The Blacksmith's Wife (2 page)

A cold draught blew around her neck and a deep, familiar voice spoke.

‘Roger, it strikes me...’

Sir Roger released her abruptly and stepped back. Joanna turned slowly around to face the speaker, heart sinking as she saw who stood behind her.

The man she had met before stood in the doorway, his hands outstretched in apology. ‘I’m sorry. I saw your boy wandering off. I didn’t know you would have company.’

He did not sound contrite in the least. When his eyes fell on Joanna they held her gaze and his lips twitched. Sir Roger gave a long sigh of annoyance. Joanna’s eyes flickered from man to man.

‘Mistress Sollers, permit me to introduce my brother, Henry Danby,’ Sir Roger said in a clipped tone.

Joanna’s jaw dropped. ‘You never told me you had a brother!’ she said.

‘Half-brother,’ the man said curtly, glancing at Sir Roger.

‘Did I never mention Hal?’ Roger said carelessly. ‘I suppose not. He’s been travelling around the country. Our paths have barely crossed in the past three years,’

Joanna stared in wonder from Sir Roger to his brother and back again. Conscious she was staring at the new arrival, Joanna curtsied. ‘Good day to you, Sir Henry.’

‘Just Hal if you please. I’m no sir.’

‘Hal and I share the same father but we have different mothers,’ Sir Roger explained.

Half-brothers. That made sense. They were too close in age to make any other explanation possible.

‘What Roger means is I’m a bastard,’ Henry added with a humourless smile. He lifted his jaw and crossed his arms, as though daring Joanna to confront him. ‘Though my father did me the kindness of acknowledging me as his. Many would not.’

Taken aback at the harshness of his voice, Joanna stared at him. When they had met before he had seemed good-humoured, for all his mocking words, but his sudden fierceness was unnerving. His brow was knotted and his eyes dark. For a moment silence hung awkwardly between them as all three stood motionless saying nothing.

Side by side the brothers were not so alike after all. They were of equal height and stature and both had hair the colour of a crow’s wing but Sir Roger’s was swept back and tied neatly at his nape. He wore a short, neatly trimmed beard while his brother’s hair fell forward in careless tangles to a jaw rough with stubble.

The resemblance was strongest about the eyes: deep brown, flecked with green and ringed with long lashes set into faces tanned from a life spent outside, but the expressions in them were markedly different. Sir Roger gazed on Joanna with fondness but Henry appraised her with a dark humour, seemingly enjoying her discomposure.

‘I have to go. I am expected home,’ Joanna mumbled, reaching for her bag. She smiled at Sir Roger, hoping he would offer to escort her through the camp but he merely smiled stiffly and bade her farewell. Hiding her disappointment, Joanna held her hand out for him to kiss, nodded towards Henry and fled from the tent. She reached the gateway in a rush but stopped as she neared the guards.

One of them smirked at her, his eyes roving up and down her body.

‘Finished your delivery quickly, didn’t you? Is your load lighter now?’

‘I’ll bet someone’s is,’ the other sniggered, nudging his companion in the ribs.

Joanna’s eyes prickled with shame. She took a deep breath, determined to walk past with dignity.

‘If you don’t keep your mouths civil in the presence of women I’ll have a word in the right ear and you’ll be guarding the middens until the tournament ends!’

Joanna spun round to find Henry Danby striding towards her.

‘Mistress Sollers, allow me to escort you back to the city.’ He held out an arm for her. Surprised, she took it and let him lead her through the gateway.

‘If you are as virtuous as you claim to be you shouldn’t visit the camp again,’ he muttered as they passed by the guards. ‘Those oafs won’t be the only ones casting slights on you.’

‘What do you mean
claim
?’ Joanna pulled her arm free and rounded on him angrily. ‘My reputation is no concern of yours and I have done nothing to incite gossip.’ She flushed slightly as she thought of the kisses she had permitted Sir Roger to take that were far from fitting for an unmarried woman. ‘Sir Roger and I were doing nothing wrong,’ she said indignantly. She stopped short. If she had spoken in such a tone to Sir Roger he would have been angry or turned cold but Master Danby simply laughed.

‘What you and my brother do in private is none of my business, but I wasn’t referring to that. He leaned closer and murmured in her ear. ‘When we meet next you can buy me some wine.’

‘Why?’ Joanna asked in confusion.

