His Duty, Her Destiny Page 16

  ‘Are you going to take a turn at the oars, Fergus?’

  ‘D’ye want me to?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then I won’t. Besides, you want me here, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  The next trial, sure to demand more from Fergus than a ride on the river, was a game of cricket on the lawn of River House. He had always been extremely competitive in this, and Nicola’s memories of him angrily yelling at her eleven-year-old incompetence was hard to forget. But once again, her brothers were protective of Fergus’s broken ribs, refusing to allow him either to bowl or to bat, sitting him on a stool from which to umpire and to flout every rule. It turned out to be the most hilarious game of cricket any of them had ever played, with Nicola, Lotti, the children and the white rabbit all taking part on both sides and Fergus notching up an outrageous score in their favour. It ended when the ball flew far out into the river with a splash and Nicola collapsed at Fergus’s feet, speechless with laughter. Again, her plan had been happily turned on its head.

  Noticing the change in his sister since their last meeting, Ramond could not help but question it. ‘What’s happened, Nick?’ he said. ‘Why have you accepted him after all that protesting?’

  ‘I can’t tell you,’ she said. ‘It’s to do with Father. Don’t ask me.’

  ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘Recently.’

  ‘So all this affection Ferg is showing you, you think it’s a sham?’

  ‘No, not a sham. But it’s a result of what happened. The assault.’

  ‘You were in his arms before that, Nick.’ Ramond had his own thoughts about what was happening, but he saw that there was only so much one could say. So he took her hand in a brotherly clasp and held it upon his lap for a few moments of silence. ‘My tutor wants me to take some time off,’ he said eventually, leaning his sculpted head against the roses. ‘I think the threat of those Oxford brothers is worrying him and his wife. They have a daughter, you remember, and I’ve had Ferg’s two men with me constantly since it happened. It’s all a bit too much for the family, so he’s suggested I take some leave until it settles down. Perhaps a month or so.’

  ‘Oh, Ramond, I’m so sorry.’ Nicola leaned over to place a kiss upon his cheek. ‘But you’ve not had a break for over a year, have you? What are you going to do, keep on studying, or find a job? Are you very disappointed?’

  ‘Not as disappointed as I thought I’d be. To be honest, I don’t fancy my chances at the royal court just now with things being as they are. It’s more dangerous to be in Edward the Fifth’s service now than it’s ever been, with all those Yorkist and Lancastrian family quarrels going on and members changing sides every few weeks. Clarence and Gloucester will never see eye to eye, and I don’t think I’d sleep safe at nights, so I can appreciate how my tutor and his wife feel. I don’t know what I’m going to do, or even whether I shall go back to law. That’s why I came to talk to George about it.’

  ‘And what do you want George to do, offer you a position?’

  ‘It had occurred to me. Perhaps Fergus might need somebody. Does he have a secretary?’

  ‘I have no idea. I know little about him or what he does except to own some ships that ply between here and Genoa.’

  Ramond stared at her in astonishment. ‘You’re going to be his wife, for pity’s sake,’ he said. ‘Hadn’t you better show more interest than that?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I had,’ she said, smiling at his scolding.

  Taking advantage of the lapse in conversation, the men in the group joined in, bringing Rosemary and Lavender with them. Soon, there was laughter and admiration, witty conversation and rapport on a level that Nicola had not enjoyed for quite some time without the overtones of rivalry or serious flirting, of carefully defensive replies to veiled proposals, or wondering how to get rid of so-called friends and hangers-on.

  Still expecting to find a way of verifying Fergus’s new loyalty to her, she suggested a game of cards after supper. The meal had been unlike any of those at which Fergus had been present as a young lad when, seated by her side at the Coldyngham table, he had pretended she was invisible. This time, he held her hand under the cloth, fed her with the choicest pieces, and let his gaze wander over her face and bosom as he did so, unable to keep the smiling approval from his eyes. But the card game was as much an indication of the new Fergus as were the previous activities for, with Nicola as a less-than-useful partner, they managed between them to lose most of Fergus’s clothing and then to start on Nicola’s, until Fergus put a stop to it. There would have been a time, she recalled, when he would have delighted in embarrassing her, but not now. However much she had tried, she could not fault his care of her.

