told himself, viewing her prospective husband’s resources before committing herself.
“Come on, Baldwin! Anyone’d think you were nervous!”
“Most amusing! I was just thinking about this murder, that is all.”
“Of course, Baldwin. Naturally. But won’t your guests be wondering why their host is lurking out here in the cold as darkness falls?”
The knight gave him a look of such pained confusion that the bailiff was tempted to suggest he should immediately resaddle his horse and make for the Cornish border. Instead Simon clapped him on the back.
“Let’s get inside. You look as if you need a good hot mug of wine.”
“You know I don’t like too much alcohol, Simon.”
“Remember your lady’s maidservant?”
“Perhaps tonight could be an exception!”
At the door, Baldwin steeled himself and crossed over his threshold resolutely. He was about to enter his hall when he heard a strange noise. Frowning, he crossed to the opposite door, and peered out. In the yard, stacking logs with determined stoicism, was Wat.
“What is that noise for?” Baldwin demanded.
Wat wiped his eyes, clearing them of tears, and incidentally wiping green muck from the logs all over his face. This was his master, the man he held in the highest esteem. “Sir, I’m sorry.”
“What is it? What have you done?” demanded the mystified knight. It was odd enough to see young Wat crying, without hearing him apologizing as well. Neither was in character for the tough youngster.
“It was Chops, sir. I had him with me in the hall like normal, and then this woman walks straight in. I tried to hold him, sir, but I couldn’t, and she hit me so hard, sir…”
As his voice trailed off into snivels, Baldwin held up his hands helplessly. “Well, I’m sure you couldn’t help it, Wat. Now stop your sniffing and finish tidying up those logs, all right?”
Leaving his servant, Baldwin wandered back into the screens, where Simon waited, and thence into the hall.
“We were wondering where you could have got to.”
It was Margaret, and as Baldwin walked in, she set aside some needlework which she had been using to while away the time, and rose to greet him. The knight nodded edgily, his attention wavering from Margaret even as he welcomed her once more to his home.
And the source of his unease stood gravely. “Good day again, Sir Baldwin.”
“I…er. You are most welcome, my lady. I hope my servant has seen to your comfort?”
“Oh, he has been most attentive. However, I fear my servant is out of temper with your dog!”
Baldwin threw a glance at Edgar, who stood near the fire, a large jug of wine held in his hands. “Hippocras, Sir Baldwin?”
The knight blinked. “Er…yes, thank you.” It was many years since his man had bothered to behave so formally with him, even in public. Simon nudged his elbow as if accidentally as he passed, muttering under his breath, “Go on, man!” and he nodded dumbly.
“Simon, could you come and help me? I need to prepare for our meal,” said Margaret sweetly.
Jeanne watched them leave the room with a faint smile. “Edgar, I think I would like a little more wine. This tastes a little too watery. Could you fetch me some more?”
“My lady, of course,” the servant said suavely, and bowed himself from the room.
Watching him leave from lowered brows, Baldwin was almost jealous. He had been waiting for a year to be alone with Jeanne, and now he was, he was numb with shyness.
“Er…What did the dog do?”
“It was nothing,” she said happily. “He gave her a fright, that’s all. It would be different if he had attacked.” Jeanne could see Baldwin’s embarrassment, and was touched by his shyness. “Sir? I am pleased to have come here at last.”
“You honor me by being here,” he said.
The stiffness of his words was belied by the pinkness of his cheeks. Jeanne wanted to laugh out loud at his discomfort, but instead asked teasingly, “So have you invited many widows alone to your hall?”
“No!” he exclaimed hotly, and then gave a shamefaced grin. “Jeanne, you are the very first woman who has been in here with me alone. I have never known Edgar to trust me before.”
“He appears most trusting today, sir!”
“Yes. Don’t worry, I am sure it will not last. But tell me, what about you? Is this the first hall in which you have been alone with a dangerous bachelor?”
“Dangerous? How interesting! But yes. My dear maid only rarely permits me the opportunity to commit an indiscretion.”
“How kind of her to risk my safety.”
She laughed then, quietly so as not to attract the attention of their servants or friends. Serious in an instant, she looked him full in the face. “I am sorry I could not come earlier. It feels like more than a year since we last met.”
“I had hoped you would have been able to come before.”
“I know. But it was impossible, what with the problems and the harvest.”
Baldwin nodded. Jeanne de Liddinstone was a tenant of the Abbot of Tavistock, and it was important to her that she should be seen to be no less efficient than any of the others who lived on his lands. She had accepted Baldwin’s offer of a visit early last spring, but since then her estate had suffered from a succession of disasters. Early in the year rain had devastated the young crops, which had then been subject to a freak storm just before harvest, and she had lost her largest barn in a fire. “I hope the good Abbot was able to help you?”
“Abbot Champeaux has done everything he possibly could,” she said. “He’s sent men and provided me with materials for a new barn. But I did have to stay.”
“Yes, of course. And the important thing is, you are here now.”
“I am glad to be.”
And Baldwin felt quite certain, when he looked into her eyes, that she was in earnest. “Perhaps we could-”
“Mistress? Mistress, this man has been keeping me from you! I informed him that you’d need me, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Jeanne turned discreetly, thereby moving herself to a less compromising distance from the knight, who kept the emotion from his face with an effort as Emma lumbered into the room like a belligerent war-horse.
Baldwin kept his mouth shut with difficulty. At that moment the maid was the epitome of everything he loathed. Because of her, his attempts to get closer to Jeanne had all come to naught. All the endearments he had rehearsed in his mind were wasted. He could not understand how Jeanne could have been so careless as to have associated herself with such a monster. With that in mind, he gave the maidservant a cold glare before turning to Jeanne once more, and it was with a feeling of relief that he saw a similar anger glittering in her eyes.
As soon as it was dark, he slipped over the low fence into the Coffyns’ back yard. It wasn’t large, not on the same scale as Godfrey’s, and he had to tread warily to ensure he was unobserved. The moon was a gleam of silver behind the fast-moving clouds, and with the freshening breeze he was confident that there was another storm brewing. It suited his purposes to have the weather deteriorate, for it was hardly likely that any sensible man or woman would be out on such a wild night.
He skirted the garden, keeping to the additional cover offered by the trees and bushes at the boundary, all the time warily watching the house. He could hear voices, and at one point there was the unmistakable sound of a woman sobbing. It made him pause and listen, but he had business of his own, and he shrugged his shoulders and continued on his way.
The wall was a barrier of darkness in the night, seemingly as insubstantial as a shadow, but his native caution served him well. Before approaching it, he slowly dropped to a crouch, and listened intently. There was nothing to be seen, but he trusted to his instincts, and they screamed out to him to be cautious. Something before him was out of place.
It was some minutes before he could see it, but then, as the moon was released from its heavenly captivity for a few moments, and the area was lighted by a sudden white glare, he saw a man leaning against a large tree.
