A glow came to Mary’s eyes, and she took a seat, but her back was straight, and she rubbed her hands in excitement. There was a strength in her, Stuart saw, though it was not obvious at first glance. There had to be strength within her in order for her to endure all Henry’s neglect and ill-treatment. She stared into his face and said, “I’d bring England back to the true faith. No more beheadings, no more fear. I would love my people. I think, Stuart, they long to return to the old faith, but my father made that impossible.”
“I could never keep up with your father’s religious views.”
“I don’t think he has a firm grasp on them himself, but I would bring my people out of heresy and back into the true church, the Catholic Church.”
There was a light of fanaticism in Mary’s eyes. Stuart shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his chair. He had thought it through, and like the great majority of Englishmen, he had no desire to see England turned back into a Catholic nation. But he made himself sit still, listening, as Mary began to tell him about her plans if indeed she was ever crowned queen
Elizabeth had been picking Brandon apart with questions, prying into his mind. It did not take long for him to decide that she was a very clever girl, coming at him bluntly if he refused to respond
She asked him about his studies, and he said, “I’m not much of a student. I would rather ride and hunt and fence—you know, pursue the things of men, not scholars and children.”
“You’re very handsome,” she said, sliding her hand through the crook of his arm as they walked. She cast an impish look at Hanson, the servant, who followed them by ten paces, but seemed unafraid of interruption
Brandon blinked then laughed. “You shouldn’t say such things, Princess. But if I may say it, you are very beautiful.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Have you had any love affairs?”
Brandon could not find an answer, and her intense glance made him flush at the neck
“Why, you can blush! That is rare. You may amount to something.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Tell me, Brandon Winslow, would you like to kiss me?”
Brandon was shocked. “You’re the Princess Elizabeth! It wouldn’t be—suitable.”
“I know who I am. But you strike me as a boy unafraid of serious conquests.” She moved on—the question about kissing her clearly only one of many she had in her mind—asking about the girls he knew, and Brandon found himself pinned into a shadowed corner when she demanded to know the details of who it was that he had loved
“I cannot speak of that, Princess. No gentleman kisses and tells.” He glanced over her shoulder, frowning when he could not see Hanson beyond them in the hall
“Really?” Elizabeth surged forward and kissed him on the lips, surprising him. He stared at her hard. The last time he’d kissed a girl”
“Now, will you tell your father you kissed me?”
“Of course not!” Brandon sputtered, moving past her and into the hall. He saw Hanson, still ten paces away, talking to two other servants, obviously distracted
Elizabeth tapped her chin and nodded. “Well, then I will tell him. I’ll tell him you tried to steal my virginity.”
“No! Don’t tell him that, Princess!”
Elizabeth noted his fear. “Forgive me. I forget myself at times. Would your father be very hard on you?”
Brandon leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. In a moment, he found himself telling her the story of his banishment and beating
“Do you hate your father for beating you?”
“It was humiliating.”
“But if you had a young daughter,” Elizabeth said, “and a young man tried to have his way with her against her will, what would you do to him?”
“I would thrash him,” he said begrudgingly, kicking the toe of his boot into the stone floor as if he might chip off a bit of it
“I’m sure you would. My sister thinks your father is the kindest and the most trustworthy man in England. She’s seen enough of the other sort! Listen to me, Brandon Winslow. I’ve learned to know a little something about men too.” Anger swept across Elizabeth’s face. She shook her head and said, “You should thank God every day that you have a kind father who loves you.”
Brandon listened, thinking of how the king had killed this girl’s mother, and he nodded. “I’m certain you’re right, Princess.”
“You must forgive your father. Will you do that?”
“Yes, I will.”
Elizabeth hugged him and touched him on the cheek. “There’s a good fellow! Come, now, I’ll show you my father’s falcons, and you can confess more of your sins.”
Brandon could not help but laugh. “You’re not what I expected in a princess. Will you ever be queen?”
“No, Edward will be king, and if he dies, my sister Mary will be queen. But I would dearly love to wear the crown someday.”
“Well, I think you’d make a fine queen.”
Elizabeth reached out and pulled his hair. “You have beautiful hair,” she said. “Auburn. It’s almost the same color as mine. You know, if I were queen, I’d surround myself with handsome young men like you—and all of them would fall in love with me.”
“I’m certain they would.”
“Well, you can appeal to my vanity while we look at the hawks. Wasn’t your father once the king’s falconer? Come along, now.”
The day after they returned from the visit with Mary and Elizabeth, Stuart noticed that Brandon had cast off his sullen behavior and was showing interest in the work of the estate—and even better, showing some affection for his parents. Better yet, during their fencing lesson Brandon seemed to absorb both instruction and praise
“You’ll be too good for me soon,” Stuart said. “We’ll have to get an expert.”
“I don’t think so.” Brandon said, sitting down beside his father. Stuart was pleased to see that the boy was panting as hard as he. Brandon wiped the perspiration from his brow and said, “Will we go back to see Princess Mary—and Elizabeth?”
“Would you like to?”
