The Miracle at St. Bruno's

by Philippa Carr

  That was strange. When peddlers came they were not invited to that section of the house. They showed their wares and were refreshed and allowed to rest, while their mule or mules were fed and watered in the stables; after they had shown their goods to the mistress of the house they did the same for the servants. It was an occasion when the peddler called and an excitement to us all; but they were not entertained in the owner’s apartments.

  I could only imagine that she had found something in his pack which she thought might please Edward, and was filled with curiosity to know what.

  I went into the punch room, which I supposed was the most likely place to find them.

  They were not there. I drew aside the curtain and mounted the stone stairs to the solarium. This was a large room with a curtain placed halfway which could be pulled to divide it. The curtains were pulled and I went through to the second room. There was no one there. Then I heard their voices and guessed where they were. At the end of the solarium was a door which opened into a small chamber and inside this chamber high in the wall was a peep—a star-shaped hole which was scarcely perceptible. Through this one could look down to the hall to see who was arriving.

  The door of this chamber was now shut and as I walked toward it I heard the sound of voices.

  They must be there.

  “Honey,” I called. “Are you there?”

  There was a short silence. Then Honey’s voice said: “Yes, yes, Catharine. We … we’re here.”

  I opened the door. Edward and Honey were seated at a table and the peddler sat with them.

  Honey said: “We were just about to look at the pack. I wanted Edward to see something.”

  I said I would like to have another look at them. I bought some cambric to make a petticoat and Honey bought some needles and thread.

  There was nothing of interest to Edward and I wondered why Honey had brought the peddler into the house.

  Edward appeared to be rather tense and there was a pulse beating in his temple which I hadn’t noticed before.

  Three nights after the day the peddler came I saw the galleon again. The Pennlyons were still away, but I expected them to be back at any time. I awoke as I had on that other occasion. It was three o’clock in the morning. I wondered what had awakened me. There was something going on. In my sleep I had been aware of unaccustomed sounds—or had I been half awake? The great harvest moon—almost full—shone into the room; I rose and went to the window: and there was the galleon in all its glory, its four masts clearly visible—the tallest and most majestic ship I had ever seen.

  The Rampant Lion, dwarfed beside it, made me laugh. I wished that he could be here at this moment. How I should like him to see that other ship! But the idea of wishing that he could be with me for any reason whatsoever was so contrary to my wishes that I must laugh at myself.

  Then I saw the boat on the moonlit waters; it was clearly making for the shore. I knew then that it contained someone from the galleon.

  I could hear Jake Pennlyon’s voice: “By God’s Death, it would seem that you are describing a Spanish galleon.”

  He hadn’t believed I had in fact seen what I claimed to. He had pooh-poohed the idea of a Spanish galleon daring to enter the harbor.

  As I watched, the rowing boat disappeared as it had on that other night. I did not return to bed. I sat watching.

  Half an hour passed. The galleon was still there. Then I heard movements below. I looked down and saw a light in the courtyard. Instinct told me that the movement below was in some way connected with the galleon. Something was happening and my curiosity needed to be satisfied. I wrapped a robe about me and putting on slippers, I descended the staircase and went down to the courtyard.

  As the cool night airs enveloped me I heard voices—quietly whispering. I saw the lantern and there was Edward and with him a stranger. I slipped back into the house, my heart beating fast. I ran swiftly to the solarium chamber and looked down through the peep. Edward had come into the hall and with him was the stranger. I could see them only vaguely in the dim light. They were talking earnestly; then Edward led the stranger up the stairs to the punch room and I could see them no more.

  I was bewildered, but I was sure that someone had come from the Spanish galleon to see Edward.

  I went to my room. The galleon had started to move. I stood there watching as she slipped below the horizon.

  I was possessed by a sudden fear. Edward, who seemed so gentle, was involved in some intrigue. That much was obvious. Where would it all lead us? So far his association with the visiting priest had brought me to a situation which was distasteful and would have been alarming if it had not been so ridiculous. At the same time it was not going to be easy to extricate myself from the Pennlyon web.

  I went back to bed. Sleep was impossible. I had a glimmering of what this night’s visitation meant.

  No, I told myself. Edward would not be such a fool. He is too gentle, too much a dreamer. But it was precisely men such as he who placed themselves in dangerous situations.

  I spoke to Honey next morning.

  “What happened last night?” I demanded.

  She turned first red and then quite pale so I was aware that she knew something.

  I went on: “I saw the Spanish galleon in the harbor.”

  “A Spanish galleon! You were dreaming.”

  “Not this time. I saw it and there was no mistaking it. And that was not all. Someone came ashore, someone who came to this house.”

  “You were dreaming.”

  “I was not. I saw a man come here. Honey, I am involved with your follies. Have I not placed myself in a desperate situation because of you? I won’t be in the dark.”

  She looked at me steadily for some moments and said: “I will be back in a moment.”

  She came back with Edward. He looked very grave, yet his lips were firmly set as though he were determined to continue with what he had begun.

  “Honey has told me that you saw something last night. What exactly was it?”

  “A Spanish galleon in the bay, a boat rowing ashore and your bringing a man into the house.”

