Gemini - Dorothy Dunnett [108]
It was possible, of course, that Nicholas would not be there, since he had no idea that they would be coming. That is, a message they had sent from the harbour would hardly arrive much before they did. Gelis had, nevertheless, no qualms about the capacity of a de Fleury household to receive all of them without warning, if necessary. The world was strewn with Nicholas’s efficient former establishments and well-trained ex-servants. There would be no fuss.
They passed the Holy Trinity Church, and turned up Leith Wynd into the Canongate.
Now Jodi, warned against emitting loud personal comments in crowded streets, had settled for watching the houses, bright-eyed, and the children and the chickens and the stalls and wheelbarrows and dogs. It was steep, unlike Bruges. It had no flat canals, as Bruges had. If you twisted sideways in the saddle you could see that the lanes on the right plunged down and down to a hollow, and then up a low ridge, and beyond that, you could see the sea. You had to go three miles before you could see the sea outside Bruges. He had been promised a boat.
Gelis watched the road without seeing it. After the wedding it had been she who had waited for Nicholas, and Nicholas who had come to her through the streets, walking with his friends, a little drunk. She wondered if he were at his desk now, very sober; or interviewing someone on business; or perhaps entertaining a friend. He had many friends, men and women. She didn’t fear them. She knew what she was to Nicholas, and he to her.
He might, then, have been entertaining a friend when the message came from the harbour. At first, he might not believe it, but only at first. He knew, as she did, how terrible the separation had become. He would understand that she had reached a conclusion: that nothing mattered but that they should be together. Then he would make some excuse to dismiss whoever was with him and, throwing orders at Lowrie his steward, would come, on foot, striding down the High Street to meet her.
Or no. That was not how he would want their first meeting. He would wait. But not as once she had made him wait.
He had described the house: she could see it. It was timber and tall, and stood near the Bow, past where the High Street merged into the Lawnmarket. Because of its site, it had been expensive, and he had taken care to explain why it was necessary. The money that had leased it was hers, as were all the funds that had financed his journey. In fact they were his: they represented the wealth he had bestowed on her at their marriage, which she had since used to restore the fortunes of the Bank he had left. Now that was done, and the investment returned to her with interest. She was rich, but he had his fortune to make all over again. There was irony in it as well. He had had no desire for wealth or position, but had acquired them as a prize, to lay at Marian de Charetty’s feet. And now he would not rest, Gelis knew, until he had earned and repaid every groat that she had given him. Her heart wept for the pride she felt for him.
Now they were near. The windows were sun-struck and blind. She saw two or three men in newish dress hastening out from the courtyard, looking towards her, preparing to lead in their horses. John, riding quickly, bent and called to them. She heard his voice and theirs. She heard what he turned and called to her.
‘Nicholas is not at home.’
It was just as well. Her riding gown was filthy with dust. The roar of the packed streets was deafening. The sun, beating down, released the stench of the town, which she had forgotten during fresh weeks at sea. When she dismounted, the ground swayed, reminding her that she had had a long, tiring journey. It was a relief, in the end, not to have to manufacture some sort of greeting. Jodi was silently crying. John put his arm round him. A brawny middle-aged woman emerged and ushered them into the house, explaining something