Anne Herries - A Stranger's Touch

‘Aye, I know it. Give me the tray. I’ll ask if he wishes for anything more.’

‘I emptied the pot and will bring it up with a can of water. It’s my day for cleaning the bedchambers, though my brothers will sleep clear through the morning if I know them.’

‘Least said the better, lass. They were out helping to rescue men from the sea last night. No need to say more.’

Morwenna nodded as Bess picked up the tray and went out. She cut a slice of cold ham, placed it between a thick slice of bread and munched it as she waited for the water to boil. A part of her was eager to see the stranger again, though her common sense told her she would be best to let Bess care for him. By his manner and his look he was gentry, though perhaps like her he had little money. Why would he make his living as an artist if he were wealthy?

She shook her head. It was unlikely—though, sometimes, rich aristocrats spent time sketching simply to amuse themselves, of course. Twenty gold coins were not a fortune, but it was more than Morwenna had ever owned in her life.

A little smile touched her lips as she thought how handsome he was, but she shook her head almost at once. She was a fool to daydream over a stranger. She could not deny the instant attraction she’d felt, but he was unlikely to have felt the same.

It was because she seldom saw anyone other than her brothers, of course. Morwenna had no life of her own, nor any amusement or pleasures outside of what she made for herself.

Bess was always telling her to go to her mother’s sister in London, but she knew her aunt to be an unkind, bitter woman. She’d buried two husbands and she had money to spare, but she was unlikely to spend it on the daughter of a man she despised.

‘My sister, Agnes, never forgave me for marrying your father,’ Morwenna’s mother had told her when she was ill. ‘She warned me that he would break my heart or drive me to an early grave. It is not your father’s fault that I am sick, dear heart. I was always sickly, which was why my sister warned me against marriage to a man like William Morgan. I needed a gentle, kind man, but I loved him and I followed my heart. I do not regret it, though the bitter winds here have been my undoing.’

Morwenna had mourned her mother more than her father, though she knew that he, too, had grieved deeply, and despite his denials it was love of his dead wife that had caused him to neglect his own health and die of an infected boil on his neck. Morwenna would have cleansed it and bound it for him, but he would not let her touch him. At the end the physician told her that the poison had seeped into his blood and led to the fever that ended his life—but perhaps he had not wanted to live. He had quarrelled fiercely and often with his eldest son and ruined the family with his gambling and bad investments, though no man could govern the weather and a risky cargo lost at sea was the undoing of more than one merchant adventurer.

Her father had been given to risky ventures, but he had always been loyal to Queen Bess in her time and the King, even if he disliked his politics. It had been on a visit to court after his first wife died that he’d met and married Morwenna’s mother, bringing her back to this house at the edge of the cliff. Jenna Morgan had always dreamed of taking her lovely daughter to court, but the girl’s father had forbidden it.

‘No good giving the girl ideas above her station. She’ll marry a local man and do what I think best for her,’ he’d declared, but he’d never bothered to find her a husband and Michael was too wrapped up in his work to think of such a thing.

Carrying the empty pot in one hand and a pewter can of warm water in the other, Morwenna started up the stairs. Pausing outside the door of the guest chamber, she heard a curse and then a muffled laugh.

‘Damn you, old mother,’ the stranger muttered. ‘Have it your own way, crone. I’ll suffer you to help me since I cannot do it myself.’

Opening the door, she went in and saw that her patient had managed to struggle into the hose and breeches he’d been wearing when she found him. Bess had provided him with one of her father’s best shirts and a doublet of well-worn leather. He was now lying on the bed, propped up against the pillows. She noticed that he had eaten the food and had the tankard of warmed ale and cinnamon in his right hand. His gaze fell on her as she entered and he frowned.

‘I brought you some water to wash, but it seems you forestalled me.’

‘I used the cold water in the jug, with Bess’s help,’ he said and made a wry face. ‘Did I not tell you it is not fitting for you to wait on me, Mistress Morgan?’

‘You’ll tell her until you be blue in the face.’ Bess chuckled. ‘Mistress Morwenna be a law unto herself, sir. She never minds me nor yet Master Michael, though sometimes we all have to take care for he has a rare temper.’

‘Bess, do you not have something to do downstairs?’ Morwenna asked. ‘Take the tray down. I’ve work to do up here but we’ll start the baking when I come down.’

She turned to the door when the stranger spoke. ‘I’ve decided you should call me Adam, mistress. ‘Tis not my name, but it will do as well as any until I know my own name.’

She stopped, turned to look at him. ‘Adam was tempted by Eve and thrown out of the Garden of Eden for his sins. This house is not Eden, sir—but you should think of leaving as soon as you can walk. My brother does not care for strangers in the house.’

‘What does he have to hide?’

Morwenna’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. ‘You should not ask. Believe me—you would not like to see my brother in a temper.’

‘Does he treat you ill?’

‘He shouts at me and orders me to do his bidding, but I keep a still tongue and then do as I please. I am his sister and Jacques would stop him if he lifted a hand to me. Besides, I am useful. Michael knows that I would leave this house if he once struck me.’

‘Where would you go?’

‘I do not know. Perhaps to my aunt’s in London.’

‘If she would take you in, you should go. A house like this is not fitting for a woman like you.’

‘Indeed? What do you know of this house or my family?’

‘Only what you have told me. Forgive me, mistress. I dare say you think me arrogant, but I am grateful for your help. Let me give you some of this money to start a new life somewhere else.’

‘You presume too much, sir. I need no help from you nor anyone else. If I needed to, I could find my own way in the world. I am strong and I can work.’

‘You might find it harder on your own than you think,’ he replied. ‘The world is a wicked place, Mistress Morwenna. You need someone to protect you when you leave—your aunt or—’

A look from Morwenna silenced him. Once again he looked rueful.

‘I have said too much. Away to your work, mistress. I thank you for the food and your kindness. As soon as I am able I shall leave this house, but I shall not forget you.’

‘I pray that you recover your memory soon, sir. I need no thanks or recompense for the little I did—but ‘tis for your own sake that I tell you to leave as soon as you are able. Michael does not care overmuch for strangers in his house.’

He inclined his head, but said no more. Morwenna left him and went slowly along the narrow passage to her own room. She would clean her chamber and Bess’s, leaving her brothers’ bedchambers until later when they were out about their own business.

She had warned the stranger to leave for his own good, but knew she would regret it when he had gone. Yet she could expect nothing from this chance encounter. Her life would be the same when he had gone. If she wanted more, then she must either go to her aunt or look for a husband nearer to home.