City of Ladies

by Sarah Kennedy

Elizabeth pouted, and her hand came out as though to slap, but Catherine caught her wrist. The child squirmed and squealed, but Catherine hung on.

  “It matters not a flea to me whether you are the king’s daughter or my bitch’s whelp. You will not strike your teachers.”

  Elizabeth went slack and Catherine set her back on her feet.

  “Oh no, little lady, none of those games. You have legs like any girl, and you will stand upon them.”

  The child glared silently. Finally, she put out her hand, as though in greeting.

  Catherine shook it. “That is a proper greeting. I am glad to make your acquaintance, Lady Elizabeth. My name is Catherine Overton.”

  “It is a miracle,” said Lady Bryan.

  Catherine said, “It is simple firmness. One could find it taught in a dairymaid’s home.” She directed her eyes onto Elizabeth. “If I had acted so when I was your age, my mother would have whipped me to kingdom come and let me go hungry along the way.”

  “I have no mother,” said the child.

  Catherine’s heart shriveled with pity. “You have women about you who will love and care for you.”

  Lady Bryan was watching with narrowed eyes. “You will help Kat teach the girl comportment and manners. You will read to her and instruct her in her letters as needed. You will spend most of your time on her diet and on . . . other matters. Is this agreeable?”

  “I will stay,” said Catherine. She stood now and faced Lady Bryan. “But only if I might have something in return.”

  21

  Catherine rode to Hatfield House every day with Eleanor and two of Benjamin’s men, and for the first week they returned to Davies House every evening. William was always waiting at the door as Catherine dropped from her saddle with the same questions. “What news? Are they pleased with you?”

  And Catherine’s answer was always the same. “The girl seems pleased with me, but she is a child and children have moods.”

  The conversation varied by no more than a few words. “Good, good,” William might say. Or “We are made at last.” He rubbed his hands together too often, and Catherine would wait until Eleanor was safely on the ground with the baby, then she would motion for the pony to be taken away.

  At the end of the seventh day, William introduced a new question. “What do you school the child in?”

  Eleanor snorted, and when William scowled at her, Catherine said, “Manners. The little one has been let to run wild.”

  Benjamin appeared at the door that day, leaning against the jamb and crossing his arms. The weather was warmer, and he raised his face to the new sun. “Have they got you on your knees to that brat yet?”

  “It is the only way to be with her at all. She is no bigger than Robert.” Catherine held her hand flat beside her thigh. “She is only that high.” Veronica cried, and Catherine took her. “She misbehaves because she lacks her parents.” She turned a look on William.

  William colored under his chin. “Come inside.” He took her arm, but before they could move, a rider came careering into the courtyard. His gelding skidded to a stop, almost landing on its hindquarters. The man slid to the ground and looked from Benjamin to William and back again.

  “Have I the good fortune to find William Overton of Yorkshire?”

  “I am William Overton. Who are you?”

  “I am sent by the constable in Havenston. He has sent a letter for you. And is this lady Catherine Overton?”

  “You see me standing here,” said Catherine. “I can answer for myself.”

  “I only wish to be relieved of my burden. This comes from your woman at Overton House.” He handed letters to both William and Catherine and bowed.

  “Will you go around to the kitchen and refresh yourself?” asked Benjamin.

  The man nodded. “May I wait for an answer?” The horse blew froth from his nostrils and the man yanked the reins.

  William nodded, already walking into the house.

  “Leave your mount in the stable.” Benjamin pointed the way. “And I will have victuals and drink set for you in the kitchen.”

  “Your servant, sir.” The messenger bowed and walked the horse to the side path.

  As soon as he was out of sight, Catherine, following her husband, ripped open the sealed note.

  “Come to the table where the light is not so harsh,” said Benjamin. “The news cannot be so dire as to keep a cup of wine from drowning it.”

  Catherine was already reading by the time they sat at the big table. A goblet was set at her elbow, but she ignored it.

  My Dearest Catherine,

  This letter comes from the pen of Hannah Hoskins but the mind of Ann Smith. Ruth has been found in the same manner of Joan. Her body was buried among the gorses west of the House. She was found by the hunting dogs of one Master Muckenfuss, who was chasing down a fox when the hounds led him to her. The constable has been called and asks questions, but we have no killer yet. He reports that the king’s men will come to set matter right. Ruth’s throat shows the same marks of violence. Direct me and I will follow your orders. Come home or I will come to you. There is much danger here.

  Yours, etc—

  Ann Smith

  “Ruth is murdered,” said Catherine, throwing the letter onto the table. Her chest was heavy, as though a pile of stones lay around her heart. “She was throttled in the same way as Joan.”

  Eleanor, sitting in a corner, yelped, “Ruth is dead?”

  “Dead as Joan. She has been found in the gorse like an animal. William, what will you do?”

  William had laid down his letter and pinched his lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “This is from the constable. He has questioned everyone he knows, to no end. He asks me to return home to see to my household. I suppose the time is right if I am to begin a drapery.”

  “Ann asks the same of me.”

  “She has no right.” William’s voice was hot, and he grabbed up Catherine’s letter. “You will not be summoned by Ann Smith.” He skimmed the message and laid it down. He swallowed. “You have work here.”

