The Turn of Midnight Read online

  A strange friendship has developed between the two, despite the circumstances under which they met. It may have something to do with a treasure chest which Thaddeus removed from the wagon and returned to Lord Bourne, along with a key that hung on a thong around his neck. Neither has any concern that the other may carry the pestilence and, while the youngsters entertain us with their stories, Thaddeus sits with My Lord and shares a meal with him. What they speak of is anyone’s guess, but Bourne seems less fearful of us since Thaddeus’s arrival.

  Six

  WHEN A LOW WHISTLE CAME from the peasant strips, Clara Trueblood flicked the shutter on her lantern twice to confirm that it was she who was waiting. She stood at the outside door to the kitchen and heard a gentle ripple as a body slid into the moat and began swimming. Until now, the door had served only to allow the drawing of water for the washing of pots and pans or, on occasion, the dousing of fires when careless maids scattered glowing embers from the hearth, but at Lady Anne’s request it was becoming a thoroughfare.

  Clara’s authority was such that she could do as she pleased in her own domain, and if it pleased her to bar the door to the great hall at night in order to sleep in private once in a while, then so be it. None questioned her on it. Behind her, a candle burnt on the table that ran the length of the kitchen, lending a soft glow to the room, and her broad shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as Thaddeus, naked and dripping, heaved himself across the threshold a few minutes later.

  ‘You’ll make Milady swoon,’ she said, taking a woollen blanket from the table and wrapping it around his waist, tying the corners tightly to prevent it slipping. ‘Could you not have retained your tunic and britches at least?’

  Thaddeus’s dark face split in a pleasing grin. ‘Not without giving Bourne reason to question why I’m dressed in wet clothes when the sun comes up. Did Gyles not ask you to provide something dry for me to wear?’

  ‘He did,’ said Clara, sorting through a coffer in the corner. ‘The pair of you will turn me into a common laundress before this is over.’ She handed him a loose smock and the largest britches she could find. ‘You’ll be lucky if they fit. I swear you’ve grown another inch since I last saw you.’

  He took the garments gratefully and shrugged the smock over his head before pulling the britches on beneath the blanket. ‘You’re a good friend, Clara.’

  She chuckled. ‘If I can tolerate Gyles’s wrinkled old frame dripping all over my floor, I can certainly tolerate yours. There’d be no end of questions if naked men began running about the forecourt.’ She reached up to button the smock about his neck and then did the same at his wrists. ‘We must hide your scars and bruises. If Milady sees them, she’ll waste the little time you have searching out liniment to make them better.’

  ‘Is she happy to meet me, Clara? The request was mine, for there’s much I should tell her before she gives permission for Bourne to cross, but I’ve had no word of agreement. I hoped she might send a note with the food on the raft.’

  Clara tut-tutted. ‘There’d be no quicker way to set tongues wagging. Every woman in the kitchen would have been curious about why she did it. Bourne, too, when it reached the other side, I don’t doubt. Did Gyles not tell you that my lantern would signal her willingness?’

  ‘He did.’

  ‘Then stop fretting, my dear. She’s had nought but Master de Courtesmain’s counsel these last few weeks and has grown weary of it.’ She untied the blanket at his waist and then took up a napkin to dry his hair and beard.

  She’d known Thaddeus all his life but he’d always been a mystery to her. Like many of her neighbours, she’d stepped in to curb Will’s brutality towards him when he was a child, but he’d never shown gratitude to be spared a beating. Sometimes, Clara had thought he’d welcomed the pain because he needed constant reminders to hate the man who wielded the cudgel; other times, she had wondered if it was simple ignorance of how to express thanks that had kept him dumb.

  Silence came more easily to him than speech. Clara still remembered the day he’d wrested the cudgel from Will’s hand on the last occasion the man had raised it against him. All who witnessed the scene had expected Thaddeus to take a violent revenge but, instead, and without a word, he had turned his back on Will and carried the cudgel into the wooded hills above Develish. It was never seen again, though gossip said Will had searched long and hard for it.

