Prayer should have been a possibility then but instead her thoughts were an unhappy mingling of uncertainty over what to do with herself now she was here, an uncomfortable wondering about how much pleasure she could manage to show when inevitably confronted by Nurse eager to show off Robert’s—three, had he said?—children to her, and— though she tried not to—an even more uncomfortable wondering over what Katherine had said. Because if the girl was right and Lady Blaunche had been plotting with her son to thwart Robert both over Katherine’s marriage and this arbitration that was underway—and if Robert found out— matters here were going to be more difficult than ever she had thought.
She heard a door snick quietly shut across the landing and stood up, ready when Katherine came back into the room, thankfully alone and composed, pausing to say with a smile, “I told Nurse that you’re tired from travel and wouldn’t want to see the children today. I’ll see to sending someone with warm water and a towel now.”
She was going for the tower door before she finished speaking but Frevisse said, “Mistress Katherine, a moment please.”
Already past her, Katherine stopped short, visibly drew a deep, steadying breath, and turned, not bothering to feign any smile now, to face her again.
Not smiling either, Frevisse asked, “How do you know a forced marriage is what Lady Blaunche and her son intended against you?”
Katherine’s eyes darkened with anger as she answered, her voice edged, “Because of yesterday. Beginning with how more angry than upset she was when we first found out the bridge was gone. And then she lied.”
‘About being afraid of nowhere to stay, you mean.“
‘She never forgot that manor was there. And then I overheard her trying to send Jack somewhere.“
‘You followed her deliberately to overhear her, didn’t you?“
‘If she’d wanted Jack for something usual, she’d have sent one of us after him, not gone herself. By then I was beginning to be afraid. I didn’t know of what. Just afraid. And then I heard her trying to order him to go somewhere.“
‘You think to Benedict. To tell him where we were,“ Frevisse said.
‘I think so, yes. But Jack wouldn’t go. He’s more Master Fenner’s man than Lady Blaunche’s, and Master Fenner had given orders the men weren’t to leave us for any reason. So Jack wouldn’t.“ In the relief of saying it all aloud to someone, Katherine was talking rapidly now. ”Then she was willing to dine with the bailiff and his wife in the hall. That wasn’t like her, either. Tired as I know she had to be and little as she likes to spend time on ’lesser‘ folk, she should have been more than willing to have her supper in bed.“
‘She was maybe merely being well-mannered.“
‘No, she wasn’t,“ Katherine said flatly. ”She was seeking a chance to talk alone with the man, to set him to send someone, or go himself, to Benedict.“
‘And you kept her from it.“
‘Yes.“ Katherine shivered. ”I had to.“
‘Would it be so bad to marry Benedict?“ Frevisse asked gently. ”At least he’s someone you know.“ Or was that the trouble?
Katherine drew a deep breath, gazing past Frevisse as if into her own thoughts before she said carefully, “I know him and there’s nothing amiss with him. But…” She looked at Frevisse, pleading for her to understand. “We don’t suit. We simply… don’t.”
‘It may be the same with the Allesley marriage if it goes through.“
‘I know. But Master Fenner needs that marriage. Lady Blaunche hates that he’s willing to have anything to do with the Allesleys, has fought him at every step, but it has to be done, and if my marriage is what…“ Her voice broke. She had to stop to steady it, and went on, ”My marrying Benedict would serve no purpose but Lady Blaunche’s greed.“
Frevisse hesitated but, having gone so far into what was no business of hers, went further. “Will you tell Master Fenner?”
Katherine paused in her turn, before saying carefully, “From how angry he was at Lady Blaunche in the yard just now, I’d guess he knows already.”
Frevisse had not noticed Robert was angry in the yard just now but that was maybe because she had been too busy being grateful to be done with riding to heed much else. “How would he know?” she asked.
‘He could guess easily enough. He knows Lady Blaunche’s mind as well as anyone does. It was partly their quarreling over the Allesley marriage and Benedict that set him to take me to St. Frideswide’s in the first place. Then if Benedict disappeared from here while Lady Blaunche was gone for me—and surely Benedict did and without any word to anyone because he doesn’t lie well…“ Katherine’s voice rose, fear and anger twisted together in it. ”That’s all Master Fenner would need to guess the rest and by then there was nothing he could do about it!“
‘He should have foreseen the treachery,“ Frevisse said.
‘He trusts,“ Katherine said, as if made angry by it. ”He believes in the good until the bad is forced on him.“
‘Couldn’t he have sent men after Benedict?“
‘To where? He couldn’t know Lady Blaunche purposed to come back from the nunnery the same way she’d gone. I wouldn’t have, if I’d been planning it. And how long was Benedict gone before Robert knew about it? If Benedict had too great a lead…“
Katherine broke off, hands pressed over her mouth, eyes shut, until she had steadied. Then she dropped her hands and said, subdued, her eyes toward the floor, “Your pardon, my lady. This isn’t anything I should be troubling you with.”
‘I asked.“
‘And have kindly listened. But it’s done. They failed and we’re safely here.“ Katherine swept down in a low curtsy and came out of it moving toward the tower door, saying over her shoulder as she went, ”I pray you pardon me, I’ve other things I should see to,“ and was gone.
