The Blacksmith's Wife (5 page)

‘Yes, though I don’t intend to share what you told me. If you had not insisted on accompanying me you would have been none the wiser.’ Joanna glanced to the door her uncle had gone through. ‘I didn’t intend you to come in, but if you think you can turn this meeting to your advantage, then do so. If not, drink your wine, go quickly and leave me in peace.’

Master Vernon returned, followed by a woman with a baby on her hip who settled herself by the fireplace. Joanna rushed to the woman, who must be her aunt, dropped to her knees and began to sob loudly while the woman patted her shoulder and made soothing sounds.

‘What is this?’ Master Vernon barked. He glared at Hal. ‘Joanna, has this man played you ill?’

Joanna winced. ‘No. Master Danby has done nothing wrong. Sir Roger told me he cannot marry me.’ She stood and wiped a hand across her face.

‘You swore he would ask,’ Simon cried.

‘Sir Roger will be back in August. He’ll ask me then, I’m sure,’ Joanna insisted. Hal frowned, hearing the desperation in her voice. What had Roger told her that she had pinned her hopes on him so deeply?

‘Now what am I to do with you?’ Simon thundered. ‘I must find you a husband myself as you seem incapable, though I doubt I’ll find anyone willing to take you off my hands if you go traipsing around the city with strangers like a common tavern wench!’

He rounded on Joanna. ‘Is it not enough that you go chasing after one man but you have to go wantonly flinging yourself into the company of another?’

Joanna paled. Her eyes lit with the fire Hal had been on the receiving end of, but surprisingly she bowed her head and folded her hands meekly.

‘I asked Mistress Sollers to accompany me. She deserves no censure,’ Hal said swiftly.

Master Vernon gave an angry snort. ‘Go to bed, Joanna. We’ll discuss this in the morning.’

Joanna curtsied to her uncle. She seemed younger and suddenly weary as she left the room with her aunt. Hal’s heart lurched and he vowed to have a forceful talk with his brother as soon as he returned to the camp.

Master Vernon seemed to notice Hal for the first time. He walked close to Hal and pursed his lips. ‘Master Danby, is it? You bear the same name as the wretch who has disappointed my silly niece. I assume it is not a coincidence that you brought her here?’

Hal took a deep breath. ‘Sir Roger is my half-brother. My father is Robert, Baron of Danby and Westerdale, who holds land from William of Pickering.’

‘A nobleman with a blacksmith for a son?’

‘My mother was not of noble birth. I followed her father’s path in life.’ Hal’s answers were clipped. Questions he’d been asked a hundred times before. Justifications he would have to make forever.

‘Do you believe your brother intends to marry my niece?’ Master Vernon demanded.

‘No,’ Hal replied honestly. ‘I have tried to tell her as much, though as she will not believe the words from his lips she is unlikely to believe them from mine.’

Master Vernon crossed the room and poured two glasses of wine. He passed one to Hal and scowled. ‘I am not an unfeeling man,’ he declared, despite all evidence indicating otherwise to Hal. ‘But I have fed and kept Joanna for a decade. I cannot afford to keep her forever. I have my own family to consider. She must find a husband soon.’

The reason for her desperation was becoming clearer now. Instead of insisting Roger did not marry Joanna, Hal should have persuaded him to commit to her. He’d caused this with his blunder.

‘Bringing Joanna safely home was a kindness. I think you have a good heart,’ Master Vernon said. ‘Better than your brother’s at least. Perhaps you are the sort of man the Guild needs—or could be in time.’

Hal smiled and drank his wine. Joanna had told him to turn events to his advantage and they seemed to be doing so of their own accord. He spoke rapidly of his ambitions, the forge at Ravenscrag, and his work for the abbey at Rievaulx and the villages on the moors. Master Vernon nodded approvingly.

‘I told you this afternoon to go back to your home and make a life for yourself,’ Master Vernon said. ‘I mentioned marriage.’

Hal’s smile froze. He had a sickening feeling he knew where Master Vernon was leading and the man’s next words confirmed his fears.

‘I have a proposal that could work to both our advantages, Master Danby. I want you to marry my niece.’