  Clara had little difficulty understanding this incident once Lady Anne made Thaddeus her steward. If anyone could teach a brutalised child that nurtured hate was destructive, it was surely Milady. Some had resented Thaddeus’s advancement, claiming Milady had favoured him unfairly through her quiet care and teaching, but Clara, who knew the secret of Eleanor’s birth, understood why he’d been singled out. It was not in Lady Anne’s nature to ignore the plight of one ill-conceived child while protecting another, though she was fortunate the boy she’d felt obliged to help was Thaddeus.

  Even at six years old, when Will first set him to work in the fields, his intelligence had been obvious. It made no matter what task he was given, he had picked it up quickly and performed it well. He was also the only serf in Develish who would never betray Milady’s secret support by flaunting his learning, because he would have invited a beating if he had. Nevertheless, as Clara squeezed the water from his hair, and felt him tense against the intimacy, she wondered if he or Lady Anne would ever be able to express their feelings openly. They were two of a kind, each with natures so reserved that neither would presume fondness in the other.

  With sudden tenderness, she raised her palm to his cheek and gave it a brief caress before turning away to wring out the napkin. ‘Do you think Milady any less excited to hear your stories than the rest of us? We listen to our sons tell theirs each night but have yet to hear yours.’

  ‘I don’t have their gift of embroidery, Clara.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but I, for one, would wish to know what magic you’ve used to turn them into men. I barely recognise them as the surly churls who left Develish with you a month ago.’

  Thaddeus moved towards the glowing embers in the kitchen hearth. If he answered honestly, he would have to say he’d removed them from Eleanor’s malign influence, but there was another truth which was just as valid. ‘I asked them to show courage and they did.’

  She smiled. ‘You also, Thaddeus? If what the boys say is true, you played a lord in Woodoak in order to save women and young maids from terrible abuse. Did you know it’s treasonable to pretend a rank you don’t have? Were you not afraid you’d be found out?’

  He shook his head. ‘It helped that I was riding Sir Richard’s charger and had a sword in my hand.’

  ‘Well, you won’t need either to persuade Milady. She tells me our sons have convinced her you make a compelling lord. It pleases her greatly to know her teaching hasn’t gone to waste.’

  Clara trod softly past sleeping bodies towards the steward’s office. She eased the latch and slipped inside. ‘Are you ready, milady?’ she whispered. ‘We must walk in darkness. If you take my hand, I can lead you.’ She saw the same shy hesitation in Lady Anne’s face that she’d seen in Thaddeus’s and, with a smile of encouragement, she raised her beloved mistress to her feet and drew her soft brown curls about her face. ‘Trust your heart, my dear. It hasn’t led you false yet.’

  Hugh de Courtesmain witnessed Lady Anne’s entry to the kitchen from the other side of the hall. He had been drawn to descend the stairs when he noticed the glimmer of candlelight beneath the steward’s door. Seeing it, he had reasoned it was Milady’s steps along the corridor that had woken him, and that she was writing in her private journal. He had always suspected her of keeping one but had never caught her working on it. To wait quietly in the shadows to see if she emerged with it in her hands would at least confirm his belief that she kept it concealed in her chamber.

  He wanted to know what secrets it contained, most particularly why Thaddeus Thurkell had removed the serf boys from the demesne. Hugh had never
believed the explanation Lady Anne had given, which had painted them as heroes. Their departure had followed too quickly on the death of Thurkell’s brother, and Hugh felt certain the two were connected. He didn’t doubt either that Lady Eleanor had some involvement, for her rages had become ungovernable in the weeks afterwards. Nonetheless, it was Lady Anne’s recently altered attitude towards the girl that intrigued him. From being willing to be disowned by Lady Eleanor, she now held her closer than ever before. But why?

  As Clara Trueblood opened the door to the kitchen to usher Lady Anne inside, Hugh saw a tall figure step forward to greet her. It hardly needed the candlelight to tell him it was Thurkell. No other man could have drawn Milady into a secret assignation at the dead of night, and Hugh’s heart burnt with jealousy as his hated rival dropped to one knee and pressed a kiss into each of her palms. He turned away as the door began to close again, unable to watch as Lady Anne moved her hands to cradle his face. Such a bitterness grew in Hugh’s heart that his only thought was to expose her for the harlot she was.