  “I would like to bring her to me. And Robert. For their safety.”

  William leaned on the table to speak. “Why do you fret? Joan and Ruth were strangers to Overton House, women who came as beggars to our door. We don’t know what enemies they might have made down in the village, poking their noses into other men’s families.”

  “They were under my care and direction,” said Catherine. Her eyes were on the letters, and she watched them close slowly on their own creases. She couldn’t look at her husband. “They were good women who tried to teach the girls in the village. There is no harm in that. And no crime, either.”

  Benjamin put out his hands as though to separate the couple. “This is no place for a debate upon women’s education. I have always held that a woman needs a little training to be a good mother.”

  Catherine raised her eyes to William. “Agrippa holds that women have capacities superior to those of men. I studied my whole girlhood away and it has not damaged me.”

  Benjamin drank. “Not a whit. I hope my Diana might be half the scholar that you are. You’re as fine a lady as any in the land, Catherine, except when you quarrel with your husband.”

  “We are not quarreling,” said William, sitting again. “We are deciding upon a course of action, like reasonable Christians. I do not think Ann Smith would be the prey of a killer. She is strong as an ox.” He tried out half a smile.

  Catherine’s chest muscles softened and she took William’s hand. “She’s solid enough. But Hannah is old, and Teresa is fitful. She cannot care for everyone.”

  “Then they should go to their families, Catherine. I have said this before now.”

  “Listen to your man,” said Benjamin. “You’re young and beautiful and witty. Why waste your talents being a nursemaid?”

  Catherine felt that her tongue had been touched with fire. “Is that not precisely what I am every day at my husband’s request?”

  Benj
amin leaned forward and thumbed Catherine’s goblet toward her. “Drink. Calm yourself. Your nursemaiding here will raise you up a pot of money if the child continues in her affection for you. The bastard likes you, doesn’t she?”

  “She does, as it happens,” said Catherine. “And the ladies of the house do, too.” She looked from Benjamin back to William. “And they would like to have Robert here as a playmate for Elizabeth. They have already agreed that I should bring him. They expect him. I think the timing is auspicious. And we would not want to jeopardize my position by refusing.” She took a long draught of wine.

  Benjamin roared. “Well played, lady. You will be a rich and famous woman yet.” He sat back and linked his fingers across his flat belly. “William, your wife is as good a bargainer as any I have seen, and I think you owe her a son.”

  William looked again at the letter from the constable and sighed. “You have trumped me, indeed, Catherine. And since it seems I am called north, I will fetch the boy myself. Will that satisfy you?”

  “I suppose it must,” said Catherine, “if I cannot go myself.”

  “You must give me your word you will continue with Elizabeth. You must do it without complaint if we are to be preferred with the court.”

  Benjamin went to deliver the reply to the messenger, and Catherine pushed her letter into her pocket. The rosary was there, and she crushed the paper against it to keep the beads from rattling. “I will continue serving the king’s daughter, if you require it, William,” she said. Her hand was still curled around the crucifix. She told herself that it was not precisely a lie.

  22

  They all retired early that evening, and Catherine was still wide awake when William slid into the bed beside her. He pulled her to him, lifting her thick hair away to nuzzle her neck. His beard tickled, and she pulled him closer.

  “You still want my touch, Catherine?” He moved his hands down, over her breasts and flanks.

  Catherine raised her head and parted the curtain to be sure the door to Eleanor’s room was closed. “I have never ceased wanting it. Not from the first time I felt your eyes on me. It sinks my spirits like stones in a pond when we disagree.”

  Now he stroked her arm with his thumb. “I was terrified that God would strike me with a thunderbolt for touching a nun, but there you were, with your herbs in one hand and your book in the other. I thought I had seen an angel in the flesh.” He kissed her collarbone and breathed in deeply. “I have always wanted what is best for you.”

  “I believe that,” she said, lying back on the pillow. His hand was on her thigh, and she felt herself loosen toward him. “I am still tender, William.”

  “You have always been tender. But are you healed?”

  “I believe I can manage a way,” she said, turning back the heavy covers. “Let me touch you as you touch me.” She felt his skin stiffen and she ran her fingertips over the soft hair of his chest and belly. She traced the outline of each muscle as she went. “There. You see?”

  But William had no more words for the moment. Catherine pulled the light sheet over them as his hands came over her. He moved above her, and she let herself fall open to the heat of him. He made a low sound, from his throat, and then she was falling into a warm place, like a pool in summer, and she closed her eyes and allowed the waves to draw her out of herself.

  Afterward, they slept wound in each other’s arms, and when Catherine opened her eyes again, the sun was high in the window. William flopped onto his back, snoring with his mouth open. She stretched, and her body felt lithe and young. She had dreamt nothing. She could hear Eleanor talking to Veronica in the next room. Her son would soon be with her. She smiled and shoved the curtain open.

  “Madam?” said Eleanor, poking her head around the door. “Are you ready to break your fast?”