  ‘An evening ride into the town?’ she suggested, quite late.

  Ramond glanced at her from beneath his dark brows, but it was Fergus who replied, ‘No. The apprentices are still rioting at night. I heard they attacked one of the Lombard’s houses. It’s best to keep out of the way.’

  ‘A visit to Southwark, then. It’s on the opposite side.’

  Straight-faced, Fergus stood and, taking Nicola’s hands, pulled her to her feet, escorting her from the chamber and into the dim hallway that glowed pink with the last reflected rays of the sun. ‘Now,’ he said, leaning a hand against the wall above her head, ‘what’s all this about?’

  ‘What?’ she said, resisting the temptation to finger the cleft in his chin and to feel the soft dark hair around his ears. ‘All what?’

  ‘You know what I’m talking about. You’re avoiding being alone with me, is that it? You fear it’s all going too fast for you?’

  ‘I have accepted you. Isn’t that enough?’ She was glad he had got it wrong, for once. It would not do to have her strategies exposed every time.

  ‘No, my beauty. You know it isn’t. I want to get close to you. I know that recent events are still on your mind, but we’ll go at your pace, I promise. Don’t run away from me now, Nicola. I’m trying so hard to show you my other sides. Have you not noticed?’

  At last she smiled, letting her breath out with a gush. ‘Yes, I noticed. I think everyone else noticed, too.’

  ‘Good. I found it came easily to me. I can’t think why I’ve not tried it before. You see what your good influence has done. What did brother Ramond have to say?’

  ‘He wants to know if you need a secretary. He needs some temporary employment. That’s why he’s come to see George, but I wondered if you…well…if…’

  ‘If I could give him a position in my household so that you can have him near you. Have I read you correctly, my lady?’ There was laughter in his deep voice, and the tightening clasp of his hands made her blush to be found out so easily. ‘I’ll speak to him. I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Oh, you mean it? Really? Thank you. So he can be with us, can he?’

  ‘Is it worth a kiss?’

  She leaned forward and tilted her head to one side, allowing him to take as large a payment as he could get before she drew back, holding her sore mouth.

  ‘It’s been a long day, sweetheart, and an emotional one too. You’re a remarkable woman. I should have got to know you sooner.’

  She knew what he meant to say. He had had the chance, but something had stood in the way and now there were obstacles to be removed before they could read each other’s minds. ‘Give me time, Fergus. You always did go too fast for me.’

  ‘That was before,’ he said. ‘This is now.’ Slowly, he gathered her into his arms as if at any moment she might break away, and his last kiss of the day seemed to reinforce all the trials they had been through together, all the discoveries, and the beginning of a new understanding.

  Chapter Eight

  If anyone had told Nicola, as a young child, that Fergus Melrose would one day say to her, ‘I want to get close to you’, she would have either laughed or cried. Even now, the nagging shades of cynicism passed over her like a beloved enemy and
then disappeared, waiting to return. At the time she was sure he had meant it, but only time would tell. She would have to accept whatever was in store and pray that the new tenderness of the last twenty-four hours would not fade too soon, breaking her heart in two.

  It was an augmented family party that rode down to Holyrood Wharf the next morning to inspect Sir Fergus’s impressively large Genoese carrack; though Nicola and Charlotte could tell that he was in some discomfort, his wish to please them was even more obvious. Through the early morning streets, along Thames Street that ran parallel to the river, past glimpses between houses of steps and sails and bobbing boats, dodging overhanging house signs and men with loaded backs, carts, packhorses and stacks of barrels, Sir Fergus kept a leading rein on Nicola’s bridle as if she were a novice, regardless of her exasperation and her brothers’ undisguised amusement.

  But the streets became more and more difficult to negotiate with the paraphernalia of shipping, and Nicola began to see the wisdom of it when George did the same for Lotti. Crossing the road that led to the bridge was a nightmare; Holyrood Wharf was several stops up from there, part of the great Billingsgate complex where the grain and salt markets were held twice weekly. What Nicola had not known was that from Thames Street down to the river, Sir Fergus owned six shops where he sold his imports to merchants in East Anglia and Hampshire, to dyers in Suffolk and Wiltshire, and directly to customers in London.