  His eyes now well adjusted to the darkness in the hall, he watched Clara Trueblood place a stool in front of the entrance and seat herself upon it. He was willing to wait as long as was necessary to make his way to the steward’s office but estimated a bare quarter-hour passed before the woman’s head began to nod. Work and slumber were all serfs knew, and Clara Trueblood was a poor guard of her mistress’s honour.

  Search as he might, however, Hugh found nothing resembling a private journal in the office. It seemed Milady’s industry had been dedicated to working out the sleeping arrangements when Bourne entered the demesne. My Lord was to be given Sir Richard’s chamber, and Hugh and the men who slept in it now were to be relegated to the great hall with the women, children and greybeards. There was no mention of where Thurkell would lay his head.

  Clara was startled awake by the brush of fingers on her hair. She opened her eyes to see Eleanor standing before her, barefoot and dressed only in a shift. Certain she had come to cause trouble for Lady Anne, Clara rose to her feet and caught the girl’s hands in hers. ‘There’s nothing for you here, Lady Eleanor,’ she murmured. ‘Return to your mother’s chamber. She’ll not be happy if you disturb the household.’

  Eleanor stared straight ahead, making no attempt to release herself or give a response. Indeed, she seemed oddly content to be held by Clara. A small smile played across her face as if she were remembering a time from infancy when the woman had been her nursemaid. It was clear to Clara that the girl was asleep, and she loosened her grip so as not to rouse her. But how disturbed Eleanor’s mind must be, she thought. In daylight, she sought to capture Milady’s attention through intemperate rages; at night, she felt impelled to wander through rooms in search of her. It was strange. Stranger still that, in slumber, she had known Milady was not in her bed.

  But what to do about it? Keep her here, or take her back upstairs? She chose upstairs. There was no predicting how Eleanor would react if she woke. With a light hand on the girl’s back, she guided her around the walls towards the stone steps in the far corner, then circled her arm about Eleanor’s waist to assist her in mounting them. It wasn’t uncommon for serfs to walk in their sleep. The need to work was so ingrained that some rose from their beds in the dark and headed for the fields with their eyes closed. Most came home of their own accord, others needed guidance, but Clara couldn’t remember any being as compliant as Eleanor.

  She took care to walk softly down the corridor and ease the latch on Milady’s door without a sound, and it was arguable who was the more surprised when she pushed it open and found Hugh de Courtesmain searching through one of the coffers. He looked at her with an expression of horror, and Clara blessed Milady’s foresight in continuing to light candles in her window each night until Thaddeus and his companions proved themselves free of the pestilence and crossed the moat. Without their glow, she wouldn’t have known of his presence.

  She pulled Eleanor close. ‘What outrage is this, sir?’

  He lowered the lid of the coffer. ‘What I do here is no concern of yours, Mistress Trueblood. You overstep the mark by questioning Milady’s steward.’

  He tried to push past her but she stood her ground and, seeing an easier route, he put his hands on Eleanor to move her aside. Her awakening was violent. Eyes previously glazed and unblinking snapped back to intelligence, and, hissing words of fury to find him in her mother’s room, she attacked de Courtesmain with uncontrolled ferocity, slapping and kicking him until he retreated to the far side of the chamber.

  He pointed a trembling finger at Clara. ‘She’s madder than I’ve ever seen her. Hold her in check before she kills me.’

  Clara folded her arms defiantly. ‘I see no madness, sir. She acted as any daughter would do to find a man in her mother’s chamber. Is it your custom to inspect Milady’s garments when she’s absent from her room?’

  ‘I was looking for documents.’

  ‘On whose command?’

  ‘I need no command. I am steward of Develish.’

  ‘Not for much longer,’ said Clara, drawing Eleanor to her side again and leaving de Courtesmain’s exit clear. ‘Be gone, sir. You will never serve Develish as well and honestly as Milady and Thaddeus Thurkell do.’

