Gently, Jane eased Bess back on her pillow, and pushed the strands of her dark hair back from her face.
‘Please don’t trouble Lady Margot any more. One of the monks has already been to see me. He brought me a fortifying potion yesterday and he said he’ll be back today. It hasn’t done me much good so far, but I’ll probably feel better later on today. But Jane, I feel so frightened, and I don’t know why. I don’t seem to understand anything. Why should anyone want to murder Matthew? They tell me thieves did it, but why are they so sure? Sir Roger refuses to discuss it with me; he just frowns and walks away, and Lady Margot changes the subject when I ask if the thieves have been caught. Something’s horribly wrong, Jane; and it’s all so confusing and my brain goes round and round in circles.’
‘Don’t worry about catching Matthew’s murderers, Bess. Lord Nicholas is leading the investigation and he’s doing all he can. The Sheriff will soon catch them. He knows all the rogues in the district. He’ll soon have them under lock and key. But it’s you I’m worried about; even more so now that I know you’re carrying Matthew’s child. You must get better so that you can give birth to a fine, healthy baby. Think how much Matthew would have wanted this child. I’ll see if Agnes Myles has a strengthening tonic for you.’
‘Oh you and your old witch! I don’t expect she can do anything for me.’
‘Hush, Bess, she’s not a witch. She’s a herbalist and knows more about how our bodies work than all the apothecaries in the south of England.’
‘Then I do hope she can do something for me. I really don’t feel well; and I have a feeling that the child’s not well either. Can a baby share his mother’s grief and die in the womb, Jane?’
‘I’m not a doctor, Bess, but as far as I know, babies survive most things. He’s quite safe in there,’ she said, patting Bess’s abdomen which was still flat as a board. ‘But now there’s even more reason why you must start eating again. Let me get you some bread and soup.’
Jane left Bess and went down to the kitchen where Mary, the Mortimers’ stout cook, was stirring the big iron pot which always hung over the fire. She asked if she could have a bowl of soup and some bread, and Mary, her large, plain face flushed and perspiring, scooped some soup out of the pot with a huge iron ladle and told her to help herself to bread.
She took the food up to Bess, who’d curled up on to her side, and seemed to be asleep. She put the bowl down and roused her. Then, after propping her up on a pillow, she gave Bess the spoon, but Bess was too weak to hold it so Jane fed her like a child. After only one mouthful, Bess pushed the spoon away.
‘It’s no use, Jane. I can’t eat it; I’ll only be sick, and that makes me even weaker. I really would like to go to sleep, so don’t stay with me much longer. You’ve got your father to look after and a house to run. By the way, when are they going to bury Matthew?’
‘Tomorrow; but unless you’re a lot stronger, you shouldn’t even think of coming. It would only upset you. I’ll tell you everything when it’s all over. But now, sleep well and I’ll come back later on this evening.’
‘Jane, you’re such a comfort to me. You’ll take me to the graveyard, won’t you, when it’s all over, and show me where they bury him?’
‘Of course I will. Sleep now. Don’t think about anything, except the child you’re carrying.’
‘I’ll try not to worry, but things go round and round in my head. That day when Matthew and I hid behind the sofa and we heard all those terrible things about the King, what did it all mean? And now Giles Yelman has been coming here and he talks with Sir Roger for a long time, locked away in the study. What are they talking about, Jane? And why does Lady Margot turn away when I ask her?’
‘Has Giles been here lately, Bess?’
‘I don’t know. But he was here on the day Matthew died, when Lord Nicholas was away.’
‘Perhaps he came to complain about something; Sir Roger’s cattle straying across to Lord Nicholas’s land, for instance.’
‘Then surely the bailiff would come, not Giles. He’s nothing; just a slimy toad of a man, always peering under stones. Jane, I’m so frightened. What will become of Lady Margot and the children if anything should happen to Sir Roger?’
‘I’ll speak to Lord Nicholas, Bess, when I next see him. He’ll soon sort this out. But now you mustn’t think about Giles Yelman. Just close your eyes and sleep.’
The effort of talking had exhausted Bess and she sank back on her pillow and closed her eyes. Jane watched as Bess’s body relaxed and she sank into a deep sleep. Then she picked up the bowl of soup and the bread and went down to the kitchen.
Mary looked at the uneaten food and shook her head. ‘She can’t live on air, Mistress Warrener. The poor child’s already as thin as a reed.’
‘She’s very weak, Mary, and I’m worried about her. She was always so full of life; it’s dreadful to see her like this.’
‘I can remember you both as small girls playing together out in the garden. You picked peas for me, and shelled them, eating more than you put in the bowl. You helped yourselves to strawberries, too, stuffing them into your mouths until the juice dribbled all down your smocks. You were always the forward one, mind. Bess got all her ideas from you.’
‘I can’t remember Bess having a shortage of ideas. But we did have some good times, didn’t we? We’re two of a pair, and that’s why I’m so sad to see her like this. Bess was six when she came here with Lady Margot as her ward, and we’ve been the best of friends ever since.’
‘Ward, you say?’ said Mary giving the soup a hearty stir. ‘Well, I suppose that’s one way of putting it. Though why a daughter has to cover up for the sins of her father, I don’t know.’
‘Mary, what are you suggesting? Everyone knows Lady Margot adopted Bess when her father disappeared and her mother couldn’t cope on her own.’
‘I’ll say no more, Mistress Warrener. Bess earns her keep. I’m sorry for her sweetheart’s death and I hope she gets better soon.’
Then she banged down the spoon on the table and gave the spit a vigorous turn, sending the fat from the roasting chickens flying on to the flagstones. ‘You’ll not be staying for dinner, I take it?’ she added.
‘Thank you, no. I must get off home. You could take Bess some of that chicken later, when she wakes up. She might be ready to eat by then.’
‘Let’s hope so. She needs feeding up, the poor lass. Good day to you, Mistress Warrener. My regards to that father of yours.’
Jane left Mortimer Lodge, and walked quickly along the road that led to the village. She didn’t like leaving Bess. Something was telling her that things were not right. Of course she would be shocked and grief-stricken by Matthew’s death, but she had always been physically strong. She’d never even seen her so thin and lethargic. She was also worried about the child. Maybe it was the cause of Bess’s weakness. She had to talk to Agnes Myles; there was nothing she didn’t know about babies. She used to be the village midwife for years before she got too old.
As she walked along the road where, on either side, the hedgerows were radiant in their bridal veils of white hawthorn flowers, and ragged robins and celandines made a bright patchwork quilt along the verges, she passed a young monk walking in the opposite direction. She nodded to him and he lowered his eyes. She remembered seeing him around. He was Brother Martin, assistant to Brother Michael, the Prior’s Infirmarer. Good, she thought, maybe he was taking some fortifying medicine to Bess. The monks were experts in healing herbs.
* * *
‘I thought I’d caught the buggers, Lord Nicholas, I really did. Got them last night breaking into the Bishop’s wine stocks. However, it turned out that I’d picked up the wrong lot. It seems that they were nowhere near your place on Monday night when Matthew Hayward was murdered. Not if I believe all the rogues who’ve crawled out of the woodwork to swear that the Bishop’s thieves were with them in the Fox and Hounds on the Portsmouth road. I’ve no reason not to believe them, so I can’t charge anyone for murder. Pity. I’d like to clear this case up good and proper.’