The Miracle at St. Bruno's

by Philippa Carr

  “Mistress Catharine, I … I…” She looked beyond me to Jake Pennlyon.

  “You slut!” I said, and imagined the way he would look at her and lay his hands on her. No need to make her fine promises; she would be willing and eager. I knew Jennet and to my shame I had discovered that potent power in him.

  Jake Pennlyon laughed, low and mocking.

  “Row me ashore at once,” I said.

  I was trembling as we descended the ladder. I did not look back.

  As we were rowed back Jennet sat with her head lowered, her hands visibly trembling. As soon as I was helped ashore I walked ahead of her back to Trewynd.

  When I was in my room I was so angry that I had to vent my wrath on someone. I sent for Jennet.

  She came trembling.

  I had always before been rather mild with servants; Honey was far more haughty with them than I ever was; but I could not get out of my mind the thought of that man’s mocking eyes and I wanted to hurt somebody; and this girl who was supposed to be my faithful maid had betrayed me.

  I turned on her and cried, “Now then, girl. You had better give an account of yourself.”

  Jennet began to cry.

  I took her by the shoulders and shook her. Then she stammered: “I meant no harm, Mistress. The gentleman he asked me … he talked to me like…”

  “Like,” I mimicked. “Like what?”

  “Well, he talked kind like and said I looked a good maiden…”

  “And he kissed you and fondled you as no man should a virgin girl.”

  I saw by the quick color which flooded her face that this was so; and I slapped her. It was not poor Jennet’s face I was slapping: it was his. I hated him so much, because he had tricked me, because he had tried to treat me in the same way as he had Jennet.

  “You lied to me. You told me Mistress Ennis was on the Rampant Lion. You are supposed to be my servant and you forget that because this libertine kissed you.”

  Jennet sank to the floor, covered her face with her hand and burst into loud blubbering sobs. A voice from the door said: “Catharine, what has happened to you?”

  Honey was standing there, serene and beautiful.

  I said nothing and she came into the room and looked down at the weeping Jennet.

  “Why, Catharine, you used to be so good to the servants.”

  Those words spoken in that manner reminded me so much of my mother that the madness of my fury passed away suddenly and I felt very ashamed of myself, of the ease with which I had been tricked and my uncontrollable anger against poor silly little Jennet.

  I said to Jennet: “You can go now.”

  She hastily got up and fled.

  “What was all that about?” asked Honey in a bewildered voice.

  “It’s that man. The Pennlyon man.” I told her what had happened.

  Honey laughed. “You should have known I wouldn’t have gone to the ship alone. How could you have been so stupid as to think I would?”

  “I was surprised.”

  “Yet you believed it! Do you think he has such a fatal fascination for all women?”

  “Jennet found him irresistible.”

  “Jennet is a lusting virgin. She’ll be the victim of the first philanderer who crosses her path.”

  “You think she has already been his victim?”

  “That would not surprise me. But you have a high opinion of his irresistibility if you think I would have gone visiting him alone.”

  “I’m sorry. It was foolish of me. I’ve no one but myself to blame.”

  “Well, at least you escaped unscathed. It will teach you to be wary of him in future.”

  “I shall never see him again if I can help it. As for Jennet she sickens me. I shall have one of the others for my maid. Perhaps she could go into the kitchen.”

  “As you will. Take Luce. She is a girl who will cause you no anxieties and offer little provocation to any man.”

  “I have not told you,” I said, “how I escaped.”

  “Well?”

  “He said either I gave him my promise to marry him or he would take me there and then.”

  “What company you get into,” mocked Honey.

  “In your house,” I reminded her.

  “Ah, but he was already an acquaintance of yours before he came here.” She must have noticed how perturbed I was because she went on soothingly: “Whatever has happened to you! He can’t force you to marry him and he wouldn’t dare harm you—a neighbor’s daughter and a member of our family. Why, the courts would hang him. That was just bravado.”

  “I’ve heard this called Pennlyon country.”