  William opened his eyes. He blinked a few times, then sat up. “You women will sleep all day, will you?” He flapped the covers, and Catherine squealed, jumping out the other side. “You girls are as lazy as the day is long. I must ride today.” He leapt out in nothing but his long shirt and came around to chase Catherine, but she ran into the nursery with a screaming Eleanor. They collapsed against the cradle, laughing.

  “I will eat all the bread,” called William.

  They heard him pull on his breeches and slam the bedroom door. The two women looked at each other, and the moment’s pleasure was gone. Catherine knew they were both remembering the letter. Eleanor was already dressed, and she handed the baby over for nursing. Gathering Catherine’s clothing, she said, “I will lay these out in your bedchamber while you bathe.”

  Catherine took her time over the basin. The water was cold but clear and sweet-smelling, and she wiped her neck and belly with the soft cloth. She soaped under her arms and between her legs, and by the time she was ready to put on her shift, she tingled all over. Eleanor was brushing the green skirt, and she helped Catherine into her bodice and sleeves, then pulled her hair back and twisted it onto her head.

  Catherine said, “William will bring Robert when he returns. Perhaps Ann will come and we will have part of our family again.”

  Eleanor pinned down a stray curl before she fitted the coif on. “I can feel your joy, at least at that,” she said, tucking more of Catherine’s hair under the linen. “You will leap out of your own skin, Madam.”

  “I may indeed. Come, let’s put on our best faces. Our food is waiting for us.” Catherine went with dry eyes from the room, Eleanor behind her.

  Eleanor went on down to the kitchen, and Catherine joined William and Benjamin in the gallery. The men were not talking, and she slid onto one of the wide benches across from her husband.

  “Is there anything you would like to tell me before I go, Wife?” said William. He was not smiling now.

  “Tell you? To ride safely and return swiftly?”

  William glanced at Benjamin, who looked down at his plate. “Anything? Have you a confession to make?”

  Catherine’s hand stopped in the middle of reaching for a cup. “Do you play the priest now, William? What ails you?”

  William lifted the rosary from the bench he sat upon and laid it beside Catherine’s knife. “What is this?”

  Catherine shivered. She did not touch the beads. “It is a rosary. You know as well as I do.”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “From the church is my guess.”

  William glared over the board. “Do not mince words with me, Catherine. Not today. I found this on the floor of our bedchamber just now.”

  Catherine stared at the small Christ nailed to the wooden cross. “The king’s daughter gave it to me,” she whispered.

  “The king’s daughter? You mean Mary? Mary Tudor?”

  “I do.” Catherine’s voice was barely audible. “She stays in the rooms upstairs.”

  “And is that where you spend your days?”

  “No!” Now Catherine stood. “Mary’s health is delicate and I am needed to prepare her meals so that she may retain her privacy. I am ordered to do it. I am called upon to examine her for signs of illness and adjust her diet.” Catherine lifted the beads and closed her fingers over them. “She gave these to me in thanks. You know her religion. She considered it dear.”

  William stared at her fist. “And you? What did you consider it?”

  “I considered it a part of my service to the household. A service I was ordered to by you. It would have been a rudeness to refuse them. And I knew you would act just as you are acting if I showed them to you.”

  Benjamin had sat silent all the while, and now he cleared his throat. “If the older daughter is in the house, she will not be ignored, William. She is strong-minded, I assure you. Your wife is in no position to say her nay, not if she is to stay in their service.”

  William blinked and sat again. “She could be arrested,” he said to the air before him. “She could be charged with treason.”

  “For accepting a gift from the Lady Mary?” asked Benjamin. “Her stubbornness
in the matter of her faith is widely known.” He lifted the beads from Catherine’s fingers and dropped them. “It’s not such a crime these days as it once was to have them.”

  “But you have been carrying them?” William directed his words to Catherine. “You keep them about you?”

  Catherine sat up perfectly straight, though she felt a small tug in her spine. “Did you find them upon me?”

  “No.” William thrust his fingers through his hair. “You are a mistress of prevarication, Catherine. Let me be direct. Do you hear mass with this king’s daughter?”

  “I have not heard mass with her.” This was the truth, and Catherine’s chest warmed as she answered. She could breathe more easily. “She is in the house, William, and I must see to the meals. I cannot ignore her. Listen to Benjamin. No one else in the house would deny her.”

  “But you neglected to tell me,” he said miserably.

  “Listen to yourself and you will know why.”

  “You win the day again,” William said, “and I must be upon the road. But promise me this before I go: that you will put that icon away where it will not be found. Do not carry it about your person.”

  “That I will vow.”

  Reginald came to the doorway. “Jupiter is saddled, Master.”

  Catherine followed the men out. The stallion was pawing the gravel, and Reg took the reins from the stable boy.

  William was examining the leather strap that held the right stirrup, and Catherine came up behind him. “So you forgive my hard words?” he asked.

  “There is nothing to forgive,” she said. “We are all wound on a rack.”

  He kissed her on the mouth, then wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly against him. “I will not see you in prison. I will die before I will see you in prison. I will be back before you can count one hundred. You will keep in the graces of that royal child while I am gone, Catherine? The little one, I mean?”

  “If I’m able.” Catherine did not meet his eyes when he let her loose.