Man Behind the Façade. June Francis

assume you’ll still be here on the morrow if you’re visiting the property in which the Raventons are interested?’ she said, carefully settling the boy into the crook of her arm.

      ‘Aye, but I won’t be putting on another play. I must make for Greenwich soon.’ He noted her softened expression as she gazed down at the slumbering child and wondered how she felt about not having a child of her own when she had the task of caring for her nephew. For the first time ever, he wondered what it would be like to have a son.

      Rebecca glanced at him and the expression in his eyes caused her to feel slightly breathless. ‘What is it? Is there something else you wished to say to me?’

      ‘Will you mention Tabitha’s situation to your sister-in-law?’

      ‘Aye. I am certain I can persuade her to meet her,’ said Rebecca, an idea occurring to her which she decided to keep to herself.

      ‘Thank you.’ He suddenly appeared to feel awkward. ‘I don’t have your direction and I will need it if I am to visit you with news of Nicholas.’

      ‘Of course, your brother,’ she said, her voice subdued, ‘I do hope you have good tidings of him soon.’ She gave Phillip directions to the Caldwells’ house and added, ‘I must have a word with Tabitha before I go. If I don’t see you again, I pray that you have a safe journey and I thank you again for your escort.’

      ‘It was my pleasure,’ he said, placing a hand over hers and pressing it gently, before turning away and going to speak to Frederick.

      For a moment she stared after him with an odd little ache inside her and then she called over to Tabitha, who was speaking to the girls. She hastened over to her. ‘Is there aught else you wish me to do for you, Mistress Clifton?’ she asked eagerly.

      Rebecca smiled and removed Giles’s wedding ring and held it out to Tabitha. ‘I no longer have need of this and I would like you to have it.’

      The other woman stared at the silver ring with a mixture of emotions warring on her pretty features. ‘I can’t take it. It’s far too precious!’

      ‘Please, do have it!’ urged Rebecca. ‘I only wish it were gold.’

      Tabitha reached out and gingerly took the ring. ‘I don’t know what Ned will say but I confess I’m hoping it will fit.’

      ‘You can always wrap some thread round the back of the ring if it is too big,’ said Rebecca, ‘and that will make it a better fit.’

      But Tabitha did not need to take such a precaution as the ring fitted securely enough not to slip from her finger. ‘I do thank you, Mistress Clifton!’ she said, beaming up at her. ‘It’s truly generous of you. As I’ve said, I don’t know what Ned’ll say as he’s a proud man, but this ring is staying put until he can buy me one himself,’ she said firmly, ‘then I will return it to you.’

      Rebecca smiled down at her, delighted by her reaction. ‘I pray that all goes well with the performance this evening.’ She delayed no longer, but called to the girls and told the horse to walk on. Margaret asked if she and Elizabeth could run on ahead and Rebecca gave her permission. Despite it being a fine evening, she doubted that Phillip and his troupe would get the size of audience that they had in Witney. Oxford had lost some of its status. In the past it had thrived as a manufacturing and market town, as well as playing an important role in government. Then the spinners and weavers had migrated to the countryside as more colleges of learning had been founded, increasing at least the town’s reputation as a place of scholarship. The latest colleges were Brasenose and Corpus Christi, founded in the last fifteen years.

      Rebecca kept the horse to a walk along Broad Street and past Balliol College before turning into a street near the opening to Lincoln College and thence into High Street, where the university church of St Mary the Virgin was situated. She thought of Simon and the alterations he was to oversee inside the building before too long. Thinking of him, she pondered on what Phillip had told her about her father’s so-called ghost and of the kiss he had pressed upon her at Draymore Manor. She was obviously more desperate than she would have believed for that physical contact that she had missed since Giles’s death. The remembrance of that kiss sent a pleasurable warmth through her and also a yearning to be held in Phillip’s arms again and for them to take up where they had left off and go much further.

      She sighed. How could she contemplate such activity when she had believed him capable of having more than one mistress? She might have misjudged him, but she had seen with her own eyes how attractive he was to the women of Henry’s court. She felt a stab of jealousy and knew she must not obsess about him. She glanced about her, thinking she might catch sight of Jane amongst those who had come into town for the fair. In two months she would be confined to the house, preparing herself for the birth of her child, but there was no sign of her now.

      Eventually Rebecca caught up with the girls, a short distance from their home. The house was constructed of the yellowish stone of the Cotswolds and had been designed and built by Simon and his team of labourers. The front garden would soon be a mass of those purple daisies named for that leader of angels called Michael, whose feast day was at the end of September.

      Rebecca called down to Margaret to take James. The boy woke as she passed him to her niece and instantly he struggled to get down. The front door opened as Rebecca dismounted and Jane made an appearance. Despite being six months’ pregnant, she lifted her son up into her arms and smothered his face in kisses, demanding to know how it was that they had arrived home earlier than she expected.

      ‘We came home in a covered wagon, Mama,’ said Margaret smugly.

      ‘And Tabitha allowed us to play with her manikins,’ said Elizabeth, dancing around her stepmother. ‘They had jointed wooden arms and legs that I could move.’

      Jane glanced at Rebecca. ‘What is this all about? Where is Simon?’

      ‘He is still at Minster Draymore,’ replied Rebecca. ‘And you should not be lifting James. He is far too heavy for you in your condition.’ She reached out and took the boy from her sister-in-law and set him down. ‘Besides, it will be good for him to stretch his legs.’

      Jane gazed at her from lively brown eyes. ‘I assume my husband has his reasons for packing you all off so soon and in a wagon.’

      Rebecca pulled a face. ‘We proved to be a distraction and he is determined to complete his task there before winter sets in. As for the aforementioned wagon, that belongs to Master Hurst and his troupe.’

      ‘Master Hurst?’ enquired Jane.

      ‘The girls will tell you about him whilst I see to the horse.’

      Jane fixed her with a hard stare. ‘I would rather hear it from you!’

      Rebecca lifted a hand in acknowledgement as she led the animal away to the stable to the rear of the house. After she had unsaddled the horse, despite her aching back, she made certain there was fresh straw, water and hay for the animal before returning to the house. There she found Jane and the children sitting in front of a blazing fire in the kitchen, eating thick slices of bread and butter.

      ‘Where’s Maud?’ asked Rebecca, helping herself from the loaf on the table. ‘Is she as unreliable as ever when I’m not here to chase after her?’

      ‘At home with her mother,’ replied Jane, glancing up. ‘I hope you are not going to scold me in place of Simon. I really do not have need of her whilst I only have myself to care for. It has only been four days. I don’t know why he insists on hiring her when she does as little as she can and has a habit of vanishing just when I do need her.’

      ‘You know why,’ said Rebecca softly. ‘He doesn’t like you being alone in the house.’

      Jane rolled her eyes. ‘He fusses too much. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Now tell me, is the Master Hurst you spoke of the same person who wrote the book from which you read to me a while ago?’

      Rebecca shook her head. ‘No, that is Master Nicholas Hurst; this is his younger brother,