‘Because I was right in guessing who you were searching for when you whispered so temptingly in my ear.’

Joanna snorted angrily. ‘Goodbye, Master Danby. I can make my own way back,’ she said. She turned and walked away, his soft laughter ringing in her ears.

Chapter Two

B
y the time Joanna passed through the gate into the city her face was no longer red though she still shook with indignation whenever she thought of the guards’ words.

Visiting the camp had been a mistake and her indiscretions with Sir Roger had been the biggest error of all. His kisses had been more intense than ever before and the way he had touched her more than a little alarming. Such intimacies should wait for their wedding night. Little wonder Henry Danby had cast doubts on her virtue after he had found them together.

Horror flooded through Joanna and she stopped abruptly as his laughing face flashed before her eyes. What if he told Sir Roger of their earlier encounter? How would the knight view such behaviour? She could try finding Master Danby again and pleading for him to keep her secret, but she could not face the trial of talking her way past the guards again, or the scathing expression she was sure she would see in Master Danby’s eyes. Whatever happened she would have to deal with it.

She returned home and pushed the front door open cautiously. Even her short interlude had made her later than she would be expected. With luck Uncle Simon would still be at his foundry or the Guild Hall and she could slip in unnoticed. Two girls aged seven and four hurled themselves towards her, squealing with delight. Their older sister, ten and too dignified to show such affection, nodded from the corner and returned to her sewing.

Joanna hugged her cousins, answering the questions that tumbled from them. Yes, she had seen the jousting. Yes, Sir Roger won. No, she did not know which knight had triumphed in the mêlée.

‘Joanna, come in here!’

The laughter ceased at the sound of the gruff voice. Joanna walked through to the kitchen, her stomach fluttering.

‘You’re late.’ Simon Vernon folded his burly arms across his chest and frowned at his niece. ‘Where have you been? Watching the tournament while I work to feed you all?’

Joanna forced herself to look contrite.

‘I beg your pardon,’ she said. ‘I delivered the buckle to Sir Roger in person.’

Simon’s brows knotted. ‘You visited him unchaperoned! Do you care nothing for your reputation? Or mine?’

‘I do care.’ She pushed away the insinuations of the guards and Henry Danby’s similar warning. ‘Sir Roger sends his thanks for your gift.’

A thin smile cracked Simon’s stern face. ‘So, you pleased him?’

Joanna blushed, remembering his caresses. ‘I hope he will speak to you tonight.’

Simon pushed himself from his stool, towering above Joanna. ‘He had better. Even the most charitable uncle is not obliged to keep you forever. For three years I’ve waited for you to catch him as your husband. The hours I’ve spent entertaining him have cost me dearly but he still delays. I’m beginning to doubt his feelings for you are as strong as they first appeared to be.’

‘Sir Roger will marry me,’ Joanna insisted. Of course he must love her, to be so direct and forceful with his embraces.

‘I hope so,’ Simon growled. ‘You will be twenty-one before the summer is over. You should have been married long before this. I have enough mouths of my own to feed, with all the expense that entails.’

Joanna glanced around. Richly embroidered tapestries hung from every wall. Heavy oak chests stood either side of the door and half-a-dozen hams hung above the large fireplace. Simon Vernon was not approaching poverty by any means. In the nine years since the Great Pestilence had claimed her family, Joanna had worked hard to ensure Simon had not regretted taking in his sister’s only surviving child, however grudgingly the act of charity had been committed. She closed her eyes to prevent her uncle seeing the grief in them.

Simon came behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘If my family is connected to the nobility imagine the doors that will open for me,’ he said hungrily.

‘I had better go prepare for tonight,’ Joanna said frostily.

‘Mind your tongue,’ Simon growled. ‘Remember Sir Roger is used to obedient, well-brought-up ladies. You won’t catch a husband of any sort if you can’t keep your thoughts to yourself.’

Joanna climbed the stairs to the attic room she shared with the serving girl. She removed her grey dress and sponged herself down with cold water from the jug by the window. Clad in her shift, she shivered as the cold February air whipped around her bare flesh. She changed into a dress of red linen and began to lace the threads of her bodice. She closed her eyes, imagining it was Sir Roger’s hands that were deftly working at the cloth, but Henry’s sardonic eyes flashed in Joanna’s mind and a shudder rippled through her body. She finished lacing her dress and brushed her hair until it fell in a cascade down her back, affixed a fine veil to her hair and wound her finest silk scarf around her neck.

