The Cursed Wife

by Pamela Hartshorne

  To me, Cat is very solicitous, pushing cushions behind my back, encouraging me to rest, bringing me tasty dishes to my chamber to tempt my appetite. I squirm with guilt at that vile suspicion I had that she meant me harm. I must have been ill to think such a thing.

  It is nearly two weeks before I feel well enough to leave my chamber. I have been dreaming of sitting outside, but I am so weak still that Cecily has to help me down the stairs and I have to sit in the chair in the hall before I can make it as far as the bench in the garden. It is high summer at last, and the sun is warming the bricks beneath my feet. I turn my face up to the light and close my eyes. Here at the back of the house, the hustle and bustle of the street feels very distant. It should be peaceful, but it seems that even when things are blissfully silent, I am straining to hear that nightmare tune: now, now, now. I begin to think that I can hear it in the drowsy drone of the bees in the lavender. The sparrows chirruping around my feet cannot possibly be chirping in tune, but the harder I listen, the more certain I am that I can hear it, and I lift my hand to massage my throat against the feel of an invisible noose tightening.

  If only Gabriel would come home! I miss him. I have had to leave John to deal with the business. I’ve tried to ask him how things are, but he is worryingly evasive. He tells me all is well and that I should concentrate on getting better, but I don’t like the way the muscle jumps under his eye. He is short with everyone now, too. I barely recognise the merry young man who came home from Hamburg only a few months ago. Cecily tells me it is because of Cat.

  ‘She is toying with him, Mamma. Oh, she is well named! She plays with him just like a cat with a mouse. John brings her gifts and she just laughs at him. It is terrible to see the way she treats him. Can you not send her away?’ she demands.

  I worry at my scar. How can I tell her that Cat may stay as long as she likes? ‘I am sure you are exaggerating, Cecily,’ I start feebly but Cecily tosses her head.

  ‘I am not exaggerating! You must speak to her, Mamma!’

  So when Cat appears in the garden, I brace myself to talk about John, but she brushes me aside.

  ‘Never mind that,’ she says, and I notice for the first time that she is looking pale and edgy. ‘We have something more important to worry about. I have bad news.’

  ‘Gabriel?’ I am struggling to my feet in panic as she flaps a hand at me to sit.

  ‘No, not your precious husband.’ She glances over her shoulder and leans towards me. ‘Anthony,’ she says quietly.

  I am so relieved that Gabriel is safe that I cannot think at first who she means. ‘Who?’

  ‘Anthony! Where have your wits gone begging?’ she snaps. ‘Anthony, who was my lover. Anthony who was at Haverley Court.’

  ‘Oh . . . yes, of course.’ My mind is still on my husband. ‘What of him?’

  ‘He has found me,’ Cat says tensely. ‘And he has found you, too. He knows where we live. He knows exactly what we did, Mary, and he is going to make us pay.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Cat

  London, Little Wood Street, July 1590

  ‘Pay?’ You look blankly back at me. ‘What do you mean?’

  Dear God, what do you think I mean? Your illness has made you dull and stupid. I suck in a frustrated breath and make myself speak clearly, as if to a dolt. ‘He wants money,’ I say, separating out every word.

  ‘But . . . what for?’

  ‘For not bringing our world down around our ears just like that.’ I snap my fingers in front of your face, so close that you blink and jerk back. ‘Do you not understand? Anthony knows who I am, which means he knows who you are not. And he is talking about journeying to Wiltshire to see the coroner there, to tell him that he has just remembered how George really died. If we do not pay him, we will both hang. Do you want that?’

  Your hands go up to circle your neck as if you can feel the noose already, and when you speak at last, your voice is thin and scratchy. ‘Blackmail,’ is all you can manage.

  ‘Yes, blackmail,’ I say impatiently.

  Your eyes are unfocused as you stare ahead, and under your breath I hear you humming: now, now, now. Something about your expression sends a quick, convulsive shudder down my spine.

  ‘Mary,’ I say urgently. ‘You must concentrate!’

  You turn to me at last. ‘How did he find you?’