  Eleanor clung to Clara, wrapping her arms about the woman’s waist and talking in riddles about blood and guilt. Whatever troubles beset her, they clearly filled her with remorse, for Clara didn’t doubt the guilt of which she spoke was hers. She whispered mea culpa too often to believe otherwise. Unsure of what to do for the best, Clara led her to Lady Anne’s bed and lay on it beside her, cradling the girl tight against her side. Within minutes, Eleanor had fallen asleep again, but it was a shallow, disturbed sleep, and any attempt Clara made to move brought forth whimpers and tears.

  It seemed safer to stay with her. Dawn could not be far off and Lady Anne knew she must leave the kitchen before the first rays of the sun woke the serfs in the great hall. Better Milady find Clara gone from her stool than Eleanor set off in search of her again. She was as likely to attack Thaddeus as de Courtesmain if she thought the handsome giant was stealing her mother’s affections. Thief was the least of what she’d called de Courtesmain, and Clara spent time wondering what documents he’d hoped to find. Whatever they were, he’d have used them to control Milady. His single ambition was to have her listen to him and not her serfs.

  She made a gesture of apology when Lady Anne entered the chamber some quarter-hour later. ‘I had no choice but to remain, milady. I found Eleanor wandering in her sleep and feared she might do it again if I left.’

  She tried to ease the girl away from her, but Lady Anne pulled forward a stool and begged her to remain where she was. ‘She’ll not wake while you hold her. I allow her to sleep in the bed with me and she only becomes agitated if I move to the table to write in my journal.’

  ‘Would that be what Master de Courtesmain was looking for, milady? I caught him going through your coffer.’ Clara described what she’d seen when she opened the door. ‘I’m guessing he knew you were absent and took a chance on entering when he saw Lady Eleanor leave. Guilt was written into every bone of him.’

  ‘He fears Thaddeus’s return. He doubts he’ll keep his place as steward.’

  ‘Nor should he, milady.’

  Lady Anne shook her head. ‘He’ll cause less trouble if he remains in the post. His nature’s too frail to want Bourne thinking him a serf.’ She watched Eleanor for a moment. ‘Did he wake her?’

  Clara nodded. ‘And reaped a bad reward by doing so.’ She told the story with a smile. ‘You couldn’t have asked for a more dutiful daughter, milady. She cast slurs at him while speaking only good about you, and the praise surprised him, I think.’ She paused. ‘I, too, if I’m honest. I can’t remember the last time she had anything kind to say about you.’

  If she hoped Lady Anne might offer an explanation, she was disappointed. Both Milady’s expression and answer were carefully controlled. ‘I’m
the only constant in her life,’ she said. ‘Her father is lost to her and she doesn’t know whom else to trust. Her greatest fear is to lose me as well, I think.’

  ‘She seemed more troubled by guilt than loss, milady. Before she fell asleep, her talk was of blood. I made no sense of it but her remorse was clear. If she said mea culpa once, she said it a hundred times.’

  Lady Anne placed her elbows on the edge of the bed and rested her chin in her hands. How comforting it would be to confide in Clara and share the burden of Eleanor with another woman. If anyone could understand the tumult of emotions the girl was experiencing, it was surely Clara who had helped other women through the terrible anguish of miscarriage and stillbirth. But to do so would be to reveal everything, and Eleanor’s slow steps towards believing that Lady Anne had her best interests at heart would end.

  ‘I let her down at the time of her father’s death, Clara. So much changed for her so quickly and I gave no thought to how it might affect her. Her guilt is for wounding Isabella and renouncing me, and she is deeply remorseful for both. By keeping her close, I hope she will learn that my love isn’t easily broken.’

  Clara wondered if that was the truth. ‘Maybe so, milady,’ she said bluntly, ‘but she’ll make you her captive if you allow her to become too dependent on you. You need a man in your bed, not a troubled child whose passions can swing between love and hate in a single moment.’

  A glint of mischief danced in Lady Anne’s eyes. ‘You shock me, Clara. Would you have your liege lady take a serf to bed and destroy any chance Develish has of forging her future?’