  “Don’t believe all you hear. Edward has some power in this land, you know. Our estates are bigger than those of the Pennlyons and we’ve been here longer. Who are they but upstarts from across the Tamar?”

  “You are comforting, Honey.”

  “I’m glad. Now let me tell you my news. I am going to have a child.”

  “Honey!” I went to her and kissed her. “That’s wonderful! And you’re happy. I can see you are. You’ve changed. You’ve got that maternal serenity. Mother will be delighted. She’ll want you to go back to her for the birth. Yes, you must. She and Grandmother will coo over you. They won’t trust anyone to look after you. And is Edward pleased?”

  “Edward is delighted and I don’t intend to disappoint him this time.” She was referring to the miscarriage she had had in the first year of her marriage.

  “We must take the utmost care,” I said; and I forgot the unpleasant incident on the ship in my excitement about the baby.

  I was not allowed to forget for long.

  That day Thomas Elders rode over. When he came he stayed the night, heard Mass in the chapel the following day and then probably stayed another night before going off to the next Catholic household.

  He did not come as a priest but as a friend of Edward’s; he supped with us and conversation at the table was never of religious matters. The next day Mass was celebrated and those trusted servants who wished to attend did so. The others were quite unaware of what was going on. The chapel was always kept locked so that the fact that it should be so during the hearing of Mass raised no comment.

  I, of course, did not attend, although I was aware of what was going on, and remembering the past so well and the anxieties my mother had suffered, I was always uneasy when Thomas Elders was in the house.

  I went out riding in the morning. The excitement of Honey’s news had subsided and I kept thinking of those shameful moments in the Captain’s cabin on the Rampant Lion. I returned from my ride and took Marigold to the stables. The new young man, Richard Rackell, took her from me.

  I said: “I think she’s losing a shoe, Richard.”

  He nodded. He had deeply set, expressive eyes and was quite handsome. He bowed and the gesture would have graced a Court.

  I asked: “Are you getting along well?”

  He replied that he thought he was giving satisfaction.

  “I know it is not the kind of work to which you are accustomed.”

  “I become accustomed, Mistress,” he replied.

  He interested me. There was something rather mysterious about him. I remember that Jake Pennlyon had been suspicious that he came from the North. Then I forgot Richard Rackell for my angry thoughts were back with that man who never seemed to be out of my mind for very long.

  My way to the house led around by the chapel. Mass would either be in progress or over by now.

  My heart leaped in sudden terror, for the small door which led to the leper’s squint opened suddenly and Jake Pennlyon emerged. I immediately thought: Through the leper’s squint one can look into the chapel!

  There was a fierce glint in his eyes the second or so before they alighted on me. Then they were bright with that intense blue fire.

  “Well met, Mistress,” he said, and came toward me. He would have embraced me, but I stepped hurriedly back and he allowed me to do so while implying that he was respecting my
objections and could comfortably have ignored them.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What should I be doing but calling on my betrothed?”

  “And who is this … Jennet, the maid, who I believe has caught your fancy?”

  “A serving wench, be she maid or harlot, could not be my betrothed. She whom I have chosen to honor now stands before me.”

  “She whom you attempted to dishonor, you mean.” I turned away, but he was beside me.

  He gripped my arm so that it hurt.

  “Know this,” he said. “My father is now at the house. I came to look for you. He is planning the celebrations for our betrothal. I had of course acquainted him with your acceptance of my proposal. He wishes to make it a grand occasion. He has invited half the neighborhood.”

  “Then,” I cried, “he will have to cancel the invitations.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “That there is no betrothal. How could there be without the consent of the intended bride?”

  “But that has already been given.” He looked at me in mock reproach. “You have so soon forgotten visiting me in my cabin. Surely you would not have come there if there had not been an understanding between us?”

  “You tricked me.”

  “You are not going to tell me again that you did not come with the utmost willingness?” He had raised his eyebrows in mock seriousness.

  I cried: “I hate you!”

  “Well, that is a good start,” he said.

  I tried to release my arm, but he would not let me go.