  ‘He found you. He saw you on your way to visit that wretched Blake child one day and guessed then where I had gone. He followed you, he said, and you brought him here. After that, he watched. I thought I was safe,’ I say, not bothering to hide my bitterness.

  It was Anthony who slipped the peacock feather into Cecily’s basket that day you fell ill. He was playing with me. Who knows better than he what the feather means? He was telling me that he had found me.

  I was on my guard after that, but we have been at sixes and sevens while you have been ill, and I have scarcely been out. It was only this morning that I ventured to market to buy eggs and cheese. The street was crowded and I was on the alert, but I still did not see Anthony until something tickled my cheek. A feather.

  I spun round, and there he was, Anthony, as handsome as ever, but with a cold gleam in his eyes. He mocked me with a flourishing bow. ‘Why, madam wife,’ he said, ‘I did not think to find you a maid again! Let us repair to the tavern to celebrate our reunion.’

  What could I do? I could not outrun him, and all I could hope was that I would be able to outfox him instead. So we went back to the Dog’s Head – ‘for old times’ sake’ Anthony said – and he shouted for wine, so I supposed his luck must have been good of late.

  ‘So, you thought to leave me, Cat,’ he said when we had our wine and we were facing each other across the rough wooden table. ‘That was not kind of you, was it?’ His eyes were hard, his lips twisted in a sneer I didn’t like.

  ‘I did not mean to,’ I said quickly. ‘I meant to come back and find you, Anthony. But I—’

  ‘Saw a better chance, and did not think to include me in it?’

  ‘Mary found me. She would not let me go back to you and I had no money,’ I said tearfully, but Anthony was not impressed.

  ‘As if anyone could ever withstand your wiles. If you had wanted to come back, you would have found a way, aye, and made her pay to help you.’

  ‘You do not know her.’

  ‘Oh, I remember her. I recognised that straight back of hers the moment I saw her in the street. She was ever cool and resourceful, as I recall. We would not have brushed through George’s death without her.’

  When he talked about how you took charge when George died, directing him to carry the corpse to the head of the stairs, to throw it down and position the body, how you dealt with the coroner, he sounded admiring. But so it is with many men, I have noticed. They like to be ordered about by women on occasion. You probably reminded him of his nurse, when he was her darling boykin.

  ‘There is one other here in London who remembers that night,’ Anthony said, and I stared at him.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Daniel.’

  ‘Daniel?’

  ‘George’s manservant. You remember him, I am sure.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ I said.

  ‘It is quite a coincidence, I agree. We have all found ourselves in London, but then again, they say all roads lead here in the end.’

  ‘Where did you meet him? I suppose you saw him in the street too?’

  ‘No, in a tavern which specialises in more . . . refined . . . tastes, where there are men who will pay well for the privilege of hurting or being hurt.’

  ‘And what were you doing there,’ I couldn’t help asking. ‘Or need I ask?’

  His mouth thinned. ‘Unlike you, dear Cat, I have not been living comfortably these last few months. A man does what he must to survive, when his sweetheart runs away and leaves him with no means of support. The cards have not been kind to me since you left.’

  There have been times over the last few years when I ha
ve wondered if he shared George’s tastes more than he claimed. I suppose I should be grateful that he never put me to work in such a place. Perhaps he would have done if I hadn’t met you, Mary.

  I nibbled at a thumbnail, not sure whether to believe him or not. ‘Did Daniel remember you?’

  ‘Of course he did, but not as well as he remembers you, my lady. Revenge has festered in his breast these twelve years. He would pay dearly to know where you are now. He has a plan to take you to Wiltshire and put you on trial for George’s death.’

  ‘And why not you too?’

  ‘Because you are the one who killed George. And I was able to persuade him that I had my own bone to pick with you. Let me but find her, I told him, and we can both have our revenge.’

  I drew back, my hand to my throat. ‘You cannot mean it!’

  ‘We think the new Lord Delahay would want to know exactly how his uncle died,’ Anthony said. ‘We think it our duty to present the facts, that Lady Delahay took a poker to her husband’s head. I am prepared to swear to it, and so is Daniel.’

  ‘Daniel was not there!’ I protested.

