Page 204 of Feathers in the Wind
No one spared me a second glance. In my borrowed costume I looked no different from any of the other women. I wrenched my hand free from Nat’s, seeing the plan and furious that I had allowed myself to be duped. Knowing he would return today, Nat had contrived to put us into costume. Imagine if I had arrived in his time dressed in my jeans and a t-shirt. I would probably be burned as a witch. I tried to hate him, but failed. At least I blended into the background.
‘Nathaniel.’ A woman’s voice cut through the noise and we all turned to the main door of the house. An elderly woman stood on the top step dressed in a heavy black gown with a stiff ruff around her neck. An old fashioned gown, even for 1645. She raised the cane she carried and brought it down on the stone step with a thud.
‘Welcome home, Nathaniel Preston. We have been much worried about you.’
Nat bowed. ‘Greetings, Dame Alice.’
Dame Alice, the cause of my current dilemma. I studied my nemesis through narrowed eyes, and she turned to me. Our gazes locked and a whisper, like the rustle of dry leaves, caught in my head.
‘Later, Jessica, we will talk later.’
I must have started, as Nat turned to look at me with a frown. Now I was hearing things?
‘Come inside. You and your companion must be thirsty from your long journey.’
For the first time the rest of the household turned to me with curious looks. I shifted uncomfortably from one sneaker-clad foot to the other.
Nat looked at me and he caught my hand in his. ‘Jessie?’
He smiled at me, his gaze holding mine. He was willing me to trust him, and in all honesty, that was all I could do. I gave a slight nod indicating I understood and would follow his cues.
Dame Alice turned and walked into the building. Nat released my hand and I took a deep breath as we followed her up the strangely familiar steps into Heatherhill Hall.
Nat strode into the great hall and tossed his sword on the table as if he owned it, which of course, he did.
‘Fetch us some ale,’ he said and took a seat at the head of the long table, his familiar position, I surmised from the familiarity with which he sprawled in it.
I had last seen the great hall full of tourists. It seemed so strange to see it as a part of living household. A servant appeared at Nat’s elbow with a jack of ale, and a mug was offered to me. I took it for want of anything else to do, and subsided onto a bench beside Nat, while his retainers gathered around to hear his story. I too waited to hear what logical explanation he would give for his missing week.
Dame Alice sat across the table from me. I felt her watching me and concentrated my attention on the contents of my mug.
‘Nathaniel! Thank the Lord you are safe.’ A young woman dressed in a green gown with lace-edged collar and cuffs of white linen entered the hall. She crossed the hall and threw her arms around his neck. ‘Where have you been? We have been so worried.’
Nat looked around the table. ‘What was the last news you had of me?’
The young woman placed a hand possessively on his shoulder. ‘We heard a report that you had been set upon by a party of the enemy. Simmons went looking for you and found your horse shot dead. We have scoured the countryside for news of you and were in despair. ‘
Nat set his ale down. ‘I am sorry to have caused you so much concern. The report was correct. I was pursued by the roundheads and took a wound to my arm. When my horse was shot from beneath me I was forced to run. I feared myself dead, had it not been for the kindness of this woman, Mistress Shepherd, who took me in.’ He looked at me. ‘I fear I was out of my senses for a few days but she has nursed me back to health.’ He smiled at the company and spread his hands in a gesture that encompassed me. ‘And now, here we are.’
Conscious that the assembled company was all looking at me, I managed a watery smile.
‘Mistress Jessica Shepherd, my grandmother, Dame Alice and my sister, Mary.’
‘You seem to have made a remarkable recovery,’ Mary kissed her brother again and shot me a sharp glance as her lip curled in an expression of disdain.
Nat patted her hand, and without looking at her, said, ‘Take that look off your face, Mary. I assure you Mistress Shepherd is quite the equal of you.’
Mary’s eyes narrowed and she turned back to her brother, touching his hair. ‘Your hair...’ She looked across at me. ‘Did you crop it for the fever?’
I scrabbled back in my memory to a history of medicine lecture. It had been a commonly held belief that long hair sapped the patient’s strength.
‘Err, yes,’ I agreed. ‘He was taken with wound fever.’ And would have been lucky not to die from septicemia, I thought, marveling at how far medicine had come.
‘Mistress Shepherd, we owe you a debt of gratitude,’ the young woman said, although her expression remained wary.
‘We are indeed grateful to you, Mistress Shepherd, for restoring Nathaniel to us,’ Dame Alice addressed me for the first time.
In all the time I had been in the hall, her gaze had hardly left me, and now as I looked at her, I saw where Nat had inherited his unusual gray-green eyes. She lowered her voice and said, ‘I have heard much about you and have been anxious to meet you.’
