The Unconventional Maiden (8 page)

She was about to say that was the last trait in a man she would expect, but at that moment there came a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder. Their exchange came to an abrupt end as the heavens opened and they made a dash for cover.

B
eth blew on the strand of hair that dripped water into her eyes and fell into Gawain’s arms as she slid from her horse. She could hear the rain hammering on the stable roof as he set her down on the ground. She remained leaning against him, her breath coming fast due to that final gallop that had filled her with terror. Gawain had dismounted and opened the stable doors for her to enter on horseback. Despite his sodden clothing, Beth could feel the heat of his body penetrating her saturated cloak and the clothing beneath and she was reluctant to abandon that warmth. The memory of how he had kissed her in France popped into her head and her heart began to thud in her chest. She wanted to lift her face to his and have him kiss her again. It did not make sense that she should feel this way. He obviously did not approve of her and, besides, he was not at all the kind of man she wished to marry, even if he
were free. He was high-handed and intent on crushing that creative spirit in her because it was not acceptable that a woman should write and influence people. And yet she could not deny that he roused feelings within her that she had never experienced before.

Gawain knew that he should move away from Beth, but he blamed some primeval instinct for keeping him rooted to the spot, holding her so close that he could feel every contour of her shivering form. She needed his warmth. What good would it do if he protected her from a murderer, only for her to die of a fever brought on by being chilled to the bone? He rested his wet cheek against her drenched hair and closed his eyes. He would like to strip her naked and roll her in the sweet-smelling hay and make love to her.

Beth stirred in his arms and Gawain released her instantly. What did he think he was doing? He was behaving foolishly and he imagined her writing about this in her journal and embellishing it with God only knew what else. ‘These summer storms are generally of short duration—do you want to make a run for the house?’ he asked roughly.

‘I am of a mind that the sooner we get out of these wet clothes the better,’ croaked Beth, stepping away from him.

‘Make haste, then,’ urged Gawain, closing his mind to the picture her words conjured up. ‘I will need to see to the horses. I don’t know where the blasted stable lads are,’ he added vehemently, removing his sodden hat and slinging it on to a hook.

Beth hesitated. ‘I could help you.’

‘No, I will manage without you.’ He opened the door and pushed her out into the rain and slammed the door behind her before he could weaken.

For a moment Beth felt like banging on the door and demanding to be let back in, but it was obvious he could not wait to be rid of her. No doubt she had embarrassed him by leaning into him the way she had done. What a fool she was for wanting to feel his lips pressed to hers and to yield to him! To experience what it was like to be possessed by a man. Perhaps any man would do to rid her of this overwhelming urge for physical affection and fulfilment she felt when in his company? Maybe she really should give serious thought to taking a husband after all and she would no longer need Gawain as her protector! In the meantime she must get out of her wet garments. She took off through the rain towards the house and entered the hall in a rush.

Catherine and Jane were sitting together on the settle by the fire. Catherine had a book on her lap and was pointing at a page and obviously trying to explain something to the maid. Not wanting to disturb them, Beth headed for the stairs, but they must have heard her because both women turned and looked in her direction.

‘Holy Mary, Mother of God!’ cried Jane. ‘Mistress Beth, you’re soaked!’

‘Aye, I must get changed,’ said Beth, not pausing.

‘I will come and help you,’ said Jane. ‘If you’ll excuse me, Mistress Ashbourne, it’s been very interesting what you’ve read to me and I did so enjoy seeing the drawings.’

‘Where is Gawain?’ asked Catherine.

‘Seeing to the horses,’ called Beth from the stairs. ‘I offered my help, but he refused it. No doubt he will be with you shortly with your wares.’ Only now did she remember that she had left her own purchases in the saddle bag. Would Gawain remember to bring them to the house or should she go and fetch them?

Before she could make a decision Jane took her arm and hurried her up the stairs. ‘Come on, Mistress Beth, before you catch your death,’ said the maid.

Jane opened the door of the bedchamber and ushered her mistress inside. She wasted no time helping her undress. As Beth rubbed herself dry and wrapped a cloth around her head Jane fetched her a clean chemise. ‘Now you get into bed, Mistress Beth, and I’ll go down and make you a hot drink and bring it up to you.’

