Catherine and William tumbled out of their saddles, stretching their cramped limbs, and Eleanor followed, gazing up at the house with big eyes.
“Master Benjamin,” the man said. He bowed slightly farther from the waist. It seemed to pain him.
“Jack, you might at least say hello to our guests.” Benjamin guided Catherine forward with one hand on her back. William stepped up beside them. “William Overton. You have met him before. Years back. Robert Overton’s younger brother. This is Catherine, his wife.”
The man bowed stiffly again.
“This is Jack Huff, Catherine. He runs my household in my absence. He was my mother’s father’s man before mine. How many years have you, Jack?”
“More years than a man should see.” Jack shook his grey head. “The world alters too fast for my eyes. Can’t hardly recognize my own face in the glass.” He squinted at William. “I know you, young man. I recall you from some seasons back. You had a big laugh once. You were headed to be a priest.”
William peered upward. “There was more jesting to be done in those times. With age comes a sober disposition. And different callings.”
“’Tis true,” said Jack. “Old Fortune sends a boy flying upward on her wheel, and when he begins to enjoy the flight, she flings him down.”
“Enough philosophy,” said Benjamin. “We’ve been on the road for hours and we want refreshment.”
The interior of the house was almost as dark as the outside, and Benjamin sighed as he threw off his cloak and hat. The walls of the entryway were lined with old, cracked portraits and musty tapestries, and the staircase to the left sagged from decades of feet. Benjamin led them into a gallery where a plank table had been newly illuminated with tapers at either end. Catherine swiped her finger around the candlestick and found dust and grease thick enough to leave a print upon the metal. The place seemed like a dungeon.
“Sit, sit. We will eat and drink before we sleep.” Benjamin threw himself into a wooden armchair and propped his boots on the corner of the table. Eleanor hovered, holding the baby, at the door, and Benjamin waved her in. “Come on, girl, the kitchen maids are all in their beds. There’s a spot for you by the window.”
Catherine nodded and Eleanor took a three-legged stool by the side table. Catherine herself slid onto a short bench next to Benjamin. William sat across from her and gazed around the room. “The last time I was here, I was with Robert. Jack’s memory is good. I was still planning on the priesthood. Do you remember?”
“Do I? It was I who told you to change your mind before Cromwell took it off your shoulders with the rest of your head. A priest.” Benjamin spat onto the floor. “You were no more made to be a priest than Catherine was meant for the convent.”
Catherine felt her cheeks go hot yet again and was suddenly glad for the darkness.
“You see why I keep a house in London,” Benjamin said. A boy entered and set out bread and wine and cheese. He put his hand against his mouth to conceal a yawn as he bowed and retreated. One of his stockings had rolled down around his ankle. “This place is only fit for the dead and the dying. And for you, little Jack.” The boy stopped, blinking. “This is old Jack’s grandson. Stepping into your familial shoes, are you, boy?”
“Yessir.” The boy looked from Benjamin to William to the floor.
“Well, you had better make sure that you don’t trip over them.” The boy spotted the weary stocking and yanked it into place, but it sagged again as soon as he let go. Benjamin laughed and broke the bread. “Go to bed, little Jack. We’ll worry about your livery in the morning.”
“Yessir.” The boy continued backing up until he was out of sight.
Benjamin poured them all drinks, and Catherine passed a cup to Eleanor.
“The conversation is as sparkling as the furniture,” said Benjamin. He emptied his cup.
“The sheepfolds are still full, though?” asked William.
“Full and plump,” said Benjamin. “The whole world wants English wool. We played our hands right in that, Will. If we build our own draperies, we’ll be two of the richest men on the island.”
Catherine’s eyes found the ceiling, painted with unicorns and Tudor roses, but they looked older than the decorations in Benjamin’s London house. The air was damp and she felt she’d grow mold on her eyelashes if she didn’t move soon. She glanced over her shoulder. Eleanor’s head was drooped over the baby. “So this is why you keep it? For the sheep?”
“There is only one other reason,” said Benjamin. “Hatfield House is within two hours’ ride. And the king seems to like to pen up his children there for fattening.” He drank again and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Between you and your husband and me, we’re going to shear them, too.”
17
The sun was barely up when Catherine was on her pony once more, headed back east toward Hatfield House. Still sleepy and sore from the previous day, she dawdled behind William and Benjamin. The light had reached the skeleton tops of the trees when they rode through a garden up to a wide doorway. Two men stood sentry, noses in the air, as though to help her from her saddle, but Catherine was on the ground before they moved. William jumped down beside her, and they gazed up the red façade.
“It puts me in mind of Kimbolton. Do you remember?” William murmured.
“How could I forget?” Catherine choked down the butterflies in her throat. Queen Katherine had been there, old and sick, and she had run away from William, after he had risked reputation to follow her there. The day before she had first taken him into her. “I was still a nun,” she added. A quick laugh shot from her. “I believe I knew that my old life was over before I crossed the moat.” She glanced around. “No water here. No, it is not like Kimbolton, except in our minds.”
“Do you want me to beg your forgiveness?” He took her arm. “I have never regretted one day, Catherine. Not one.”
