Page 87 of By the Sword
It was not the thought of cuckolding the absent husband or enjoying the company of another lonely wife to his list of crimes–he could not be unfaithful to Kate, no matter how great the temptation.
She sat back, her eyes brimming with tears. He reached out and brushed them away and she leaned against his hand.
‘You’re very lovely, Elizabeth,’ he said softly.
‘Why don’t you want me?’ Her voice trembled.
‘Because we both know it would not be right. You have a husband, and for my part, I have a wife and two children,’ he lied.
Her eyes widened.
‘You must love your wife very much,’ she said in a flat voice.
Jonathan nodded.
‘And your children?’ she asked. ‘Tell me about them?’
‘A boy aged nine and a girl of four.’
‘Do they look like you?’
‘The boy does, the girl is like her mother,’ Jonathan replied, drawing on Thomas and Ann for inspiration.
The girl looked down at her hands. ‘I wish I had children,’ she said. ‘That would please my husband. He wants a son to replace Matthew.’
‘Is that why he married you?’ Jonathan asked gently.
She nodded, and a tear dropped onto her hands. ‘But I have not conceived and now I do not think he even notices me,’ she said.
Jonathan tucked a curl of fair hair behind her ear. ‘Then he is a fool,’ he said.
He could see her situation only too clearly. This woman, so young he had taken her to be the daughter of the house, had been tied to an ageing widower who saw her only as the brood mare to replace the son he had lost. Trapped in a loveless and lonely marriage, it came as a small surprise that she turned to the first attractive man who crossed her path.
As he stroked her hair she looked up at him and smiled a wan little smile. The boldness had quite gone from her eye.
‘Thank you, sir, you are very kind. Your wife is a fortunate lady to have such an honourable man as you for her spouse.’
‘And I, her,’ Jonathan said. ‘Now, Mistress Elizabeth, I really must be gone. My clothes?’
She stood up. ‘We burnt your clothes, they were quite beyond salvation.’
Jonathan tried unsuccessfully to suppress his irritation. She caught his expression, and her chin rose as she faced him.
‘If you are to wander the country in disguise, you make a poor beggar. Even in rags, any fool could see you were a gentleman. If you still intend a disguise then disguise yourself as a gentleman.’
She had brought with her an old-fashioned doublet and breeches of dark grey wool, a clean shirt and stockings and a serviceable cloak.
‘These were all Matthew’s,’ she said. ‘He was quite tall, so they should fit. See, I even have shoes.’ She held them up for his inspection.
‘A mirror and razor would not go astray,’ Jonathan said, ruefully rubbing the ten days of growth on his chin.
The clothes were an excellent fit and by the time he had shaved, he felt quite presentable. The mirror had confirmed his worst fears. Even without the villainous growth of stubble, his face looked pinched and drawn. His left eye was surrounded by a lurid combination of blues, purples and greens but at least the swelling had gone down. He wondered, as he scrutinised his face in the mirror, what Mistress Elizabeth could possibly have found attractive in his current appearance.
He found her in the kitchen, engaged in sorting herbs with Maggie. She clapped her hands in delight when she saw him.
‘There, Maggie,’ she exclaimed. ‘You would not think this was the same person.’
Maggie smiled. ‘Quite an ’andsome gentleman under all that dirt. There you go, sir,’ she said, setting a meal down on the table.
