Like Chaff in the Wind (36 page)

“I can carry the basket,” Matthew offered once she’d finished loading it.

“I have no doubts whatsoever on that score, but you’re not. Sarah will take it.”

“I’ve promised Mark he can go with me,” Matthew said, receiving a long look in return.

“Neither of you will, and both of you will stay well away from them, at least to begin with. Make sure Mark knows that as well.”

Matthew frowned at her peremptory tone. “You can’t stop me from seeing them. I have to help them settle in.”

“You go up there, Matthew Graham, and you’ll be sleeping very alone at night, in the hayloft. Your choice.” She hefted the heavy basket off the table and went to find Sarah.

Matthew considered chasing her up the stairs for a serious one on one conversation regarding her duties and roles as a wife, but decided to save it for later. Much later, and possibly in the hayloft…

*

Halfway through the afternoon, Alex decided to escape the heat by settling herself under the large ash that stood on the further side of the stables. A quick look in the direction of her youngest children showed her they were muddy and happy by the trough, and Mark would be with Matthew somewhere. She reclined against the trunk, produced her work and with a little sigh set to.

“You don’t need to worry.” Simon flopped down in the shade beside Alex, his light blue eyes intent on her.

“Worry about what?” Alex held up the boy’s shirt she was sewing against the light. The hemline was uneven, but she decided it would do. She was sick of sewing and mending, sometimes she longed for a shopping centre with one shop after the other; GAP, H&M, M&S. She sighed and picked up the next garment in her basket. An impossible dream, given that this was 1665.

“About her, Margaret.”

“I know I don’t,” she said. “But as to Ian…he eats him with his eyes!”

Simon hemmed in agreement.

“And it must be difficult for him – for Ian. I wonder what they’ve told him to explain that sorry mess two years ago. It’s not as if they can wave a paternity test at him.”

Simon sat up, eyes bright with curiosity. Of a need he knew her background, and he was always pestering her for details about life in the future.

“Paternity tests?”

“They take blood from the baby, the mother and the father, and then they can see if it all matches.” She smiled and beckoned him closer. “They say that on average, one child in four is a cuckoo,” she confided, grinning at his horrified expression. “I dare say it’s more or less the same now.”

“No!” Simon shook his head. “You can’t think that married women would do something like that!”

“Have sex? Or have sex with someone other than their husband?” She laughed, her sewing forgotten in her lap.

“Hmph!” Simon lay back and stared up at the sky through the rustling leaves of the tree. “A man never knows, he never knows for sure if it’s his child or not.”

“No, and that’s the starting point of all this sorry mess with Ian, isn’t it?”

“Did he tell you?” she asked a bit later.

“No,” Simon said. “But it doesn’t take a genius to work out where he’s been.”

Alex hugged her knees. “I don’t like it. From being the occasional meal, the odd night’s lodging, now it’s Matthew guiding them across the moor, helping them find other hideouts.” She leaned her cheek against her skirts.

“I’m sure he’s careful.”

“Of course he is,” Alex agreed, mainly to convince herself. She smiled down at Simon and poked him in the gut. “That wasn’t very nice of you, to leave poor Joan all alone with your Aunt Judith.” She’d only met Judith Melville once, a quarrelsome woman with no similarities whatsoever to Simon. Matthew’s sister Joan, on the other hand, was one of the sweetest people she knew.

“Joan doesn’t mind, I think she even likes the old bat. Anyway, she’ll be here tomorrow.”

Someone called for the mistress, and Alex got to her feet.

“Now what?”

She slowed her steps halfway across the yard. “Who are they?” she asked Simon.

“Dragoons,” he said, frowning. He buttoned up his coat as he walked, and brushed his collar into place. By the time they were at the door, Simon Melville was all lawyer, joviality wiped from his face. He expanded his considerable girth, nodded at the officer, and placed a hand at Alex’s waist.

“Mistress,” the officer said.

“Captain,” Alex curtsied.

“We will not importune you for long,” the officer continued, jerking his head in the direction of the stables. Alex’s heart nosedived at the sight of her man being marched across the yard. He was struggling, his arms held in a tight grip by the two soldiers flanking him.

“What on earth…” Alex gasped, wheeling to face the officer. Behind her Matthew cursed, his voice loud in anger. Oh God; someone had seen him on the moor last night, and now they’d cart him off and flog him for it.

“We are taking him in for questioning,” the officer said.

“Questioning? About what?” She turned, eyes flying until they found Matthew’s. He was not only angry, he was afraid, she could see that. Calm down, she tried to tell him telepathically, furrowing her brow in concentration. Okay, so she seriously doubted she was a new Mr Spock, but he did stop struggling, informing the soldiers he wasn’t about to run anywhere, so they could unhand him.

“Now, now, Mistress Graham. Surely you’ve heard. Fugitive preachers abound all around, and to aid them…” the officer’s voice tailed off.

She widened her eyes. “Matthew? When? How?”

“Last night. We had them surrounded, three of them, and out of nowhere appeared a man.” He glared in the direction of Matthew. “A capable swordsman at that, leaving one of my men badly wounded.”

What? Alex forced herself not to look at Matthew. To wound a soldier…they might hang him! Her throat tightened and it took considerable effort to turn to the officer and give him a little smile.

“Well, I can assure you it wasn’t him,” Alex said. “He was snoring his head off in bed, with me.”

“If so a spot of questioning will do no harm, will it?” the officer shrugged, clearly not believing her.

“I’m going with him,” Simon said.

The officer raised a brow. “I think not.”

“I think aye. I’m his lawyer.”

That didn’t please the officer, narrow face pinching together into a frown. But he acquiesced, muttering something under his breath. Simon scurried off to see to his horse and Alex moved close enough to touch Matthew’s hand, a light graze no more.

“It’ll be alright,” Matthew said, swinging himself up into the saddle. She heard it in his voice, how he was struggling to sound matter-of-fact. Alex wanted to say something reassuring, but her vocal cords had somehow gone numb, leaving her mute. Instead she stood beside his horse, holding on to his leg. Matthew leaned towards her, eyes lightening into a greyish green.

“I love you,” he said in an undertone, which only increased her anxiety, because he rarely said such things to her. Alex managed a wobbly smile and stood on her toes to caress his cheek.

“And I you,” she said.

Her husband nodded and at the officer’s command followed him up the lane, with Simon in his wake. Not once did he look back, but Alex stood rooted to the ground for as long as she could see him.

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For more information about Matthew and Alex, plus bonus material, please visit Anna Belfrage’s website,
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Copyright Notice

Published in 2014 by the author

using SilverWood Books Empowered Publishing®

Second Edition

SilverWood Books

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Copyright © Anna Belfrage 2014

The right of Anna Belfrage to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the copyright holder.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

ISBN 978-1-78132-169-0 (paperback)

ISBN 978-1-78132-170-6 (ebook)