So it did to me. Which made everything so much worse. His invitation to me was the prelude to a mere dalliance, and I would not comply.
You will not comply anyway! My conscience lectured.
‘And she is strikingly beautiful, I hear. Enough to entrap the heart of any man.’
‘Yes, she is.’
Philippa had convinced me.
‘Enough of Constanza.’ Philippa stood, looking round appreciatively at the spacious accommodation reserved for me. ‘Do I share this room with you, or do I have a Castilian damsel to entertain? Let us go and discover, and find my children. By the by, I have been granted an annuity of ten pounds by the Duke in token of my service.’ The slide of her eye was piercing. ‘It’s good to be appreciated. What are you paid? Are you worth more than I?’
I shook my head, quick to lie. How easily half-truths and deceptions leaped to my lips these days. ‘How could I be?’
Another confession that I must make. I was relieved I had packed away the rosary. I would not have liked to explain that gift to her.
‘Robert!’ I called out as I turned a corner in the early dusk. ‘Robert Rabbas! Where are you, in God’s name!’
It was cold enough to turn the Thames to ice.
Shivering, infuriated, fingers so frozen I could barely bend them, I held my hood close beneath my chin. Why was there neither sight nor sound of a squire or a page or even a household servant when one was most needed to carry out a burdensome task? And why had we been blighted by a basket of green wood which did nothing but smoulder and smoke and give out no heat, when the weather was at its bleakest, driven in by March winds from the north?
Our plans to transfer the whole household to Hertford had gone awry, when Henry, the Lancaster heir, was struck down with a fever. Cross and fractious, sometimes weeping with pains in his joints, his little body alternated between burning heat and intense cold. With concerns for the health of her unborn child—for might it not be the plague?— Duchess Constanza was not to be persuaded that this was a childish ailment and expressed the desire to leave London immediately for the Duke’s castle at Hertford. Within a day she was packed into a palanquin with her ladies and Philippa in attendance and they departed, the Duke accompanying her before returning to London to re-engage with the King and Prince Edward in planning for the campaign against the French for the New Year. It was expected that the Duke would lead the forces.
He had not sent for me. In the circumstances he might well leave England with nothing resolved between us.
Meanwhile we remained at The Savoy, the young people and their household, expecting the fever to run like wildfire through the rest of the children before it wore itself out. It was agreed that we would follow to Hertford when the danger was passed.
I was not sorry, as I sat and bathed Henry’s forehead and heated limbs with common henbane boiled in wine. The large furry leaves might look uninviting but they were of sound reputation in cooling inflammations, I consoled myself. I could hear Constanza’s voice raised in Castilian complaint even as the ducal party rode out of the gate, and silently wished my sister well as I decided that it would be a relief to be free of the Duke’s presence.
Yet living in such a milieu as The Savoy, in the world of the Duke’s own creation of art and wealth, it was hard not to sense his presence, even when he was miles away. At the turn of a stair, there he might be. Kneeling in the chapel, riding his bay stallion into the courtyard, sitting at supper in the Great Hall. Even though he did none of those things, it seemed that I might catch that glimpse of him if I looked carefully enough.
I would not give in to temptation. I would not look.
Better that he is not here! I reprimanded myself.
So now with hoar frost forming on the insides of the glazing and the fire making little impact, we had wrapped the children as warmly as we could in furs and bedcovers and sent for fuel two hours ago, until spurred by righteous anger I had volunteered to chase it up. Thomas Haselden, Controller of the Duke’s Household, was nowhere to be found. Sir Thomas Hungerford, our steward, had travelled with the Duke and Constanza to Hertford. Somehow the smooth running of the household had got out of kilter, and approaching the hour for supper as it was, the servants would be busy in the kitchens, but that was no good reason for us to freeze to death. Elizabeth had developed a cough, exacerbated by the acrid smoke, and I suspected Blanche would follow suit. Even Alyne, usually stalwart, had taken to her bed, feeling her age in her bones, she said. Lady Alice was considering the tenor of her complaint to the Duke when she next set eyes on him.
The shadows here in the inner courtyard were thick and deep in the corners, but as I strode on, there was a movement. Emerging from the side door in the far corner came a dark-clad figure with a bundle under his arm. He would do very well for my errand. I raised my hand to draw his attention. I also raised my voice again.
‘Robert, is it?’ The figure was tall enough to be the lanky page who had brought us the basket of unseasoned logs. ‘We have need of fuel in the schoolroom. Would you arrange it?’
He paused. Hesitated. Bowed.
‘I have already requested more wood. Four hours ago.’ A little exaggeration would not come amiss.
The figure remained motionless. I raised my voice a little more so that it echoed back at me off the dank stones.
‘Fetch some if you please. And don’t just pass the message to someone else and forget about it. It is too cold for the children. And not unseasoned wood either!’ I added, as he disappeared within.
I returned to the schoolroom.
‘Any success?’ Lady Alice shivered in the draught with the opening of the door.
‘It has yet to be seen,’ I replied, thinking that the temperature was little different inside than out. The children looked pinched, and yes, Blanche was coughing, her eyes red-rimmed. Only Henry, newly recovering and already beginning to resent the curb on his freedom, looked full of energy. As I stooped to tuck a fur bedspread more firmly around Philippa, the door behind me was shouldered open.
‘Fuel, mistress,’
‘And about time too!’
‘I came as fast as I could, mistress.’
I swung round. There, placing a basket of logs beside the sulky fire, with an impressive flexing of arm and shoulder muscle, was the Duke. Swinging his short cloak back over one shoulder, he applied himself to brushing twigs and dust from his hands, beating the residue from his tunic.
‘My lord!’ We curtsied hurriedly. The children began to emerge from their wrappings like moths from a cocoon, lured by this timely distraction. I busied myself with some entirely unnecessary task, hiding my flushed cheeks, but not before I had registered the gleam in the ducal eye.
‘More’s on its way.’ He looked round, taking in our beleaguered state, frowning as he pulled his hat from his head and ruffled his hair. ‘Before God, it’s as cold as Hades in here.’
‘What are you doing, John?’ Alice asked, walking across to remove more pieces of debris from his sleeve. ‘Do we employ no servants?’
‘I expect we do.’ His eyes were wide and guileless when they slid in my direction. ‘But I was instructed to fetch this personally, and not pass the message onto another and then forget about it.’
I felt a flush of heat creep even deeper from chin to hairline.
Alice laughed. ‘When did you return?’