Page 81 of The Favourite

“She must miss you both, I am sure.”

Anne shrugged. “Me brother will have moved into my old room by now. Him and his wife.” She pulled a face. “I’m not that fond of Martha, truth be told, and she ain’t got much time for me, neither!”

“Is that your sister-in-law?”

Anne nodded. “Thinks she’s a real beacon of virtue, that one, but if John, that’s me brother, hadn’t stepped up, then she’d have been in the same predicament as I found meself in!” Anne snorted. “Martha didn’t much like me pointing that out, you can be sure! Went running straight to Mum, bidding her to tell me to hold my tongue.”

“And what did your mother say?” Jane found herself asking.

“She said, ‘My Anne has her faults, but she ain’t never told a lie to my knowledge, and if you wanted it kept a secret, Martha Billings, you should have forced Walt’s hand before your belly started showing!’” Anne’s face split into a broad grin. “She might have guessed, Mum’s who I get my plain speaking from in the first place!”

Jane hid her answering smile against Bertrand’s hair.

Alisander returned at midday, shortly before the tailor arrived. He found Jane in the main chamber, rocking a sleeping Celestia in her arms as Bertrand crawled about the floor. “What a vastly domesticated scene,” he commented, closing the door behind him. “But where is everyone?”

“Anne has slipped down to the kitchens,” Jane answered promptly. “Wat had some errands to run, and Robert is—er—resting his eyes.” Anne had discovered the old man napping in his seat and had not liked to disturb him. Jane had agreed to leave him undisturbed for an hour or so.

Alisander’s eyebrows rose. “I see,” he said, glancing down at Bertrand who had made a beeline for his feet and was now pawing at his expensive-looking shoes. To Jane’s astonishment, he reached down and hefted the child into his arms, carrying him over to the window, even as he continued his conversation with her.

“I hope you have not forgotten the tailor is visiting with you this afternoon,” he said, pointing at the window and directing the child’s gaze to the prospect of the castle walls beyond.

“I have not forgotten,” she said absently. A knock sounded on the door and Wat’s head peered around it.

“Apologies, my lady, I did not realize I would be so long—” He gave a guilty start when he saw his master stood over by the window.

“Ah, Wat,” Alisander said smoothly. “I wanted to ask you deliver this missive for me.” He shifted Bertrand from one arm to the other and then reached into his tunic to extract a letter.

Wat hurried forward and took it from him. Jane disregarded their conversation around its delivery, focusing instead on Bertrand, who having grown bored of the view, had now seized hold of one of the drop pearls from Alisander’s neck-chain.

The child spent some moments vigorously tugging at it before he started towing it in the direction of his mouth. Jane had just opened her own to warn Alisander of the fact when he calmly reached down and plucked it out of Bertrand’s little hand. He provided one of the tassels from his tunic instead before the child could register his displeasure.

Jane’s stunned gaze flew to Alisander’s face. He directed a swift interrogative glance her way and mouthed “What?” at her. Quickly, she averted her gaze and pretended to be absorbed with Celestia, who was mercifully still asleep.

Alisander turned back to Wat, who was inspecting the letter. “You had better go and deliver it now, Wat,” he directed. “We will hold the fort here. No doubt Anne will return at some point when it suits her. Preferably before Monsieur Barbier arrives.”

Jane looked up at his dry tone, but his expression was benign enough as Wat slipped from the room. “By the way, you did not mention Ayleth’s whereabouts,” he added as the door shut after him.

Jane grimaced. “We had words this morning, I’m afraid,” she admitted. “I think she has retreated to lick her wounds.”

“Words?”

Jane shrugged a shoulder, not really wanting to go into it. “Ayleth is offended that we are keeping country manners in our household,” she said grudgingly.

“Country manners?” He moved away from the window and dropped down onto the cushioned bench opposite. “I am unfamiliar with the phrase.”

“We are not … strictly observing distinctions of rank,” she said awkwardly.

“Ah, you mean, such as my returning to find you minding both children alone.”

“That among other things,” she agreed. “She seems to think people will believe Bertrand is your child,” she found herself sharing before she could stop herself. “The way we are ‘carrying on.’”

“Dear me!” He looked down at Bertrand and tutted. “He is a bonny child, to be sure, but his beauty is hardly in my league. Ayleth must be quite deluded!”

Jane rolled her eyes. “She knows full well that you are not his father. She is just prickly and unhappy with her lot.”

He was silent a moment. “Next, she will be suggesting that Anne might catch my roving eye,” he said lightly. When Jane gave a guilty start, he smirked knowingly. “I hope you told her that I am too busy worshipping at your feet to spare another woman a glance.”

Jane did not know where to look or how to answer. She watched in silence as he set a fidgety Bertrand down on the seat beside him. The child scrunched up his eyes and opened his mouth. At once, Alisander snatched the fancy hat off his head and handed it to him. Bertrand’s downturned mouth immediately turned up. He gave a squeal of delight and promptly fastened his gums around the brim. “You do realize,” Alisander said suddenly, “that Anne has more than likely sloped off in search of Davis.”