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made their vows at Josse’s family home in northern France.
    Josse let out a sigh and, because he was alone except for Alfred, he vented his feelings by calling the increasingly stiff and starchy Rohaise a few choice names.
It’s her loss
, he thought sadly.
It’s she who is robbing herself of the huge joys of grandparenthood, while we at the House in the Woods enjoy them more with every day.
    He sighed again. Living in contentment as he did, he preferred it when everyone he cared for was as happy as he was. Eloise, despite everything, often looked as if a shadow of sorrow was darkening her lovely face.
    Lingering with her, Josse sent her his love.
    His thoughts moved gently on, through his household – Will, Ella, Tilly, Gus and their children – then progressing to Helewise’s younger son, Dominic, and his family. Dominic, too, was steadily becoming a wealthy man (
these Warin men have a talent for it
, Josse thought) and in his case, the money was coming in through wool. Dominic farmed New Winnowlands, the manor that had once belonged to Josse, but prosperity had allowed him to expand his sheep pastures until he had all but doubled them. With young Geoffroi’s help, Dominic had instigated a programme of animal breeding that seemed to have resulted in the sheep best suited to New Winnowlands’ acres. The beautifully fine wool was much in demand among the weavers of the Low Countries, whose skill ensured that it was a particularly soft, strong and luxurious fabric that eventually made its way back to England.
    Dominic had never forgotten that his house had once been Josse’s. To show his gratitude, he encouraged Josse to graze his own growing flock on the same pastures. Situated on the edge of Romney Marsh, the New Winnowlands acres afforded land out on the saltmarsh for summer grazing, and up on the higher, drier ground for the remainder of the year. If nothing turned up to overturn the hay cart – Josse removed one hand from the reins and crossed his fingers – then, for the foreseeable future anyway, none of them need worry too much about money.
    On his imaginary rosary, he had now reached the bead dedicated to Meggie. She had recently returned from Brittany, just as she had promised. ‘I’ll be back in the autumn,’ his beloved daughter had said, and, of course, she was.
    Josse had missed her sorely and worried about her constantly, yet he’d recognized that she was old enough to live her own life and, hopefully, sensible enough to live it wisely. Or, if not wisely, then at least without too much risk to her safety and happiness. Moreover, she had gone off with her dark-skinned Breton blacksmith, Jehan Leferronier, and within only a few days of meeting the man, Josse had sized him up as tough and resourceful. He was also, Josse couldn’t help but notice, deeply in love with Meggie.
    It had given him quite a shock when Meggie had turned up without Jehan at the House in the Woods – he had believed theirs was a relationship set to last – but Meggie had swiftly explained. Jehan, she said, had received word of friends of his who had come to England the previous year and, before coming to join her, he was going to see if he could track them down.
    Josse was trying very hard not to think about that. He knew what Jehan’s friends had had in mind when they’d set sail for England; knew, if it came to it, what Jehan too had been planning …
    ‘Don’t dwell on it,’ Helewise had advised. ‘What Jehan does or does not do is quite beyond your influence or your control. Do not spoil your happiness at Meggie’s homecoming by entertaining worrying thoughts which are probably quite without foundation.’
    Now, her words echoing in his ears, he did his best to heed her wise advice. Aware suddenly that Alfred’s pace had slowed to an amble, he tightened the reins, put his heels to his horse’s sides, and broke into a smart trot.
    I am a very lucky man
, he told himself – as, indeed, he told himself most days.