The Blacksmith's Wife (13 page)

Joanna returned to the kitchen and ran her fingers along the mantelpiece. They came away dirty. She wiped them on her skirts and began to compile a list of tasks for the days ahead. She opened the door to the room she had not been in yet. It was not the bedroom as she had expected, but a chamber that contained a large wooden chest, a low stool and a table overflowing with piles of papers and boxes. This must be Hal’s private room. She glanced around, searching for any insight into Hal’s interest, but stopped short of moving the papers.

The house was not rectangular as Joanna had supposed but shaped like an ‘L’ and a door in the side wall led to the bedroom. A pile of sheepskins, below which Joanna could glimpse a red-and-green counterpane, covered the bed. Seeing it brought the reality of her situation crashing down on Joanna in a way nothing else in the house had. She would spend her nights here in Hal’s arms. She remembered the feeling of Hal’s hands on her body and, more recently, her own hands roaming across the muscles she had discovered when she held him so tightly as they rode. Even lovemaking was no longer an unknown terror. The prospect of what Hal would expect of her did not seem so daunting as it once had. She had faced that and had survived.

Hal found her there, still standing in the doorway, still staring at the bed, her fingers gripping the doorframe.

‘Are you still feeling faint?’ he asked, his face full of concern.

Joanna shook her head. ‘I’m fine,’ she lied. ‘Just a little tired from the journey still.’

He stared at her quizzically. ‘You can go into this room too. It’s yours as much as any of the house.’

When she said nothing in reply Hal grinned. His eyes roved across her body. Could he be thinking of the same thing she had been? ‘Come with me,’ he instructed gently. He took her by the hand and drew her into the room, closing the door behind him. His smile vanished as Joanna bit her lip nervously.

‘You’re reluctant still,’ he said.

Joanna shook her head. ‘It isn’t because it’s you,’ she said hurriedly, thinking of their quarrel the previous day. ‘What we did yesterday...’

She turned away and wrapped her arms about her body. Hal came behind her. He turned her round, and gently but firmly tilted her face until she was looking into his eyes.

‘Yesterday morning was new to you,’ he said. ‘It will be easier now. It can be so much more than that, I promise.’

‘What do you mean?’ Joanna asked warily. She remembered the sensation of his mouth hot and eager on her flesh, his kiss driving all thoughts from her mind.

‘You know what I mean,’ Hal said, his voice deep and low. His eyes bored into Joanna, pinning her to the spot. He drew her closer until he filled her vision and she could feel the kiss of his breath on her face. ‘There may not be love in a marriage, but there can be pleasure, for both of us. For you. I can show you.’

He traced his thumb from her cheek down to her jaw, then continued downwards slowly, sensuously. His fingers traced the contour of her neck until they came to rest in the hollow of her collarbone. His touch was as light as the breeze lifting her hair, waking every nerve in Joanna’s flesh. She drew a sharp breath. Hal had told her that caution would hold her back. Would being bedded be more pleasurable if she was less reticent? The feeling of Hal moving inside her had left her raw, and the disconcerting pressure building within had threatened to suffocate her, but afterwards she ached for something she could not articulate. The urge to satisfy her curiosity flickered within her and she nodded slowly. She closed her eyes, her lips parting.

Hal’s lips touched hers, sweet with the taste of the mead. He was kissing her and she was kissing him back feverishly.

From a long way off a door slammed and a voice called out, ‘Master Danby, are you there?’

The voice was female. Hal froze, his lips still on Joanna’s. She opened her eyes. He gave her a look of apology, then strode to the door and flung it open.

‘I’m here, Meg,’ he called.

Joanna followed him into the outer room in time to see a woman not much older than she was sidle in from the kitchen. The woman dropped into a curtsy that she held for a touch too long, giving Joanna full view of a pair of freckled breasts that were straining against the low neckline of her dress. Joanna’s eyes narrowed as it struck her that she was not the intended audience. The woman stood, revealing a face as freckled as her bosom. Wisps of curly ginger hair escaped from her tight cap. She was not beautiful, but her green eyes glinted and her wide smile gave her face a vitality that bore its own beauty.

‘Joanna, this is Meg Parry. I told you about her earlier,’ Hal said.

This was the widow Hal had spoken of?

‘Yes, you did,’ Joanna said hesitantly.

