‘Stop!’ Santo said, emphatically. ‘This bitterness will not help matters.’
‘Then what will?’
‘I will,’ he said. ‘Give me leave to assist you, even if only for a few months while we sort out some issues, like the accounts and estate management, for example. If you haven’t yet seen the map of Sandrock, you presumably have not examined your property yet, have you? And you’ve already encountered some inconsistencies? Well, I can keep nuisances like old Pearce out of the way, if that’s what you want. I know from Leon that Dr Ben was more interested in his work than in being the owner of an estate like this. I would not get under your feet, mistress,’ he added, gently. ‘I shall keep out of your way. And although I cannot rescue the love you lost to my brother, at least I can pour oil on troubled waters, if you would allow it?’
Aphra did not reply immediately, but when she did, it was with a question about him. ‘What about your own work at home?’
‘I have some very capable managers and I have couriers to keep me informed. I have ships that come into Southampton and London, neither of which are too far from here, are they?’
‘What about the gossip?’
‘There are other male employees who live on the priory precincts, surely?’
‘There are. The bailiff. The churchwarden. The priest and the steward.’
‘Then perhaps I could be allocated a room, somewhere? I brought two men and a groom with me, all of them discreet and trustworthy, and English-speaking.’
‘Your baggage, signor?’
‘Is with your parents at Reedacre. Should I go and collect it, and tell them of our arrangement?’
Taking her face between her hands, she closed her eyes, whispering to herself, ‘What am I doing? What on earth am I doing?’
With one lithe movement of his body, Santo came to her, standing close. ‘It’s time to move on,’ he said. ‘Share the burden with me. That’s why I was sent.’
She nodded, eyes still closed, sighing again as questions filtered through her mind.
That is not why you were sent. Not all the way from Venice for my sake. I’ll not believe the Datinis care so much. So what is it you came for?
‘I’ll find you some rooms,’ she said, turning away, feeling the warmth of his body follow her.
Share the burden with me, he had said. It was what her father had offered, too, when she had moved into Ben’s old home, but she had assured him of her ability to manage, having had years of experience helping at home while he was in London. Had she shown any signs of being unsure, she knew he would have insisted on having his own managers here each day, an imposition she was anxious to avoid when her only desire was to be alone with her wounds, healing them in her own time. Spending so much of his time at the Royal Wardrobe, Sir George had little enough to spare in keeping her safe from the intrusions of neighbours. Master Pearce would never have challenged her ownership of the mill had she not been so vulnerable. And now she knew her parents would not hesitate to approve of the arrangement to allow Signor Datini to stay. But how approving would the villagers of Sandrock be?
As soon as she had given her reluctant agreement, Aphra knew that this was indeed the madness of a woman not thinking clearly. To accept the help of a man at this unsettled time, when her emotions were so confused, was something she had been determined never to do. What had she been thinking of? Had it been his warmth as he stood too close? Why had she allowed that, when no stranger ought to have come so near?
Barely half an hour after Signor Datini’s departure, she sent one of the young estate workers to ride after him with a folded piece of paper taken from Ben’s store on which she had written her change of mind. He must not return to Sandrock, but go back to Padua, she had told him. She would manage well enough on her own.
Convinced that that was the last she would see of this unnecessary interference, the control which had almost slipped away now returned, helping her to justify the growing theory in her mind that there was some malevolent alchemy at work between herself and men that must be prevented from worsening.
Only last year, when she and her cousin Etta had been with the royal court, an attempt had been made on her life which others present had believed was intended for the Queen. Her own family knew differently, but the foolish young man responsible had suffered a traitor’s death and Aphra had been more deeply affected by this than she had disclosed to her relieved parents.
Then she had lost Leon, whose letter had made little sense to her, leaving her hurt, angry, confused, rejected and bitter. After that, her beloved uncle had died in London in what she felt were mysterious circumstances that had not yet been explained fully except to say that he had complained in the past of chest pains. Ben had said nothing of this to Aphra when he’d visited Reedacre Manor on his way to London, but by then she had had Leon’s letter and their conversation had been mostly about her pain, not Ben’s. He, too, had been profoundly shocked to hear of Leon’s deceit and had offered her what comforting words he could, but nothing in his manner had warned her that they would never speak again.
Her parents had dealt philosophically with her tragedies, pointing out that men were no more likely to deceive than women and that death visited at will and often without invitation. The recent death of old Lady Agnes, Aphra’s grandmother, had not been altogether unexpected, but none of them could have foreseen Ben’s sudden demise, a man in the full flood of life and brilliant at his profession. These losses in such a short time should not, they had told her, be seen as particularly significant, but they had discounted the desperate young man last summer while Aphra had not, nor had they taken into account their daughter’s vulnerable state of mind that preferred answers to the random workings of fate.
They had refused to take seriously her decision to remain unmarried for the rest of her life, but nor had they tried to persuade her otherwise. It was not her father’s way to propel her into a marriage of his choosing, not even for an only daughter, for he and his wife had fallen in love at first sight and knew the workings of passionate hearts. For Aphra, however, her mind was immovable on that point, though she had not yet been successful in making her intentions understood by Master Richard Pearce.
Signor Datini’s visit had made her aware, though, of some issues that ought to be addressed without delay if Master Pearce should push forward his claim to some of her property, one of which meant finding the map of Sandrock that the man said had been replaced by a newer version. In itself, that was not so surprising, for land had been redistributed since the priory had been sold to Aphra’s grandfather for his own personal use. Doctor Ben had not wanted to keep all the fields under his control, so had sold some of them to the village freeholders, though Aphra did not believe this included the flour mill standing well within her boundaries.
The estate accounts were another issue she ought to have attended to by now, having been put off too many times by Master Fletcher, the steward whose job it was to discuss them with her every week. So far, she had not seen them at all and had come to the conclusion that she was not meant to, but a confrontation with the steward was not an inviting prospect when she would have to tackle it on her own.
* * *
Sleep evaded her that night, as it so often had recently. The full moon cast a silver light through her window, washing her room with a soft glow that changed all colours to monochrome, transmuting decisions into doubts and back again as the events of the day wandered through her mind. Questions remained unanswered. Why had Leon’s brother come all this way to see her? Why would the Datini family care about her? To share the burden, he’d said. What burden? Did they think she might pester him, perhaps? Write to his tutors at Padua? Did they feel some responsibility for his actions or was it just to discover more about her state of mind?
Hugging