Page 7 of By the Sword
Nell hesitated for a fraction of a moment. ‘Oh, I’m certain Grandfather has made some arrangement. Besides,’ shecontinued, returning to the original conversation, ‘I think a woman needs a husband.’
‘I don’t need a husband,’ Kate said. ‘Richard and his father left me quite well provided for. I have my sister and her family to keep me company. What more do I need?’
Nell’s mouth pinched in amusement. ‘Men do have their uses, Kate.’ It took a moment for Kate to discern her meaning and the glint in her friend’s eyes.
Embarrassment heated her cheeks and she found herself rendered speechless for a moment. Nell laughed.
‘Oh, Kate. Your face.’
Kate sniffed. ‘Tell me about your wonderful Giles.’
Nell laid down her embroidery and a look of wistful longing crossed her face.
‘Where do I start? He and Jonathan were of the same age and inseparable friends so Giles was here often. I think I loved him ever since I was very young and, happily for me, our families agreed we would be a good match. We were betrothed on my sixteenth birthday, just before the war.’ Her face saddened. ‘But it was another three years before we could wed. Ann was born in the spring of ‘47 and not long after her birth, Giles went into exile for his part in the second war. He’s been on the continent these three years past.’
As if Nell had conjured her up, Ann ran across the garden towards them with cries of ‘Mama, Mama.’
‘Where is Tom?’ Kate asked the child.
Ann looked at her. ‘Tommy gave me this and told me to show you.’ She opened a grubby paw to show them the sweetmeat Tom had used to bribe her.
‘Look at that hand,’ scolded her mother. ‘Mistress Ann, you had best come with me and have a good wash.’
Picking up her work, she took her little imp by the offending hand and marched her firmly towards the house as Kate stoodup and returned to the garden for one final assault before it would be time to go into the house.
***
‘Mother!’
At the sound of her son’s voice, Kate relinquished her battle with the weeds and sat back on her heels, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. She rose to her feet in alarm when she saw that Tom was borne on the shoulders of a tall, dark-haired man who strode down the path toward her.
Tom, wearing a wide-brimmed hat several sizes too large for him, waved.
As they neared, the man swung Tom down and carried him over to Nell’s abandoned blanket, setting him down in the shade. He retrieved his hat from the boy’s head and slapped it against his breeches, producing a cloud of dust.
Kate hurried over and knelt in front of the boy, inspecting his grubby face.
‘Thomas. What have you been doing?’ she scolded. ‘Are you all right?
‘I hurt my ankle a bit, Mother,’ Tom said in a very small and, to Kate’s ears, slightly guilty voice. ‘But he’– he pointed at the man–‘says it’s only a sprain.’
Kate rose to her feet and crossed her arms, looking from the boy to the stranger with narrowed eyes, suspecting some sort of collusion between the two. ‘Exactly how did you come to sprain your ankle, Thomas?’
The man spoke. ‘He had a fall, Mistress Ashley. I assure you nothing is broken.’
‘What sort of fall?’ she asked suspiciously.
Man and boy glanced at each other. The stranger coughed. ‘He fell out of a tree. I happened to be passing by and came upon him.’
‘That was fortunate, indeed,’ Kate said, unconvinced by either her son’s wide-eyed innocence or the stranger’s disarming smile. ‘Let me look at that ankle, Thomas.’
Tom submitted as his mother carried out her inspection of the injured ankle, confirming the diagnosis.
‘It doesn’t look too bad,’ she said. ‘Can you walk?’
With her help, Tom got to his feet and with much grimacing put his weight on his injured foot and limped around the tree.
‘It feels much better already,’ he said.