Tonight she must be her most beautiful if she had any hope of winning Sir Roger’s hand. And if she failed to do that, well, she didn’t want to think about her uncle’s reaction.

When Joanna descended the staircase Aunt Mary glanced up and gave her a smile before returning her attention to the infant she was nursing. Little Elizabeth squealed with delight and even Uncle Simon nodded with approval.

* * *

‘Thomas Gruffydd’s wife died birthing her latest boy,’ Simon remarked as they walked through the city. ‘He returns to Montgomery soon and I know he’d gladly take a new wife with him.’

Joanna’s stomach clenched. ‘He’s more than twice my age.’

‘What does that matter?’ Simon scoffed. ‘I’d rather you brought better connections but if Sir Roger does not ask for your hand a man with the land Gruffydd owns would do just as well. I expect you to consider him.’

They made their way to the Common Hall where lights blazed in the doorway and windows. The heady scent of herbs and rushes on the floor assailed them as they removed their cloaks and entered the hall. Uncle Simon excused himself and joined the huddle of guildsmen by the table laden with food. Old men with paunched bellies and greasy chins and fingers from the meat they ate. Thomas Gruffydd was among them.

Joanna wrinkled her nose in disgust and stared around the room, searching anxiously for Sir Roger. The knights were grandly dressed in the colours of their houses, walking among the other guests gathering admiring glances. The dancing was already underway and her foot began to tap. She finally spotted him standing in an alcove at the far end of the hall. Her heart sank. He was not alone.

She watched enviously as Sir Roger kissed the hand of a young woman, taller than herself with shining black curls. Their eyes never parted as Sir Roger led her to thread seamlessly into the dance.

‘I hope you don’t intend to spend your evening watching others having fun rather than joining in!’

Joanna jumped as a voice spoke in deep, low tones in her ear. She turned on Henry Danby and glared into his brown eyes, so similar to Sir Roger’s that her heart instinctively skipped a beat.

‘Is it a habit of yours to creep up behind people?’ she snapped, unsettled by her body’s infidelity.

Henry laughed, his dark eyes gleaming wickedly. He took two goblets of wine from a passing servant and handed one to Joanna.

‘You were the first to try that approach if my memory serves me rightly,’ he said, lifting his goblet in salute and drinking deeply.

Icy fingers ran across Joanna’s scalp. Simon’s warning about her reputation rose in her mind. Was that why Sir Roger had taken another partner rather than wait for her arrival?

‘Did you tell your brother what I did?’ she demanded, gripping her goblet tightly.

Henry fixed Joanna with a stare that sent a shiver down her spine.

‘So you didn’t tell Roger yourself. I wondered if you would. Why did you keep it a secret?’ he asked, moving closer to her. ‘What did you fear he would say?’

‘I feared nothing,’ Joanna lied. ‘You interrupted us before we had chance to speak properly.’

Henry smirked. Remembering what he had interrupted, Joanna blushed.

‘Tell me, does he know?’ she insisted.

Henry studied her in silence, eyes narrowed. Whereas with Roger she would have instinctively cast her eyes down modestly, she held Henry’s gaze boldly, refusing to be cowed. With his dark eyes and curls he was handsome in the same way as his brother, but the expression in his eyes was sharper, reminding her of a fox watching its prey.

‘No, he doesn’t,’ he admitted finally with a shrug.

‘Thank you,’ Joanna breathed. She took a mouthful of the warm wine, the sharpness burning her throat. ‘I am in your debt.’

Henry extended his arm towards her. ‘I will relieve you of your obligation if you dance with me now.’

Joanna’s eyes slid to the centre of the room where Sir Roger still danced with the dark-haired woman. Surely he would finish soon and seek her out. He could not have forgotten she would be there.

Hal’s eyes followed hers. ‘Do you fear his disapproval so much that you will not dance with me?’

‘Of course not!’ Joanna said. ‘I just don’t want to dance yet.’

He snorted. ‘I don’t believe you. You were jigging up and down like a fiddle player on a carthorse.’

The image was so comical that despite herself Joanna smiled.

‘I have my reputation to think of.’

Henry raised his goblet to her once more, a gleam in his eye. ‘You would risk your reputation to visit my brother alone but will not chance a dance in public?’ His eyes blazed. ‘A dance means nothing. If anything it will protect your reputation: to refuse other offers and dance with him alone would invite talk, wouldn’t it? Even my brother could not censure you for that.’ He held his arm out again but when Joanna shook her head he did not press the point.