  ‘Perhaps not, but he has his suspicions. And I was, as you know, Cat, and I can swear in good faith. We think Lord Delahay would press for his uncle’s murderer to hang, lady or no lady.’

  Hang? You cannot know how I felt then, Mary! But I was thinking quickly.

  ‘There is one problem with that,’ I told him. ‘I am not Lady Delahay any more. Mary has taken my place, and she has a wealthy and powerful husband to protect her now.’ I leant over the table so I could put a hand on his arm. ‘Anthony, Daniel may be able to scrape together a few groats, but would you not rather have a hundred sovereigns?’

  Anthony paused, his goblet halfway to his mouth. ‘A hundred sovereigns?’

  ‘Mary’s husband is richer than you or I could have imagined. She married the merchant I refused. And he has no idea that the woman he wed is not Lady Catherine Delahay. Do you not think she would pay handsomely to keep that secret?’

  You had been living a lie, I told him. You were the one who had made the potion, after all. You had told me it was poisonous if given in too great a quantity, but you had still made it, and it had driven George mad.

  ‘Why should she not pay for the security she has now?’ I asked Anthony, and I smiled and rubbed my foot against his leg. ‘And why should you and I not share the profit? Forget Daniel. Revenge is a poor thing. It might satisfy him, but you are lustier than that, my love. We have a chance for a much more profitable partnership, the two of us together again.’

  I thought I had him, but Anthony grabbed my wrist and clamped it between his fingers so hard that I had to bite back a cry. ‘So you think I should just forgive you for running out on me? Why should I trust you now?’

  ‘Because you have a hold over me now. You can discover me to Daniel at any time. But this way, you will have me and the money to start afresh. What could we not do with a hundred sovereigns?’ I felt his grip relax a little. ‘But you will have to pretend to threaten me as well,’ I told him, and he laughed unpleasantly.

  ‘Why, that is easily done, sweetheart,’ he said.

  Now I assume a frightened expression and take your hand. ‘Anthony says that he and Daniel will testify against us both for George’s murder. It matters nothing that Daniel was not there. He will perjure himself with Anthony’s help. He will say you and I killed George.’

  ‘I did not kill him!’

  ‘You prepared the potion, Mary,’ I remind you. ‘It was a poison, you said that yourself, and it drove him mad in the end. I was only defending myself. But the jury will not care for that. They will hang both of us unless we can make Anthony go away. He wants a hundred sovereigns,’ I whisper, and you gape at me.

  ‘A hundred sovereigns! I cannot find such a sum!’

  ‘Your husband has left you in charge of his business. You cast the accounts when he is gone. You must be able to find a hundred sovereigns somewhere.’

  ‘I cannot help myself to Gabriel’s profits!’

  ‘Then ask John. Say you need it to invest. Say it is to be a surprise for your husband.’

  ‘I cannot,’ you say, rubbing your palm over your scarred hand.

  ‘Mary, you must,’ I say firmly. ‘Or do you wish us both to hang?’

  Rub, rub, rub. I almost strike at your hands to make you stop.

  ‘Of course not,’ you say at last. You swallow. ‘Very well, I will ask John tonight. But even he will not be able to find such a sum immediately. Will Anthony wait?’

  ‘He will if I tell him it is coming.’

  You are grey with fatigue by the time John comes home, and he looks scarcely better. Perhaps I have been a little hard on him, but what started as a harmless flirtation to annoy you spiralled too quickly into obsession on his part, and that is hardly my fault, is it?

  I slip out to find Anthony in a tavern round the corner. I am tired of the Dog’s Head. The Rose and Crown is much less raucous but still has plenty of shadowy corners. I tell Anthony that you are going to find a hundred sovereigns and he shouts with jubilant laughter.

  ‘A hundred sovereigns! By God, Cat, we have wasted years a-gambling. We should have tried our hands at blackmail a long time ago. Easy money, if she comes through with it.’

  ‘She will,’ I say confidently.

  ‘Aye, I’ll wager you know how to manage her,’ he says with a smirk.

  I know how to manage him too. I marvel at how long I spent looking over my shoulder, being afraid, when all I had to do was show him how to make a profit. He tells me that when he first found me, he was hot for revenge, but now that I am here – he squeezes my knee through my demure gown – he is hot for me instead.