Chapter Five

H
ow Hal found his way to the camp he couldn’t say. His feet must have traced the path of their own accord because his brain played no part. He located Roger in the castle hall, drowning his sorrows in wine, and dragged him back to their tent.

‘Tell me what happened between you and Joanna,’ Hal demanded.

Roger threw himself on to his cot with his wine jug. ‘I did as you asked. I told her I could not marry her. I dare say she will grieve for a while, but that can’t be helped.’

‘How forceful was your rejection?’

Roger stared at Hal through bleary, wine-reddened eyes. ‘Completely,’ he answered petulantly. ‘I told her I cannot afford marriage and that I’m leaving York.’

Hal sat on his bed and rested his elbows on his knees. He closed his eyes wearily and wished he hadn’t. Visions of Joanna’s eyes, all the bluer for the red rims surrounding them, filled his mind.

‘You have to change your mind,’ he said.

Roger spat out an oath. ‘Why would I do that?’

Hal fixed his brother with a stare. ‘Because her uncle wants me to take your place.’

Roger stumbled unsteadily to his feet and pointed an accusing finger at his brother. ‘This must be a jest. On your part or his?’

Hal scowled. His first instinct too had been to laugh at the suggestion until he had seen the earnest expression on Simon Vernon’s face.

‘Master Vernon was furious that Joanna had failed to win your hand. He all but offered me membership of the guild as a bribe for taking her,’ Hal said, his bile rising at the memory.

The Guild might think more favourably of a man with the responsibility for a wife and family
, Master Vernon had said, which Hal translated as
a man who rids me of my troublesome niece
! The man had shown little regard for Joanna’s distress, thinking only of his own pocket. No wonder she had been reluctant to return home, knowing the reception that awaited her failure.

Roger gave a high-pitched guffaw. ‘This is rich fun. My honourable brother finds himself ensnared. The lady’s methods are more effective than I suspected!’

Joanna’s face flashed before Hal’s eyes once more, still clinging on to hopes of Roger, despite all signs to the contrary.

‘She had nothing to do with it. She was not present at the time and I imagine the idea will be as unwelcome to her as it is to me.’

‘Are you not tempted to accept the offer?’ Roger asked slyly.

‘No!’ Hal exclaimed. ‘When I enter the guild—and I will—I want to know it is because of my merit, not as a reward for ridding Simon Vernon of an inconvenience.’

Roger took another swig and let out a loud belch. ‘Stop being so high-minded. You failed to get membership of the guild today. This would ease your admittance and Master Vernon would be a more useful connection to you than he ever would to me.’

Hal swung himself to his feet, ignoring the seductive voice that whispered in his ear of the sense of this. He crossed to Roger’s cot and stared down at his brother. ‘You are fond of Joanna, you said so yourself. Why not marry her?’

‘Sadly, as you discovered, she is merely the niece of a guild member. He has a son now and she will inherit nothing. Her marriage portion will be small,’ Roger sneered.

Hal set his jaw. ‘I’ll ask for the last time: will you reconsider your intentions towards her?’

Roger took a maddeningly slow drink from the jug. Hal’s palm itched to slap it from his hand. Roger finally looked up.

‘No. Sir Robin De Monsort has a daughter who comes of age in the next month. I intend to make sure I am her choice and am leaving with him in the morning.’

‘Won’t you care at all to see Joanna given to another man?’

‘If she’d been richer I would have grieved more, but I care very little about it if I’m truly honest.’

Hal bunched his fists, his heart thudding with anger at the careless way his brother spoke. Roger swung himself unsteadily to his feet, wobbled and fell back on his cot.

‘This morning you wanted me to bid farewell to Joanna forever. Now you want me to marry her after all. This has nothing to do with her feelings and everything to do with your wanting to escape from the situation. Just marry her and be done with it. She deserves a husband who at least has a passing interest in her.’

‘And what makes you think I do?’ Hal asked in surprise.

‘The fact that you’re even trying to persuade me,’ Roger explained with the slow logic of the drunk. ‘If you cared nothing for her you wouldn’t worry who she married.’

Hal grimaced. He barely knew the girl, but his ire rose whenever he witnessed the dismissive way Joanna’s uncle or Roger spoke of her or to her. Joanna’s distress had touched him and he felt at least partly responsible for having caused the situation by insisting Roger make a decision. Blame lay at his feet, but surely not enough to require such a foolhardy step as penance?