Chapter 8
Not much ere sunset, while Ned was gathering Masters Durant and Hotoft and their men to ride with him to his manor for the night, word came that the Allesleys were indeed arrived at the bishop of Coventry’s grange where they were to stay the nights, hardly farther off than Ned’s manor though in a somewhat different direction and bespoke for them by the duke of Buckingham, both he and the bishop being often together on the royal council, making double point by this favor to Sir Lewis that he had strong backers to be reckoned with.
Already in the saddle, Ned grinned down at Robert. “That they’re come means, likely, that his grace of Buckingham’s arbiters and Master Fielding are at my place waiting for me. Barring trouble or vile weather, we’ll be back first thing in the morning, Allesleys and all.”
‘I dare say we’ll be here,“ Robert said back, managing to sound easy about it, slapped Ned’s horse on the shoulder, and stepped back, making farewells to Master Durant and Hotoft and waiting where he was while they and Ned rode away, their men after them and the yard abruptly back to its usual quiet once they were gone, no one there except household folk about their work. As if everything were simply as it always was, Robert thought as he returned up the stairs and into the hall, relieved at being done with pretense for a while but knowing the thought that everything was as always was pretense, too, and now there was the evening to be gone through with Blaunche and Benedict.
And Katherine.
He tried to close off thought of her as soon as it arose. He needed her as near to not in his thoughts as he could possibly keep her, and he would to God he did not have to see her again, ever, until this was over with and she was married to the Allesley whelp. And, for the best, he would not ever see her then, either, because what he had felt—in mind and body both—at seeing her this afternoon, safe and back with him, had been too near to overwhelming. He was supposed to feel that way for no one but his wife, and for Blaunche he felt…
What did he feel for Blaunche?
Anger, he decided. For now, anger would do. Better anger at her and at Benedict for what they had planned than memory of his sickened relief at seeing Katherine safe, here, not we
d to Benedict.
God help him, in the moment he had seen her and known she was safe, he would have seen Blaunche and Benedict and anyone else who came to hand into hell before he would have had her at risk again.
And that was sin.
The sin of pride, to begin with—putting his own desires ahead of whatever cost there might be to anyone else because of them—but the sin of covetousness, too, because he would, if he could have, kept Katherine for himself alone, away from anyone else who wanted her. Sin upon sin and the sin of lust added to them, no matter how much it shamed him, no matter how much he wanted to deny it. Worse yet, he could make no confession of any of it to the priest because confession meant he wanted not only forgiveness and penance but to cease the sin and, God help him, he did not want to stop loving Katherine.
Which left him to the sin of wrath, in a kind of blind hope that if he gave way to it fully enough, it would obscure all else he was feeling.
In the hall the servants were setting up the trestle tables in readiness for supper, the familiar evening business that would be mirrored at the meal’s end by taking down and setting away the tables. Keeping out of his people’s way rather than they out of his, Robert passed among them, paused to answer the butler’s question of whether Lady Blaunche would be coming down to supper by saying he did not know, and went through into the solar. For a wonder, there was no one there and he was alone, as he so rarely was during any day or night, and he nearly turned aside, to linger in the quiet; but that would leave him with his thoughts and he was better without them.
But his steps lagged nonetheless, resisting the stairs up to the parlor and Blaunche. Momentarily he considered going to see the children instead but they were likely already at their own meal and Nurse would not care for his interfering with that, he knew and, left with only the shove of his conscience, he went up the stairs.
He had forgotten the nuns. The surprise of that was as sharp as the surprise of seeing them in the parlor, Dame Frevisse in talk with Mistress Dionisia and Katherine at the window, the other one—Dame Claire, she’d said—and Master Geoffrey keeping Blaunche company on the settle. Mistress Avys was a little aside from them, intent on her embroidery, and Benedict was well apart, sitting in Robert’s chair, leaning forward in earnest talk to Emelye on a cushion on the floor in front of him, her blond little head tipped back to look up at him. In his craven relief that confrontation with Blaunche would have to be put off because the nuns were there, Robert said with the best seeming of good humor he could manage, “All here then, I see.”
He sounded false even to himself, but as it was he feigned better than Benedict who looked toward him with a start and made to rise, then when Robert gestured him to stay, looked nervously toward his mother, uncertain what to do until she nodded tersely at him to keep where he was. Confused into surliness, Benedict subsided, scowling, and Robert would have settled for greeting Dame Frevisse and meeting the other nun but Blaunche said at him, “You couldn’t have come sooner?”
His in-held anger stirred to rise into the open at that but he kept it down, saying evenly, “Ned has only just left with the arbiters. No, I couldn’t have come sooner.” And then, to have it over with, “There’s word that the Allesleys are at the grange.”
‘So you’ll be going there tomorrow, I suppose.“
‘They’re coming here,“ Robert answered stiffly. ”It was agreed on after you left.“
Blaunche stabbed her needle into the piece of linen she was embroidering and snapped, “So you’re giving them the roof over our heads, too. Next it will be the clothes off our backs.”