‘Mistress Parry, let me introduce my wife, Joanna Danby.’

The woman dipped another curtsy, much briefer than before, and if the surprised twist of her mouth passed Hal by it had not gone unnoticed by Joanna.

‘I was not expecting to see you until tomorrow, Meg.’ Hal’s voice was warm.

‘I saw your horse outside and thought you might need some bread,’ Meg replied. She smiled coyly at Hal.

Two things struck Joanna immediately. The first was that Meg Parry had a fancy for Hal and the second was that Joanna found she did not like that at all.

Chapter Thirteen

M
eg soon recovered from her surprise at finding her master had wed and began chattering aimlessly, promising to return the following day to show Joanna around the village. Hal listened with one eye on Joanna. She seemed less than enthusiastic about the prospect. Her smile only flickered briefly across her lips and never reached her eyes. He was surprised. Surely the prospect of a companion her own age would have appealed?

Hal inwardly cursed Meg’s timing, though she could not know she had unwittingly interrupted his seduction of Joanna. That last kiss had been the closest Joanna had come to showing genuine pleasure in the experience. He was still very much aware of the nervousness that coursed through her whenever he touched her, but it seemed to be melting with each encounter. A minute or two more alone he would have had her in bed.

He grinned to himself as heat filled his veins, losing the thread of what Meg was telling him about the continuing feud with her neighbours regarding their goose. He smiled and let his thoughts drift again, watching Joanna tilt her head on one side in sympathy, revealing her smooth, shapely throat that begged to be kissed.

Their first coupling had been rushed and awkward. Now Hal was filled with a determination that Joanna would not regret the next time. Her love might come or not, but her desire was growing. When she turned those cool blue eyes on him other parts of his body began commanding his attention louder than his heart.

If Meg left soon it was not too late to carry on from where he and Joanna had left off. He took Meg by the arm, led her to the door to bid her farewell and ushered her out with promises to sort the matter of the errant goose. When he turned back Joanna had followed him into the kitchen and was standing by the table. Her lips were pressed together and she was cutting the loaf of bread with vicious thrusts.

Hal folded his arms and studied her carefully. When he had found her standing in the bedroom doorway her expression had been unreadable, but her body had been rigid and her knuckles white, as though she was relying on the wooden frame to hold her upright. Her face had the same drawn appearance now. She had said that she was not faint, but perhaps she had not been entirely truthful. The journey must have tired her more than he had first realised. Lady Danby had accused him of neglect yesterday and today that judgement would be valid.

‘Leave that and come sit with me,’ he said.

He’d sit by the fire to warm her through, take her on his lap and kiss her slowly. Lips first, then her neck, perhaps the soft hollow behind her ear where her hair was escaping from its cap, next her collarbone and further down beyond that. He could imagine the taste of salt on her skin. Excitement began to build within him at the thought.

Joanna’s lips tightened further. ‘We should eat while the bread is fresh,’ she replied. ‘After all, Mistress Parry has gone to the trouble of bringing it for you.’

‘There’s no hurry,’ Hal said. ‘You look weary.’

Joanna looked at him, her chin jutting out obstinately. ‘Do you have anything to accompany the bread?’ she asked, ignoring his words and holding out a plate.

Very well, if she was determined to eat now they might as well. There was little to be gained from trying to satisfy a woman in one way if her body was demanding other nourishment.

His fingers touched Joanna’s wrist as he took the plate from her hand and he saw her fingers tighten on the rim. She was aware of his touch, however much she resisted admitting it. He thought back to their arrival and Joanna’s obstinate insistence she could manage unaided, despite the evidence otherwise. He doubted she would have refused Roger’s offers so coldly.

Don’t think of that
, he warned himself. Only self-pity lay in trying to delve inside her mind. He’d married her knowing her heart was not his so it was too late to start wondering if it ever could be.

He walked into the pantry and grabbed a chunk of yellowing cheese and butter and a ham bone that was not too sparse. He presented his offerings with the solemnity of a steward at a feast. Joanna giggled, a sound that sent Hal’s spirits soaring.

‘The first meal we have prepared together,’ he commented. ‘Not much, but for tonight it will suffice.’

‘I suppose Mistress Parry usually cooks for you?’ Joanna asked in an offhand manner. She broke a morsel of cheese and nibbled it gracefully.