  ‘What d’ye sell to Londoners?’ said Ramond, pulling his horse round a pile of manure.

  ‘Wine,’ said Sir Fergus, ‘and beaver pelts, saffron, licorice, alum and woad to dyers, wax and linen to drapers, green ginger to the sheriff of Middlesex, silk to silk-workers and oil to cooks, wainscot boards to carpenters, copper, lead, millstones, precious spices and silks from Genoa and Venice. Whatever folks want, I can get it.’

  ‘I’m going to enjoy this,’ said Ramond. ‘When do I start?’

  ‘Just observe for a while first,’ said Sir Fergus, winking at Nicola. ‘You can start after dinner. Have you brought your tool kit along with you?’

  Ramond did not go far without his quills and knife, papers, parchment, inks and sealing wax. ‘Yes,’ he said, glancing at George who was keeping a circumspect silence about his ignorance of Fergus’s trading activities. He had known of the shops, but had no idea that they belonged to his friend, and that did not go down too well with one who believed he knew as much as anybody about how merchants distributed their wares from the port of London.

  He caught Ramond’s beaming face and knew him to be well pleased by Fergus’s offer of a position. It could not have come at a better time. ‘What are we to call you now?’ he said. ‘Master Secretary Coldyngham, is it?’

  ‘If you please,’ Ramond replied. His answer would have been longer, but for the spectacle of his new employer helping Nicola from the saddle and across the muddy wharf to the waiting boat that would ferry them to the carrack. He suspected that, but for the painful ribs, Fergus would have carried her.

  To Nicola herself it seemed that she was learning, moment by moment, what those other sides were that Fergus had kept hidden from her for so long, for this was a far cry from the arrogant and intimidating man who had taken up a rapier against her almost two weeks ago. In the rowing boat, he held her close as if he knew how she had suffered during her last boarding experience and, when it came to walking up the ridged gangplank to reach the high deck of the ship, he went before her to help her over the side, his hands never very far away from her.

  There was no danger here: Signor Foscari and his cargo had weighed anchor from the Galley Wharf on the early high tide, and the layout of this large ship was altogether different, relying for manoeuvrability on many sails rather than many oars. Instead of the canvas awning over the balconied stern there was a double tier of cabins for the captain and passengers and, over the painted bows, yet more platforms for guns as well as people. Deep in the belly of the ship, bales, boxes and chests held merchandise for Scotland’s young Queen. The cabins were lined with shelves, cupboards and tables of polished oak, curtained and hung with fair tapestries, windowed with thick glass and lit with gleaming lanterns. The beds appeared to be inside cupboards, an idea that particularly intrigued the women.

  ‘I could lock him in,’ said Lotti, naughtily.

  ‘Or out,’ said Nicola, opening the cupboard doors and testing the feather-filled mattress. ‘I think I could sail in a ship like this, Lotti. What an adventure. Just think of it—the wind, the sea, and freedom.’

  ‘Quicker than horseback, too. And probably more comfortable.’

  Nicola ran her palm over the shining oak panelling. ‘Then why could we not go up to Melrose by sea instead of by road? Do you know?’

  ‘No, not exactly, except that Melrose is not on the coast, is it?’

  ‘No idea,’ said Nicola. ‘I’ll ask Fergus.’

  George ducked his head as he entered the cosy cabin. ‘Ask Fergus what?’ he said, readjusting his padded and draped hat.

  ‘Why would we travel up to Scotland by road when we could go with the cargo? Could we not reach Lady Melrose from the coast?’

  ‘Lady Melrose will be on the coast at Whithorn, with the Queen. I believe it was Fergus’s intention to—’

  ‘Intention to what?’ said Fergus from the doorway. ‘Is there room for me in here?’ Like George, he had to stoop and step over the high ledge, his head almost reaching the beams of the roof. ‘Now, what’s the problem?’

