She was questioning everything...everyone. Mostly Hugh...and herself.
Hugh.
He was a spy, though why he was in Swaffham she still didn’t know. It wasn’t to stop her. Instead there was a certain camaraderie between them now. She trusted him—she had to. But everything in her was still cautious.
There were too many questions. Hugh was right when he said nothing was ever idle between them. Whether it be the tumultuousness of her thoughts when it came to him, or how she craved his nearness.
What had happened at Lyman’s house? He had guessed what she was, demanded to know what she was doing. When she’d told him he’d kissed her.
She wanted to kiss him again. To finally explore what was between them. Not to run away as she had in the past. She’d braved things enough during the Wren Day parade, but again he’d shut her out.
But the questions kept coming. The question of why then and not now. She knew he felt it, too. Because when she turned too fast, when she glanced at him when he wasn’t expecting it, she saw the heat in his blue gaze, felt it linger on her lips.
Wind blasted the house and made the wood creak. The fire before her sputtered and flared and she pushed herself deeper into the chair.
Nothing she did or said had made Hugh repeat what he’d done. She didn’t dare approach him again. She had laid out what she wanted. If he didn’t want her, then...
Yet he had kissed her. There were feelings there. She knew it now. She was certain, too, that he’d rejected her all those years ago because he’d felt unworthy of her.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
Hearing pounding and shouts at the door, Alice leapt from the chair and hurried towards the entrance just as it swung open.
Ice and snow pelted the two boy servants, the floor, herself and Esther, who had shuffled to her side. Freezing wind shoved in a stumbling man, his cloak buried in snow. A visitor unrecognisable until the door was shut and he raised his face.
Father Bernard.
‘What’s happened?’ Alice asked.
Father Bernard pulled back his cowl. His lips were blue, his cheeks burnt from cold.
It was none of those things that stabbed fear through her. It was the stark hope in Father’s Bernard’s eyes as he asked, ‘Is William here?’
‘No, he’s at home...at Bertrice’s.’
The servants rushed to disrobe him of his cloak, his boots.
‘He wanted to ensure the town observed the day, but I sent him home,’ he said. ‘Bertrice came to me when he didn’t return. Already searching for him, she was freezing, her ankle swollen, and I left her at the church. I then came here.’
Alice ushered him into the hall, to the chair where she’d been sitting. Blankets and hot broth were brought. He looked at it, and shook his head. His hands were shaking so badly, he couldn’t hold it. Alice knelt and steadied it for him.
‘It’s for tomorrow, and the only thing heated. Tell me what happened.’
He nodded; held the cup tightly. ‘It’s Holy Innocents’ Day. He’s gone out to ensure no work is being done. If he’s not here, he’s out there.’
Out in the storm.
Alice own legs almost gave then, even as she pushed herself away and ran to her room for warmer clothes. Father Bernard and Bertrice were already frozen and weak. It was up to her.
* * *
Hugh was freezing to death in his own home. It didn’t matter that he had enough timber to heat a hundred homes. His hearth was too small to warm his toes even though he had them shoved next to the embers.
At least before Bertrice had returned to her home she had prepared food for after the fast and hot water in case he wanted a bath. Already hot stones warmed his bed. Months in Swaffham and he was still being pampered. When he returned to London, he would be able to slip right back into his lavish lifestyle there.
If he returned.
What did the King want of him? After he had seen Alice emerge from the royal chambers, after he’d returned from the garden the next day, he had requested the King’s counsel. He’d thought it spontaneous.