  “What do you propose to do?” he asked.

  “Go and tell your father that he should cancel his invitations without delay.”

  “He’ll not do that.”

  “Then you must find another bride.”

  “I have found the one I want. She is here now.”

  I looked around. “I do not see her.”

  “Why feign reluctance when you are eager? There is no need to. Let us have done with such insincerities. Let us be truthful to each other.” He drew me close to him and held me so tightly that I felt my bones would break. My rage overcame all other feelings.

  I kicked him; but he laughed. He held me just to show how puny were my efforts to escape.

  I attempted with words what I could not do with physical strength.

  “Your buccaneering methods may be effective on the high seas. They will avail you nothing in a gentleman’s household.”

  “Wrong again, my wildcat. They will bring me what I want and at the moment I want you. I’d have had you ere this, but it must be legal this time. Our son will be born in wedlock. Not that I’ll brook delay. But we’ll wed first and bed after.”

  “Even your wife would have to make her vows of her own volition, I suppose. How will you achieve that?”

  “There are ways,” he said.

  “You have chosen unwisely if you expect obedience from me.”

  “I have chosen as I must and I shall have your obedience. I shall tame my wildcat so that she will purr for my caresses.”

  “Your metaphors are clumsy, like everything else you do.”

  “Listen to me,” he said. “You will come and meet my father. You will smile and tell him you are pleased to have been honored by us.”

  “You joke.”

  “I am serious. You have given me your promise and, by God, you will keep it.”

  “You will make me do that?”

  “I will. Do not be foolish, Mistress Catharine. It could go ill with you if I were to tell what I have this day seen through the leper’s squint.”

  I turned pale and the triumph leaped into his eyes.

  “I have long suspected,” he said. “I would not answer for what should happen if my father knew,”

  “Even though his future daughter-in-law were involved?”

  “You’re not a Papist. I know that well enough. If you were I’d beat the Popery out of you.”

  “What a nice kind husband you will be.”

  “So you have accepted that I shall be your husband.”

  “You don’t let me finish. I was going to say … to the poor simpleton who is misguided enough to marry you.”

  “That will be no simpleton. It will be a wise woman. Catharine, no less, for no one else will do. I have sworn to have her and I do not swear in vain.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “How can you bring disaster to this house?”

  “You would not be so cruel.”

  “I would be anything to get what I want.”

  “I hate you as I never thought it possible to hate anyone.”

  “While your eyes flash for me I’m happy enough. I will wait a week or so … no more. So come with me now. You will meet my father. You will smile and behave as though this match between us is a delight to you.”

  “How could I be so false?”

  “Either be false or the betrayer of this household.”

  “Does that mean that you would harm them?”

  “I mean every word of it.”

  “First attempted rape. Then blackmail.”

  “That is just a beginning,” he said with a laugh.

  I was beaten. I knew it. How foolish they were to have the priest here. Why hadn’t they thought of the leper’s squint? They locked the door to the chapel and forgot the one which led to the room in which those who looked through the squint assembled.

  As I walked across the lawn with him beside me I was thinking: The betrothal then … and no more. I shall think of a way out. I will go back to my mother. Honey will have to help me. After all, she and Edward have brought me to this.

  Sir Penn was sprawling in the big chair with the carved wooden back. He chuckled when I entered the hall with Jake. Honey and Edward were not there. I wondered whether they were still in the chapel.

  Sir Penn hoisted himself out of the chair and came toward me; he put his arms about me and kissed me hard on the mouth. I felt bruised where his lips had touched me.

  “Well,” he said, “my son never was one to waste time. You’re getting a bargain there, my girl. I can vouch for him.”

  He thrust his elbow into Jake’s ribs and Jake laughed.

  “No need to tell her that, Father,” he said. “She’s no foolish virgin.”

  They laughed together, obscenely, I thought. Jake put his arm over my shoulder; I felt his fingers pressing my flesh.

  “We’ll have the wedding shortly following the betrothal. There’s no sense in waiting. We want you to give us a little Pennlyon without delay.”

