In the Tudor Court Collection. Amanda McCabe
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relics,’ Lady Fildene advised. ‘Rarely are they true relics and thus have no magical properties. Many of the baubles you see are merely glass and cheap metal—but the perfumes are usually good and the material is quality.’
‘I love this green silk and the bronze velvet is beautiful. It would make a wonderful cloak to wear over a cream gown.’
‘Are you thinking of your wedding, Maribel?’
‘I am not certain whether I wish to make my wedding gown just yet. It might be better to wait until Justin returns—’ Maribel broke off as she saw a man looking at her. He was standing some distance away, beyond the stalls, in a part of the field where contests and games of chance were being held. She turned away immediately, her heart thumping. It could not be! She must be mistaken. ‘I think perhaps I should like to go home, Aunt. I have a sudden headache.’
‘My poor child.’ Lady Fildene looked at her with sympathy. ‘You have not bought anything yet. But you must go back and rest. I shall purchase the silk and velvets you have chosen and have them sent to us. Go now, dearest. You look exceeding pale.’
Maribel thanked her in a low voice. She walked slowly from the field so as to avoid looking as if she were in a panic, climbing the steep hill towards her uncle’s house. Her heart was pumping hard as she increased her pace, wanting to be safe, afraid that he had known her and would come after her. Reaching the drawbridge, she glanced back, shading her eyes against the sun that had come out from behind the clouds. She could see the figure of a man some distance away. He was just standing there, staring at her, but making no move to follow.
Perhaps she had been mistaken. Surely it could not have been Samuel Hynes? How could he have been here? Why would he have come to this quiet village? Had he known she was living with her uncle and aunt?
She was almost certain that he had seen her even before she had noticed him. Yet he had made no attempt to speak to her or to accost her. If he had come to abduct her, he would have surely taken his chance. No, he must have visited the fair for purposes of his own. What would he do now that he had seen her?
Maribel felt sick and frightened. Her uncle would protect her from Hynes if she told him that she was in danger, but to do that she must explain everything…tell him that she had hidden the truth from him. She had allowed him to believe that Justin was her betrothed and implied that she had her father’s blessing. Sir Henry would have every right to be angry if he knew the whole.
No, she could not tell him! She must keep her secret and make certain that she stayed safe within her uncle’s house. Samuel Hynes would not come looking for her there.
‘Your fortune is safe with us, sir,’ the goldsmith assured Justin. ‘The funds lodged with us by your esteemed great-grandfather, Lord Robert Melford, have grown to almost twice that placed in our care when you were born. The money is available whenever you wish for it, Mr Devere.’
‘Thank you. I may wish for a part of my fortune to be transferred to France or perhaps Italy. I have not yet made up my mind. Can you recommend a safe house for my business?’
‘I have a cousin in Lombardy. He is well trusted by the most noble of the land, sir. I could write a letter of introduction. He would advance you anything you required against your funds held here and they need never leave England.’
‘I shall let you know of my decision in good time, sir. Meanwhile, I have this chest of raw silver. I would like to barter it for a precious jewel—something that might please a noble lady. Something worthy of a queen.’
‘Ah, yes, I think I may have the very thing.’ The goldsmith smiled. ‘Wait there, sir. I shall bring you something I think may please the most discerning lady.’
Justin nodded, glancing round the goldsmith’s shop. It was sparsely furnished and nothing of great value was on display, for amongst the common folk there was some dislike of the trade and the goldsmiths, who were often of the Jewish faith. It was not unknown for their shops to be attacked by those who disliked repaying money loaned to them and felt they had been cheated. However, Master Baldini was well known for his honesty.
‘This may be what you wish for, sir?’
The goldsmith laid a packet of black velvet on the counter and opened it, displaying a large ruby of such a deep blood red that Justin was struck by its beauty. It had not been mounted, but could easily take pride of place in a necklace or a crown.
‘That is magnificent, Master Baldini. Will you accept the silver in return?’
The goldsmith looked at the silver, examined its quality and nodded. ‘It is a fair exchange, sir. I shall be pleased to trade with you for the ruby.’
‘Thank you. I may return to purchase another trinket—something as precious as the ruby, but simpler, more suitable for the lady I intend to wed.’
‘I have many such trinkets, sir. Perhaps pearls might be what you would wish for?’
‘Yes, pearls would do very well.’ Justin offered his hand. ‘My thanks, Master Baldini. I shall visit you again before I leave London.’
‘May your business go well, sir.’
‘I thank you for your good wishes. I pray it will—my future depends upon it.’
Justin left the shop, the ruby safe inside his inner jerkin. He had asked for an audience with Queen Elizabeth and been told that he might have to wait some weeks before it was granted. He was by no means the only man who desired an audience with England’s new Queen. Ambassadors from France, Spain, the Netherlands and Italy were only some of those ahead of him in the queue, along with many English nobles.
It was possible that he would have to kick his heels for weeks before being granted an audience. The enforced separation from Maribel was hard to bear. His thoughts were always with her, for he knew she would be thinking of him, anxious for his return. However, he must attend the court every day and wait as patiently as he could.
At least she was safe in her uncle’s house. He hoped that she would not think he had deserted her, but there was little he could do except wait for the moment.
‘Michael has sent word that he will arrive by this afternoon at the latest,’ Lady Fildene told Maribel that morning when she asked what was going on and why the servants were hurrying about their work with more urgency than usual. ‘He says that he is bringing a guest with him—a gentleman who may put some business our way.’
‘Oh, that sounds promising,’ Maribel replied going to sit beside her on the oaken bench. It had a high carved back and would have been uncomfortable to sit on had her aunt not made thick cushions to make it easier. ‘I know my uncle trades in wine, as do other English gentlemen. You said he mostly imports wine from Italy and France, I think?’
‘Yes, that is true. We have not bought from Spain for a long time, but we may do so soon, because it is Spanish wine we have been offered—from Don Sabatini’s winery, I understand.’
‘My father’s wine?’ Maribel drew her breath in sharply. ‘It is not he that your son brings here, Aunt?’
Lady Fildene looked at her. ‘You have turned pale, Maribel. Does something bother you? The mention of your father? It is not he that visits with Michael, but a man who imports wine from him. We are to be offered an interest in bringing over a cargo of wine, but my husband may not accept. He would not if he thought it might harm you.’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘Did your father do something to hurt you, Maribel?’
‘Yes…’ She shook her head as her aunt’s brows rose. ‘I cannot speak of it. Forgive me. Will you excuse me, please? I must think.’
Maribel left the room hastily. Her heart was racing. She knew only too well that the man importing her father’s wine must be Samuel Hynes.
It was he she had seen at the fair. Each day since then she had wondered if he would come to the house and demand to see her…if he would betray her to her uncle. She felt sick at heart and uneasy. Supposing Hynes claimed her for his bride as he’d