I could not believe it for a few seconds. “Oh, Geoffrey, thank you, thank you,” I said.
“It was not my doing; he’d almost made it to Dartford when I came upon him,” Geoffrey said.
“So he was coming to me?”
Brother Edmund said, “Yes.”
“Where is he?”
The two men exchanged another look. “He is in the infirmary,” said Brother Edmund. “I will take you. First, you must know that—”
I was already running. I had been told not to run yet, but I ran anyway, forcing my weakened legs forward. I almost fell against a wall, but pushed myself off from it and kept going.
I came through the door, and there he was. Sitting up on the infirmary bed, where I had mended not long ago. My heart twisted to see his burned, scarred face.
Sister Rachel was giving him something to eat.
“Father,” I said.
“Joanna, ah Joanna.” His voice was weak. But he was alive.
Sister Rachel stepped back while I embraced my father. He was cold and, I could feel through his clothes, much thinner. The tears streamed down my cheeks as I held him and thanked God for bringing him to me. “My little girl,” he whispered, stroking my hair, as he used to. “My little girl.”
Something fell to the floor behind me with a clattering. I turned to look. A boy stood there, not four years old, with shining red-gold hair and a wide smile. He had grabbed a silver pan from the counter and had sent it crashing to the floor.
“Arthur, no,” said my father. “Don’t do that.”
“Who is this boy?” I asked.
My father gripped my arm, tight.
“He is Arthur Bulmer. Margaret’s son.”
49
In a few minutes we were alone. My father requested it, and his tone was so insistent that all complied. Sister Winifred said she would take Arthur to the kitchen to see if Cook would make him something special to eat. Brother Edmund backed away, too, but not before preparing an herbal poultice for me to give my father. Geoffrey watched everything from the doorway, arms folded across his chest.
“I shall speak to you later, Master Scovill?” asked my father. Even now, severely weakened, his voice carried the authority of a Stafford.
“Of course, Sir Richard,” Geoffrey said respectfully. He nodded to me and left with Brother Edmund.
“Drink, please,” I said, handing him a steaming cup.
“In a moment, Joanna.”
“No,” I insisted. “Now.” I smiled at him. “You are going to have to get used to my giving you orders on food and drink.”
He looked at me, inquiringly.
“Dartford Priory will be suppressed in the spring,” I said. “I should like to stay here until that time. Then I will join you wherever you think we should live.”
He sipped his hot drink. The news did not give him as much happiness as I expected. Perhaps it was because he was so cold and tired.
“I must speak to you, Joanna. Please listen to everything I have to say. It will not be easy, this conversation. I think it will be the most difficult of my life.”
My heart beating faster, I took a stool and sat next to him. He hovered on the edge of the infirmary bed, just above me, his hands on his knees.
“It’s about Arthur,” he said.
I nodded. Then it came to me. “You want him to live with us? Of course, Father. I want to help raise Margaret’s son. I am only surprised her husband’s family released him to you.”
He closed his eyes. A moment passed. I heard the murmur of voices outside. One of them was Geoffrey’s. He was staying close, as my father had requested.
My father opened his eyes again.
“Joanna, he is my son.”
I was confused. “No, he is Margaret’s. You just said so.”
I could see my father’s hands shaking on his knees.
“He is my son with Margaret.”
“That’s not possible,” I said.
He closed his eyes again.
“You are not well, Father, or you would not say such a vile thing. I will call for Brother Edmund. He has remedies he can give you.”
“No!” He grabbed my wrist. “Don’t call for anyone. Hear me, daughter. You have no choice.”
I went still. I had never disobeyed him in my life, but I felt a terrible pain, deep in my body.
“In the year 1533, in the summer, I went to London to see to the family property. Do you remember?” I did not speak or nod, and he continued. “I was out on the street when I saw her. It was Margaret.