‘Becky, by all that is holy, it is you!’

Terror fought with vague recognition but she could not speak, feared a recurrence of the nerves she had managed to conquer since her father’s death.

‘What is it, Becky? Is it that you do not know me?’

‘Pip…Pip Hurst?’ she managed to croak.

‘Aye! When I saw you leaving I determined to make myself known to you.’

‘I’m surprised you should recognise me after so long a time. I am much changed.’

‘Indeed you are…’ His blue eyes washed slowly over her face and then slid to her slender neck and throat, before pausing a moment as they took in the swell of her bosom in the tight bodice. They skipped lower, scanning her narrow waist and the curve of her hips to finish their exploration at the sensible shoes protruding from beneath her grey skirts. ‘You’re very much a woman now.’

Rebecca drew herself up to her full height and said in a prim voice, ‘It would be strange indeed if I were not, Master Hurst. After all, like you, I have seen twenty-four summers. Your appearance has certainly changed, although your habit of putting me to the blush remains!’

‘Ha!’ He laughed. Then his smile vanished. ‘But you’re not blushing, and I have never forgotten that you were the prettiest maid I had ever seen…’

About the Author

JUNE FRANCIS’s interest in old wives’ tales and folk customs led her into a writing career. History has always fascinated her, and her first novels were set in Medieval times. She has also written sagas based in Liverpool and Chester. Married with three grown-up sons, she lives on Merseyside. On a clear day she can see the sea and the distant Welsh hills from her house. She enjoys swimming, fell-walking, music, lunching with friends and smoochy dancing with her husband.

More information about June can be found at her website: www.junefrancis.co.uk

Previous novels by this author:

ROWAN’S REVENGE

TAMED BY THE BARBARIAN

REBEL LADY, CONVENIENT WIFE

HIS RUNAWAY MAIDEN

PIRATE’S DAUGHTER, REBEL WIFE

THE UNCONVENTIONAL MAIDEN

Did you know that some of these novels are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Man Behind
the Façade
June Francis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

Oxfordshire—September 1526

Rebecca Clifton rested her aching back against a tree and bit into an apple without taking her gaze from the players on the green. A saucy riposte from the one disguised as a hag caused laughter to ripple through the crowd a few yards away. The happy entertainment brought back memories of her girlhood and a particular day she had passed at a boatyard, in Deptford, when she had accompanied her father to his current place of work. A master-carpenter, he had been employed by the Hurst Boatyard to work on a ship that Henry VIII had commissioned for his navy. It was a place they had visited every summer since she was eight years old, as it was then the boatyard was really busy. Then, as now, she had remained in the shadows, listening to a story unfold. Reminded of the guilty pleasure she had experienced as she’d watched Phillip Hurst, nicknamed Pip, the youngest of the Hurst brothers, wielding a hammer under her father’s tutelage, a grim expression on his face. The muscles in his arms and back had rippled in the hot sun and perspiration had darkened his mane of flaxen hair.

Although naïve to the ways of the world, even then she had considered him almost too handsome for his own good, with a silver tongue that he used to good advantage when he had a mind to do so. His honeyed words had set her heart aflutter and for weeks she had shyly followed his every move that summer ten years ago. Well, she smiled to herself ruefully, she had been young and impressionable then and those years were behind her.

But what was she doing letting her mind wander? She had missed the character’s next sally which had raised another gale of laughter. She must concentrate because she had stayed behind to enjoy the entertainment. Life held too few of these pleasures to pass them up so lightly. The performance came to an end and the actors took their bow, their eyes scanning the crowd, smiling, as they were applauded enthusiastically. The actor who had played the hag caught her gaze and gave her a cheeky wink, which made her blush and look away, moving her attention to a youth who was doing the rounds with a hat. She dropped a coin into its depths, wishing she had more to give. Soon there would be more feasting—another roasted hog being on offer as well as other tasty morsels. But she was hesitant to remain here in Witney much longer. The sun was setting and she must return to Minster Draymore, a short distance away, before dark.

She had passed the church of St Mary on the very outskirts of the town when she heard her name being called. The voice was slightly breathless, as if its owner had been running. Her pulses quickened as a hand seized her shoulder and whirled her round. Sapphire-blue eyes outlined by kohl gazed down into hers. ‘Becky Mortimer, by all that is holy, it is you! ’

Terror fought with vague recognition, but she could not speak, and feared a recurrence of the nerves she had managed to conquer since her father’s death. ‘What is it, Becky? Is it that you do not know me?’ The man before her removed the wig, revealing a thatch of damp, darkened flaxen hair. She watched, transfixed, as he thrust the wig beneath the cloak he carried over his arm and wiped the carmine from his lips with a rag he dragged from his sleeve. ‘Do you recognise me now?’ he asked softly.

‘Pip…Pip Hurst?’ she managed to croak.

‘Aye! When I saw you leaving I determined to make myself known to you.’

‘I’m surprised you should recognise me after so long a time, I am much changed.’

‘Indeed you are…’ His blue eyes washed slowly over her face and then slid to her slender neck and throat before pausing a moment as they took in the swell of her bosom in the tight bodice. They skipped lower, scanning her narrow waist and the curve of her hips to finish their exploration at the sensible shoes protruding from beneath her grey skirts. ‘You’re very much a woman now.’

Rebecca drew herself up to her full height and said in a prim voice, ‘It would be strange, indeed, if I were not, Master Hurst. After all, like you, I have seen twenty-four summers. Your appearance has certainly changed, although your habit of putting me to the blush remains!’

‘Ha!’ he laughed. Then the smile vanished. ‘But you’re not blushing and I have never forgotten that you were the prettiest maid I had ever seen.’

‘You flatter me, just as you did then.’

‘I spoke the truth.’

He sounded so sincere that her heart seemed to flip over as she recalled once more that distant memory, which now seemed like only yesterday. Pip’s father’s employees had taken time out from their work to eat their midday meal of bread and cheese and, as her father, Adam Mortimer, had also left the yard, they had called upon Pip to tell them a tale. The tension that had been so present in his features when under her father’s eye had relaxed and he had become a different person as he began to spin a yarn.

‘I remember that day when you told the men your own version of the ballad of Robin Hood, acting out the parts and putting on different voices,’ she murmured. ‘You caused much merriment and I kept praying that neither of our fathers would return before you had finished.’

‘I am glad I amused you, because you were far too serious a child,’ said Phillip, his blue eyes alight with remembrance.

‘I thought I had cause to worry that day,’ she retorted. ‘You knew that the king was expected later and that tale had been banned. The nobility was convinced that it might encourage the commoners to take it into their heads to imitate Robin and his merry men by robbing the rich to feed the poor.’

Phillip shook his head at her. ‘One can’t prevent a good tale from being retold time and time again, Becky, but I recall you didn’t approve of my ending.’

She felt the blood rise in her cheeks. ‘You said I could be honest in my criticism.’

‘So I did! Fool that I was, I convinced myself that you would be kind,’ he said mournfully, his gaze holding hers as if he could read her thoughts.

She remembered how, back then, he could pierce her to the soul with one of his intense looks, causing all sensible thought to desert her. She had believed herself to be a plain mouse of a creature because her father was so critical of her appearance, and she had been in need of love and affection. ‘My comments were fair,’ she said stiffly.

Phillip’s fair brows drew together above his fine nose and he folded his arms. ‘You began by stammering out that you could find no fault with my skill as a storyteller, but then you added “as for the plot ending it was unbelievable.”’

She bit her lip. ‘You—You looked at me as you do now and you barked at me “No, it isn’t!”’

‘And you squeaked “B-but it isn’t true to life! I’ve listened to several of your tales and too often you wander into the realms of fantasy!”’ Phillip mimicked her voice to perfection.

The roses in her cheeks deepened. ‘I told the truth, never expecting that it would make you so angry,’ she protested. ‘I was shocked when you said that I would obviously prefer an unhappy ending and gave me an alternative one with Robin dead in a dungeon and Marion raped by the Sheriff of Nottingham.’

Phillip had the grace to apologise, but spoilt it by adding, ‘But be honest, Becky, at the very least you’d have had Robin going off on another crusade and being killed in the fighting. Marion would have taken the veil and ended her days in a nunnery. You had no faith in our hero making her happy and providing for her at all!’ His manner was teasing but, somehow, Becky was unable to respond in kind.

‘It’s my experience that there are few heroes in this life, but I will say you have an excellent memory,’ she said tartly.

‘I need it to remember my lines,’ he riposted.

‘And you have been fortunate to realise your dreams and live the life of a player; I remember how much you disliked the work of shipbuilding.’

He stared at her intently. ‘Ah, yes, that was proper men’s work, was it not? I remember how you used to blush and flutter your eyelashes at my brother Nicholas.’

‘Of a surety I did not! It was just that I was more conscious of your brother because he had worked in the yard before he went travelling,’ Rebecca replied, hotly, and, deciding it was time this conversation came to an end, she bid him good day and strode off.

‘Be honest!’ he called after her. ‘You believed that being an explorer made him a hero. You were madly in love with him.’

‘And what if I was?’ she said recklessly, preferring him to believe such a thing, rather than that she had ever lusted after him.

He caught up with her and grabbed her arm. ‘But you clearly married someone else! You didn’t wait for him,’ he said, indicating the band upon her wedding finger.

Rebecca sighed. ‘That was because Giles asked me to marry him. Master Nicholas had no real interest in me, he had his own dreams to pursue. And if you don’t mind, you are bruising my arm!’ She pulled away.

A frowning Phillip slackened his grip. ‘’Tis a pity women can’t be strolling players as well because you’d never forget your lines.’

‘I do not know what you mean, Master Hurst. I have to reach Minster Draymore before dark. Good day to you, sir.’ Rebecca moved away from him and put on a spurt as she walked along the path which now led on to open country.

‘Perhaps I should remind you,’ said Phillip as he caught up with her. Taking her by her upper arms, he brought her close to him. ‘You said that being a player is not the stuff of which heroes are made.’

Her grey eyes did not flinch beneath his blazing blue ones. ‘Well, I beg your pardon, Master Hurst, if you deem my words uncalled for at the time. As it was, I only had your best interests at heart, believe it or not! You are to be congratulated in making your dream come true. I remember seeing you perform before the king as you vowed you would that day, and I applauded you for your achievement.’