‘Sometimes, though I can feed myself when I choose to,’ Hal answered. He bit into the bread and chewed. Still chewing, he returned to the pantry and brought a stoppered bottle of wine to the table. He spat a piece of grit into his palm.

‘Meg has a good heart and she tries hard, but her skills do not lie in the kitchen.’ He grinned.

There was a clatter as Joanna put two cups down on the table rather fiercely. Hal was pleased to note her cheeks had turned pink. Clearly all she had been lacking was food.

‘I suppose there must be other reasons you employ Mistress Parry,’ she said, pouring the wine. She took a cup and sat by the fire. Hal joined her.

‘There are always a number of reasons we do anything,’ Hal agreed.

Joanna’s wide eyes regarded him expectantly. He lapsed into silence before recounting the tale of two years ago when he’d returned from Durham in a blizzard only to be set upon by a couple of brigands waiting by the roadside. One he’d slain, the other he had roped and dragged back to Ravenscrag, only to discover the man was an occupant of the village. Hal’s testimony had put the villain’s neck in the noose.

The man had been Meg’s husband and the sight of the young woman standing alone and dry eyed before the gallows had pricked Hal’s conscience. He had found his home overrun with rats and in need of care and offered her employment rather than see her destitute.

‘Employing Meg worked to both our advantages,’ he said.

‘Yes. Advantages on either side seem to be your strong point,’ Joanna said curtly.

She was white faced once more and gripped her cup tightly between her hands.

‘And why not?’ Hal asked, taken aback by the venom in her voice. Perhaps she was comparing Meg’s position to her own. They weren’t so different really, Hal considered. He’d always had the compulsion to help unfortunates when he could, but why this should have raised Joanna’s ire was beyond him.

‘You can hardly criticise me for trying to aid someone when I’ve done the same for you.’

‘Yes, another waif no one wanted. But you never decided to marry Mistress Parry,’ Joanna remarked, her voice higher than usual.

‘Why would I want to do that?’ Hal asked. He would concede that marrying Joanna had been a step further than he usually took, but the advantages had been greater for both of them.

Joanna’s face reddened once more.

‘Why indeed. I suppose you had no need to.’

She picked up the poker and gave the fire a half-hearted prod. It hit Hal like a bolt of lightning that Joanna suspected him of relations with Meg. He could scarcely believe she could be jealous, but there was no other explanation he could think of.

Anger rippled through him. Why should she care what he did when her own heart belonged to someone else? He took the poker from Joanna’s hand and stabbed it into the flames violently until sparks flew on to the hearthstone.

‘If there’s something you want to say to me please say it,’ he said tersely.

If she was about to admit her suspicions Hal never knew because there was a loud hammering at the door. The second interruption at a crucial moment caused Hal to grind his teeth in exasperation.

‘We’ll discuss this another time,’ he snapped as he strode to the door and flung it open.

A man swathed in a heavy cloak in the colours of Lord Danby’s livery stood there. Moisture clung to the nap of the material. It had started to drizzle.

‘I’ve brought your cart,’ the visitor said.

Hal grimaced. The timing could have been better, but at least their belongings had arrived safely. He reached for his cloak that was hanging on the peg by the door and threw it over his shoulders.

‘Let’s get it unloaded before the rain starts in earnest,’ he said.

Between the two of them Hal and Lord Danby’s servant carried the chest bearing Joanna’s possessions into the bedchamber and deposited it against the wall. Joanna lingered in the doorway, watching anxiously. She followed them back outside to where the cart stood and seized on her leather bag that was stuffed between the seat and a crate of apples Lord Danby had presented Hal with. Relief spread across her face.

Hal watched as she threw the strap across her body and clutched the bag beneath her arm, hugging it tightly. He wondered what it contained that made her so anxious to reclaim it. Her scrip containing money was belted securely at her waist and she wore her marriage brooch over one breast—not that Hal imagined she viewed that as worth protecting.

Joanna’s eyes were on Hal when he looked up. As their eyes met she clutched the bag tighter to her breast and glanced away guiltily. Whatever the bag contained he was not intended to know. Jealousy that Hal had so recently scorned Joanna for flooded him. Was it full of trinkets and letters from Roger? That seemed unlikely to Hal. His brother was a reluctant writer and from Hal’s experience his idea of a memento was a coin if his partner had pleased him and a bruise or teeth-shaped scar if she had not. The unpleasant question crossed his mind whether Roger had ever struck Joanna and his fists clenched. Perhaps that would explain her earlier reticence to accept his aid.

