sympathy for her if his own safety was at risk. When he returned Michael would force her to marry Captain Bird. Now that the militiamanwas threatening to betray him she would no longer have a choice.
Michael had always been able to escape from the militia by using the caves and tunnels that only he and his men knew of—but if he was mixed up in some kind of plot against the King he would never be able to rest. He could not return to his home and must for ever be a fugitive—and perhaps Jacques, too, would be branded as a traitor.
Morwenna would hate it if she could never see Jacques again. She did not wish either of her brothers to hang, but she could not live as that man Bird’s wife. She would rather die.
She must disappear before her brothers returned. Looking about her bedchamber, Morwenna decided to take only what she could carry. She had a little money, which she’d saved from the housekeeping, also a string of pearls her mother had given her and a small ruby ring her father had purchased for her before he died. She would hate to part with either, but if she wanted to try to start a new life in London, perhaps even as a seamstress, she would need money to live on for a while.
The only talent that Morwenna possessed besides her sewing and her cooking was hersinging voice. She had sung in the church choir when she was a child, but as she grew up her brother had forbidden her to waste her time in such frivolities.
She would like to sing for her living, but women were forbidden from appearing on the stage and the travelling players used young boys to act the female roles.
If she could not sing on the stage, what else might she do?
Working in a tavern as a chambermaid would be hard and not much of a change from her life here—but she might be forced to accept such work.
With that thought in mind, she decided to travel in one of her plainest working gowns. It would not do to ask for work wearing the silk gown her brother had once given her when he’d done well from his smuggling. Packing her best gown of green velvet into a large satchel, she added some extra shoes and two shifts. Then she took her cloak and slung it over her shoulders; the satchel was slung over her back in a way that prevented it from being easily snatched. Her money and her mother’s pearls were in a linen bag sewn inside the skirt of her gown. Morwenna was taking no chances withwhat little she had, because once she left her home she could never return.
Going down to the kitchen, she saw Bess preparing pies for supper. She took two and wrapped them in clean linen and tied them in a knot that she could slip over her wrist.
‘Where are you going?’ Bess asked, staring at her in suspicion.
‘Please don’t ask because I may not tell you—though you can tell my brothers I’ve gone to my aunt.’
‘You foolish girl. Are you running away with that man? He will leave you as soon as he tires of you.’
‘He has already left me and I must fend for myself.’
‘You’ll go to your aunt?’ Bess looked at her sorrowfully. ‘Please, I beg you, do not simply run away, my love. Jacques will help you when he returns. You have no idea of the wickedness of the world. Anything could happen to you.’
‘You must not cry, Bess,’ Morwenna said and kissed her cheek. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me—to us all. I have no choice but to leave, for Michael would force me to wed that man—and I cannot.’
‘Why do you not let me come with you?’
‘Because I cannot afford to keep us both, Bess dearest. You must stay here—what would my brothers do without you?’
‘Find another servant,’ Bess said sourly. ‘I’ll not stay long without you, but I know I would be a burden to you.’ She embraced the girl. ‘I’ve a few pennies in my pocket if they will help you?’
‘Keep your money, Bess. I shall manage. I have some money and my mother’s pearls. I will find a way to earn my living.’
‘What can you do but cook?’
‘Perhaps
Michael had always been able to escape from the militia by using the caves and tunnels that only he and his men knew of—but if he was mixed up in some kind of plot against the King he would never be able to rest. He could not return to his home and must for ever be a fugitive—and perhaps Jacques, too, would be branded as a traitor.
Morwenna would hate it if she could never see Jacques again. She did not wish either of her brothers to hang, but she could not live as that man Bird’s wife. She would rather die.
She must disappear before her brothers returned. Looking about her bedchamber, Morwenna decided to take only what she could carry. She had a little money, which she’d saved from the housekeeping, also a string of pearls her mother had given her and a small ruby ring her father had purchased for her before he died. She would hate to part with either, but if she wanted to try to start a new life in London, perhaps even as a seamstress, she would need money to live on for a while.
The only talent that Morwenna possessed besides her sewing and her cooking was hersinging voice. She had sung in the church choir when she was a child, but as she grew up her brother had forbidden her to waste her time in such frivolities.
She would like to sing for her living, but women were forbidden from appearing on the stage and the travelling players used young boys to act the female roles.
If she could not sing on the stage, what else might she do?
Working in a tavern as a chambermaid would be hard and not much of a change from her life here—but she might be forced to accept such work.
With that thought in mind, she decided to travel in one of her plainest working gowns. It would not do to ask for work wearing the silk gown her brother had once given her when he’d done well from his smuggling. Packing her best gown of green velvet into a large satchel, she added some extra shoes and two shifts. Then she took her cloak and slung it over her shoulders; the satchel was slung over her back in a way that prevented it from being easily snatched. Her money and her mother’s pearls were in a linen bag sewn inside the skirt of her gown. Morwenna was taking no chances withwhat little she had, because once she left her home she could never return.
Going down to the kitchen, she saw Bess preparing pies for supper. She took two and wrapped them in clean linen and tied them in a knot that she could slip over her wrist.
‘Where are you going?’ Bess asked, staring at her in suspicion.
‘Please don’t ask because I may not tell you—though you can tell my brothers I’ve gone to my aunt.’
‘You foolish girl. Are you running away with that man? He will leave you as soon as he tires of you.’
‘He has already left me and I must fend for myself.’
‘You’ll go to your aunt?’ Bess looked at her sorrowfully. ‘Please, I beg you, do not simply run away, my love. Jacques will help you when he returns. You have no idea of the wickedness of the world. Anything could happen to you.’
‘You must not cry, Bess,’ Morwenna said and kissed her cheek. ‘You’ve been a good friend to me—to us all. I have no choice but to leave, for Michael would force me to wed that man—and I cannot.’
‘Why do you not let me come with you?’
‘Because I cannot afford to keep us both, Bess dearest. You must stay here—what would my brothers do without you?’
‘Find another servant,’ Bess said sourly. ‘I’ll not stay long without you, but I know I would be a burden to you.’ She embraced the girl. ‘I’ve a few pennies in my pocket if they will help you?’
‘Keep your money, Bess. I shall manage. I have some money and my mother’s pearls. I will find a way to earn my living.’
‘What can you do but cook?’
‘Perhaps
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