dropped her arm and stormed out, leaving Joanna in no doubt that he intended to be obeyed. Hal was watching closely, his mouth a thin line.
‘What advantages does he mean?’ Joanna asked as soon as Simon was out of earshot. She closed her eyes as the answer struck her with sudden clarity.
‘No, I understand. It’s guild business, isn’t it? How did you manage to coerce him?’
‘The idea was not mine. Your uncle suggested it.’ Hal frowned. ‘Why do you assume I want the marriage any more than you do?’
A feeling of nausea told her he was speaking the truth. Hadn’t Simon threatened to find her a husband only last night?
‘So you’re buying me?’ Joanna said, her voice shaking. ‘Do you gain admittance to the guild as a reward?’
‘Actually, I don’t!’ Hal said. ‘I’m not buying you. I gain nothing at this time other than a wife and the promise that I can petition for membership sooner than the customary year is up if I feel able. I’m not sure I get the best out of the deal.’
Hal stepped closer and put a hand gently on her shoulder. Joanna shrugged it off again violently.
‘I don’t love you,’ she said coldly.
Hal raised an eyebrow. ‘Nor I you. It would be rare if we did after such a short time knowing each other. I don’t expect you to feel for me what you did my brother, but perhaps in time we will become fond of each other.’
Joanna crossed her arms, the mention of her adored knight sending waves of misery through her. ‘If Sir Roger knew he would never let this happen. I need to speak to him.’
Hal’s expression became blank.
‘My brother has already left the city.’
Joanna’s shoulders sagged and she stifled a sob.
‘In truth, I have no real desire to marry you, knowing you are in love with him,’ Hal said. ‘However, as your uncle said, there are advantages for me. For both of us.’
‘What is the advantage for me?’ Joanna asked quietly.
‘Perhaps nothing,’ Hal admitted. ‘If you would prefer to wait and see which alternative husband your uncle can find for you I will not stand in your way.’
Those words were all it took. He was right; Simon Vernon would find her a husband and, being anxious to be rid of her, would take less care than he did over choosing his belt. Thomas Gruffydd’s face swam before her eyes and she shivered.
Joanna walked to the front of the workshop where the breeze cooled her cheeks and she could think more freely. Hal did not follow, though she could feel his dark eyes on her. She examined him out of the corner of her eye: a tall figure, handsome when he stopped frowning, but so like Roger that the sight of him tore her to shreds inside. Simon thought him honourable. Perhaps he was right. Hal had come to her aid in the camp when the guards had made their lewd comments and last night he had insisted on accompanying her home. For some reason known only to himself he had set himself as her protector.
Uncle Simon came back inside. ‘You’ve had enough time to think, so what is it to be? Make your choice, girl.’
Joanna swallowed, summoning the courage to speak. ‘I do not wish to marry this man, but you leave me no choice.’ Simon grunted his agreement. Joanna bunched her fists to stop her hands trembling and forced a smile she did not feel in the slightest.
‘Master Danby, I will be your wife.’
The wedding was arranged with indecent haste, being only fifteen days in preparation rather than the customary forty. Lent was fast approaching and, perhaps fearing Joanna would change her mind, Simon Vernon was insistent that the ceremony took place before rather than afterwards.
Hal had returned home to speak to his father the same afternoon as their betrothal had taken place and had not returned to the city. In vain Joanna hoped that his petition would be refused, but six days later a messenger hammered on the door of the house, bearing a letter for Simon agreeing to the proposed date and asking him to acquire lodgings for Hal and Joanna for the nights following the ceremony.
To Joanna the speed with which matters were put into place was the final seal on her hopes of escaping the betrothal.
‘I agreed too rashly,’ she muttered, pacing the floor of Simon Vernon’s house as the day drew closer. ‘I should have asked for more time to consider, or delayed somehow.’
Mary Vernon ceased her sewing and frowned. ‘What good would waiting have done?’
‘Sir Roger loves me,’ Joanna said. ‘He will never let the marriage take place. When he knows what I am being forced into he will come back for me, but the sooner the wedding, the less chance he will receive my letter in time.’
‘You’ve written to him?’ Mary frowned. ‘If my husband finds out he’ll be furious!’
‘He won’t find out. You won’t tell him, will you?’ Joanna pleaded. She stared into the fire where she had cast letter after letter before finally deciding on the words to explain her plight. She had sent the letter ahead to Windsor the day Hal had left York and nine days later there had still been no reply.
‘Windsor is a long way,’ Joanna said firmly. ‘It will take time.’
No answer came, but three days before the wedding Simon Vernon returned home and tossed a bulky leather pouch to Joanna. With a thumping heart she opened it and tipped the unexpectedly heavy contents into her hand.
It was a brooch. Joanna’s stomach plummeted as the meaning of the gift became clear and she could no longer deny what was happening. Hal must have made it and this was his marriage gift to her. The brooch was small, made of three strands of iron twisted around each other to form them into a ring. It was unadorned with gems or other ornament. It was neatly finished but a workmanlike piece. A marriage brooch suitable indeed for a match without passion. Joanna closed her hand over it, but Simon demanded to see what she had been sent.
He held it up to the candlelight. ‘Your husband-to-be may be skilled with plough blades and horseshoes, but he’ll need to improve his fine work if he wants to achieve the status of a master.’ Simon laughed.
‘Perhaps you should tell him how far away he is and he may decide to end this betrothal,’ Joanna suggested.
Simon laughed. ‘Don’t be foolish, nothing is going to prevent this marriage.’
Joanna held a hand out. ‘May I have my brooch back, please?’ she asked coldly. He placed it in her hand and she excused herself and climbed wearily to her room. She took the brooch out again and noticed something else in the pouch. She opened it and in surprise found a letter from Hal.
Please accept this as a token of my fidelity to you. Although I am not the husband of your choice I hope in time we can be happy. Henry Danby.
The script was neat and precise. The author’s hand was sure and bore signs of an education, but of course
