stooped to pick them up, his eyes on her unguarded face, puzzlement and a growing suspicion dawning on his own.
He must have felt the message as soon as his fingers closed round the soft kid for his eyes grew hard and steady. ‘Come, Henrietta, we will go to our chamber.’ He turned to the puzzled servants. ‘You are all dismissed.’
‘Matthew, what is it?’ Henrietta demanded when the chamber door closed behind them. She let the sodden cloak fall from her shoulders and went to warm her hands at the fire, trying to appear unconcerned. Behind her she could feel Matthew's eyes on her back. He was still holding the gloves, the fingers crushed in his own.
Panic was paralysing her mind. She should be saying something, anything to distract him from the twisted scrap of parchment in the glove, but no words came. There was a rustle, then a soft thud as the gloves fell to the boards. Slowly Henrietta turned, unable to do anything but face the discovery.
‘There is a message in these gloves, madam. But I think you already know that. I now realise you have been at great pains to conceal it from me ever since they were delivered on our wedding day.’ He looked up to meet her gaze. ‘What? Nothing to say, wife? Why not tell me to throw it away, that it is but a greeting from the donor of this fine gift?’
Her world was about to fall about her ears and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Matthew smoothed the screw of parchment flat between his fingers and began to read in a cold, flat voice.
‘News reached me too late of the marriage you are forced to make against your heart and conscience. Do not despair. It may be many weeks before I can make the journey but I will come to you whatever the dangers and will lift this burden from you. Say nothing to arouse your husband's suspicions; show him a complaisant face and pray for our sovereign lord King Charles and for your faithful servant.
‘I cannot distinguish the signature. Perhaps you would be good enough to enlighten me.’ Matthew's voice was frozen beyond anger, his face rigid as he thrust the offending parchment at Henrietta.
‘No… no, I cannot,’ Henrietta stumbled over the words, breathless with fear. Now Matthew would know everything, realise she was involved in Royalist intrigues, perhaps even plotting the return of the King. And the danger was not only for herself but for Robert and Alice, for young Dick who had carried the message to Oxford, for the whole net of confederates still loyal to Charles. ‘Matthew, let me explain,’ she pleaded desperately.
‘I would like to hear you try.’ He crossed his arms across his chest and watched her implacably.