Beth thanked Jane and donned the chemise and climbed into bed. She drew the covers up to her chin and soon felt much warmer as she thought back over the day. No doubt Gawain was regretting having brought her here. It was not only the even tenor of her life that had been interrupted, but her father’s death had turned his life upside down, too. She grimaced, remembering how he had shoved her out of the stables. Definitely he’d had enough of her company and no doubt could not wait to head for London. Maybe whilst he was away he would take the opportunity to see his wife and daughters. She felt an odd ache inside her. Surely it could not be jealousy? Of course not! she thought firmly. Even so, she wondered where they were staying and concluded
that, if it were some distance from London, then she should seize the opportunity to visit the capital and print an updated version of her news sheet. After all, it was she who had stepped into her father’s shoes and surely her employees would be loyal to her and not Sir Gawain?

As she snuggled beneath the bedcovers she considered the description of the wrestling match she had noted and wondered if she dared to include it in her news sheet. A tremor ran through her as she imagined Gawain’s reaction if he were to see it. She frowned, thinking that she should never have been so foolish as to blurt out her secret passion and asked herself what Jonathan would have done in her position. It needed some thought.

A short while later Jane entered her bedchamber, bringing not only a steaming fragrant cup of mulled wine but also a plate of small simnels and wafers flavoured with nutmeg and currants. In between mouthfuls of food washed down with wine, Beth asked, ‘Has Sir Gawain returned from the stables?’

‘Aye, he has, Mistress Beth, just as the rain stopped and the sun came out. He left something downstairs for you, but I couldn’t bring it up because I had my hands full.’

‘I will get dressed and fetch it,’ she said, pleased that he had not forgotten her purchases.

‘I can do that if you want it brought up here,’ said Jane. ‘I have to take the tray down.’

‘Thank you, Jane.’

By the time Beth was dressed and drying her hair in the sunshine that now poured in through the window, her maid had returned. Beth unpacked the parcel and had the pleasurable task of laying out her new quills, sharpening knife, ink bottles and writing paper on the desk. She remembered how Mistress Ashbourne had been showing Jane a book and asked if it were a printed book.

‘No, it was handwritten by Sir Gawain’s great-grandmother. It’s full of recipes and spells for all kinds of ailments,’ replied Jane. ‘She read some of them out to me. They sent a shiver through me from head to toe with their mention of hairs of donkeys and drinking water from a boiled mouse. I can’t see how they could do you any good at all. It fair made me baulk, the one that told you to take six dead spiders in a muslin bag and hold it in the mouth of a child that had the whooping cough.’

Beth smiled faintly, ‘Mother used to say that when people sickened and feared they were close to death, they’d try anything to be cured.’

‘I remember her saying so, too,’ said Jane with a sigh. ‘But I’d need to be really desperate to put spiders in my mouth.’

Beth’s smile deepened as she picked up one of the quills and sharpened it. ‘So does Sir Gawain know about this book that his great-grandmother wrote?’

Jane shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Mistress Catherine, who is his mother’s older sister, told me that their mother passed it down to her.’

‘I wonder why she has never married.’

‘Perhaps she had no mind to, but preferred keeping her mother company after she was widowed,’ said Jane.

‘Or maybe there was a man she loved, but she lost him and so refused to accept any other suitor,’ mused Beth.

‘What an imagination you have, Mistress Beth,’ marvelled Jane, watching her. ‘Are you going to write one of your tales now?’

Beth shook her head. ‘Not now, but I have been thinking that if I am to fulfil Father’s wishes by marrying, I might as well start writing a list of the attributes I would like in a husband.’

‘You want a fine set-up figure of a man to begin with,’ said Jane firmly. ‘Although, having said that, it’s no guarantee that he won’t succumb to the sweating fever or the plague and leave you a widow. My Arthur did and he always seemed so strong.’

‘How cheerful you are,’ said Beth drily. ‘Even so, Jane, I think you are right in suggesting a fine-looking man who is strong in the body. I want a husband who is able to protect me if our home was ever broken into by robbers or we were attacked on the highway.’ She removed the top of one of the containers of ink and dipped in the point of her quill. She began to write down the description and then paused, nibbling on the end of her quill. ‘Dark or fair-haired? What do you think, Jane?’

‘I like them flaxen-haired, myself,’ mused Jane, ‘but you might like them dark.’

‘I’m not so sure. Sir Gawain is dark and—’ She
sighed. ‘I don’t know. Do you not think that dark men have a stern aspect when they lour? Their eyebrows seem to bristle.’