‘Where do you want everything else?’ the servant asked.

Hal shook himself from his reverie and directed the man. When all their belongings and the food supplies were inside the house Hal climbed on to the cart and drove it the short distance to the forge by the river. The rest of the baggage was equipment and supplies for Hal’s work. He dismounted and ran his hands over the boxes in anticipation. Some of this was from Simon Vernon: a marriage gift to Hal—or perhaps further thanks for relieving him of Joanna—of various metals and stones to help him in his work. More than he could have afforded himself. Excitement rippled through him. Tomorrow afternoon he would start planning his new masterwork.

Joanna walked over to the cart, still holding her bag.

‘What are you doing?’ Hal asked.

‘I’m here to help,’ she answered.

‘I don’t expect you to lug bars of iron. The forge is no place for a woman. Go back to the house. If you want to help I’m sure our friend here would welcome a drink of something warming.’

Joanna narrowed her eyes. She spun on her heel and stalked back to the house.

* * *

When Hal and the servant retuned to the house the scent of wine mingling with cloves and cinnamon filled the kitchen. An iron pot stood warming by the hearth with two cups beside it. There was no sign of Joanna.

By the time Hal left the servant curling up on a straw pallet in front of the fire and made his way to bed Joanna was asleep. She was facing the wall, knees tucked to her chest and the bolster pulled tightly up to her shoulders. As he climbed into bed her breathing paused. Hal tensed. He tugged some of the covers over himself. Joanna did not move, but her breathing took on the regular rhythm again. She was not asleep, just feigning.

Frustration coursed through Hal. Was she waiting for him to touch her? Was she anticipating the idea or dreading it?

Let her lie there and wonder. He was tired enough that all thoughts of lovemaking had gone out of his head anyway.

* * *

The raucous screech of a cockerel woke Hal the next morning. He climbed from the bed, sluiced himself down in the ewer of cold water and pulled on a fresh pair of hose and tunic.

He cracked open the shutter, letting light flood into the room. Joanna sat up and stretched her arms upwards. Her breasts jutted forward beneath the fabric of her shift. Hal watched them keenly, not bothering to hide his interest.

‘I have to leave today, but I’ll be back before nightfall,’ he told her.

‘Today? But we’ve only just arrived!’ Joanna rubbed her eyes and drew her knees up.

‘That can’t be helped,’ Hal said. ‘I have a commitment I must keep that takes me away from time to time. Meg will be along shortly and my father’s servant will want feeding before he returns to Wharram Danby. Have a pleasant day.’

‘Wait!’ Joanna climbed from the bed and crossed to the doorway, intercepting Hal. ‘Where are you going?’

Hal sucked his teeth. Joanna would have to find out about his obligations at some point, but after her suspicions regarding Meg Parry, today was not the time. When she was settled more and had come to accept her life here he would begin to tell her the aspects of his life he had not yet revealed.

‘You told me the other day that your thoughts were your own.’ He took her face between his hands and smiled into her eyes.

‘So are mine.’

* * *

Lord Danby’s servant departed shortly after Hal left on his mysterious errand. Joanna was mildly curious where Hal had gone, but this mattered less than the fact he was absent.

Perhaps he would be away frequently and she would have the house to herself, in which case marriage might be bearable after all. When she considered the alternative husband she could have been forced to endure, this was a better result than she could have anticipated.

A quick walk from room to room confirmed Joanna’s belief that whatever reason Hal had for employing Meg, tidying was not one of them. She resolved not to begin work on cleaning the house and instead spent the morning arranging her few belongings on a low table that stood empty in the corner of the room. With a finger she traced a spiral in the dust, then another and a third.

She pulled out her rolls of linen from her bag and found a spare corner among the other drawings and redrew the pattern, adding further twists and whorls.

* * *

When the door slammed late in the morning she started guiltily and slipped the paper back in her bag.

Meg, as she entreated Joanna to call her, had put a jug of milk on the table and was straightening the plates on the sideboard. She bobbed a curtsy to Joanna and wiped her hands down her skirt. She looked expectantly towards the door Joanna had come through.