‘She’s sweet-natured enough to keep you happy and has connections for you that no other woman does. If you won’t have her Simon Vernon will find someone who will. I’m sure she’d prefer you to a fifty-year-old with stale breath,’ Roger continued. He leered suggestively. ‘You and I are enough alike. Maybe you’ll please her in the night after all.’

Hal wrinkled his nose. ‘You disgust me sometimes. If we weren’t brothers I’d want nothing to do with you.’

‘But we are and the choice is not yours.’

Roger laughed to himself, gave another great belch, closed his eyes and began snoring. Hal ran his hands through his hair and gave an exasperated sigh. His eye fell on the wine jug still clasped in Roger’s hand. He tugged it free and poured the remains into a cup before lying back on his cot, racked with indecision.

* * *

The morning brought rain, and with it a resolution. Hal packed his belongings and dressed in silence, slipping the thick wool tunic over his shirt as he stifled the yawns that resulted from a long night lying awake. Still angry, he avoided eye contact with Roger who was equally engrossed in dressing, ordering his young page back and forth with clothing of fine linen and silks. Once there was nothing left to do the brothers faced each other, their angry words lay between them, a barrier as real as stone and mortar.

Hal unbent first, clasping his hand on to Roger’s shoulder. ‘I wish you good fortune in the tournaments. Bring honour on our name.’

‘Have you made your mind up about Joanna?’ Roger asked gruffly, ignoring Hal’s words.

Hal squared his shoulders, thinking he would rather stick his hand into his own furnace than reveal his intentions to Roger.

‘You showed no interest last night. Why now? Unless you have reconsidered?’

‘I haven’t.’ Roger said belligerently. ‘In fact, I only asked out of courtesy. Whether you marry her or not is no concern of mine.’ He clicked his fingers to the page, turned on his heel and sauntered out of the tent.

Hal hefted a bag across his shoulder, dragged his trunk to the waiting cart, then walked into the city.

* * *

Simon Vernon was not at home when he called. Sounds of family life drifted to Hal: children quarrelling, the clattering of cookware, a small dog yapping. Mistress Vernon peered at him through the partially closed door. Her gaze was suspicious rather than hostile and Hal wondered what Joanna had told her aunt of the previous night’s events. He craned his neck to try to catch a glimpse of Joanna, but she was nowhere in sight.

Mistress Vernon informed Hal that her husband was most likely at his foundry. Hal retraced his steps to the Guild Hall along the alleys Joanna had taken him through the previous night. He suppressed a smile as he remembered her wide eyes full of innocence as she had led him in circles throughout the streets.

Even without instruction he could not have missed his destination. St Andrewgate was home to all York’s metalworkers. The narrow street was lined on both sides with open-fronted workshops making and selling all manner of wares and the heat from the furnaces and heady stench of smoke meeting the drizzle greeted Hal like an old friend.

Master Vernon’s foundry was located in an excellent position on the corner with two sides open to the street. Hal paused outside, aware of a clamminess creeping around his back. It was not too late; he could turn and walk away and no one would know. Except for him. He contemplated Simon Vernon’s establishment, larger and grander by far than his own forge in Ravenscrag. One day he would be master of such a place and today, for all his reservations, he was setting his foot most decisively on that path.

Simon Vernon was standing with his back to Hal, barking orders at a pair of young apprentices. A figure was seated at a table in the corner. Hal stared in surprise as he recognised Joanna, head bent over a wax tablet with a stylus in her hand. No one had noticed his arrival so for a moment he stood drinking in the sight of her. She wore a dark-blue dress, high necked and tight sleeved beneath a sombre grey surcoat, belted tight beneath her breasts. Her hair was braided and held back from her face with a linen band. In such a setting she appeared as delicate and out of place as a wren in a nest of crows. The impression was such a contrast to the gaily dressed, flighty girl he had encountered at the camp that Hal was transfixed.

She was not beautiful, at least not in the way he preferred his women to be, but engrossed in her task Joanna’s face was alight with enthusiasm, lending her cheeks a blush of rose. Her figure he already knew from having examined her the previous night. A slight stirring of excitement made him grin. Whatever other reservations he might have about marriage to Joanna, the physical aspects were not among them. He would enjoy getting to know his wife once they were wed.