“Not even the day Robert was born?”
He let his eyes drift from her to the house and she could see him smile at the future he imagined. “I took you as you were. Robert is my son.”
Catherine put her head on his shoulder. “And I am your wife.”
“Ah. Lovebirds.” A man came to the open doorway with Benjamin. He was not smiling. “Come in before you scandalize us all.”
“You are John Shelton? Sir John?” William moved forward to shake his hand.
“And you are William Overton.” His hand moved into William’s.
A woman came out behind Shelton. She headed straight toward Catherine, already scrutinizing her. “And you are the nun?”
Catherine curtsied and rose. “Once Catherine Havens, now Catherine Overton. I was a nun at Mount Grace convent, but now I am reformed and am wife to William Overton. I hope I can be of service.”
“We all hope that. Come inside and let’s look you over.” She retreated into the front hall, and Catherine followed. William lingered with Benjamin and Sir John, and she saw him wink as the door closed behind her. “Come in here, Catherine Overton who is no longer a nun. I am Lady Bryan, and I oversee the care of the Lady Elizabeth.”
They turned right into a bright gallery. A fire burned in a large hearth, but it was halfway down the room and Catherine felt none of its heat. She pulled her cloak around her and sat in the chair indicated by the other woman. It was stiff, and she was forced to perch on the edge, propping her weight on her toes. Above her was an array of unhappy-looking portraits. Old women with prunes for mouths. Scowling men with jewels on their fingers. A dog. Two young girls, side by side, in identical frocks. Catherine could see her own breath on the air.
“Now tell me. What are you doing here?” The woman pulled another chair close to Catherine’s and sat with an officious thump.
“I was called to serve the daughter of the king. Or so my husband tells me.”
“What can you do?”
Catherine considered this. “I can read and write, in both Latin and English. I have practiced translation of the Holy Scriptu
re and I can do illuminations.”
“Is that all?”
“I can keep accounts if the numbers are simple enough. I am disastrous with a needle, however, I must warn you.”
The woman’s face softened a little. One corner of her mouth lifted. “The little one dislikes sewing. We have women to teach her embroidery already and maids to do the mending. But come. You are a physician, are you not?”
“Who says I am?”
“Your husband. He told Benjamin Davies, who told my husband. He reports that you have the skill of Galen. What say you? Is this a lie?”
Catherine took a breath and held it. Let it out while she counted five. “It is forbidden for a woman to be called a physician. I would hold it a more accurate truth to say that I have studied the properties of plants. I have some experience with surgeries. I can set a broken limb. I can pull a rotten tooth. I have midwifed live children into the world. I can stitch an open wound, if the needle is big enough and the patient is not too particular about the beauty of his cicatrice.”
Now the woman laughed out loud. “What do you know of cookery?”
“I know that what goes into the mouth flavors the entire body. I have made study of the use of greens and young herbs as preventive physic as well as ornaments to the taste of a meal.”
“And what would you do for a patient with particular appetites?”
Catherine sat back in the chair and dust puffed around her face, drifting into the strips of sunbeam from the long windows. “I would see to the condition of her urine. The color of her skin and eye-whites. The hardness and smoothness of her fingernails and toenails. If she seemed in otherwise good health, I would let her eat what she craved. A woman with child is very particular. If she had a yellow cast, I would add fennel to her salads. If she were thin, I would add richer meats and butter her bread. I would be sure she had good thick ale.”
Lady Bryan coughed gently. She lifted herself from the seat, smoothing her skirt in the back, and went to one of the windows. She fingered back the drape, then dropped it. “Why do you suppose I was referring to a woman?”
“I would do the same for a girl. A child, even, if she were old enough to be weaned.”
“Why did you suppose I meant a female?”
Catherine tried to see the other woman’s expression, but she was a shadow against the glass. “I would suppose that a man would prefer a physician. A man like himself.”
“The prince stays here. Did you know that?”
“Prince Edward?” Catherine’s stomach twisted and her mind went windy. “I have not been called to serve the prince.”
“You have been told this?”
“No. But I am not suited for it.” Lady Bryan’s face showed nothing, and Catherine rushed on. “I cannot lay hands upon the prince. Upon any royal male. It is a man’s office.” Her fingers were numb and shaking, and she searched for something to lean upon. There was nothing nearby to mask her.
“Rest easy, child. You have answered rightly. The boy stays on the other side of the house. He has women enough to tend him. And men. But I have another test for you. I have a pain myself and I would have a remedy.” She sat again and motioned for Catherine to lean forward. Then she scooted the chair closer. “I suffer a woman’s pains. I am in the change of life, and my breasts hurt me so that I cannot sleep at night. Tell me what I should do, lady healer of women.”
“I will need to examine you. Is there a private room?”
The woman motioned for Catherine to join her in a small sitting room. “This is mine, for my meditations.” There was only one small window, and Catherine put back the shutters while Lady Bryan fastened the door behind them.
“Open your bodice and come into the light.” Catherine waited for the woman to loosen her clothing. She seemed to be a normal aging woman, with wrinkled, sagging breasts. “Do you notice any matter from your dugs? Any twisting of the nipple or knots in the skin?”