He looked surprised. ‘When was that?’

‘When my husband was still alive. My musician brother, Davy, saw to it that we were invited to the entertainment during the Christmas festivities at Greenwich Palace.’

‘Why didn’t you come and make yourself known to me?’

She could not bring herself to say that she had feared he might not remember her and that would have been too embarrassing. ‘You had enough admiring women around you and I had no intention of joining their number,’ she replied lightly.

He frowned. ‘And no doubt your husband would not have approved. Do you still believe me a fool for becoming a player and deem I should be building ships for His Grace?’

‘I don’t remember ever saying you were a fool, but it is true that I consider boatbuilding a steadier and more secure occupation.’

‘I wasn’t looking for security then, but adventure. As it was, I had to wait until my father died before getting my wish,’ said Phillip, releasing her. ‘I suppose it was the same with you? Your father’s death freed you to become the woman you are now.’

‘Freedom has its price, Master Hurst.’ She turned and walked away without waiting for his reply. She had known Pip Hurst had not immediately been able to have his wish because her friend, Lady Beth Raventon, had told her so. His eldest brother Christopher had inherited the family business after their father’s death and he had insisted that his youngest brother finish his apprenticeship. His elder brother, Nicholas, had followed his own dream after inheriting a goodly sum of money from his godfather, which had enabled him to be financially independent of the family business. It was only seven years since Pip had been set free to do what he wished. This had happened shortly after her own father’s death, which had resulted in her being reunited with her brother, Davy. Five years older than Becky, it was several years since she had seen him as he’d quarrelled with their father over Davy’s refusal to complete his apprenticeship as a ship’s carpenter. Desiring to pursue his musical talent, she learnt that his knowledge of carpentry had enabled him to earn a living whilst performing at fairs and the church on feast days, where he had been fortunate to find a patron, which had resulted in his eventually performing before the nobility.

It was her brother who had decided she needed a husband and provided a small dowry, so enabling her to marry Giles Clifton, a stonemason. A young man, a kind man, he had died unexpectedly in an accident when a wall had come crashing down and crushed him, leaving her grieving, childless and almost penniless. During that time Davy had found a position at Queen Katherine’s court and so Rebecca had decided to accept an invitation to live with Giles’s sister, Jane, who had married a widower. Simon Caldwell was also a stone mason and had two daughters from a previous marriage. He and Jane now had a son, and she was with child again. The family lived in Oxford.

‘Where are you going?’ called Phillip, interrupting Rebecca’s thoughts.

She ignored the question, thinking she should have left the Witney feast with Simon and the children. Even when she heard a muffled curse, she managed to resist turning to see the cause for those shocking words. She had said all that she was going to say to Pip Hurst. Besides, she must make haste or it would be dark before she reached the house at Minster Draymore.

‘I have noticed that you have managed to control your stammer,’ said a voice closer than she had thought it should be. She almost jumped out of her skin and barely managed to control her jitters to say,

‘I only ever stammered, Master Hurst, when my father addressed me or I was rash enough to speak my thoughts aloud. A lesson I learnt much earlier than the day I first stepped foot in your father’s shipyard. You should never have encouraged me to be honest that time.’

‘I can understand your fear of your father.’

Now she did turn and stare at him and the picture he presented caused her to lose her train of thought. He was still wearing the gown and had not quite removed all the paint from his face. She itched to reach up and remove a patch of pink from beneath his arrogant nose, but she controlled the impulse. ‘Of course, you were often on the receiving end of my father’s questionable wit,’ she muttered.

‘Sarcasm.’ Phillip’s brow clouded. ‘The times I had to resist the urge to punch him in the face, although I admit your father was an excellent ship’s carpenter. Fortunately I only had to put up with his moods a few months at a time. Trouble was, I never knew when one of his dark moods would suddenly take him. Or why!’

‘He—he blamed the Devil for many things, but women also came in for much criticism,’ said Rebecca, her eyes darkening. ‘You—you’re probably unaware of the fact that my mother deserted us when I was a very young child. My brother, Davy, told me that our father always had a temper, but he became embittered after she left and would seldom allow me out of his sight. That was why he took me with him wherever he had work, which surprised me. My mother having rejected me, I could not understand why he should fear I might run off in search of her.’

Phillip frowned. ‘I didn’t know any of that! I presumed your father was a widower. Do you know why your mother deserted you?’

‘I used to ask that question and once I was told there was another man involved. I received a clout for my pains and never dared ask again. I do remember crying myself to sleep and wanting my mother when I was very little, only to be told that if I mentioned her name again then I would be whipped.’ She shuddered. ‘It seemed like a bad dream and I grew to hate her. I have no idea where she is or whom she is with and part of me does not want to know.’

‘I can understand why you feel so angry. I find it difficult to imagine growing up without a mother’s warmth and affection. Whenever my father beat me when I was small—even then I did not conform to his standards—I knew I could always find comfort at her knee. He thoroughly disapproved of her encouraging me in my playacting and love of storytelling. She died three years ago and I still miss her.’ He paused to remove the last of the paint from his face and changed the subject. ‘It’s a fact that I did not appreciate your honesty at our last meeting. In truth, your words stabbed me to the heart and my pride took a beating.’ There was a hint of self-mockery in his voice. ‘You see, I always considered myself something of a hero when I took on a role.’

She smiled. ‘That does not surprise me, Pip Hurst, because even at fourteen summers you had the build and countenance of what I imagined a hero to look like.’

Phillip rolled his eyes. ‘There’s no need to go overboard with your flattery in an attempt to compensate for what you said years ago.’ He paused. ‘You know, I’d almost forgotten you had dimples. You should smile more often because you are far more attractive when you do.’

‘Now you are determined to put me to the blush again,’ she said, lowering her gaze, ‘although I’m not quite certain if I should take that remark as an insult rather than a compliment.’

He said seriously, ‘It’s a compliment. Not many girls would have dared criticise me to my face, but despite your having a habit of shying off whenever I approached, you showed amazing courage for the mouse-like creature you were then. And because of what you said, I determined not only to become a successful storyteller and player, but do something heroic, as well.’

‘Why heroic?’

His eyes met hers. ‘You should not need to ask. Nicholas, of course. He was my hero, too, and so I wanted some of the fame that came his way.’

Her smile deepened. ‘You were not playing the part of a hero this evening.’

‘No.’ His lips twitched. ‘Although it takes a certain kind of courage for a man to don feminine garb.’

She bit on her lip to prevent herself from laughing, remembering his gesticulating and pouting, his mincing walk and the falsetto voice he had adopted several times. ‘You were very convincing in the part.’

‘So you were at least entertained?’

‘I would not deny it.’ Her curiosity moved her to ask, ‘Do you always play women’s roles?’

He screwed up his face. ‘Not now, although I did when I was younger. Today one of our players fell ill and so I stepped into his shoes.’

‘You are to be commended, Master Hurst.’ she said, inclining her head.

He curtsied.

She laughed out loud. ‘You became that hag and the beauty as well! I would never have recognised you had you not approached me.’

He seized on her words delightedly. ‘So my disguise succeeded. I always told you it was a god-given talent.’

‘And you make such a fine woman!’ laughed Becky.

Phillip grew serious. ‘I tell you truthfully that I prefer writing to disguising, but I am not bothered about my friends seeing me dressed thus, although it disturbed my father when I adopted feminine guise and he would make himself scarce, so if it disturbs you also then I will strip off.’ Before she could say a word to prevent him from doing so, he dropped his cloak and dragged the bodice of the gown from his broad shoulders.

‘I am not embarrassed, Master Hurst,’ she said. Nevertheless, she could not take her eyes from the width of those powerful shoulders that she remembered wielding an axe and hammer.

She watched him wriggle out of his skirts, the breath catching in her throat, for there was no mistaking he was all man as he stood there in tight-fitting hose that lacked a codpiece. She could not look away, telling herself that it was not as if she was a virgin, bashful because she had never seen a man’s private parts before. Despite being childless, her husband had been desperate for a son and had been ardent in his attempts to get her with child.

Phillip cocked an eyebrow at her before bending and picking up his cloak. He swung it about his shoulders and it fell in folds to just above his knees, concealing, in the main, the garments beneath. He tied it at the throat before gathering up the gown and stuffing it beneath his arm with the wig. ‘So where is this Minster Draymore and why does your husband not escort you?’

The questions took her unawares and her head shot up. ‘But I am widowed, Master Hurst. I thought you must have realised that was so.’

He said slowly, ‘Forgive me for not expressing my condolences earlier. I had heard that was so from mutual friends of ours, Sir Gawain and Beth Raventon, but it had temporarily slipped my mind.’

She shrugged. ‘Why should you have remembered? We have not spoken for an age until this even and if we had not met now, no doubt you would not have given me another thought.’

His brow knit. ‘You belittle yourself. Surely you must have gathered from our conversation that you proved unforgettable.’

Rebecca flushed, believing him to be flattering her and determined not to fall under his spell again. ‘I had forgotten your family was acquainted with the Raventons,’ she said hastily, wishing to change the subject.

‘They did mention that you were living in Oxford, so why do you go to Minster Draymore?’

‘Simon Caldwell, my brother-in-law, and his children are staying there and will be expecting me. I have no need of an escort, so if you wish to hurry back to the feast, then please do so. I know the way and it is unlikely that I will be set upon. Cutpurses and such ruffians will find better pickings in Witney this evening.’

‘Well, I’m not going to allow you to wander the countryside all alone when it’ll soon be dark, however unwilling you are for my company,’ said Phillip crisply. ‘And please, do not call me Master Hurst. It reminds me of your father.’

‘But that is your name,’ she protested.

‘I would not deny it, but I would prefer it if you called me Phillip.’

‘Phillip!’ She moistened her lips. ‘It would not feel right calling you Phillip. After all, your father was my father’s employer.’

He swore under his breath. ‘Becky, we are old friends and have no need of such formality—please call me Phillip.’

‘Then you are an unusual man, because in my experience most men prefer to keep a woman under their heel,’ she said roundly.

‘I thought you had realised by now that I am not your usual man. I do not wish to squash you. Tell me, was that how your husband behaved?’

She took a deep breath. ‘My husband, Giles Clifton, was a kind man, a good companion; we were happy for the short time we had together. It is just that men view the world differently from women, so why should I have deemed you would be any different?’