‘But Sir Gawain has blue eyes, Mistress Beth, so perhaps not so grim an aspect when he is not vexed,’ said Jane.

‘You have noticed his eyes,’ commented Beth, writing down
blue eyes and dark hair.

‘Aye, real piercing they can be. He has a fine nose, but he doesn’t stare down it at me in a disdainful manner like some men do when they’re speaking to a servant.’

Beth stared at her. ‘You are saying that he is not proud and haughty?’

‘I wouldn’t say that he hasn’t got some pride in him—why shouldn’t he? He’s a knight of the realm, has a fine house and land and also is often invited to the king’s court. But he’s also considerate,’ added Jane.

‘Considerate?’

‘Aye, Mistress Beth. Look at the way he brought us here, knowing that you needed peace and quiet to mourn your father.’

‘I suppose a husband who is considerate of a wife’s feelings is definitely to be desired,’ murmured Beth, realising that her maid was more observant than she had thought.

‘I’d certainly write it down,’ said Jane.

‘What else?’ mused Beth, chewing on her quill again.

‘You don’t want one that’s tight-fisted. I like an open-handed man, myself, but my second husband could be
a bit too open-handed with the wrong people. He also liked a wager and tossed good money away at cock fights.’

‘So a husband who is not miserly, but generous with his wife and children and the poor, whilst not foolish enough to gamble his money away,’ said Beth, a smile tugging her mouth as she wrote it down.

‘You also don’t want a man who never takes you anywhere, but leaves you at home whilst he’s enjoying himself elsewhere. You just never know, Mistress Beth, what men get up to when they’re out of your sight for too long. There’s other women, as well as gambling you have to be aware of,’ warned Jane.

‘So I need a husband who is faithful and wishes to spend as much time as he can in my company,’ said Beth, writing it down and thinking of that kiss Sir Gawain had impressed on her lips. Odd, how she could still feel it if she dwelt on that moment.

‘That’s as long as you want it, as well,’ said Jane.

‘You mean I have to care enough about my husband to want to spend time with him,’ said Beth, trying not to think of Gawain’s wife again. Yet she could not help but wonder if she cared for him, why she could not have allotted someone else to tend her old aunt for a few days in order to spend time at home with her husband as any caring wife should and then return to her? She recalled what Gawain had said about not expecting perfection in a spouse. In reality, most marriages were simply ones of convenience.

‘Temper!’ Jane’s voice roused her from her thoughts.

‘Pardon?’ Beth looked up at her maid.

‘You don’t want a husband who’s quick-tempered or downright bad-tempered,’ said Jane.

‘Certainly not,’ said Beth firmly. ‘Although, how one is to know without spending some time beforehand in his company—?’

‘That’s why a maid should be courted and so you mustn’t rush into marriage, Mistress Beth, but spend time getting to know your suitor.’

‘True,’ murmured Beth. ‘And there is another aspect of marriage that would be important to me, Jane. Conversation. I do not want a man who is strong but also silent. I enjoy conversation and discussing what is going on about me, as well, as in the wider world if possible. Then there are plays and stories and matters pertaining to religion and books that I enjoy. I also want a husband who can see the amusing side to life.’

‘In my experience, most men don’t like a woman that rattles on too much,’ said Jane.

Beth raised her eyebrows. ‘We are not considering a man’s desires at the moment, Jane, but mine.’

‘Fair enough, Mistress Beth, but the day will come when you’ll have to do what the man wants and there’s a side of marriage that could come as a terrible shock to you.’

Beth stared at her. ‘I deem you are referring to the marriage bed, Jane. I am not completely ignorant, you know. I admit that the whole process of begetting a child sounds a messy, unpleasant business. But I remember what Father used to say. “We are not put on this earth to enjoy ourselves.”‘ She pulled a face. ‘But my brother thought differently.’

‘Aye, Master Jonathan knew how to enjoy himself. He liked folk dancing and singing on May morning and during the twelve days of Christmas.’

Beth considered Jane’s words and thought that perhaps sharing the marriage bed with Gawain might be rather pleasant than otherwise. She remembered the warmth of his body and the strength in his arms and the sight of him half-naked. But he was forbidden fruit. She sighed. ‘If only Jonathan had met a lass I could have called sister, how glad that would have made me. If they’d had children, then I would not have to be making this list now in order to fulfil Father’s wish.’ She put down her quill and leaned back in the chair and yawned. ‘I deem I have written enough for the moment.’