  “And you surmise that the man you saw was the one who came ashore?”

  “I am certain of it. And I do wonder what is happening.”

  “We can trust you, Catharine. I know what a good friend you have been to us both.”

  “What are you doing, Edward? Who is the man who came here last night?”

  “He is a priest.”

  “Ah, I thought it. Have you not had enough of priests?”

  “They are good men who are persecuted in God’s name, Catharine.”

  “And bring persecution to others,” I murmured.

  “We must all suffer for our faith if called upon to do so.”

  “It serves no purpose these days to stand in the marketplace and declare that faith, particularly if it is against that favored by the Sovereign and her ministers.”

  “You are right and you must know what is happening. Honey and I think that you should go back to the Abbey. We may be in some danger here.”

  “There is danger everywhere. Tell me who the man was who came last night.”

  “He is a Jesuit priest. He is English. He has been persecuted for his faith. He comes from Salamanca in Spain.”

  “And he was brought here on the galleon?”

  Edward nodded. “He will work here for the good of his faith. He will visit houses…”

  “As Thomas Elders does,” I said.

  “First he will stay here with us.”

  “And so place us in jeopardy.”

  “If God wills it.”

  “Is he here now?”

  “He left the house in the early hours of the morning before the servants were astir. He will arrive today in the midafternoon. I shall greet him as a friend and he will stay with us awhile until he makes his plans. He will be known as John Gregory, a friend of my youth. He will be a member of this household until he departs.”

  “Y
ou are placing us all in dire danger.”

  “It may well be, but if we are discreet we shall be safe enough. If you wish to return to the Abbey, Catharine, you should do so.”

  “And what will the Pennlyons do then, think you? What if I flout them? If I go home while they plan a ceremonial betrothal feast do you think they will calmly accept this?”

  “They must do what they will.”

  “And Thomas Elders and your Jesuit and Honey and yourself?”

  “We must look after ourselves. What happens here is none of your making.”

  Honey was looking at me earnestly. “We will not let you marry Jake Pennlyon if you are so set against it.”

  “If I am set against it! I hate the man. How could I be anything but set against it?”

  “Then we must devise a plan and the best seems for you to leave here and, as Edward said, if they make trouble they must then make it.”

  I did not answer. I had decided against going back to the Abbey. I was not going to let Jake Pennlyon think I had run away. I would stay and face him; I would outwit him in my own way.

  Meanwhile, Edward and Honey were getting deeper into intrigue and I trembled for them.

  That afternoon John Gregory arrived at the house. He was greeted as an old friend by Edward and was given the red bedroom with the big four-poster bed and a window which looked out over the country for miles.

  He walked with a limp and there were scars on his left cheek and on his wrists. He was tall and stooped a little and had a certain haunted expression in his eyes which I could not forget.

  He looked to me like a man who had suffered. A fanatic, I decided, who might well suffer again. Such people made me uncomfortable.

  The servants appeared to accept the explanation of his visit. I watched them carefully to see if there was any suspicion, but I missed Jennet, who was such a chatterer and had often unconsciously let me into the secrets of the servants’ quarters. Luce was efficient but taciturn, and I thought then of reinstating Jennet. She was contrite. I was beginning to doubt my motives, though, and I was not sure whether the sight of her angered me because she had betrayed me or because I couldn’t stop thinking of Jake Pennlyon’s laying his lustful hands on her and wondering, of course, whether he had seduced her already.

  I did, however, take her back with me the day after John Gregory came.

  I lectured her a little. “You will serve me, Jennet,” I reminded her. “If you ever lie to me again I shall have you beaten.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” she said demurely.

  “And you should be warned not to listen to men’s tales. They will get you with child and then what will happen to you, do you think?”

  She blushed scarlet and I said: “Remember it.” I could not bring myself to ask her for details of what had happened between her and Jake Pennlyon because I told myself it was undignified—and yet in a way I did wish to know.

  A day passed. I knew that the return of the Pennlyons could not long be delayed. The period of respite was coming to an end.

  The Pennlyons were back. One became aware of it at once. Even the servants seemed excited and the tension in Trewynd had increased. Since they had returned the presence of John Gregory in the house had become more dangerous.

  It was not long before Jake came riding over. I was expecting him and was prepared. I had told Honey that on no account must she leave us alone together.

  He sat in the hall drinking wine. Edward, Honey and myself watched him intently. He seemed bigger, more overbearing, more arrogant and sure of his ability to get what he wanted than I remembered even. I felt the surging hatred rising in me, bringing with it that wild excitement.

  The betrothal ceremony was taking place in three days’ time, he announced.

  “It’s too soon,” I said.

  “Not soon enough,” he corrected me.

  “I shall need to prepare.”

  “You’ve had all the time I’ve been away to prepare. You’ll have no longer.”

  So he was commanding me already.

  “The wedding takes place two weeks later,” he said with authority. “And I shall sail a month after that.”

  “Where will your voyage take you?” asked Edward politely.

  “We’ll be taking a cargo of cloth out to Guinea and come back we hope with gold and ivory. It won’t be a long voyage if I can help it.” He gave me his lascivious grin. “I shall be missing my wife.”