On either side of her Master Geoffrey and the nun were suddenly very still, understanding as surely as Robert did that she was set to quarrel. And once Blaunche was set to quarrel there was little chance of stopping her…
From across the room Dame Frevisse said mildly, as if noticing nothing amiss, “Well, I certainly hope the weather holds well if there’s to be all that to-and-froing these next few days.”
Robert turned toward her, momentarily blank of any answer to such a bland nothing comment because he had never found Dame Frevisse either bland or given to nothings. It was Katherine who said, bright-voiced, “Oh, I think it’s going to be dry. We’ve had our rain for a while, surely.”
‘Red sky at morning, shepherds take warning,“ Mistress Dionisia put in. ”But this morning was all gray, wasn’t it? Overcast. No red at all.“
‘But clear skies at night, shepherds delight,“ Dame Frevisse said with a nod at the sky above the orchard.
Then, for a mercy, because Robert did not know how long they would be able to go on heading off Blaunche’s quarreling, there was a knock at the stairway door and Nurse came in with the children. She was holding John by the hand to help his short legs up the steep stairs and carrying Tacine on her hip but Robin at five was more than proud to be on his own and squeezed past her skirts to be almost first into the room. He must have been warned there would be strangers because sight of the nuns did not pause him as he made a quick, bright-eyed survey of everyone there, grinned at his father, then trotted first to his mother, to make her the very fine bow he had been practicing while she was gone. Blaunche, her sewing already put aside, clapped her hands in delight and drew him to her with admiring exclaims.
‘Father taught me,“ Robin said, wriggling up onto the seat beside her, between her and Master Geoffrey to whom he gave a quick smile, then leaned forward to grin at the nun on her other side.
‘And very well he taught you,“ Blaunche said, her arm around him, squeezing him to her, then letting him go as she added, ”This is Dame Claire. You should bow to her, too.“
Robin willingly slipped off the seat and made his bow again. Dame Claire, with dignity to match his own, bowed her head to him.
‘And there’s Dame Frevisse,“ Blaunche said. ”You should bow to her, too.“
Happy to show off his skill, Robin headed obediently away and John, held back by Nurse’s hand until then, shot forward to scramble up beside his mother and wrap his arms around her neck. Laughing, trying to keep her wimple and veil on with one hand, Blaunche managed with the other to swing him around and set him firmly on her lap. She was months away from being too great with child to have a lap and that was good because while Robin at five years old had begun to lengthen to long arms and legs, John at three and a half was still in the soft, round puppy stage and ever ready for the cuddle Blaunche was ever ready to give him. Happy to have her back, he set to telling her busily about everything that had happened to him, and Robert turned to Tacine. Still on Nurse’s hip, one foot swinging in idle beat against Nurse’s skirts and a knuckle in her mouth because she was not allowed to suck her thumb, she was regarding the proceedings solemnly until Robert held out his arms to her. Then she regarded him with equal solemnity before, all in an instant, mischief lighted her face and she flung herself out of Nurse’s hold and toward him. Both Robert and Nurse were ready for that and with practiced skill Nurse loosed her and Robert caught her, swung her up to make her burst into delighted laughter, and brought her down to settle her on his own hip. In their familiar game, he poked a quick finger into her ribs and she answered by puffing at his chin. He ducked from that as from a blow and she laughed again, burrowed her head into the curve of his shoulder, and then wriggled mightily to be set down. She rarely deigned to talk yet, probably because she could make her wishes known without it, and when Robert obliged her now by setting her down, she took him firmly by the hand and led him away to where their parlor toys were kept.
In a while, Blaunche sent John to join Tacine and his father and called Robin back to her from his earnest talk to Katherine and Dame Frevisse about something that had them both nodding agreement to him. Tacine took the chance to desert Robert for Katherine, leaving him to John’s demands and then with a fine sense of how much time there was until supper took her mother away, left Katherine to go to Blaunche, pressing against her skirts until she was noticed and lifted up onto her moth
er’s lap and held there while Blaunche went on questioning Robin about everything he had done while she was gone.
It bothered Robert that Blaunche so obviously preferred her sons to her daughter, but if it bothered Tacine, it did not stop her from taking a share of her mother’s attention when she wanted it and being happy with her father’s and anyone else’s—usually Benedict’s—the rest of the time. Benedict returned the pleasure by, most evenings, joining in readily to play with his halflings, but tonight he stayed where he was, turned as much away from Robert as might be and seeming to heed no one but Emelye who in return was gladly heeding only him.
With the distraction of the children and help from Dame Frevisse, Mistress Dionisia, and sometimes Katherine, talk kept away from places it should not go until, to Robert’s relief, they were called to supper. The children would stay playing in the parlor, letting them be somewhere other than their nursery for a while longer, be there when their parents came back from supper to bid them good night, and then be herded away to their beds. It was the usual way of things but as Nurse was drawing Tacine and Robin away from Blaunche and Robert was disentangling himself from John’s clutch around his neck, Katherine said, “I’m more tired than hungry, I think. I’ll stay with the children rather than come down to supper, please.”
The Squire’s Tale Page 10