‘I confess I find it difficult to get into the head of a woman,’ he said ruefully. ‘You don’t reason like us and are moved too much by your emotions.’

‘Men have emotions, too! They just pretend that they don’t,’ protested Rebecca.

‘Damn it, of course they do and I make no pretence about it,’ he said.

Her lips twitched. ‘Actors are always pretending.’

He protested, ‘That is not true! I think we should change the subject. So, where is your sister-in-law?’

‘She stays in Oxford because she is expecting another child and is needful of a rest from the children. Knowing that the Witney feast was taking place today, it was considered an excellent notion that the children and I visit and stay with their father for a short time,’ said Rebecca. ‘We have been here two nights so far and I am sure he is already wearying of the children’s company. They are boisterous and proving a distraction, I fear.’

‘What kind of man is he?’ asked Phillip.

She eyed him carefully. ‘A decent man, one to be trusted. A stonemason, like my husband, and he has a commission to make repairs to the vacant Draymore manor house. And what of yourself, Mas—Phillip? Do you have a wife?’

‘I have no room for a wife in my life,’ he said shortly. ‘The travelling life is not one that most women find to their taste.’

Why did such news cause her relief? wondered Rebecca. ‘So such a life does have its drawbacks,’ she murmured.

He slanted her a long estimating look, thinking that meeting her was causing him to consider how a wife would mean changing his way of life in so many ways. ‘I am well aware that I would need to provide a wife with a certain standard of living and a covered wagon would deter most, if not all.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘But surely you don’t sleep in a covered wagon during the winter? And what of your entertaining the king? Does he not provide you with lodgings? My brother, who is now employed at Princess Mary’s court, has living quarters at Ludlow Castle. Lady Salisbury is her governess and has ensured it.’

‘I know of Lady Salisbury—she is a great friend of the Queen. It is true that the Master of the King’s Revels provides such quarters for me and my troupe, but only when we are performing at court. Last year was a particularly bad year for all of us, with the plague raging in London and its environs, and we have had to spend more time on the road this year.’

‘Tell me, how did you cope with such a setback?’ she asked, her expression concerned.

Her interest was obviously genuine, so Phillip told her. ‘I worked in my brother’s shipyard for a while and I also went abroad. It was not so for the troupe. We had hoped for occupation during the Christmas festivities, but the king and his lords did not make merry during that period for fear of the plague. They retreated to the countryside and did not allow anyone in or out. No doubt Davy escaped the worst of the plague at Ludlow?’

She nodded. ‘Although I’ve not had news of him for some time. I wish I could visit him.’

‘Then why don’t you?’

Rebecca hesitated. ‘If you must know, I do not have the means. Giles was only a young man and had yet to make his way in the world.’

Phillip frowned. ‘I see. Did you love him?’

She flushed. ‘My feelings for my husband are none of your business, Master Hurst! Now, if you don’t mind, I must make haste. Goodnight!’

She was not to get away from Phillip so easily and he kept pace with her. ‘Couldn’t Davy send you the money?’

Her head shot up. ‘I would not ask him! If the king was to decide on a change in his daughter’s situation, then it is possible my brother would need to look for another position, so he needs to salt away all the money he can. He was kind enough to provide me with a dowry, for my father did not!’

‘That was remiss of your father and must have caused you pain. But surely your brother would help you again now you are a widow? I have heard that he is an excellent musician, so it is unlikely that he would be long without a position,’ said Phillip, reassuringly.

‘That is as may be, but I do not wish to be a burden on him,’ she said, agitated by such talk. ‘I must make haste. Simon gave me leave to linger in Witney to watch the play, but young James will be missing my putting him to bed.’

Lucky James, thought Phillip. ‘Then let us quicken our pace,’ he murmured.

Why could he not leave her alone? She did not want him asking her any more questions about Giles. Phillip had roused memories of her marriage that filled her with guilt. Although she had not been in love with her husband, they’d had a warm and friendly relationship. She missed him and it grieved her that no child had resulted from their marriage.

As it was, she did not need to fear Phillip’s questioning. They walked on in silence until they arrived at Minster Draymore. Phillip noted aloud that some of the houses were in a bad state of repair, being constructed of wattle and daub and roofed with thatch.

‘Simon has commented that they need to be pulled down and replaced with houses of stone and slate,’ said Rebecca, pointing to one of them. ‘Apparently the man who now owns them and the manor house has been out of the country for years and has only just returned.’

‘At least it explains their neglect,’ said Phillip.

‘Come winter, I am certain Simon will return to Oxford, for the damp will play havoc with his rheumatics and he has a commission in the town to complete that means he can work indoors during the worst of the weather,’ said Rebecca, not loath to talk about the Caldwells’ business.

‘Is he much older than your sister-in-law?’ asked Phillip.

‘Aye. The girls are from his first marriage, but James is his and Jane’s son. The difficulty is that there is little to occupy the children here. Simon came to visit Jane a few days ago and escorted us here, but he cannot spare another couple of days away to accompany us on the return journey and he will not allow us to travel without a man’s protection.’

Phillip made no comment for she had now stopped in front of a house that was larger than the others in the village. ‘Here we are,’ she said with a sigh of relief.

He stuffed the gown and wig behind a tub beside the door and followed her inside. There was no sign of the girls, but a child could be heard crying. A grey-haired man was seated at the table, but on their entry he jumped up, almost sending the plans spread out on the table flying.

‘Who is this?’ he asked, placing a hand over the plans as he stared at Phillip. ‘I did not ask you to bring anyone here, Rebecca.’

‘Simon, this is Master Phillip Hurst, who knew my father. We met in Witney and he kindly escorted me here,’ she replied. ‘Phillip, this is Master Caldwell, my brother-in-law.’

The two men shook hands. ‘Rebecca’s father used to work at my father’s shipyard most summers,’ said Phillip as way of introduction, wondering why the other man’s hand trembled so much.

Simon Caldwell nodded jerkily. ‘I recognise the name Hurst. Your father is dead, is he not?’

‘That’s right. My brother now has charge of the yard. I believe you are a stonemason, Master Caldwell,’ said Phillip politely.

‘If you’ll excuse me,’ interrupted Rebecca quietly, ‘I’ll just go up to the children. I bid you good even, Phillip.’

‘Good night, Becky,’ he said, taking her hand and pressing it gently. ‘Perhaps we’ll see each other again before too long.’

She flashed him a smile, withdrew her hand and hurried out.

There was a silence after she left and Simon Caldwell fiddled with a drawing implement on the table. ‘So, what are you doing in this area, Master Hurst?’ he asked after a moment or two.

‘I am just travelling through, but I might have need of a master mason to do some building work for me in the near future,’ he said impulsively, ‘so when Becky mentioned your name and occupation I was interested to meet you.’

‘I see.’ The other man ran a shaking hand through his iron-grey hair. ‘I cannot make any promises. It might be best if you looked for another mason.’

Phillip was relieved, wondering why meeting Rebecca had caused him to broach a plan of action that he been considering this past year, but had decided was not feasible for at least another two years. ‘Unfortunately, just like ship’s carpenters, they are in short supply, so I am prepared to wait,’ he said easily.

‘If you are not in a rush, then that makes a difference.’ Simon Caldwell’s manner thawed but Phillip thought he still appeared a little on edge. ‘You would recognise Rebecca’s father if you saw him?’ asked the older man abruptly.

Phillip was startled by the question. ‘Aye, but Master Mortimer is dead, so I don’t understand why you should ask such a question.’

Simon Caldwell cleared his throat. ‘Master Hurst, do you believe in ghosts?’

Phillip’s eyes narrowed. ‘Obviously, you believe that you have seen one if you ask me such a question,’ he said slowly.

‘Have I seen a ghost or was it a figment of my overtired brain?’ muttered Simon Caldwell, drumming his fingers on the table. ‘You have to understand that I only met the man twice. He was most difficult to deal with, as you undoubtedly know, having served as his apprentice.’

Phillip nodded. ‘All I can say is that I would rather he didn’t come back from the dead.’

‘Agreed,’ said the other man, now gripping the table. ‘Yet I cannot ignore the sighting. If the labourers were to believe Draymore Manor is haunted, they’d be off. You know what they say about ghosts?’

‘That they have unfinished business here on earth,’ said Phillip, understanding why the man should be so nervous. ‘I presume Becky and the children have not seen this apparition?’

‘Saints’ teeth! You think I’d allow them to play around the manor house?’ said the other man fiercely. ‘Parts of the building are highly unstable. I’m thinking it’s a mistake I ever brought them here.’

‘Then send them home,’ advised Phillip.

Simon Caldwell frowned. ‘Rebecca is a woman of good sense, but she is only a woman and wouldn’t be able to defend herself and my children against ruffians, Master Hurst.’

There was a short silence and then hesitantly Phillip said, ‘If you would allow me to make a suggestion, Master Caldwell. On the morrow I will be travelling to Oxford as I have business there. If you are willing to entrust them to my care, I will provide them with my protection on the road.’

Master Caldwell looked relieved. ‘That is generous of you. I must warn you that my son is an imp. A lovable lad, but an imp none the less.’

‘I am certain Becky copes well with him,’ reassured Phillip, although he had no idea at all if that were true or not but he felt this man was in need of help. ‘Besides, I have nephews and a niece of my own and so am accustomed to children,’ he added.

‘Then I accept your offer with gratitude, Master Hurst.’ This time when Simon Caldwell shook Phillip’s hand, it was with enthusiasm.

Phillip decided there was little chance of seeing Rebecca again that evening to see if she approved of his actions and, as it was now dark, that he should make haste to Witney. ‘I would appreciate it if you could inform Becky that I will call for her and the children shortly after dawn. I need to make an early start.’

Simon Caldwell thanked him again and escorted him to the door.

As Phillip left the house, he pondered how Rebecca would accept the news that he would be escorting her to Oxford. She might resent his interference and not wish for his company, as it was obvious that she had cared for her husband. It seemed that Giles had replaced Nicholas in her heart, although now her husband was dead, she might wish to marry again. When his brother eventually arrived home, it would be best if he took a wife and settled down. Phillip frowned, remembering how he and Nicholas had discussed women, love and marriage whilst in their cups on the Greek isle of Rhodes. In truth, they had wagered two gold pieces on which of them would marry the first—the remaining one being the victor. Worryingly, it was some time since there had been news of Nicholas and he could only pray that he was safe.

