‘It will be better soon. Your condition makes you fearful. Robert tells me it is all up with the King's men and Parliament is once more in control. Your husband will be reassured, more tolerant.’
It was extraordinary how confused Henrietta's feelings were. Her love for Matthew was all she cared about, yet her sympathies for the cause remained. Somewhere out there the King was being hunted down like a stag, perhaps to suffer the same fate as his father on the scaffold.
But Matthew was right: the important thing was stability for the country so that her child and Alice's could grow up in peace and never have to choose sides against each other.
When the time came for her to leave she begged Alice not to breathe a word of what had passed between them, even to Robert.
Entering the hall, she dropped her cloak on the chest as Matthew came through the screens, booted and spurred, a saddlebag over one arm. ‘Matthew, where are you going?’
‘To London on business. It is most urgent, otherwise, as you know, nothing would tear me from your side.’ It was no protestation of love, more a warning.
‘Cobham stays, of course?’ she enquired coldly.
‘Of course. As my eyes and ears. I shall be gone perhaps a week, dear Wife.’ Through the bitterness she recognised his pain and put out a hand to him, but he shook it off and strode out through the door without a backward glance.
Chapter Twenty Three
‘It is good of you to come and stay with me while Matthew is away, Lady Willoughby. These long dark evenings pass so slowly without company.’ Henrietta passed her guest a glass of Canary wine and took up her tapestry again.
The older woman had driven up to see her the day after Matthew's departure and, finding her alone, had sent her groom home for her maid, announcing her intention of staying until Matthew's return.
‘We have all been dull.’ Lady Willoughby took a sip of wine. ‘These present troubled times have set nerves a-jangling and my husband has driven me quite mad with his prohibitions on travelling. He would not let me stir without an armed escort, even to go these few miles between home and Winterbourne.’
‘I know,’ Henrietta sighed. ‘Matthew left Robert with such strict instructions about the security of the estate that we have all felt prisoners here these past few days. We have seen no sign of the marauding Scots or stragglers from the King's army that the men seem so alarmed about and it is very difficult to carry on the work of the estate with so many men engaged patrolling the house and grounds.’
‘I noticed the lad on the gatehouse roof as we rode under this morning. I pray things will settle soon. Surely we will have news of the King's fate, God keep him, before many more days are past.’
‘How fortunate the news of the King's return did not reach us in time for Marcus to join his army.’ Henrietta shuddered at the thought. ‘He brings James so much to mind, so idealistic, so full of fervour for the Royalist cause.’
‘More fool him!’ Lady Willoughby interjected unexpectedly. ‘Silly boys. What do they hope to achieve by this bloodshed? Matters have passed beyond that now- or would have, if the wives and mothers of this country had any say in the matter,’ she added darkly.
After a light supper the two women sat in companionable privacy in Aunt Susan's old parlour reading the broadsheets Lady Willoughby had brought with her and working on their embroidery.
After a while Henrietta put down her work to pull the heavy brocade across the windows against the dark outside. The night was moonless and cloudy, even the starlight was obscured. From the top of the gatehouse the watchman's lantern shone faintly, a lonely sentinel in the darkness of the November evening.
‘You received those broadsheets from London safely.’ She settled on a low stool by Lady Willoughby, her amethyst skirts pooling around her on the polished boards. ‘Perhaps I will hear from Matthew soon.’
‘Do not be concerned.’ The older woman rested her hand caressingly on Henrietta's head, responding to her fears rather than to what she had said. ‘There has been no fighting recently, only skirmishes and none of those near London.’
Henrietta sat silent, resting against Lady Willoughby's chair, letting her guest's words wash over her. The little flame of hope that Matthew's pain at their parting had ignited flickered and died again, leaving her despairing. She had been so concerned with Matthew's reaction that the thought of the message itself had been lost.
Now, sitting looking at the window-seat above the priest's hole, she wondered about the messenger. He had sent no further word. What if the man had been killed at Worcester? The papers would stay there forever and she could never tell Matthew the truth.
She must have sighed, for Lady Willoughby bent down, tilting up her chin with one thin finger. ‘You are asleep where you sit, child. It is time you were in your bed, not drowsing before the fire while I gossip on.’
Henrietta got to her feet, acknowledging that she would be glad of her rest. ‘And you will be tired too, Lady Willoughby. It is kind of you to visit me, are you sure your family can spare you to me?’
‘You have pretty manners, child.’ The older woman got to her feet stiffly and picked up a branch of candles. ‘My family are only too pleased to have a few day's freedom from common sense and order.’
Smiling at her guest's robust turn of phrase, Henrietta took her arm as they slowly climbed the stairs. She felt tired and out of sorts. Tomorrow she would have to consult Goodwife Perrott, she must not neglect her health and endanger her child because she was so preoccupied with Matthew.
She parted with Lady Willoughby at the guest-chamber door and made her way along the passage to her own room. The gold velvet curtains were drawn across the casements and half around the bed and Letty had turned down the coverlet and run a warming pan between the sheets. Autumn had well and truly arrived, damp and dark at the end of a summer which the old people of the village spoke of as the hottest in many a long year.
Letty tapped on the door and brought in a bowl of warm water. ‘Unlace me please, Letty.’ Her maid untied the knots and pulled the bodice lacing loose. ‘Oh, what a blessed relief to be out of that.’
‘You should have worn a looser gown, Mistress. But I suppose Lady Willoughby might have noticed your condition then. Never mind, it is very becoming at the bosom.’ Letty was growing pert and confident in her new role of lady's maid now Alice was safely out of the way at Home Farm.
‘Becoming it may be, miss, but I shall risk a looser gown tomorrow.’ Tiredness and worry sharpened her tone and Letty bit her lip. Unlike Alice she could sulk for days. ‘You may go, Letty. Lay my nightgown to warm by the fire. I will finish undressing myself.’