‘A conversation better kept for when we are back indoors,’ Andrew suggested gently. ‘But at least let me remind you of what you’ve just heard. Harold is hardly innocent, but it was principally your dear husband, your mother-in-law and the actual killer of Thomas Throckmorton who are to blame. And they will all be dealt with – in time.’
‘They will?’ Tyballis was skipping again, forgetting ladylike dignity.
Andrew nodded. ‘But this is a complicated story, little one, and you do not know all the facts. Nor do I have the remotest intention of telling you. I simply wished you to understand a little about your recent misfortunes, and to be in a position to refute anything your mother-in-law may try to bring against you in the future. I also wished to humiliate the baron.’
‘Well, you certainly did that.’ It was not raining but a chill mist indicated the probable night’s downpour. Tyballis pulled her hood tight. ‘And anyway,’ she said, ‘how did Margery and Robert Webb know to find me at Cheapside? Was it just my bad luck they happened to be there? And how on earth did you know what had happened? And who told you I was in gaol, and which gaol it was? Surely you didn’t rush away from the duke just to come and find me?’
‘Hardly, my dear.’ Andrew smiled faintly. ‘I’d already left his grace of Gloucester. I had returned home, expecting to find you there. Our friend Davey Lyttle told me he’d seen you arrested. That was coincidence indeed, but he often mingles, surreptitiously I imagine, at Cheapside, since crowds are naturally of benefit in his particular choice of occupation. I immediately questioned the sheriff. He told me where you were being kept.’
‘And then you had to go and ask the duke for permission to get me out? And what about Casper Wallop? Because he’s guilty. He told me so himself.’
‘No, his grace did not specifically authorise your freedom, and certainly not that of your dubious friend.’ Andrew chuckled. ‘Let us say I have a permanent authorisation, specifically with regard to the city’s dungeons and other places of confinement. It is the nature of my work. Gloucester trusts me, you see. I’ve already had occasion to speak to his grace on this subject. Trust should never be so easily bestowed. But sadly the duke has a great passion for the merits of trust and loyalty. I am simply the beneficiary.’
They had returned to Crosby’s Place and sat again by the roaring fire in the comfortable parlour, where Tyballis kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes. It was Casper Wallop who promptly brought the wine, and it seemed he had already tried it out himself.
Andrew appeared quite unconcerned by his new servant’s unsteady state, as the man rummaged with the tray and jug, finally serving an overfilled cup to each. ‘Nice stuff this, yer honour,’ Casper muttered. ‘Needed a drink. Cold outside.’
‘But rather warm in here,’ Andrew pointed out. ‘Leave the jug on the table. Order me a light supper from the kitchens, and then arrange for the bathtub to be set up in front of the fire. Once it is well filled, you may retire to bed. I return to my own home early in the morning and I intend that you accompany me.’
Mister Wallop grinned toothless satisfaction. ‘Pleased to hear it, mister. You can count on me.’
‘How disappointing,’ smiled Andrew. ‘I was quite sure I could not.’
‘Is the bath for me?’ inquired Tyballis after Casper had left the room.
‘Certainly,’ Andrew said. ‘It will be far easier and more private here rather than waiting until tomorrow at home. Unfortunately I have no female staff in attendance, so there’s no one, except myself, of course, to scrub your back. But at least there are several able-bodied northerners quite capable of humping hot water up and down stairs, and an extra cauldron can be hung over the flames in here.’
She didn’t question his smiles, and, a little intimidated by the circumstances, hardly spoke over supper. They ate cold salted beef served with plentiful Burgundy wine but Tyballis drank very little, keeping her thoughts and her emotional confusion to herself… She did not ask her host if he also had the duke’s authorisation to blackmail Baron Throckmorton, but she did wonder if her own hoard of florins had come from that source. Though her purse had been taken from her by the sheriff after her arrest, eight untouched florins remained locked in her coffer at Cobham Hall.
Andrew watched her as he ate. He spoke only once, saying quite suddenly after refilling her cup, ‘We’ve spoken several times recently regarding trust.’ He drained his own wine as he spoke. ‘You do know, I hope little one, that you must not trust me.’
Tyballis spluttered and hurriedly put the cup back on the table. ‘But you’ve been enormously kind to me,’ she said. ‘I know I have to look ladylike working for you, so the beautiful clothes just serve a purpose … But getting me out of gaol and bringing me here – then taking me to the baron’s and explaining everything. That was kind. I should very much like to trust you.’
He was still looking at her searchingly when they were interrupted. The platters were cleared away and the tub set up. Tyballis watched as her bath was prepared. The barrel, held tight within copper bands, was caulked like a ship and lined in soft bleached linen. The hurrying servants, their shirt sleeves rolled up and their foreheads dripping sweat, continued to haul up their buckets, checking the temperature until it was correct. Finally one bowed to Mister Cobham. ‘It is ready, my lord.’ It had taken some time, but the hot water now puffed curls of steam high to the ceiling beams, condensing there into drops like rain.
Andrew did not at first seem inclined to move, chin sunk into the soft fur of his collar and eyes half-closed. ‘I do hope,’ Tyballis said eventually, clearing her throat in slight embarrassment, ‘you’re not planning on watching me?’
He looked up suddenly as if he had forgotten she was there, and laughed. ‘Since I believe it was only yesterday that you very particularly offered yourself to me?’
‘You know why I did that,’ complained Tyballis. ‘I was so terribly grateful – and I didn’t have anything else to offer. I thought – I thought I ought to.’
‘How sad,’ he grinned. ‘Obligation, rather than inclination. But since you seem convinced I took wicked advantage of you some weeks back when you were cupshotten and virtually unconscious, there would seem very little you still have to hide. So, why should you need to be alone now?’
‘That was different,’ she objected. ‘I don’t remember much about that night, and if you did anything – and you certainly seemed to have undressed me – at least I wasn’t aware of it. This time if you absolutely refuse to go away, I shall have to sit and watch you watching me.’
‘Perhaps I should have had the bath set up in the bedchamber instead,’ he said. ‘The fire isn’t as high in there, nor the room as hot, but you might have felt more comfortable.’ Tyballis looked down, avoiding his scrutiny. His eyes had suddenly intensified, as if leading somewhere she did not understand. ‘But I had other things on my mind,’ he continued softly. ‘Distractions are invariably – distracting.’ He smiled and nodded. ‘Nor am I used to considerations of privacy, especially with the women in my life. I simply arranged what seemed to fulfil the requirements. Now we have the difficulty of your bath taking up the space where my sleeping pallet should be laid out. Instead, if I retire to the other chamber, you will lose your bed.’
‘Oh.’ She hung her head. ‘But it’s your bed anyway. I can sleep on the pallet.’
‘But it isn’t my bed at all,’ he answered her. ‘Everything here, including the building itself, belongs to Richard, his grace of Gloucester. That includes the clothes and jewellery that are stacked in the garderobe. Everything has a purpose, and I am part of that purpose. Indeed, only four days ago a friend of mine, Robert Brackenbury, slept here. So, while I have, let us say, other matters I need to consider, my own need for solitude is as great as yours. I shall therefore retire to the bedchamber while you bathe. Once finished, knock on the door and I shall come out and arrange for the tub to be taken down and emptied. Then you can go to bed.’ His gaze was still attentive. ‘First, perhaps,’ he said, ‘you should go to the garderobe and find yourself some wash sponges, a keg of soap and a bedrobe for afterwards. Then I’ll help you with those bothersome hooks and fasteners.’