  Edward said he wished him fair weather; and they talked about the sea for a while. Jake’s eyes glowed; he talked of the sea with the same intensity that he had talked of our marriage. The sea fascinated him because it was often wild and unpredictable; he would often have to fight it with all the skill he possessed. He was a man who must fight. Always he had to subdue. Marriage with him would have to be an eternal battle, for as soon as he had won he would lose interest. But why should I contemplate marriage with him? That was for some other pitiable female. I was going to play as dangerous a game as he played on his voyages. Perhaps there was a similarity between us because I at last admitted to myself that I enjoyed the fight.

  We all went out into the courtyard with him and as we did so John Gregory came out of a side door. There was nothing to do but make the introductions.

  Jake Pennlyon’s eyes flicked over him.

  “We’ve met before,” he said.

  John Gregory looked puzzled. “I do not recall it, sir,” he answered.

  Jake narrowed his eyes as though he were trying to look into something which he couldn’t quite make out.

  “I’m sure of it,” he insisted. “I don’t easily forget faces.”

  “Were you in the North at some time?” asked Edward.

  “I never was,” said Jake. “I’ll remember. It escapes me for the moment.”

  John Gregory was wrinkling his brow, smiling as though trying to recall, but I fancied that the scar on his cheek seemed to stand out more vividly.

  “I was delighted to see my friend,” said Edward warmly. “He has decided to stay with us for a week or so.”

  Jake was now looking at me, forgetting John Gregory.

  He said: “We shall expect you early at Pennlyon. We can’t have the bride arriving late. It would appear that she was reluctant.”

  He took my hand and kissed it. His lips seemed to burn my skin. I wiped it on my gown. He saw the gesture and it amused him.

  Then he took his leave.

  We went into the house and Edward asked John Gregory: “What did he mean about knowing you?”

  “He is suspicious,” said Honey in a frightened voice.

  “You have never met him before?” asked Edward.

  John Gregory wrinkled his brows for a moment and then said very firmly: “No.”

  I dressed myself for my betrothal banquet with the utmost pains. I wished to appear as beautiful as I could for, I assured myself, the sole purpose of making him more angry than ever when he realized he had lost me.

  And after the betrothal? What should I do then? I could see no answer than but to go back to the Abbey and my mother. Would he follow me there? He had to leave on his voyage, so how could he come after me?

  And Honey and Edward, would he betray them? Surely he would have to prove that Thomas Elders had been celebrating Mass in the chapel. But Elders would be taken and mayhap tortured and then who knew what would emerge? And this man John Gregory? He would have to go away before I left. Of course this was what I must do. I certainly could not ruin my whole life because of the trouble they had brought upon themselves.

  For the moment there was the betrothal ball and banquet and I intended to amuse myself as much as I could with them.

  Jennet helped me to dress. She was better at this than Luce had been. She brushed my hair until it shone and our reflections in the polished mirror were glowing. There was color in her cheeks and her mass of hair escaped from her cap; she was not exactly a handsome girl but a very desirable one, I could see that. There was something soft and yielding abou
t her; she would be seduced sooner or later I was sure, and I thought it was time to get her married.

  I said to her: “Do you like Richard Rackell, Jennet?”

  She blushed—she blushed very easily—and lowered her eyes.

  “You do,” I said. “There’s no need to be coy about it. If he had a fancy to you perhaps there could be a wedding. The master would mayhap give you one of the cottages and you could continue to work as you do now. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Why, yes, Mistress.”

  “You should be married … soon. I am sure of that. You are somewhat wanton, Jennet, I believe.”

  “Oh, no, Mistress. ’Tis just…”

  “’Tis just that when they lay hands on you and tell you what a fine wench you are you’d find it difficult to say them nay.”

  She giggled.

  “You silly girl! And you’re pulling my hair.”

  I wanted to say to her: What did Jake Pennlyon do when he had kissed you? Are you going to tell me that it ended with that? But I said no such thing.

  She went on brushing my hair. Was she thinking of Jake or Richard Rackell?

  I thought I would wear my hair piled high on my head and then I could crown it with the comb I had bought from the peddler.

  “Frizzing be the fashion, Mistress, and I can frizz,” said Jennet.

  “I follow my own fashions. I do not wish to look like every other fashionable woman, nor like any serving wench.”

  Resigned, Jennet dressed my hair. I put on my red velvet gown cut low at the neck and the sleeves wide and flowing almost to the hem. Not the height of fashion true, but indeed becoming, and with the comb in my hair I looked regal. I should need all the dignity I could muster to ward off the attentions of my intended bridegroom, I thought grimly.

  Jennet stared at me wide-eyed.

  “Why, Mistress, you look beautiful … too beautiful to be real.”

  “I’m real enough, Jennet,” I said with a laugh.

  She lowered her eyes and giggled. I spoke sharply to her. She knew that I was still resentful of the fact that she had sided with Jake Pennlyon against me. There was something knowing about her look. I wondered afterward whether Jennet, born to give pleasure to men, understood something of the nature of my feelings for this one, for try as I might to feign indifference, I was excited by him, albeit in hatred.