Phillip was halfway to Witney when he remembered he had left his costume stuffed behind the tub beside the front door. Hopefully it would not rain during the night. Maybe Becky would notice it and take it in? Becky! He was glad he would be seeing her on the morrow. What would they talk about on the journey? What would she think of Master Caldwell’s mention of having seen her father’s ghost? Somehow he could not imagine her dismissing it lightly, but it was not for him to discuss the matter with her. Even though both of them, no doubt, preferred him to remain buried in the past.

Chapter Two

Rebecca had spent a restless night and woke from a dream in which she was wiping the paint from Pip Hurst’s almost-perfect features amongst other things. The intimacy of the vision unsettled her and she wondered why the Almighty had decided that now was the time for their paths to cross again. Whilst married to Giles she had prayed that she would forget Pip and had managed, most of the time, to put him out of her mind. Then she had seen him at Greenwich Palace and the desire she had felt for him had been reignited and he had figured prominently in her thoughts after that. She felt hot and bothered thinking about those times. Now here he was, but still as unattainable. Despite his flattering words, he’d made it plain there was no room for a wife in his life. It also appeared that he believed that she had been in love with his brother, Nicholas, until Giles had come along. Obviously, he did not suspect that it was Pip, himself, that she had lusted after. It was true that she admired the older Hurst brother, who had kept a journal of his travels in the Americas. How excited she had felt when she had held a copy and read the words for herself! Pip and her friend, Lady Beth Raventon, who had inherited her father’s printing-and-stationery business in London, had shared the preparation of getting the journal into print as a birthday gift for Nicholas six years ago.

The book had sold well and, after Rebecca had blurted out how much she wished she could read the book for herself, Beth had taught her to read and write. It had proved a task that had given them both great pleasure. But however much she had enjoyed the book, Rebecca had never considered Nicholas Hurst, explorer and merchant, as a possible husband for herself. After Beth had married her guardian, Sir Gawain Raventon, Nicholas had sailed away and disappeared from Rebecca’s life.

A sigh escaped her and she turned over in bed. It was at times like these that she had missed Giles during those first weeks after he had died. A child would have been such a comfort. Fortunately her desire for children had been partially satisfied in helping to care for her young nephew and his half-sisters. But now Phillip had re-entered her life, she could not deny that he affected her still in a way no other man had ever done. Yet would she ever see him again? By the time she had left James sleeping, Simon had gone to bed and Phillip had vanished, just as her mother had done, without any words of hope for her to cling to that they might ever see each other again.

Rebecca felt that sense of rejection experienced on waking as a child, knowing that her mother had not loved her enough to want her company. She sighed, knowing there was nothing else to do but to get on with life. She noticed that it was getting light. Time to get up. She dressed swiftly and as silently as possible and, lifting the latch with care, slipped through the gap between door and jamb. She went downstairs and outside to fetch water from the butt by the door. She had a drink, then she spotted Phillip’s gown and wig. She felt her pulses quicken. He would be needing them that day, so perhaps she should take them to him. It should not be so difficult to find the covered wagon he had spoken of.

She fetched her cloak and set out towards Witney, hurrying up the hill, past a stream that dashed over rocks on its journey to the valley floor. The water was so clear that one could see the pebbles at the bottom and darting fish. It was as she rounded the foot of the hill that she caught sight of Phillip going up the hill in the direction of Draymore Manor House. Her heart leapt. The house was situated a short distance from the village of Minster Draymore and hidden by trees. How odd. Before she could call out to him, he disappeared from her sight. Had he come to collect the gown and wig and taken the wrong path? She set off in his wake. When she reached the brow of the hill she could see the surrounding area as far as the church spire of St Mary’s in Witney, but there was no sign of Phillip. She dithered, trying to decide whether to remain where she was and to watch out for his return or to walk to the manor house.

Several birds flying up from the trees below made her think they had been disturbed by Phillip’s passing and she set off in that direction. She passed through the copse until the trees opened out to reveal an overgrown garden and a path in need of weeding that led up to front door of the manor house. It was a heavy door with studs on it and she had not really expected it to give way when she gripped the sturdy metal ring set in the wood, but the door creaked open. She hesitated before entering, remembering that Simon had told her to stay away from the house and not to take the children there as it was not safe. Even so, if the door was unlocked, that meant he must have forgotten to lock it yesterday.

She placed the gown and wig in the corner behind the door and gazed about the hall. It was small in comparison to the one at Raventon; there was a pile of rubble and one of the walls appeared to be crumbling in places. She guessed that the building dated back maybe more than two hundred years ago to the time of Edward II who had married a French princess, Isabella. This royal lady had taken a lover called Mortimer, the first Earl of March, who had lived at Ludlow Castle. That Rebecca and her brother shared the same surname had caused Davy to wonder aloud whether they were descended from Mortimer and Isabella, who, if she had been a man, would have become the ruler of France. Such ancestry was what caused King Henry to fund the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles, betrothed to Henry’s daughter, Mary, to fight the French in the hope that at least his descendants would sit on the throne of France if Charles was the victor in that conflict. Rebecca was of the opinion that the closer one was to the throne, the more dangerous life could be. Mortimer, lover of Isabella, had been executed for treason, although she and their offspring had been pardoned by Edward III. She wondered what Phillip thought about King Henry and his ambitions in France and whether one day he would write a play about such stirring royal events from the past.

She came to a decision and walked carefully across the hall to a door at the far end, noticing that some of the walls were blackened with smoke. She was startled by a shout and her first instinct was to head straight back to the front door and outside. Then she heard a banging and a crash; hesitating no longer, she ran towards the sound, almost tripping over a clump of fallen stone, thinking perhaps that Phillip might be under attack from ruffians. She came to a small chamber. The door was half off its hinges and on the opposite wall was shelving. Possibly it had once been a still room. There was a smashed jar on the uneven floor and a couple shrouded in cobwebs on a shelf. The room appeared to be empty, but cautiously she went inside to make certain, stepping over more rubble. The next moment she felt an arm go round her throat. Fearing she would be choked to death, she sank her teeth into the wrist of her attacker. Her captor released her and she wasted no time in trying to escape, but he seized hold of her again. With fists flying, she aimed for his chest, only to realise that it was Phillip.

‘Damn it, Becky, what are you doing here?’ he said harshly, seizing both her wrists and holding her arms aloft.

‘I was searching for you, but I didn’t realise that my attacker would be the person I sought!’ she cried. He released her abruptly and she fell against him. Instantly, she was aware of the hardness of his chest and the heat emanating from him as his arm slipped around her. ‘What a fright you gave me!’ she gasped. ‘I was convinced you were about to throttle me!’

‘I thought you were the ghost,’ he said drily. ‘As soon as you bit me, I knew better.’

‘Ghost! What ghost?’ She glanced about her.

He hesitated. ‘The one Simon Caldwell believes he saw. I caught a glimpse of a figure a short while ago and called out to it, but then it disappeared, so perhaps there really is a spirit abroad.’ A faint smile played about his lips.

‘But you attacked me and I’m obviously no ghost,’ said Rebecca reasonably.

‘That’s because I heard footsteps and I thought only the living could be responsible for that and maybe it was someone who could intend me harm.’ He lifted his wrist and inspected the marks left by her teeth and cocked an eyebrow.

‘I’m sorry I bit you but it did the trick, didn’t it?’ She placed her hand on his and gazed at the red indentions. ‘I don’t think I’m poisonous, but perhaps some salve on the wound?’

He made a noise in his throat. ‘At least I know you can defend yourself if necessary.’

‘Very graciously said,’ she murmured, looking thoughtful. ‘I wonder why Simon made no mention of a ghost to me.’

‘He did not want to frighten you,’ said Phillip, removing her hand. ‘Be careful where you step,’ he warned.

The words were no sooner out of his mouth than Rebecca tripped over the pile of rubble and ended up flat on the floor. ‘Ouch, that hurt!’

He went down on one knee in front of her and his blue eyes were dark with concern. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Just help me up, if you please,’ she groaned.

He took her hand and jerked her to her feet without realising his own strength so that she was catapulted against him. This time he almost lost his balance and for several moments they swayed back and forth on the uneven floor, their bodies pressed against each other and their faces only inches apart. It was strangely comforting, thought Rebecca, in no hurry to have him release her this time.

Then he kissed her.

The temptation to taste her lips had been irresistible, thought Phillip. Her lips were as cool as spring water and as she made no attempt to pull away, he deepened the kiss and delved between their moist softness and captured her tongue. It was a while since he had kissed a woman and never had he found it so arousing. Then he remembered that she did not think much of a player’s way of life and dropped her like a hot brand and walked away.

It was several moments before a now-seething Rebecca recovered her equilibrium and was able to pick herself up off the floor. Giles had never kissed her in such a thoroughly penetrating fashion, but neither had he ever used her so roughly. How dare Phillip kiss her and then cast her aside as if he couldn’t bear to look at her! Obviously he had no thought for her feelings at all. Hurt and anger coursed through her veins and, after taking several deep breaths, she marched out of the room, careful to avoid any obstructions.

He was nowhere to be seen. Had he left her alone in this place, prey to ghosts or vagabonds? She made for the front door and there she found Phillip resting against the door jamb. She waited for him to speak, but after what seemed a long time, she came to the conclusion that he was not going to refer to what had happened. Well, she was not going to allow him to ignore the episode. It might be true that she had enjoyed the kiss, but if he was now regretting what had happened, she was not going to let him know that. Most likely he had kissed lots of women over the years and had enjoyed doing so. Lackwit that she was to think that just because the kiss had set her whole body alight, that it had done the same for him. Misery threatened to flood her, but then she remembered that part of a man’s anatomy that had trouble sleeping. His had flared into life as he had kissed her and flaunted itself against her belly. A definite indication that he had desired her, if only for a moment, before rejecting her.

‘I should have slapped your face,’ she said.

‘I’m amazed that you didn’t!’ He straightened up. ‘I didn’t intend to behave so, but you were irresistible.’

‘Was I? Well, that’s good to know,’ she replied, taken aback. ‘I—I presume you’re not going to make a habit of it?’

He gave a ghost of a smile. ‘Probably not, you’ll be pleased to know.’