“No.”
“May I touch you?”
“There is nothing but an old woman’s hide.”
Catherine kneaded and pushed, but she found no object living under the skin. “You have had no growth? Felt nothing pushing outward? No pain like a needle inside you?”
“I just ache like I’ve a hot devil on my chest.”
Catherine nodded. “You will wet cabbage leaves in heated water until they are soft and lay them against the skin. The outer ones will do if you have older vegetables in your cellar. Let them stay for at least an hour before you retire. Then wrap your bosom in soft, warm linen and sleep facing upward.”
“That is all?”
“Drink a large glass of good wine before you retire to bed. I believe it will help you.”
“If it does, you will have a place with us. I will send for you.” She led Catherine back to the front doorway and Catherine squinted into the cold sunlight. William was still outside, in conversation with John Shelton and Benjamin Davies. The men turned and Lady Bryan nodded. “If you hear nothing,” she added softly, “do not come back here.”
18
Catherine was dazed all the way back to the Davies House and could barely drag herself to the table. The men laughed and drank, but Catherine could take only a glass of wine and a bite of bread before she called Eleanor to bring Veronica to her chamber.
The maid laid the baby in the cradle and waited to help Catherine into bed. “What was it like, Madam? Did you see the princess?”
Catherine sat, laid her head back, and let Eleanor take down her hair before unlacing her bodice. “No, but the prince is there.”
“No! The little prince?”
“There’s not a large one, to my knowledge,” said Catherine.
Eleanor began brushing Catherine’s hair. “It will be like the tales of old. You will see them grow up and marry and the prince will take himself a bride.” Eleanor sighed and let the bristles hang in Catherine’s curls.
“You listen to too many midnight stories,” said Catherine, shaking her hair loose. “I saw no one but an old woman with an aching chest. Hand me the baby before I become just like her.”
Eleanor pulled off Catherine’s bodice and sleeves, and Catherine climbed between the sheets in her shift. The cloth smelt musty, like dry weeds. Catherine’s eyes filled against the scent and she wiped her face on the pillow.
The maid sat beside her on the bed. “It must have been thrilling, though, Madam. Was it not? To know that the prince was there? The Prince of Wales!”
“It would thrill me more deeply to know that my son was here.”
“Yes, Madam.” Eleanor, pouting a little, laid Veronica beside her, and Catherine fell asleep with the baby at her breast.
The pounding on the bedroom door woke Catherine with a start from a dream of Joan, walking toward her through the gorse. Joan was saying something, but the words blew away on the wind as she opened her eyes. It was morning, and William was beside her in the sheets. The knocking continued, and her husband threw back the curtains, shouting “What is it, in God’s name? You’ll wake Hell itself.”
The door swung inward as he got up, and Benjamin walked in. “Call me a devil if you will, but I have news.” He slapped William on the back. “Get your lady onto her horse, man. She’s wanted.”
“I can get myself up, I think,” said Catherine.
“Well, do it. And bring the baby. She’ll charm the whiskers off the old ladies.” Benjamin hit William again as he left.
William bounded back to the bed, leaping in next to Catherine. He pulled her into his arms and nuzzled her neck. “You see? We are made. Ha, love, you thought me a simple man of dreams, did you not?” He kissed her on the mouth and pushed her backward. “And soon enough we can get started making a little brother for our Veronica.”
“You.” Catherine lay back and pulled his hands onto her. “I am not as maidenly as I was, even after being churched. I’m fatter.”
“Churched, churched. That business is for country girls anyway. We’ll have our church righ
t here under our sheets.” He pulled the blanket over her head and pulled up her shift easing his hands along her thighs. “I love you when you’re like this.”
Catherine lifted the cover and watched him nose her belly. “You mean when I’m unbathed and naked?”
He chuckled and crawled back up to her. “When you’re warm and soft from a baby. But we have orders to get up, so up we go.” He leapt from the bed again and gave her his hand.
They were at the table breaking their fast within the half-hour. Catherine was in her green bodice and skirt with the gold embroidery, and Eleanor wore a plain dress of the same hue. “They will love you,” said Benjamin, snapping his fingers for more ale and bread. “And if they love you, the king will love me and your husband.” A man appeared in the doorway, cap in hand, and Benjamin stood. “Eat your last, ladies. The horses are ready.”
Catherine jammed a wad of bread into her mouth and brushed herself off. Eleanor grabbed half a loaf and the baby. The ponies were moving almost before they were settled onto the saddles.
The men talked quietly all the way, and Catherine watched the sun rise on her new life. She couldn’t shake the image of Joan from her mind, though, and she rode in silence.
A trio of women, huddled at the door of Hatfield House, awaited their arrival. Eleanor hung back as they rode up, but at the sight of Veronica, the serving women surrounded her and pulled her forward. “Look at the hair!” one said. “She will be a poppet for the princess. The Lady Elizabeth. We will take her while you get yourself acquainted.” They trotted off around the side toward the lower rooms with Eleanor still on her pony, and Catherine was left alone until Lady Bryan appeared. She waved William off without a word while Catherine dismounted and handed her reins to a groomsman.
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