  I am giddy with excitement and the wine, and what harm can it do to let Anthony have what he wants? Besides, I am hot for him too. I have spent too many nights imagining you and Gabriel together while I lie alone. So I let him take me back to the rooms he rents in Seething Lane, near the Tower. A great improvement on the stinking hovel we shared before I met you, I have to admit.

  ‘My luck has changed,’ he says as he shovels up my skirts. ‘I told you it would.’

  No miserable mattress this time, but a bed. Not as good a bed as yours, mind, but still, I had almost forgotten how it feels to go at it with abandon. If nothing else, Anthony was always good at that.

  And yet, when he is pounding into me and I am on the verge of breaking, it is your husband’s face I picture, Mary. It is the thought of him that tips me over the edge with a shudder of release.

  Afterwards, I lie with Anthony, both breathing hard, and it is almost like old times. I want him. I want Gabriel. I want respectability and I want the excitement of playing a chance. I want money. I want to be you, and I want to be myself, too.

  I want everything.

  Two days later, you call me to your chamber. ‘Here.’ You hand me four heavy bags of coins, piling them into my arms until I buckle beneath their weight. ‘Anthony must be satisfied with this.’ You blink tears of fury from your eyes.

  ‘I cannot carry all this at once.’ I wish I could run round to Anthony’s rooms and toss the coins everywhere, but I have not thought about the weight of it. Foolish of me. I hesitate. ‘I am afraid of what Anthony will do to me if I take only a portion. He must come here.’

  ‘I do not want to see him,’ you say instantly.

  ‘You need not.’ I put on my best soothing voice as I set the bags back on the table. I am itching to dig my hand into all that gold and let the coins run through my fingers. ‘I will deal with him.’

  ‘I have a good mind to have the constable waiting for him!’

  I raise my brows. ‘That is a risk,’ I say. ‘What if Anthony counters with his accusation against us? Can we afford any suspicion of what happened in Wiltshire?’

  ‘Oh no, I suppose not!’ You are pacing up and down, fretting at your scar. ‘I wish to God there was some way out of this. How will I explain such a loss to Gabr
iel?’

  ‘Your husband loves you. He will forgive you.’

  ‘You may tell your husband that I will not forgive him,’ you snap. ‘Tell him there will be no more after this.’

  Oho, your temper is definitely on edge. I lower my eyes so you do not see the flash of satisfaction. I should not enjoy seeing you agitated, Mary, but I am afraid that I do. You have always been so calm, so capable. Easy to let nothing ruffle you when life has been as easy as yours. It feels good to be the one that is in control for once.

  Of course, I must not let you see just how powerful I am.

  ‘I will, I promise.’ I hang my head cravenly and let humility creep into my voice. ‘If it were not for you, I would be facing the hangman. I am so grateful for everything you have done, Mary.’

  ‘Sweet Jesu, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?’

  Definitely on edge.

  I hunch my shoulders and turn my head away as if from a blow, but it lets me hide a smile too. ‘Your pardon. But I have been so afraid that Anthony would go to the coroner. That I would be asked where I got the potion, that they would not listen when I told them that you were only trying to help me.’ No harm in reminding you that you have as much to lose as I. ‘The coroner will not see how George beat and whipped me. The bruises are long gone now. It is only the ones inside that remain.’

  A strange expression sweeps across your face. ‘I know.’ Really, I almost shake my head. Is there anything you won’t believe? ‘I am sorry I snapped at you,’ you say. ‘I just wish things could be different.’

  You wish things could be different? You with your wealthy merchant and your comfortable house? You who have everything that once was mine.

  ‘Tell Anthony to come and collect the money,’ you say, as I struggle to conceal my rage. ‘I do not want any more to do with it.’

  So I am to do your dirty work for you.

  When I send for Anthony, he comes to the door complete with new clothes and a stolid manservant. He is all smiles and bows, while I make sure I play the part of the victim, just in case you are watching from the stairs. I would be. I tell Amy that I have business on your behalf and that she should leave us alone in Gabriel’s closet.