‘Good, because we both know that we wouldn’t suit. You’re not in the market for a wife and I have nothing to bring you that would be of help in making your way in the world. Although I am not such a fool to believe that kissing a woman means a man must feel compelled to propose marriage.’ She dimpled at him in an attempt to reassure him that she had decided to make light of the situation, despite the fact that she ached to be held in his arms again.

Phillip found those dimples bewitching and experienced a further rush of desire, but it was obvious that she saw no future for them together, so all he said was, ‘I’m glad that we’ve got that sorted out. Shall we go?’

She nodded, picked up the gown and wig. ‘You forgot these last even.’ He took them from her, thanked her and closed the door before heading towards the trees. ‘Was the ghost the reason you’re up and about so early this morning or were you on your way to collect your costume? I saw your gown and wig and decided to bring them to you. I was doing so when I spotted you.’

‘And your curiosity got the better of you when you saw me?’

‘I can’t deny it.’ Her brow puckered. ‘Do you mind telling me about this figure you thought you saw?’

‘I do not doubt what my eyes saw, Becky, but I didn’t get close enough to make out the identity of the man.’

‘Then can you tell me what Simon told you?’

Phillip’s eyes locked with hers, but still he hesitated.

‘Please, of your courtesy, I would like to know. There is obviously some mystery here that needs solving. I do have a talent for such.’

‘If I do tell you, I want you to bear in mind that he believes it possible that his mind was overtired and he might have imagined what he saw.’

She nodded. ‘That goes without saying.’

Phillip took a breath. ‘He thought he saw your father’s ghost.’

Rebecca felt a peculiar sensation shoot down her spine and the ground appeared to rock. The last thing she wanted was her father to return to haunt her from beyond the grave—why should he appear to Simon? And why here, of all places? It had to be a figment of his imagination. ‘I don’t believe it!’ she said, a tremor in her voice.

‘Neither do I,’ said Phillip firmly. ‘But it’s interesting, isn’t it? And why should he appear here? Is it possible that your father has kin living in the area?’

Rebecca took a deep breath. ‘As far as I know he had no kin. At least he never mentioned any to me, but then he never saw any reason to discuss anything of importance with me,’ she said bitterly. ‘I was only his daughter.’

‘My mother would have loved a daughter, so don’t pull yourself down. Your father was a fool not to appreciate your worth.’

‘You’re just being kind,’ she muttered. ‘Anyway, we’ve strayed from the subject.’

He frowned. ‘Think the worse of yourself then, woman! Tell me instead, is it worth asking the people who live in Minster Draymore about your father?’

‘Surely Simon would have thought of that? Unless he didn’t want to look a fool. Besides, could he be looking for me?’ She looked up at him from scared eyes.

‘Then why come here? Why not seek you out in Oxford?’ he asked reasonably.

Rebecca forced down her fear and smiled. ‘You don’t know how much your saying that relieves my mind.’

Phillip returned her smile. ‘Maybe there is no ghost and it was a real person I caught a glimpse of?’

‘He could have been a vagabond and reacted violently. My next question is—do you think we should speak of this to Simon? He’s normally a man of good sense, but if he mentioned this to you, then it really is playing on his mind.’

Phillip was silent a moment, then said, ‘The person who might know if your father had other kin is your brother.’

Rebecca’s eyes met his and she nodded. ‘But how am I going to get a message to him? I’d have to pay a messenger and I don’t have that kind of money.’

‘I would go myself if I had the time, but—’

‘I would not ask it of you,’ said Rebecca hastily. ‘He might get in touch with me himself before Christmastide, so perhaps I should just wait a while. In the meantime I will see what I can discover here.’

‘I don’t think that will be possible now,’ said Phillip, taking her arm. ‘I’m leaving for Oxford this morning and I offered to escort you and the children home.’

She felt that peculiar leap of the heart. ‘I—I can’t believe you’d want the bother of three young children as well as myself on the journey.’

‘No, I don’t,’ he said, straight-faced, ‘but I could see their poor father was desperate and, as I am heading in that direction, I thought it would be good for you to experience the travelling life, albeit briefly.’

She gave him a severe look. ‘I deem you are teasing me. You are forgetting, Phillip, that I do have some experience of such due to having travelled about with my father for his work. Still, it is generous of you to make such an offer and I accept it gladly. But why is it that you go to Oxford? I cannot believe that you do it purely for my benefit.’

‘God forbid! Why should I want to travel with you, knowing that you can be a shrew at times?’ he said in a mocking voice. ‘You must have forgotten that it is St Giles’s fair today. We plan to perform there. Also, I have been asked by the Raventons to take a look at a vacant property in the town with the idea of setting up a print room, stationer’s and book shop there.’

Rebecca’s eyes lit up. ‘I had no idea. But why would they ask you to do that?’

‘I act on behalf of Nicholas, who has shares in the Raventons’ business. It is some time since they and my brother and I have heard from him and so—’

Her smile faded. ‘When did you last hear from him?’

The muscles of Phillip’s face tightened. ‘Ten months or more, but you must not worry. It is not the first time he has left it for a while before getting word to us that he is safe.’

She placed a hand on his arm. ‘But still you must be anxious.’

‘It would be dreadful, indeed, if there were to be no more tales of his adventures,’ said Phillip lightly. ‘But let us not lose hope. Tell me, by what means did you travel here?’

Rebecca accepted the change of subject and removed her hand from his arm. ‘On horseback. I had two of the children up with me and Margaret, the eldest, rode pillion with Simon.’ She bit her lip. ‘I’ve just realised he will need his horse and mine cannot bear four of us.’

‘I suggest the two youngest children travel in the wagon where Tabitha can keep an eye on them.’

Rebecca seized on the mention of a woman. ‘Tabitha? You have a woman in your troupe?’

He smiled. ‘I couldn’t manage without her. She cooks for us and takes care of the costumes, as well as telling us exactly what she thinks of our performance. She also acts as a prompter if any of us should forget our lines. She is good with children and I’m sure the pair of you will rub along.’

Rebecca felt a pang of envy that he should think so highly of this woman. ‘What is she like?’

‘Young and pretty. She was in dire straits when we came upon her in Coventry, a couple of years ago. Some quick action was called for and we carried her off. It soon proved that we had made the right decision.’

Rebecca found herself almost hating this paragon of virtue despite never having set eyes on her. ‘I look forward to meeting her,’ she said stiffly, thinking that although Phillip had told her there was no room in his life for a wife, he still had a man’s needs. Really he should not have kissed her if he had a mistress! The pleasure she had felt earlier at the thought of travelling to Oxford in his company evaporated, but she could hardly say that she had changed her mind about doing so.

‘Shall we make haste?’ said Phillip. ‘It’s a good four leagues to Oxford and I want to be there in plenty of time to make ready for this evening’s performance.’

When they reached the house, it was to find Simon talking to the woman from the neighbouring cottage. When he saw Rebecca and Phillip, he brought the conversation to an end and approached them.

‘There you are! I was wondering what had happened to you, Rebecca. Has Master Hurst divulged our plan to you?’

‘Indeed he has,’ said Rebecca, deciding to make no mention of her father’s apparition. ‘I will go and see if the children need help getting ready.’

She went indoors, thinking she must also don a pair of riding breeches under her skirts. She was greeted by eight-year-old Margaret, who was fair-haired, with a spare frame and a fussy manner. ‘There you are, Aunt Rebecca! Father says that we are going home today.’

‘Indeed, we are, love,’ said Rebecca, forcing a smile. ‘Are you not pleased?’

The girl nodded. ‘I hear we are to be travelling with a Master Hurst who owns the shipyard where your father worked.’

‘It is his brother who owns the shipyard,’ corrected Rebecca, ‘but the rest is true. I’m sure you will like him.’

‘Is he the man who is with Father now?’ whispered Elizabeth, the younger daughter who was small and chubby.

‘Aye, it is. You and James will be riding in a covered wagon. Is that not exciting?’ said Rebecca.

‘What d’you mean a covered wagon?’ demanded Margaret, pausing in the act of fastening her shoe.

‘Master Hurst is a member of a troupe of travelling players and they are going to Oxford to perform at St Giles’s fair,’ answered Rebecca.

‘How exciting!’ cried Elizabeth. ‘Will he drive his wagon right up to the house, so Mama can see us arrive?’ she asked, her brown eyes sparkling.

‘I—I—I want to go home,’ said four-year-old James, pressing himself against Rebecca and hugging her knees. ‘I—I—I mith Mama.’

She lifted him up on her knee. ‘I know, sweeting, and I would have risked the highway on our own to take you there, but your father would not allow it. Fortunately, Master Hurst is to escort us, so all is well.’ She kissed his rosy cheek. ‘You do know that you must be on your best behaviour? I do not want Master Hurst regretting his offer.’

‘I be good,’ said James, nodding solemnly.

If only I could believe that, thought Rebecca wryly, aware that four leagues was a long journey for a small boy. Well, she would just have to hope for the best. Few women would like to have two boisterous young ones thrust on them for such a journey, but hopefully this Tabitha would accept the situation without complaint.

After a breakfast of bread, butter and eggs, washed down with small ale, they made their way outside. The horse was saddled up and, after taking their farewell of their father, the two youngest children were lifted on to the back of the horse by Phillip. He took it upon himself to lead the beast before Rebecca could protest that she was quite able to do that herself. She pecked Simon on the cheek and he slipped several coins into her hand, saying they were for anything the children might need on the journey.

She thanked him and set out to walk beside the animal with Margaret next to her and Phillip the other side. Elizabeth chattered to her sister in a high voice that informed Rebecca that she was a little nervous about being up on the horse without Rebecca to cling on to.

They had not travelled far when Phillip suggested that the children might like to hear a story. Instantly they chorused agreement, as did Rebecca, who was far from averse to listening to one of his tales to while away the journey. She was surprised when he launched into the fable of the tortoise and the hare. By the time he had finished they had arrived at the church in Witney and James was clamouring to get down and wanting to be a tortoise.

‘And the moral of this story is—?’ asked Rebecca.

‘You tell me,’ responded Phillip, raising his eyebrows.

‘Don’t be over-confident or look down on others who appear less able than yourself. This isn’t one of your own creations, is it?’

Phillip’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve heard it before?’

She nodded. ‘If I’m not mistaken, it was written by a Greek slave hundreds of years ago and you won’t find it in any book written in English.’