  I wanted to cry out: I shall never marry this man. I’d rather burn at the stake.

  But it was precisely because I feared what would happen to us all since this ruthless man knew what had taken place in the chapel this morning that I was allowing them to assume that I had accepted Jake Pennlyon’s proposal.

  Honey appeared then—without her usual serenity. Her face was flushed, her manner uncertain. One of the servants must have told her that the Pennlyons were here and she would be thinking of the necessity to guard Thomas Elders from such men as these.

  “Good day and welcome,” she said. “So Catharine is here. I have just heard that you had arrived. You will take some wine?” She went to the bell rope.

  Edward came in and greeted the visitors.

  “A happy occasion,” shouted Sir Penn. “These young people… Well, I have lost no time. There’s never time to waste. We’re celebrating the betrothal at Lyon Court and then we’ll follow with the wedding. They’re impatient, these two, and I can’t say I blame them. I don’t blame them at all.”

  Honey was looking at me fixedly. She was waiting for me to protest.

  I opened my mouth to say it was all a mistake and that I had no intention of marrying when I caught Jake’s eye—mocking, warning, cruelly relentless. I thought: He would betray them. He would have no compunction. He is without mercy.

  Then I remembered my mother’s telling me as she had on one occasion of how th
e father she adored had been a prisoner in the Tower and how one day he had been taken to the block and his head placed on London Bridge. I knew that never could she escape from the memory of that time; it had shadowed all her happiness. I had lost Carey and I believed I could never be completely happy again; and if I should be the one to betray Honey how could I face my mother or forgive myself?

  A sudden exhilaration came to me. I would outwit this man who had so shortly come into my life and dominated it. I would let him believe that he had won, but he never should. At the moment I must agree to this betrothal because to fail to do so would endanger Honey and Edward. His victory should be only a brief one. If Jake Pennlyon thought I had so easily succumbed he was going to find his mistake.

  He took my hand and held it tightly. His grip was a warning in itself. I could break your fingers if I wished; and I will as easily break your spirit.

  “Why, Catharine,” said Honey, “may I indeed congratulate the pair of you?”

  “This is a time for congratulations,” said Jake. “We want a speedy wedding.”

  Honey put her fragrant cheek against mine, her eye inquiring.

  “So you have decided, Catharine?” she said. “Why, it is but a short time that you were declaring you would never marry.”

  “My son has that in him to break down the resistance of the most retiring damsel.”

  “It seems so.”

  The wine and cakes were brought in.

  Edward poured the wine and gave the toast.

  “To the betrothed pair.”

  Jake took his glass and drank, then offered it to me. I stared for a moment at his full sensual lips and turned my head slightly. He was thrusting the glass into my hands and I drank.

  It was as though I had sealed my promise.

  They began to talk about the betrothal, which was to be celebrated at Lyon Court. The wedding would take place here.

  “It should be at my mother’s house,” I protested.

  “What, on the other side of the country,” cried Jake. “Sailors have no time for such fancies. Your mother must needs come to Devon if she wishes to dance at your wedding.”

  “I shall make my plans,” I said.

  And I saw the smile turn up Jake Pennlyon’s lips.

  I listened vaguely to the conversation. Sir Penn was asking questions about my father’s estate. Edward was answering them as best he could. There should be a good dowry, Sir Penn was saying, but even if there was not there would be no bar to the marriage. “Bar my son when he’s made up his mind! That’s something I could not do an’ I wished it. Nor should I wish it. My son is the image of his father and I’d have that so too. He sees a filly and he’s got to ride her and I know he’s in no mood to wait for his bride.” He leaned toward me. “He’s eager. You’ll find he’s no laggard. That’s the way to ensure sons. You’re not one of these poor swooning females as will faint at the sight of a man. Not you. I saw it from the first. You’re the sort who’ll breed sons with spirit, for you’ve got spirit yourself; and you’ll be as mad for him as he is for you and that’s the way to get sons … get ’em early and get ’em in plenty. Pennlyon boys.”