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Authors: Margaret Frazer
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the air. ”I hope you do not mind seeing more of me than you thought to
.“
‘I never mind seeing more of you,“ Anne said, beginning to unfasten his doublet.
Daved
set
the wimple aside and slipped her close-fitted cap from her head, put
it
aside, too, and pulled out the two long wooden pins that held her hair in a coil behind her head, letting her hair fall loose to below her waist. But Anne stepped back, realizing, “I’m dressed work-a-day. I didn’t mean for you to see me work-a-day.”
Smiling at her, his hands on her shoulders keeping her from drawing more away, Daved said, “But I want to see you work-a-day. I want to see you every way.” He drew her near for another kiss as long as the first, and still holding her to him, gathered a handful of her hair, smelled it, and sighed, “Chamomile. Like summer sun.”
She would have stayed leaning against him, weak with her happiness, but he set her back from him at his arms’ length and said, “Before we go further, I have two favors to ask of you.”
‘Ask, good sir.“
‘First, that I be allowed the favor of your company this day despite I came before my time.“
‘Easily granted. The favor is given.“
Daved slipped his hands down to take hold on hers, and his merriment went out of him. “The second thing is somewhat more difficult to ask.”
Holding to her smile despite her heart sank a little, Anne said, “Ask.
Daved led her to the bed. Its curtains were still drawn between it and the streetward window so they would not be seen as he sat her on the bed’s edge and sat beside her, still holding her hands, his eyes searching her face. Her smile gone, Anne as intently searched his, clinging to the hope that surely he would not have been so happy when he first came if he was come, St. Clare forbid, to tell her something ill.
Carefully he said, “I’ve kept you apart from my work. I wanted to, and there was never reason to do otherwise. Now I must do that otherwise.”
He paused as if trying to find how to go on. Anne waited. She knew he and Master Bocking, his uncle, were merchants, partnered together and dealing in rich cloths and finer goods. He had spoken now and again of Bruges, Antwerp, Rouen, and St. Malo as places they went, but she knew nearly nothing else, not even whether his uncle was Jewish or had turned Christian in truth. She had met Master Bocking sometimes at Raulyn’s but hardly spoken with him, and Daved talked mostly of their travels—places seen, people met, inns both good and bad, weather out of the ordinary— things he might share with her easily—but hardly ever of his actual merchanting. Like his Jewish life, his merchanting was a thing that took him elsewhere, away from her, and Anne made effort to think of all that part of his life as little as might be.
With his gaze fixed on her face, Daved said, still carefully, “I do more than only merchant, Anne. There are things I do that must be done… less openly.”
She did not want to know, she had to know, and in almost a whisper, she asked, “What?”
Daved let go one of her hands and reached inside his doublet to bring out a small leather pouch. He tossed it onto the bed beside them. It landed heavily but without a sound. “That is some of,” he said. “In there is a small fortune in gold coins for the duchess of Suffolk.”
Anne drew back the hand she had stretched toward the pouch. She had never seen in all her life as much gold as must be in there, and with a different fear than she had had a moment ago she asked, “Why? Why do you have it?”
‘Because I’ve brought it secretly into England, and it must go, likewise secretly, to her grace.“
“
You
brought it into England?”
‘I brought it.“
‘Secretly?“
‘Secretly.“
He waited for her to ask more, but she did not. Not yet and maybe never. Too much of their time together could be lost in
.“
‘I never mind seeing more of you,“ Anne said, beginning to unfasten his doublet.
Daved
set
the wimple aside and slipped her close-fitted cap from her head, put
it
aside, too, and pulled out the two long wooden pins that held her hair in a coil behind her head, letting her hair fall loose to below her waist. But Anne stepped back, realizing, “I’m dressed work-a-day. I didn’t mean for you to see me work-a-day.”
Smiling at her, his hands on her shoulders keeping her from drawing more away, Daved said, “But I want to see you work-a-day. I want to see you every way.” He drew her near for another kiss as long as the first, and still holding her to him, gathered a handful of her hair, smelled it, and sighed, “Chamomile. Like summer sun.”
She would have stayed leaning against him, weak with her happiness, but he set her back from him at his arms’ length and said, “Before we go further, I have two favors to ask of you.”
‘Ask, good sir.“
‘First, that I be allowed the favor of your company this day despite I came before my time.“
‘Easily granted. The favor is given.“
Daved slipped his hands down to take hold on hers, and his merriment went out of him. “The second thing is somewhat more difficult to ask.”
Holding to her smile despite her heart sank a little, Anne said, “Ask.
Daved led her to the bed. Its curtains were still drawn between it and the streetward window so they would not be seen as he sat her on the bed’s edge and sat beside her, still holding her hands, his eyes searching her face. Her smile gone, Anne as intently searched his, clinging to the hope that surely he would not have been so happy when he first came if he was come, St. Clare forbid, to tell her something ill.
Carefully he said, “I’ve kept you apart from my work. I wanted to, and there was never reason to do otherwise. Now I must do that otherwise.”
He paused as if trying to find how to go on. Anne waited. She knew he and Master Bocking, his uncle, were merchants, partnered together and dealing in rich cloths and finer goods. He had spoken now and again of Bruges, Antwerp, Rouen, and St. Malo as places they went, but she knew nearly nothing else, not even whether his uncle was Jewish or had turned Christian in truth. She had met Master Bocking sometimes at Raulyn’s but hardly spoken with him, and Daved talked mostly of their travels—places seen, people met, inns both good and bad, weather out of the ordinary— things he might share with her easily—but hardly ever of his actual merchanting. Like his Jewish life, his merchanting was a thing that took him elsewhere, away from her, and Anne made effort to think of all that part of his life as little as might be.
With his gaze fixed on her face, Daved said, still carefully, “I do more than only merchant, Anne. There are things I do that must be done… less openly.”
She did not want to know, she had to know, and in almost a whisper, she asked, “What?”
Daved let go one of her hands and reached inside his doublet to bring out a small leather pouch. He tossed it onto the bed beside them. It landed heavily but without a sound. “That is some of,” he said. “In there is a small fortune in gold coins for the duchess of Suffolk.”
Anne drew back the hand she had stretched toward the pouch. She had never seen in all her life as much gold as must be in there, and with a different fear than she had had a moment ago she asked, “Why? Why do you have it?”
‘Because I’ve brought it secretly into England, and it must go, likewise secretly, to her grace.“
“
You
brought it into England?”
‘I brought it.“
‘Secretly?“
‘Secretly.“
He waited for her to ask more, but she did not. Not yet and maybe never. Too much of their time together could be lost in
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