‘I wager Beth Raventon told you that. I know she stocked a Latin translation in the London shop and she is extremely well read.’

Rebecca smiled. ‘I wouldn’t deny it. I have a lot to thank Beth for. She has been extremely generous with her time and sharing her books with me.’

‘I was told the story by Frederick, who was my mentor when I first left the shipyard. You’ll be meeting him soon and it’ll probably surprise you to hear that Frederick was a scholarly cleric who has travelled widely, including to Greece and its islands. He translated the story for me to turn into a play, as well as some of the Greek tragedies.’

‘Tragedies?’ She pursed her lips. ‘There doesn’t sound much to amuse one in such plays.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ he said with a grin. ‘There was also comedy in the Greek theatre, but it didn’t really become popular until after the Peloponnesian Wars and was known as the New Comedy.’

She was impressed. ‘You surprise me, Phillip. I never expected to hear of such from your lips. Do all strolling players know of the Greek plays?’

‘No, but I have visited Greece and one of its islands myself,’ he said, doubly taking her by surprise. ‘But some like Frederick studied at Oxford. Here he comes now,’ said Phillip.

Rebecca turned to see an elderly bald man limping towards them. ‘About time you made an appearance, Pip,’ he grumbled. ‘We need to be on our way. The road will be busy and we don’t want to be held up.’ Even as he spoke, his rheumy eyes were on Rebecca and the children. ‘These are them, are they? They look a motley crew. Let’s get the young ’uns inside the wagon and they’d best behave themselves.’

Elizabeth gazed up at him nervously and James clung to Rebecca’s skirts and sucked his thumb. ‘Come, children, no need to be frightened of ol’ Frederick,’ said a woman, poking her head out from beneath the canvas flap of the hood. ‘He’s got no authority in here. It’s me that says what’s what.’

‘May I introduce Tabitha to you,’ said Phillip, lifting up one of the children. ‘Tabitha, this is Mistress Rebecca…’ he hesitated before adding ‘… Clifton—and her nieces and nephew.’

Tabitha nodded a welcome as she seized hold of Elizabeth. ‘Pleased to meet you, Mistress Clifton.’

‘Thank you for your help,’ said Rebecca hastily, taking in the other woman’s appearance. She was not in the least like how she would have expected a mistress of Phillip’s to look. Beneath a man’s cap, she wore her fair hair frizzed on her forehead and about her ears. She had a fresh complexion and was clad in a garment that appeared to be a man’s shirt. The draw strings at its neck were unfastened to reveal a generous expanse of cleavage. Suddenly there came a baby’s cry from the wagon’s interior and Tabitha jerked her head in that direction. ‘There Edward goes again, but as soon as we get moving he’ll quieten down and won’t be any bother.’

‘You have a child?’ blurted out Rebecca. Was it possible that Phillip had fathered a son?

‘Aye, has Master Phillip not explained our situation?’

‘No, I haven’t, Tabitha,’ said Phillip, glancing at Rebecca. ‘I didn’t see any need for anyone else to know what is your private business.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Tabitha. ‘But Mistress Clifton might like babies and will wish to see him, and the children will certainly want to play with my manikins.’

‘What manikins?’ asked Elizabeth, clinging on to Tabitha’s shoulder, her eyes alight.

‘You’ll see soon enough,’ said Tabitha kindly. ‘Now, what about your little brother?’

Rebecca was aware of Phillip’s eyes on her. His mention of private business had made her feel the outsider she was, but that did not make it any easier for her to accept. She glanced at the woman’s hands and saw that she wore no ring. The child must be Tabitha’s bastard, but was it Phillip’s? How could Tabitha smile so easily in such a situation and how did she cope with a baby and the travelling life? She allowed Phillip to take James and lift him up, so enabling Tabitha to seize hold of him and hoist him into the wagon.

‘Can’t I go in the wagon, too?’ asked Margaret wistfully.

‘If you don’t mind being squashed, then you’re welcome,’ said Tabitha, beaming down at her. ‘Here’s Jack and Ned now. We’ll soon be on our way.’

Margaret stood on the rim of the wheel and was helped up into the wagon. Rebecca turned to her horse, but before she could hoist herself up on to its back Phillip had seized her by the waist and lifted her off her feet and dumped her on the saddle. She was caught unawares, so that she slipped sideways. She jumped as he placed a hand beneath her bottom and pushed her back into the saddle. She had to bite back the rebuke that hovered on the tip of her tongue, hating the thought of his being intimate with the other woman. She did not know how she managed to smile so sweetly when Phillip introduced her to the two other members of the troupe.

They had returned with loaves of bread and something savoury smelling in a napkin. One was the youth who had passed round the hat last evening and was called Jack and he looked a little wan. The other appeared to be slightly older than Phillip and was named Ned. They nodded in way of greeting. Then Ned handed up the food to Tabitha before going to the horse’s head, whilst Jack had a low-voiced conversation with Phillip before helping Frederick up into the wagon. Phillip mounted the other horse and gave the signal to walk on. As the other two men were on foot, they kept the horses reined in.

For a while Phillip and Rebecca had not spoken. She was pondering on the duplicity of men, when he said abruptly, ‘No doubt you have noticed that Tabitha does not wear a wedding ring, even though she has a child.’

‘You do not have to explain. You made it quite clear that it was no business of mine.’ Rebecca’s voice was cool and she did not look at him.

‘Even so, I do not wish you to draw the wrong conclusion. It isn’t at all what you might think.’

Rebecca’s hand tightened on the reins. ‘I deem it a shameful situation for a young unmarried woman with a baby to have no proper home to raise that child. You mentioned the troupe having no winter quarters. Could you not ask your brother, Christopher, to take her and the child into his household when the weather worsens?’

‘I would if the father did not object to it,’ said Phillip.

His words took her unawares and she spoke without thinking. ‘Aren’t you the father?’

He shot her a glance and snapped, ‘You really shouldn’t jump to conclusions. Ned is Edward’s father, not me.’

She felt her cheeks burning. ‘I do beg your pardon.’

‘At least I know what you think of my morals,’ said Phillip in a hard voice.

Her colour deepened. ‘I admit I was wrong to judge you. Your private life really is none of my business.’

‘No, it is not.’ He felt deeply hurt that she should think ill of him. What had he ever done that she should think so badly of him? Surely that one passionate kiss he had pressed upon her earlier was not the cause? Suddenly he remembered what she had said last even about seeing him at court surrounded by ladies. Perhaps she thought he had set one or even two of them up as his flirts as well! If only she knew how he never knew what to say to them when he was just simply Pip Hurst, playwright, and not Phillip Hurst, actor. Suddenly he noticed that her hands trembled on the reins and instantly knew he had to take the sting out of their exchange and searched for the right words. He cleared his throat. ‘Yet I suppose by my offering to help you, I have invited you into my world and left myself open to your judgement. You do seem to care about Tabitha and her baby, but I am presented with a dilemma.’

‘Are you wondering how to bring pressure to bear on Ned to marry her and provide them with a home?’

Phillip shook his head as if in despair. ‘You’re doing it again. Jumping to conclusions. Tabitha and Ned married once the child was on its way, but he cannot afford to buy her a wedding ring. Its lack matters to them both. I offered him the money to buy her one, but met with a refusal.’

‘I see,’ said Rebecca, feeling mortified. ‘Again I beg your pardon for reading the situation wrongly. I wish I could help.’

‘As it stands, all the money he makes goes on living expenses and putting a little by for winter. Soon he’s going to have to decide whether, with a wife and baby, he can continue the life of a travelling player. Yet I know it will break his heart to give up acting. I wonder…’ He hesitated.

‘What do you wonder?’ asked Rebecca.

‘Whether your sister-in-law has room for a serving maid and if she would hire Tabitha and be prepared to accept the baby as well? Just for a short time whilst I sort lodgings out for the winter?’ His blue eyes met hers.

Rebecca thought that here was a way for her to make amends for misjudging him. ‘I am certainly willing to put the idea to Jane. At the moment she is not the easiest person to live with, but, as she is with child, allowances must be made. Have you spoken to Ned about it?’

‘I have only just thought of it.’ Phillip’s brow knitted. ‘It’s possible he will refuse to allow it, even if your sister-in-law agreed. Let us hope we make a decent sum this evening. Now the nights are drawing in, there won’t be many more performances, unless some lord asks for the troupe especially. It is different for me. Not only do I have my writing, but I can always return to shipbuilding. I am not short of ways to make money.’

‘You are fortunate in your brothers,’ she said earnestly. ‘And this year it has been a good year?’

‘For me, aye. If it were not that I was worried for Nicholas’s safety, I could almost be happy.’ He paused before adding, ‘If I receive news of him when next I visit the shipyard, then I will find a way of letting you know.’

She thanked him, thinking that Phillip still seemed to be of a mind that she cared for his brother. She should never have agreed that she had been in love with him when they were younger.

They both fell silent.

An idea suddenly occurred to her, but it remained unspoken. Rather she wanted it to come as a surprise and she thought he might prevent her from acting in a way that he might consider foolish in the light of her own situation. In the meantime she must consider what to say to Jane, to persuade her to hire Tabitha and allow her to have her baby with her. Maybe she might also be willing to hire Ned, temporarily, to do all those tasks around the house and in the garden that were more suited to a man.

Chapter Three

‘Will you be in the audience this evening?’ asked Phillip, passing a sleeping James up to Rebecca. They had reached Oxford, the wagon coming to a halt on one of the vacant plots just inside the city walls, close to the North Gate, the other side of which was St Giles Street.

‘I shouldn’t think so, although I would like to watch another of your performances. I assume you’ll still be here on the morrow if you’re visiting the property in which the Raventons are interested?’ she said, carefully settling the boy into the crook of her arm.

‘Aye, but I won’t be putting on another play. I must make for Greenwich soon.’ He noted her softened expression as she gazed down at the slumbering child and wondered how she felt about not having a child of her own when she had the task of caring for her nephew. For the first time ever, he wondered what it would be like to have a son.

Rebecca glanced at him and the expression in his eyes caused her to feel slightly breathless. ‘What is it? Is there something else you wished to say to me?’

‘Will you mention Tabitha’s situation to your sister-in-law?’

‘Aye. I am certain I can persuade her to meet her,’ said Rebecca, an idea occurring to her which she decided to keep to herself.