  ‘No problem, Ferg,’ said George. ‘The ladies think it would be better to go by sea to Scotland than on horseback, that’s all. I thought you had some cargo you particularly wanted to take by road.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Fergus, looking at Nicola. ‘I do. I had not thought that my lady would relish the idea of a sea voyage at this time. Am I mistaken?’

  As always, when he looked at her like that, her knees turned to water. ‘I would relish a sea voyage in a ship like this one,’ she said, quietly. ‘And if it would mean we reach Lady Melrose sooner, then it makes some sense to go this way.’

  ‘The only problem is,’ said Fergus, leaning against the door, ‘that the captain will be sailing in three days from now.’ He began to fold his arms across his chest, then decided otherwise and placed his hands over his hips instead. Because there was a strained silence loaded with unspoken queries, Lady Charlotte took hold of her husband’s arm and steered him out of the cabin and out of earshot.

  Fergus closed the door. ‘Well, my lady?’

  ‘Three days, you say? That’s not long, is it?’ Nicola said, feeling suddenly vulnerable in the confines of the panelled cabin. ‘But you must agree it would be kinder to your ribs than having to ride a horse all that way. Wouldn’t it? Are there enough cabins for us, for you and the captain, for me and the maids, and Ramond?’

  ‘More to the point, Lady Coldheart, is whether there’s enough time for our betrothal,’ he replied, softly. ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘I wish you would not call me that,’ she said, turning her back on him as he took a stride to reach her. ‘I’ve told you, my heart is not cold.’ The many-paned window leaned forward at an angle to give views of the brown swirling river below, making her clutch at the edge of the table for support.

  His arms caught her, enclosing her in a protective embrace while with one hand he searched gently for her heartbeat. ‘No, I believe you’re right. It’s getting quite warm, isn’t it?’ he said into her braided hair. ‘So what about this betrothal, then?’

  ‘It could be brought forward.’ She placed her hands over his, idly fingering the dusting of hair on their backs. Would his chest be the same? Would he be this colour all over?

  ‘It could. Tomorrow? Or the day after?’ he said.

  ‘The day after is the prioress’s funeral.’

  ‘Oh. I cannot see the two ceremonies mixing well, can you?’

  ‘No, it will have to be tomorrow, then. Of course, if it doesn’t suit George and Charlotte, it could be a small informal affair with j
ust a couple of witnesses. It’s just as valid. You’ve already talked about money, I suppose?’

  ‘You were expensive.’

  ‘Blame George. He’s the merchant.’

  ‘Is that what you’d prefer, an informal ceremony?’

  When she did not answer immediately, he turned her round in his arms and held her close so that he could find it in her expression. ‘Are you ready?’ he whispered. ‘I’m not going to rush you into this, but if you really want to go up with the cargo, we shall have to do it soon. But you need not fear that I shall insist on the consummation, not with broken ribs.’ He smiled.

  ‘If it suits you to wait, then I don’t—’

  ‘It doesn’t suit me to wait, I can assure you. Am I to take it that your mind has changed about that?’

  My mind is changing every moment I’m in your arms. Don’t ask me about my mind. I know little of it. ‘No,’ she said, ‘my preferences are the same on that score. I’m glad to hear you have your own reasons for accepting them.’ Almost out of habit, her words were uncompromising, but underlying them was a strange sense of disappointment at the inevitable delay. After this recent and conspicuous display of concern for her welfare, she was gradually accepting the notion that there might be less to fear than she had thought. But was this too soon for her to relent, to show him that he had warmed the heart kept on ice for so long?

  Placing his knuckles beneath her chin, he lifted her face to his, obliging her to read from his smiling eyes how far they had come from the bristling antagonism of that first meeting, but finding no answering smile in her eyes. ‘We shall see,’ he said. ‘It will be a shorter journey, but still time enough to make some progress in other directions too. I have no objections to a small betrothal ceremony. Shall I put the idea to your brother?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, having less interest in what he was saying than in the nearness of his firm mouth and in the long lean pressure of his body against hers. How will it feel? Will it be fierce, as it is in my dreams?