home soon,’ Babette said, stung to anger. He would think her immodest now and for some reason that hurt and shamed her, but to tell him the truth would cause trouble for her brother and his friend.
‘You might have no choice if your uncle had caught you.’
‘As I said, it is none of your affair. I am naught to you, sir.’
‘No, but you might have been. I had it in mind to ask your uncle for you in marriage...but I do not care for tainted goods.’ There was a note of anger or perhaps disappointment in his voice as he suddenly let her go and swung away from her.
Babette caught her breath as he left her standing there. How dare he say such a thing! He was impertinent, arrogant. She would never have agreed to such a match. How could he even think it? Besides, her hand was not in her uncle’s giving, though of course her uncle might claim he had as much right as the guardian appointed by the King. Neither he nor this impossible man knew that her brother lived.
Her brother lived. Warmth soothed away the anger as she dwelled on the happy news that John was alive and here in England, fighting with the King’s troops. She smiled as she went back into the house, lit another candle and carried it upstairs to her chamber.
This time she drew her curtains and undressed, feeling ready for bed. Even though she soon drifted into sleep her rest was disturbed by strange dreams. However, when she woke they melted with the sunshine of another day.
* * *
Meanwhile, James walked on into the darkness, needing as he so often did the solitude that night provided. His thoughts were tormented, for though he could forget his grief for a time, losing himself in duty, when his work was done his thoughts turned always to the woman he’d loved so dearly.
His grief had lived with him for months, yet as he walked alone and looked at the stars, he could not banish the expression in the young woman’s eyes when he’d accosted her. She was startled, almost guilty. He’d accused her of having a lover. She had not completely denied it, though seemed outraged at the suggestion.
Why had he told her that it had been in his mind to ask her uncle for her? Had he wanted to punish her for being less than he’d thought her at the start? What had made him strike out like that?
Was she a girl of low morals? Despite finding her in such a compromising position, he did not believe her immodest.
Then why had she been outside and why did she not wish to speak of her reasons for being there? Was she meeting someone who would not wish to be seen by him?
Had she met a Royalist? In secret so that her uncle should not know?
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, for it would make her a traitor in his eyes...and yet, perversely, he did not wish to lose his good opinion of her. For some obscure reason, he would prefer that she had Royalist friends rather than her having been in the arms of a lover.
What was it to him what the girl did? James swore beneath his breath. She was but a chance acquaintance, someone he would never meet again. If he wished to wed, surely any gentle, obliging woman would serve his needs?
He had not looked at a woman and thought of marriage once in the months since Jane died. Why now? What was it about this woman that had made him suddenly stir to anger because she was willing to give herself so carelessly?
Damn him for a fool! He cared not what she had been doing. No woman could ever touch his heart again...and yet he would prefer to keep his good opinion of Miss Babette.
Chapter Three
‘It is a lovely day,’ Babette said when her aunt entered the kitchen and discovered her packing her basket. ‘I am going to make the most of it by picking herbs and fungi.’
‘What a good idea,’ Aunt Minnie said. ‘I would send Angelina with you, but she has the toothache. However, you may take Jonas if you wish.’
‘Yes, Aunt, thank you.’
Babette had known she would not be permitted to go without a servant, but Jonas had come to the manor with her. He was primarily her groom, but did any other jobs that were needed about the house. Babette could be certain of his loyalty, for she knew he would never betray her no matter what she did.
‘We shall not take the horses, for it is a nice day for a walk—besides, there may be other soldiers looking for horses. I do not wish my mare to be stolen, and it would be wiser to leave her here,’ Babette said. ‘We shall be home in time to help you prepare supper, Aunt.’
‘Enjoy yourself, dearest. You have taken some food to eat while you forage?’
‘Yes, thank you.’ Babette could scarcely conceal her flush, for she had taken enough to feed two hungry men. Aunt Minnie was certain to wonder at how much cheese and bread had gone from her shelves, though perhaps she would think it had been given to the soldiers in the barn.
Babette had been up at first light to begin the baking, and several loaves were already in the oven, waiting for her aunt to take them out. She had also made pies and tarts, which would take their turn in the oven when the bread was done. Even her uncle could not accuse her of shirking her work.
Before she began the baking, she had prepared a pot of salve and linen bandages. Besides the food, she had a sack of ale as well as a pewter bowl so that she could dip the cloth in cooling water; she would carry the water from the stream if John’s friend was still in pain and needed her attentions.
She walked quickly towards the hut in the woods, Jonas following a few steps behind. Stopping every now and then to pick something she saw in the bushes, she looked back to see if she was followed. At the stream she filled the flask she’d slung from her chatelaine. Once she heard a twig crack and waited, but then a shy deer emerged from the thicket, looked at her, sniffed the air and bounded away. Babette smiled. The red deer here were safe enough, for though they belonged to the common forest and were no one man’s property—not even in this case the King’s, as were most of the deer in the country—they were seldom hunted at this time of year. Only in the winter did the landowners kill venison for their table and they usually agreed to take only a certain number so that the stocks would flourish. Poachers were not encouraged, though occasionally Sir Matthew would complain that it was happening and sometimes an example would be made, the poacher caught and punished by hanging.
When they approached the hut, Babette looked back again, making quite certain that she had not been followed. Telling her servant to wait for her and to keep a sharp lookout, she ran towards the hut. Jonas had raised his brows at her, but he had not questioned her. Reaching the woodsman’s hut, she knocked softly and called out, then pushed open the door and entered. At once she saw that John was kneeling by the side of his friend, who was clearly ill. He cried out in his fever and threw out his arms, tears upon his face, as he called to someone called Beth.
Babette knelt beside him, placing a cool hand on his brow. He was burning hot and, as she looked at his shoulder, she saw the reason. John had removed his friend’s shirt, and his shoulder was open to the air. Where the flesh had been laid open by a sword blade the wound was red and angry, a thick yellow pus oozing from the deep gash.
‘How long has he been this way?’ she asked as she poured water into her bowl from the flask she had filled at the stream. She took linen and began to bathe the inflamed flesh, gently probing and squeezing to make the pus come away from under the hard crust that had begun to form. Her patient screamed out in agony