‘Thank you.’ He suddenly appeared to feel awkward. ‘I don’t have your direction and I will need it if I am to visit you with news of Nicholas.’

‘Of course, your brother,’ she said, her voice subdued, ‘I do hope you have good tidings of him soon.’ She gave Phillip directions to the Caldwells’ house and added, ‘I must have a word with Tabitha before I go. If I don’t see you again, I pray that you have a safe journey and I thank you again for your escort.’

‘It was my pleasure,’ he said, placing a hand over hers and pressing it gently, before turning away and going to speak to Frederick.

For a moment she stared after him with an odd little ache inside her and then she called over to Tabitha, who was speaking to the girls. She hastened over to her. ‘Is there aught else you wish me to do for you, Mistress Clifton?’ she asked eagerly.

Rebecca smiled and removed Giles’s wedding ring and held it out to Tabitha. ‘I no longer have need of this and I would like you to have it.’

The other woman stared at the silver ring with a mixture of emotions warring on her pretty features. ‘I can’t take it. It’s far too precious!’

‘Please, do have it!’ urged Rebecca. ‘I only wish it were gold.’

Tabitha reached out and gingerly took the ring. ‘I don’t know what Ned will say but I confess I’m hoping it will fit.’

‘You can always wrap some thread round the back of the ring if it is too big,’ said Rebecca, ‘and that will make it a better fit.’

But Tabitha did not need to take such a precaution as the ring fitted securely enough not to slip from her finger. ‘I do thank you, Mistress Clifton!’ she said, beaming up at her. ‘It’s truly generous of you. As I’ve said, I don’t know what Ned’ll say as he’s a proud man, but this ring is staying put until he can buy me one himself,’ she said firmly, ‘then I will return it to you.’

Rebecca smiled down at her, delighted by her reaction. ‘I pray that all goes well with the performance this evening.’ She delayed no longer, but called to the girls and told the horse to walk on. Margaret asked if she and Elizabeth could run on ahead and Rebecca gave her permission. Despite it being a fine evening, she doubted that Phillip and his troupe would get the size of audience that they had in Witney. Oxford had lost some of its status. In the past it had thrived as a manufacturing and market town, as well as playing an important role in government. Then the spinners and weavers had migrated to the countryside as more colleges of learning had been founded, increasing at least the town’s reputation as a place of scholarship. The latest colleges were Brasenose and Corpus Christi, founded in the last fifteen years.

Rebecca kept the horse to a walk along Broad Street and past Balliol College before turning into a street near the opening to Lincoln College and thence into High Street, where the university church of St Mary the Virgin was situated. She thought of Simon and the alterations he was to oversee inside the building before too long. Thinking of him, she pondered on what Phillip had told her about her father’s so-called ghost and of the kiss he had pressed upon her at Draymore Manor. She was obviously more desperate than she would have believed for that physical contact that she had missed since Giles’s death. The remembrance of that kiss sent a pleasurable warmth through her and also a yearning to be held in Phillip’s arms again and for them to take up where they had left off and go much further.

She sighed. How could she contemplate such activity when she had believed him capable of having more than one mistress? She might have misjudged him, but she had seen with her own eyes how attractive he was to the women of Henry’s court. She felt a stab of jealousy and knew she must not obsess about him. She glanced about her, thinking she might catch sight of Jane amongst those who had come into town for the fair. In two months she would be confined to the house, preparing herself for the birth of her child, but there was no sign of her now.

Eventually Rebecca caught up with the girls, a short distance from their home. The house was constructed of the yellowish stone of the Cotswolds and had been designed and built by Simon and his team of labourers. The front garden would soon be a mass of those purple daisies named for that leader of angels called Michael, whose feast day was at the end of September.

Rebecca called down to Margaret to take James. The boy woke as she passed him to her niece and instantly he struggled to get down. The front door opened as Rebecca dismounted and Jane made an appearance. Despite being six months’ pregnant, she lifted her son up into her arms and smothered his face in kisses, demanding to know how it was that they had arrived home earlier than she expected.

‘We came home in a covered wagon, Mama,’ said Margaret smugly.

‘And Tabitha allowed us to play with her manikins,’ said Elizabeth, dancing around her stepmother. ‘They had jointed wooden arms and legs that I could move.’

Jane glanced at Rebecca. ‘What is this all about? Where is Simon?’

‘He is still at Minster Draymore,’ replied Rebecca. ‘And you should not be lifting James. He is far too heavy for you in your condition.’ She reached out and took the boy from her sister-in-law and set him down. ‘Besides, it will be good for him to stretch his legs.’

Jane gazed at her from lively brown eyes. ‘I assume my husband has his reasons for packing you all off so soon and in a wagon.’

Rebecca pulled a face. ‘We proved to be a distraction and he is determined to complete his task there before winter sets in. As for the aforementioned wagon, that belongs to Master Hurst and his troupe.’

‘Master Hurst?’ enquired Jane.

‘The girls will tell you about him whilst I see to the horse.’

Jane fixed her with a hard stare. ‘I would rather hear it from you!’

Rebecca lifted a hand in acknowledgement as she led the animal away to the stable to the rear of the house. After she had unsaddled the horse, despite her aching back, she made certain there was fresh straw, water and hay for the animal before returning to the house. There she found Jane and the children sitting in front of a blazing fire in the kitchen, eating thick slices of bread and butter.

‘Where’s Maud?’ asked Rebecca, helping herself from the loaf on the table. ‘Is she as unreliable as ever when I’m not here to chase after her?’

‘At home with her mother,’ replied Jane, glancing up. ‘I hope you are not going to scold me in place of Simon. I really do not have need of her whilst I only have myself to care for. It has only been four days. I don’t know why he insists on hiring her when she does as little as she can and has a habit of vanishing just when I do need her.’

‘You know why,’ said Rebecca softly. ‘He doesn’t like you being alone in the house.’

Jane rolled her eyes. ‘He fusses too much. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now tell me, is the Master Hurst you spoke of the same person who wrote the book from which you read to me a while ago?’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘No, that is Master Nicholas Hurst; this is his younger brother, Phillip. He will be appearing in a play here, in Oxford, this evening.’

Jane pulled a face. ‘A player!’

‘I know what that look means,’ said Rebecca, spreading butter on bread. ‘And you are mistaken. He is utterly respectable,’ she said blandly. ‘He and his troupe. Is there any ham?’

‘No, I ate the last of it at midday,’ murmured Jane, frowning as she watched her. ‘Where is your wedding ring?’

Rebecca had given no thought to what to tell Jane about giving away that precious piece of jewellery and knew that she had to be careful how she answered because Jane had dearly loved her brother, Giles, and she had it fixed in her mind that Rebecca had felt the same and would never want another man. ‘What would you do, Jane, if you met a young married woman with a child whose husband could not afford to buy her a wedding ring?’

Jane fixed her with a stare. ‘You haven’t!’

‘I thought it was what Giles would want me to do. He so wanted a child, as did I, but we were not as fortunate as you,’ said Rebecca, her voice uneven.

Jane’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I prayed earnestly that God would grant you the gift of a child, but it was not to be. Yet my brother loved all children and would want what was best for them.’

‘I so agree,’ said Rebecca. ‘How well you knew your brother’s generous spirit.’

‘So who is this woman you have gifted his ring to?’

‘Her name is Tabitha and I would like you to meet her,’ said Rebecca. ‘She is married to Ned, one of the travelling players.’

‘A travelling player’s wife!’

‘I know exactly what you think about travelling players. I felt the same when Phillip Hurst first told me that was his dream. I thought he was quite mad wanting to write and act when he could earn a good living shipbuilding in his father’s yard. But now I have seen him disguised and acting out several parts, I admit I was wrong. I can assure you, Jane, his troupe is well worth watching.’ She bit into the bread and butter, chewed and swallowed. ‘Phillip has also performed before the king.’

Jane sighed. ‘I am not sure Giles would have approved of his ring being worn by a player’s wife. Did Simon know Master Hurst was a player and not a shipwright?’

Rebecca did not immediately reply, but took a larger bite out of the bread and chewed in a manner that suggested that she was thinking deeply about the question. In a way she was vexed that Jane should still refer to the ring as belonging to Giles when it was hers to do with as she wished. Yet she knew how difficult her sister-in-law had found it, accepting the loss of her beloved brother. ‘She is a mother just like you, Jane. Is that not more important? Phillip spoke to Simon and so it is likely that he mentioned his way of life whilst I was taking care of the children. They appeared quite easy in each other’s company.’ She dropped her voice. ‘So much so that your husband told Phillip that he had seen a ghost. Of my father, would you believe?’ Her throat felt suddenly tight, remembering her father’s bouts of anger when he would tell her to get out of his sight.

The children glanced up at her. ‘Papa didn’t mentioned a ghost to us,’ said Elizabeth, her eyes widening.

‘You weren’t supposed to hear, Big Ears!’ said Rebecca, having forgotten the children were there. ‘I deem your father is working too hard and his mind played tricks on him.’

Jane looked worried. ‘I’m sure you’re right. He won’t listen when I tell him that he should be taking life more easily now. I suppose having a young family makes him feel he must work as though he was in the first flush of youth. Still, it’s very odd that it should be at Minster Draymore that he sees a ghost of your father. I remember your brother telling me that your father was born there.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Anyway, we’ve digressed. Your wedding ring—’

‘You say Father was born there?’ interrupted Rebecca. ‘Davy never mentioned that to me. I wonder what else he hasn’t told me,’ she added crossly.

‘I think you would like Master Hurst, Mama,’ interrupted Margaret as she licked butter from her fingers. ‘He has a face like one of the statues that Papa sculptured and placed in the garden.’

Jane said sternly, ‘Are you saying he looks like a Greek god? I’ll never understand why your father should wish to sculpture such images. Anyway, you obviously believe I am impressed by outer appearances. Let me tell you both that too many young ladies have been misled by handsome men, believing they are as good on the inside as they are on the outside. I hope you are listening to this, too, Rebecca!’

Rebecca cut herself another slice of bread. ‘I’d have trouble not listening, Jane. But don’t you consider it a mistake to judge a man purely by his appearance? Anyway, you have yet to meet him. Why don’t you go and see him in the play this evening?’ she suggested as if this was a sudden thought.

‘Certainly not!’ said Jane, shaking her head.