The music came to an end. Joanna attempted to catch Sir Roger’s eye, but to her dismay Sir Bartholomew presented another young lady who curtsied demurely and they returned to the dance immediately. Joanna’s mouth twisted downwards and she gave a small sigh of disappointment.

Henry was watching her closely, an odd mix of pity and scorn on his face. Joanna dropped her head, the expression in his eyes searing her heart.

‘What did you expect to happen?’ he asked archly. ‘This evening is to honour the knights. You aren’t the only woman to have her heart turned by the glamour of the pageant, or intending to catch a husband.’

‘My head hasn’t been turned by glamour!’ Joanna snapped. ‘That isn’t why I love him.’

Henry smirked disbelievingly. ‘Do you mean you would marry my brother if he was penniless and not a knight?’

Joanna gazed at Sir Roger, trying to imagine him as anything other than himself but could not picture him without his armour or velvet robes.

As she watched Roger laughed enthusiastically at something his partner whispered. He led her off the floor in the opposite direction with the vitality he displayed at the tilt. Joanna’s eyes began to burn. No other man of her acquaintance, few as they were, made her heart turn over with a single glance.

‘I would love him whatever he was,’ she insisted.

‘You hesitated though,’ Henry said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Now, are you content to wait all night for Roger to notice you or will you dance with me?’

Joanna tossed her head. ‘I’d rather stand here alone than dance with you. You’ve mocked me and been nothing but rude to me since you joined me. I know why too. I think you’re jealous because you are not a knight yourself.’

She made to turn away but caught the expression on Henry’s face and paused. His eyes were blazing and his jaw thrust forward angrily. When he spoke next his voice was clipped.

‘As it happens you’re wrong. I made my peace with my fate long ago.’

He began to walk away. Shame flooded Joanna. He was a bastard. Of course he could never hope to be a knight.

‘Master Danby,’ she called. ‘Wait!’

He paused. Suspicion flickered across his face though it softened as he returned to her, never letting his eyes slip from hers. Her heart beat oddly in her throat.

‘Call me Hal,’ he said shortly.

‘I didn’t mean to offend you,’ Joanna said, twisting her hands in embarrassment. ‘It must be hard knowing you cannot be what your brother is.’

‘I have no desire to be what he is,’ Hal replied so curtly Joanna stepped back in alarm. His eyes hardened as he waved his hand across the room, shadows flickering across his face as he obliterated the candlelight. ‘What sensible man would want this gaudy pageantry?’

Now it was Joanna’s turn to feel sceptical. ‘How could anyone not wish to be a part of such excitement?’

‘Quite easily. When it’s over what is left of the opulence beyond empty lists? I prefer things that last.’

Joanna considered his words. When the fairs and tournaments were gone York felt empty and she spent her time dreaming of their return.

‘Why are you here if you hold it in such contempt?’ she asked.

Hal’s jaw tightened. ‘I would much rather not be. I have my own reasons for being in York, which will be poorly served by standing with you. If you are determined to wait until my brother notices you I shall leave you to your solitude. Good evening.’

He bowed briefly and strode past her, skirting around the edge of the room towards the entrance hall. Impulsively Joanna turned after Hal to follow after him but at that point the music ceased. She glanced to the dancers and saw Sir Roger dancing with yet another woman. As he bowed to his partner he turned and saw Joanna. She beamed at him, her heart beginning to race.

Sir Roger sauntered to where she stood. He lifted her hand to his lips. ‘I had given up hope of you coming,’ he said.

Joanna’s stomach fluttered with satisfaction. Of course he had not seen her or he would have come sooner. He held out an arm and she slipped hers into it. She moved towards the centre of the room but Sir Roger tightened his grip and tugged her in the opposite direction.

‘I’ve been dancing long enough,’ he muttered.

Sighing with regret, Joanna allowed him to lead her outside. She shivered, wishing she had brought her cloak. ‘It’s cold,’ she protested.

Sir Roger pulled her around the side of the building and backed her against the wall. ‘I can warm you up.’ He grinned and kissed her. For a while all thoughts were obliterated, but as Sir Roger’s hand once more began to stray towards her breasts a knot of anxiety formed in her stomach.