“Yes, I would. I like Elizabeth very much.”
Stuart paused. “What about Mary?”
“Elizabeth says her sister thinks you’re one of the few men she knows that she would trust.”
“Well, I should hope that she could trust me. I have a great affection for Princess Mary.” He patted his son on the back. “We’ll go back soon for another visit.”
The two had put up their swords and started for the stables to take a ride when Brandon said, “Look, there comes Uncle Quentin.”
Quentin came riding up at a gallop and pulled the horse to a quick stop beside them. The animal was lathered and heaving for breath
Stuart said, “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“The king is dead,” Quentin said as he dismounted. He stared hard at Stuart. “King Henry died yesterday.”
“Then Edward will be king,” Stuart whispered
“Yes. God save the king. May he be a better man than his father.”
The three of them headed immediately for the castle
Brandon fell into step beside his father. “Does this mean we can’t make our visit?” he asked quietly
“After the funeral and after we’ve given the family time to mourn, we’ll go see them often. They’ll have need of a friendly ear.”
“I feel sorry for them, Father. They’re bound to be sad, despite everything, aren’t they?”
“Yes, I feel sorry for them too. They’ve had a terrible life, and little good can come in their direction, the way things stand.”
“Do you think King Edward will be cruel to them as their father was?”
“He’s but a boy! And I’ve heard he’s very fond of his sisters. Maybe you’ll get to meet him next time we visit.”
Stuart put his arm around his son. He squeezed the boy and said, “I feel that muscle growing in that sword arm. You’re going to be a fine soldier one day, my son.”
3
You’re up to some mischief, Stuart Winslow. I can tell from that look on your face.” Heather let her embroidery work fall to her lap and waited expectantly for Stuart to confess what was on his mind
Stuart grinned broadly. “I don’t know why you should say that. You’re always suspicious of me, Wife.”
“That’s because you’re always guilty. What is it now? What have you done?”
“Well, I must confess I have committed a horrible sin.”
“I can’t believe that. What horrible sin?”
“I forgot your birthday last week. That’s the most horrible thing I can think of that a man can do to his wife.”
Heather looked down at the embroidery, touched it with her fingertip, and then glanced up. “I was disappointed,” she said. “Brandon never seems to remember. But it’s the first time you’ve forgotten.”
“Well, I’ve come to make it up to you. I’m going to give you a big kiss just to show you what a good man I am.” He came over, leaned over, and kissed Heather on the cheek. He held her close for moment, and then he said, “I hope you’re not disappointed by my simple belated gesture.”
Heather could never be angry with this husband of hers for long. It had occurred to her that women with bad husbands never knew what they were missing in this world. She smiled, reached up, and put her hand on Stuart’s cheek. “I’m never disappointed in you.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. But just to show you that I’m an even better man than you think, I didn’t forget your birthday. It was just that I couldn’t get the present put together in time, but I have now.” He walked quickly to the door, stepped outside, and then came back with a mound of white fur in his hands
“What in the world!” Heather exclaimed. She stood up at once and reached out to touch the silky fur on the garment that Stuart was holding out to her. “It’s so beautiful!” she whispered. “What is it?”
“It’s ermine. I hate to tell you what I had to pay for these furs, but even the Princess Mary doesn’t have anything any better than this. Here, put it on.”
Holding her breath, Heather allowed him to hold the gown. She slipped her arms into it and then hugged it close. “It’s so smooth,” she whispered. “It’s beautiful, Stuart!” She blinked against sudden tears. She never cried during hard times, but kindness always brought tears of gratitude, especially when it involved Stuart. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. “That’s the finest present any woman ever had from a husband.”
“Well, I shall expect a proper reward. We’ll talk about the nature of that reward tonight.”
Heather stepped back and laughed. “I know all about your rewards. They’re always the same.” She turned around, still stroking the silky ermine fur. “I wish we had a mirror big enough for me to see all myself in.” The only mirror that she had, of course, was a small one, no more than ten inches square of polished metal. “Some day they’ll make a mirror big enough for a woman to see all of herself.”
“I’ve engaged a painter to do your portrait. He can do it in that ermine if you like.”
“What about you?”
“Oh, I’ll just wear my old clothes, as I always do—if I get into the painting at all. No doubt the painter will only have eyes for my beautiful wife.”
She came to him again and kissed him. “You’re the best husband a woman ever had.”
“I think you’re right about that.” He grinned and pulled her close. “We’ve had a good marriage, Sweetheart. I’m thankful for that. Never once have I considered getting rid of you and getting another woman.”
“Well, I should think not, the way I’ve spoiled you!”
She took off the coat reluctantly and said, “I must go to London now to show off what my husband’s given me.”
“Any time you like.”
For a moment a shadow crossed Heather’s face. “We’ll have to take Brandon with us.”
At the mention of their son, Stuart lost the sense of happiness that had filled him. “I wish he were more like my father.”
“And I wish he were more like you.”