Joanna muttered to herself, made a swift stroke with a quill and looked up. Too late to glance away her eyes trapped Hal’s. She frowned, a small furrow appearing between her eyes before she broke into a wide smile. She jumped from her chair and crossed the room to him.

‘Master Danby, what brings you here?’ she asked warmly. ‘Do you have a message for me?’ Her voice was hopeful, leaving Hal in no doubt whose word she craved.

He ignored the faint stab of jealousy that pricked his chest, deciding that whatever else occurred, Joanna would never discover Roger’s indifference from him. ‘I’m here to see your uncle.’

Simon Vernon finally noticed him. He strode to Hal, an eager expression on his face. ‘You again. Should I assume you are here because of our conversation last night?’

Hal bowed. ‘Good morning, Master Vernon. I am indeed here to discuss your proposal.’ He glanced at Joanna who was still standing beside her uncle, her eyes bright with suspicion. Master Vernon followed his gaze.

‘Joanna, go fetch ale for us. Make haste, girl!’ he exclaimed, pushing her shoulder.

Hal’s teeth gritted. If he had needed confirmation that he was making the right choice, the man’s manner towards his niece was enough. Joanna left the building.

Simon Vernon watched her go, then turned to Hal. ‘You’re here to ask for her hand?’

Hal took a deep breath. ‘I am.’

Now the words were out the weight of anxiety lifted from his shoulders.

‘Last night I was certain you would refuse,’ Simon said. ‘What changed your mind? Was the promise of my good favour too much to resist?’

Hal smiled politely. ‘Naturally.’

Simon Vernon held out a hand. ‘Then the matter is settled. Now let’s discuss terms.’

* * *

Joanna tapped her foot impatiently as the serving girl filled an earthenware jug with maddening slowness, all the while wondering what her uncle and Hal had been discussing. When she first saw him her heart had leapt, believing for one blissful moment that Sir Roger had changed his mind and sent his brother as messenger. Of course that had been foolish. From what she was learning of Hal he was too proud to consent to carry out such a task. This was not merely a visit for courtesy, however. From the way her uncle had dismissed her she knew there was more to Hal’s appearance and she was determined to find out what it was.

* * *

She arrived back at the foundry with heels skidding in the mud. The two men were facing each other, arms folded and legs set wide, consciously or unconsciously mirroring each other’s stance. They were both talking and smiling, but when Joanna entered Hal’s face became serious.

‘Bring the ale quickly, Joanna,’ her uncle instructed. ‘We have something to drink to.’

Obediently Joanna walked to the table at the back of the room and filled two cups. She picked them up and turned to find Hal standing close behind her.

‘Let me help,’ he said, taking the cups from her hand. He stared down at Joanna with an intensity that sent warm shivers running across her scalp.

‘Come here, girl!’ Simon called. As she joined them his jowly face split into a smile. ‘I said last night I would find you a husband if you could not find your own. Master Danby here has asked for your hand and I have agreed.’

The room spun and grew hotter. Joanna looked at the furnace to check if it had flamed suddenly, but it burned as steadily as always.

‘You must have misunderstood,’ she said. ‘Surely he means on behalf of Sir Roger.’

Simon snorted contemptuously. ‘Of course he doesn’t. You can forget any dreams of Sir Roger asking you. I know I have. The sooner you get him out of your head the happier you’ll be.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ Her voice echoed in her ears.

‘Believe it, you silly chit,’ Simon snapped. ‘Master Danby has excellent prospects and will make a good husband. What possible objections could you have?’

‘I don’t know him!’

‘You were happy enough to go flitting about the city with him yesterday like a common wench with no regard for your name!’ Simon barked.

‘He’s a bastard!’ Joanna faltered. Hal’s head whipped up as though she had struck him physically. His eyes bored into her, the pupils large and black, pinning her to the spot with their intensity. ‘I’m sorry...’ she began.

‘I bear my father’s name and I hold land on his estate,’ Hal said curtly. ‘My status does not shame me.’

‘Master Danby is right. What does that matter?’ Simon asked. ‘He is a lord’s son by birth and
his
children will be legitimate.’