‘Mama, you should go,’ said Margaret, resting an arm on her stepmother’s chair. ‘He was kind to us and so were the rest of the troupe, especially Tabitha. They don’t have much money and you could give them some for their performance.’

Jane looked surprised. ‘So you like this Tabitha?’

‘She takes care of the troupe, washing, cooking, sewing,’ said Rebecca, glad that her niece by marriage had brought up the subject. ‘But now that winter will soon be here, a wagon is hardly the best place for a baby; besides, there will be less work for the troupe. I was wondering…’ She paused and bit her lip.

Jane stared at her. ‘You wondered whether I would hire her in place of Maud?’

Rebecca smiled. ‘How clever of you to read my mind. I’m certain you would find her more than satisfactory. She’s good with children and you know how they tire you out at the moment.’

‘That might be so, Rebecca, but why should I have need of someone to look after the children when I have you living here? I thought you enjoyed their company.’

Rebecca knew that she shouldn’t feel annoyed by that comment. After all, she had a roof over her head and food in her belly and it wasn’t costing her a penny to live here. But she worked hard for that privilege and although she was thanked for what she did and received several gifts a year, there were times when she felt put upon and wanted to kick over the traces. Regardless of these feelings, she knew that she had to be careful how she worded her response to Jane’s question if she were to help Tabitha. ‘I was thinking that Tabitha could step into my shoes if I wanted to spend some time with my brother. Giles was truly dear to both of us, I know, so I am sure you understand my need to see Davy now and then.’

Jane’s brown eyes filled with tears again and she reached out and touched Rebecca’s arm. ‘Of course, I understand. I suppose the least I can do is to go and take a look at these players and Tabitha. But how will I recognise which one is Master Hurst when I have never met him?’

‘I could go with you,’ said Elizabeth eagerly.

Jane glanced at Rebecca. ‘Well, what do you say to that?’

‘It is not a play for children.’

‘I see. Then you’d have to come with me and as there is no one to care for the children in your absence, it seems that is out of the question.’

Rebecca so wanted to see Phillip in the play again that she said swiftly, ‘I shall go and fetch Maud and I will pay her myself if necessary with the money that is over from that which Simon gave me.’ She did not wait for Jane to agree, but hurried from the house.

When Rebecca returned, she told Jane that Maud would be with them within the hour. ‘Just enough time to allow me to change out of my travelling clothes and wash away the dust of the journey,’ she said.

‘I can see you’re determined to have your way!’ Jane pushed herself up from the table. ‘You will have to carry a stool for me to sit upon, Becky,’ she warned. ‘And we will come away if there is aught of which I disapprove.’

‘Of course,’ said Rebecca, smiling warmly. ‘I would not expect you to stand about in your condition. But I swear, Jane, that you will enjoy the performance and you will like Tabitha and approve of what I have done.’ With a whisk of her skirts she hurried from the room and upstairs to her bedchamber. Despite her aches and pains and her impatience with her sister-in-law, her weariness had evaporated and she could not wait to see Phillip perform again.

A motley crowd had gathered on the open space where the wagon was parked and there was an excited buzz at the sound of a loud drumbeat and then another and another. The people hushed and the next moment a figure, unrecognisable as Phillip, stepped into the arena. Rebecca felt her pulse quicken as he began to speak.

As with most tales, this one had a moral and Rebecca, who had been too distracted last evening to consider fully what the play was about, now had time to think about its meaning as the story unfolded. She could not take her eyes from Phillip, who not only had the title role, but the difficult task of playing more than one part. He had to magically change himself from an old hag into a fair young woman with lightning speed.

The play came to an end and the cast took a bow to thunderous applause. Tabitha went round with the hat and beamed at Rebecca, who introduced her to Jane. Tabitha bobbed a curtsy as if she were a real lady. ‘It’s an honour to meet you, Mistress Caldwell.’

‘At least you have pretty manners,’ said Jane, her expression thawing. ‘Tell me, how long will you be staying in Oxford?’

‘That depends, mistress,’ replied Tabitha earnestly. ‘Master Hurst thinks we should stay for at least a sennight, I reckon. I have been told he has no need of me for that time.’

Jane gave her a nod and said no more and Tabitha continued taking round the hat. ‘No doubt her husband will also appreciate some work,’ said Jane, looking thoughtful as she stood up. ‘Maybe I could use him in the garden. Tell me, Rebecca, which one of the players was Master Hurst?’

‘I thought you would have asked before now,’ said Rebecca, picking up the stool on which her sister-in-law had been seated. ‘But I could see that you, too, were enraptured by the play. He had the title role, as well as that of the hag and the fair maiden.’

Jane’s jaw dropped. ‘Well, you do surprise me, Becky! It’s a mystery to me how he managed those changes so swiftly. Beneath that paint no doubt he is as handsome as my stepdaughter thinks.’ She took in a breath. ‘Still, what is of more importance is the moral of the story. How interesting that it should be don’t judge by outer appearances, beauty is to be found within. I’m sure you agree with me?’

‘I think you’ll find that the tale has several strands,’ said a voice from behind them.

Rebecca whirled round to see Phillip standing there. He had changed out of his costume and removed the paint from his face and he did look as Margaret and Elizabeth had described him, handsome as a Greek god. ‘May I introduce my sister-in-law, Jane Caldwell, Phillip. Jane, this is Master Phillip Hurst.’

Phillip inclined his flaxen head. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mistress Caldwell.’

Jane offered him her hand and he brushed it with his lips. She seemed a little flustered and cleared her throat before speaking. ‘You played your parts well, Master Hurst. You have a definite talent for such tomfoolery but can you really make a living from it?’

‘I have not yet starved and life is never dull,’ said Phillip, smiling into her eyes.

Her colour deepened and she touched the crucifix about her throat and then clasped her hands tightly together. ‘We were not put on this earth, Master Hurst, purely for our own pleasure.’

‘I do so agree,’ said Phillip, continuing to smile at her. ‘But that doesn’t mean that life cannot be interesting and amusing even when it might prove uncomfortable and dangerous.’

‘I like my life to be comfortable and secure, Master Hurst, as I am sure does Rebecca,’ said Jane, meeting his gaze squarely.

Phillip glanced at Rebecca. ‘Yet she enjoys reading of my brother’s adventures.’

‘I certainly see nothing wrong with that,’ said Rebecca, deciding it was time she took part in the conversation. ‘A woman would not be allowed to live such a life, alas, so I have to live it vicariously.’

‘Alas, Becky?’ said Phillip, raising an eyebrow. ‘You would have such adventures if you could?’

‘God forbid that she should ever do so,’ said Jane swiftly. ‘I think it is time we were going.’ She slipped her hand through Rebecca’s arm. ‘I enjoyed your play, Master Hurst, and wish you well. May the saints preserve you.’

Phillip thanked her for her kind words, but instead of moving away, he took the stool from Rebecca, saying, ‘Let me carry this for you and escort you home. There will be cutpurses and other rogues on the streets this even, no doubt, and you might have need of a protector.’

‘That is kind of you, Master Hurst,’ said Jane.

He nodded briefly and without a word, he set off through the throng. Rebecca would have had no difficulty in keeping up with him if it had not been for Jane, who could not in any way match either pace. Soon they fell behind.

‘Well, I have never met a man like him,’ said Jane, clinging to Rebecca’s arm. ‘Charming, but he is now proving a disappointment. What is he thinking of going so far ahead of us when he is supposed to be guarding us?’

‘It is odd, isn’t it? I wouldn’t have expected it of him,’ said Rebecca, disappointed herself. She watched as Phillip paused on the corner of the street. He was looking their way, so she waved to him. He responded by jerking a thumb and disappearing from her sight.

‘Now where has he gone?’ asked Jane, her flushed face exasperated. ‘I hope you aren’t smitten like the girls by his handsome face, because I am certain dear Giles would not have approved of him.’

Rebecca was tempted to say that dear Giles was dead but was much too sensible to do so. Instead she followed in what she hoped was Phillip’s wake. They turned the corner into High Street where she had last seen him.

‘I assume he knows our destination,’ panted Jane. ‘Please do not rush me, Becky. A fall at this stage in my pregnancy could prove serious.’

‘There he is now!’ cried Rebecca, recognising the back of Phillip’s head and the spread of his shoulders beneath the russet-coloured woollen doublet. She was more than a little vexed with him herself, and puzzled. Why was he in such a rush? He was now approaching the Mitre Inn and fortunately he had slowed down. She watched what he did and pointed him out to Jane. ‘He has put down your stool and is going into the inn!’

‘Why is he doing that? My stool could be stolen. You make haste and get it, Rebecca,’ said Jane, giving her a push.

Rebecca ran the few yards to the inn and picked up the stool. She deduced from the noise coming from within that there was a rowdy crowd inside. What should she do? Go in and find Phillip or simply wait here for Jane? Her sister-in-law made the decision for her by coming up and seizing her cloak. ‘We shall not hang around here outside a common inn, Rebecca. It isn’t seemly! We shall carry on home and if anyone should attempt to attack us, we have the stool to use in our defence. I am disappointed in Master Hurst. He looks fair, but his manners are foul. Obviously he likes to keep low company and is fond of strong drink.’

Rebecca did not believe that was the reason for Phillip entering the inn for one moment, but she was not going to argue with Jane in her condition. She must see her safely home before deciding what to do next. She was still annoyed with Phillip and hoped he had a good reason for his behaviour. She hoisted the stool high against her chest and set off with Jane in tow. It was with some relief that they arrived back at the house without mishap. Annoyingly there were no lights in the house and no sign of Maud.

‘Where is that girl?’ said Jane, collapsing in a chair.

‘Perhaps she is upstairs with the children,’ suggested Rebecca.

‘If she is not, I will have a bone to pick with her. There should be a lantern lit down here at the very least,’ said Jane, removing her gloves and peering at Rebecca through the gloom. ‘What if the house had caught fire and no one here to save the children?’

Rebecca lit a candle from the embers of the fire and hurried towards the stairs. Jane rose to her feet and followed her. ‘I will come with you.’

The children were sleeping, but there was no sign of Maud. Both women concluded that once they had fallen asleep, the unreliable Maud had decided to skip off home. ‘That girl,’ said Jane wrathfully. ‘It will be the last time I employ her. Now let us to bed. It’s been a long evening.’

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.