Indeed, the two of them had seen little change for the better in Brandon. After a brief respite, he returned to his wayward behavior. He was sixteen now and constantly in trouble. More than once he had been caught poaching, when he had acres of Stoneybrook forest at his disposal. Stuart and Heather had given him everything he needed and had tried to show love beyond what most parents showed. But Brandon seemed to be a bent twig. He was the terror of young girls—at least, of the mothers of young girls
Over and over Stuart and Heather discussed Brandon’s present and future, but they could not find the answer to the puzzle before them
Heather said, “I still think that God will use him, Stuart. On the day he was born I gave him to God.”
“You always say that, and I always believe you.”
The two sat down and spoke for a while about other estate matters. Finally Heather brought up the question that was not far from the minds of most people in England. “What will happen when King Edward dies?”
“He may live for a long time.”
“The rumors are that he can’t live beyond a year or two. What will happen then?”
“It will be up to King Edward. He can name his successor. I expect it will be Princess Mary. That’ll be a sad day for England.”
“I thought you liked Princess Mary.”
“I do like her. But . . .” He stood up abruptly and turned to the window, eyes wide and far away
Heather stared at him. “But what, Stuart?”
Stuart looked over to her. “Her mother was a devout Catholic, and Mary has taken her religious direction from Queen Catherine. It’s no secret that if she ever ruled England, she would make a Catholic country out of it.”
“Can she do that?”
“Queens and kings have a lot of power. She could make it . . . unpleasant for Protestants.”
Heather frowned. He was holding something back. “What do you mean by unpleasant?”
“Think back, Heather,” he said, pacing now in his agitation. “King Henry had people executed who didn’t fall into his line of proper religious thought. Remember what happened to Sir Thomas More? He was a Catholic and a favorite of Henry, but he died because he wouldn’t give in to Henry.”
“And William,” she whispered, remembering Tyndale. “Henry didn’t execute him, but he was responsible for his death.”
Stuart shook his head, his face a mask of dread. “I’m afraid Mary will crush everyone who’s not a Catholic.”
“God will take care of us.”
With a laugh Stuart came over and leaned down and kissed her. “I love your faith, Heather Winslow. You put me to shame. You’re a good reminder to me that I should not fret over things that are beyond my control.” His eyes moved back to the window, and Heather followed his gaze. Brandon was pacing on the small knoll
“Your daily fencing?” Heather asked drily
“Indeed.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “We’ll go to London and show off that beautiful robe of yours next week, perhaps.”
Stuart left the castle and went out to the stable that housed the horses and most of the weapons. He found Brandon waiting for him. “Sorry to be late, Son.”
Brandon grunted in response
“I gave your mother that ermine robe I showed you.”
Brandon lifted his chin and eyebrows with mild interest but immediately moved toward the swords. He looked older than his years, six feet tall now, not completely filled out but lean and muscular. The sun caught his auburn hair, and his eyes were as blue as the cornflowers that covered the hills of England at certain seasons. I wish he were as good as he looks, Stuart thought. “Ready for a bout?” he said
“Yes, sir.”
They took up swords and at once fell into position. Stuart grinned in anticipation of the challenge ahead. His own father had seen to it that he was a good swordsman, but he had never been great. B
randon, flourishing under the instruction of a former soldier Stuart had hired, had clearly inherited his grandfather’s prowess. Stuart knew Brandon routinely eased up, just to keep him engaged. But once in a while, he could still surprise him
The two circled each other, and soon the bright morning rang with the clash of the blades. Stuart tried to break through Brandon’s guard, but the young man simply could not be pinned down. Around and around they went, the swords flashing in the sun, and finally Stuart knew that Brandon could have ended the bout at any time. He stepped back, lowered his blade, and shook his head. “You’re too good for me, Son.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Father.”
“Yes, you are. You’re better than most soldiers. That’s what Debois says, and he’s seen the best of them.”
“You’ve taught me as much as he has. Maybe I’ll follow in Grandfather’s footsteps and be a soldier some day.”
“I hope not. It’s not a good life, Son.”
“I want more than this, Father. To see different lands, a soldier’s adventure would be good for me.”
“A soldier’s adventure often leads him to death. Or dismemberment. It’s a hard life, Brandon, not nearly the glory you’ve made it out to be.” They had had this argument many times before, and he saw how frustrated the boy was. “We’ll find something for you to do, Son. It’s high time you took more responsibility here at Stoneybrook as the future master. Don’t you think you might like to take over when I’m gone?”
“No, sir. I just don’t care about things like that.” Stuart let the silence rise between them. If not Brandon, who would take over Stoneybrook
Brandon toyed with his blade and said, “When are we going back to London?”
“I’m going to take your mother there. I think we’ll call upon Princess Mary,” he added casually. “I’m hoping to—”
“Could I go too, sir?”
“Your mother and I would like that.”
“Let’s be off immediately!”
Stuart laughed. Other than fencing, it was the first real sense of interest Stuart had seen in the young man, and his excitement softened the tension between them. “Perhaps the day after tomorrow. The master of Stoneybrook can’t just up and leave.”
When the Heavens Fall Page 3