Henrietta could have bitten off her tongue the moment the words were out. She turned from him and walked over to the pile of wattle hurdles, away from Robert who was settling his wife in the shade of an oak tree and pouring her a cooling drink.
The next thing she knew Matthew's hands were on her shoulders, compelling her to face him. ‘You are disappointed again?’
‘We are both disappointed, husband. It seems our disappointment is the only thing on which we agree.’
‘There is much on which we agree.’ He looked into her eyes, doubtless reading the hurt and the anger in them, and seemed to reach a decision. ‘This coldness between us cannot continue, wife.’
‘It is not I who am cold,’ she began bitterly.
‘No, it is I. I admit it. Perhaps I was asking too much of you, punishing you for keeping something of yourself back from me.’
‘A drink, Sir Matthew? Mistress?' Robert held out a horn cup.
Henrietta accepted quickly, grateful for the interruption. She was so used to Matthew's coldness, his disregard of her, that the warmth in his eyes, his voice, threw her into complete confusion. She wanted a reconciliation more than anything, the sort of marriage Alice and Robert had. Yet he had still not spoken of love.
The four sat in the shade sharing the simple meal. Henrietta had no appetite but she forced herself to eat a little bread and cheese and swallow some ale. Robert and Alice sat close, laughing softly together, unconscious of the unsettled mood of the other couple.
‘Your son kicks, Robert, feel.’ Alice took his broad hand, placing it gently on her swollen stomach.
‘It might not be a son.’ Robert's face creased in a delighted grin at the child's vigour. ‘It might be a daughter as beautiful as her mother.’
Henrietta stood up abruptly, pierced by a sudden jealousy of Alice's pregnancy. ‘I must get back to the house.’ Perhaps Matthew would come with her. Yet she could not find the words to ask him.
‘I too.’ Robert jumped to his feet. ‘I must not dally here, my love. Now walk back slowly. Leave the basket and Sim can fetch it later.’
‘Put Alice up on your horse,’ Matthew suggested. ‘You can lead her down, it's a long walk back.’
‘Thank you both,’ Alice said briskly, ‘but I am quite recovered. You have much to do, Robert, and I would not hinder you. Lady Sheridan and I will walk back to the house together.’
Henrietta smiled reassurance at Robert. ‘I will make sure she walks slowly, see she comes to no harm.’
Robert took some convincing, but finally he and Matthew rode off to oversee the watering of the cattle in the few pools left now the Bourne was scarcely flowing.
The two women walked in silence for a while down the chalky track. The tall grass was dusty and dry, but a few flowers remained for the Chalk Blue butterflies that danced like jewels in the air before them.
‘Have you spoken with the wisewoman?’ Alice asked out of nowhere.
‘Why would I wish to talk to Mistress Perrott?’ Henrietta queried cautiously.
‘Because you are worrying that you are not yet with child.’ How well Alice knew her.
‘My aunt says it is early days yet.’ Henrietta tried to convince both Alice and herself.
‘But then, Mistress Clifford never fell for a child.’
‘I am sure she knows what she is talking about, Alice,’ Henrietta chided. She did not want Alice to sna
tch away the comfort her aunt's words gave her.
‘The master does… I mean you do…’ Alice shuffled her feet in the dust, suddenly at a loss for words.
‘Yes, Alice. I have nothing to complain of in his attention to me.’
That embarrassing question out of the way, Alice turned back to her original advice with more confidence. ‘I doubt anything is seriously amiss. Perhaps Mistress Perrott could suggest some herbal draught for you.’
‘I hope she suggests nothing for my husband, I doubt he would take it. He has little trust in our country potions.’
‘He has no need of any,’ Alice remarked thoughtlessly. ‘After all, he has fathered a son. God rest his soul.’