The Raven's Revenge

by Gina Black

  “Well, Jakes,” Finch held the knife by both ends, running his thumbs over the sharp edge, “I think ‘twould be best if I accompany you to Salisbury.”

  Jakes nodded and twisted his hat.

  * * *

  Sunlight streamed through the small window, landing in a warm pool on Katherine’s face. She yawned and stretched all the way from her toes to the top of her head. Opening her eyes, she gasped at the unfamiliar surroundings, and then memory came back in a rush. Sitting up, she clasped the blanket to her bosom. Her heart hammered as she looked around the room.

  Where could Nicholas be? Had he gone? Left her?

  And where was Montford?

  “Kitty, kitty, kitty?” But there was no response, no thump from a cat jumping up on the bed.

  Katherine looked at her hands, clutching the counterpane to her fully clothed body. Shaking her head at this silly show of modesty, she threw off the covers and got out of bed. She looked everywhere, but found no trace of the cat. As she searched, the conviction grew that wherever she found Nicholas, she would find Montford as well.

  She quickly donned her stays and petticoats, noting with exasperation that the black dress she’d slept in had become a wrinkled mess, another reason to hate the ugly gown. No doubt she looked like a scullery maid. Regretting the loss of her hairpins, she twisted her unruly hair into a coil and jammed on her cap, then shoved on her stockings and shoes. One last survey of the room showed Montford had not materialized.

  Flinging open the door, she stopped short. Nicholas stood—hand poised to knock—blocking her exit.

  Katherine stepped back in surprise.

  Clean-shaven, dressed in a turquoise brocaded waistcoat and full-cut fawn breeches that tied below each knee with a red sash, Nicholas looked quite magnificent. The sleeves of his white shirt ended in flounces that danced with his hands as he bowed. A lace-trimmed cravat graced his neck. Black leather shoes with red heels and ribbon ties had replaced his boots. His hair, no longer pulled back tightly, hung in loose curls, giving him a less severe, more carefree look. He carried a bundle in one hand and a basket in the other.

  “What have you done with Montford?” she demanded.

  In answer, a loud “meow” came from inside the basket.

  “As you hear, your cat is safe. And our journey will be much easier with him secure in this basket.” Nicholas strode into the room, kicking the door shut. No sooner had he placed the basket on the table, than Montford hopped out. Nicholas chuckled. “Of course, we’ll have to tie the latch to keep him inside.”

  “’Tis a prison,” she sniffed. “And Montford is a girl.”

  “Really?” He registered surprise. But, just because Montford was his name—and the name of every male heir in the family for the past three centuries—why should the cat be a boy? Nicholas swallowed a laugh after catching Katherine’s stern expression. She fingered the basket while chewing on her lip, and he remembered her other concern. “’Tis not a prison; the basket will keep your cat safe.” Then he pushed forward the bundle. “And this, lass, is for you.” He unfolded the package and revealed a peach silk and lace bodice, with matching skirt and petticoat.

  During the long ride, Nicholas had imagined what Katherine would look like in fashionable clothing instead of the dour dress she wore. He’d envisioned golden satin to highlight her tawny eyes, a low cut bodice to show her bust to advantage. He had not been able to find that combination—in truth he had not looked—but a dealer in used goods had displayed these garments. They had caught Nicholas’s eye, and the bargaining had been pleasant.

  Katherine reached out a hand and then snatched it back without touching the fabric. She shook her head. “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “I cannot accept this.”

  Didn’t women like gifts of pretty things? But, Katherine was not like the women of his acquaintance. “You must,” he said reasonably.

  “I cannot.” Her eyes lingered on the rich garments.

  “Katherine, lass,” his voice softened. He sounded like someone speaking to a young child. “They will be looking for a Puritan, in plain garb. So you must look like a Cavalier lady. And truly, ’tis not so fancy. See it not as clothing,” he coaxed, “but as a disguise.”

  Her lips pursed as she scrutinized the garments, from the décolleté bodice to the water-stained skirt. He could see that in spite of herself, she wanted them.

  “I’m sorry ’tis not new,” he fingered the hem. “We haven’t time to wait for them to be made.”

  “I’ve never dressed like…like…”

  “Like a Lady?”

  A smile appeared on Katherine’s face, as if rays of sunshine peaked out from behind clouds. “Like a bird.”

  He smiled at her attempt at humor. “Afraid the cat will catch you?”

  She shook her head, serious again and eyed the clothing longingly. “Maybe they will not fit.”

  “Oh, I think they will. Perhaps the skirt is a bit long. You must put it on, and we shall see.” He pushed the garments toward her. “There is much to prepare for our departure. I shall return shortly with our morning repast.”

  She ran a fingertip over the shiny fabric. “I had thought we’d be on the road well before now.”

  “And we would be, had it not been for last night’s rain. The roads have turned to mud. ’Twas either wait for the sun to dry them, or get bogged down in the muck. Besides,” he grinned, “you looked so charming in sleep, I had not the heart to wake you.”

  Katherine turned away. A hot flush ran up her neck. She did not like to think of him watching her while she slept. “Time is passing,” she said, an edge to her voice.

  “Then I leave you, lass. But do not tarry, we must be on the road to Winchester soon, if we are to arrive before nightfall.”

  As soon as she heard the door close, Katherine picked up the skirt. Fingering the folds of lustrous fabric, she watched the color change in the light.

  She had never worn anything so fine, so pretty. So…revealing.

  Nicholas had mistaken her hesitance to wear the dress for aversion. But nothing could be further from the truth. She had only hoped to wear a garment of such beautiful color with such lovely bits of lace at the bodice, never believing it to be possible.

  Katherine eagerly worked the fastenings of her black dress and stepped out of the ugly garment. Despite her haste, she folded it carefully and put it aside. Raising the new petticoat over her head, she marveled at the feel of the cool silky fabric sliding down her body. Nicholas had been right about the length. The hem ended in a puddle at her feet. She rolled it up at the middle before tying it tight and then put on the skirt. The bodice fit properly and fell into a “V” below her waist. She peered at her bosom. The neckline seemed impossibly low. Indecently low. She pulled at the top of her smock, but it made no difference.

  And no matter how she tried, she could not fasten the bodice in the back. Without a maid to help, she’d barely managed her stays that morning, which added to the problem.

  Katherine chewed on her lower lip. She had not brought a shawl or any kind of cover-up. Instead, she’d brought her herb journals. At the time, it had seemed the right thing to do. But, she could not wear the books. She let out an exasperated sigh just as she heard a sharp rap on the door.

  In the hallway, Nicholas balanced a food-laden tray on one hand, while he knocked on the door with the other. What took her so long? Mayhap she had not finished dressing. Women could take a very long time to accomplish such a simple task. But then he heard footsteps approach, and the door flew open. Katherine stood to one side. She looked at him warily. From what he could see, the garments fit her well, and the color looked pleasing on her fair skin. Of course, it would look nicer without the ugly cap that hid her silky hair.

  And the cat she wore as a modesty piece across her breast.

  “I like it very much,” he said, trying hard not to laugh as he put the tray down on the table.

  She backed toward the fi
replace. “I could not manage without my maid. Could you please send a serving-woman to attend me?”

  “I shall assist you.”

  “Oh no,” she squeaked. A becoming flush colored her cheeks.

  “’Twill take just a moment. Then we can eat and be gone the sooner.”

  She looked away then turned her back to him.

  Nicholas smiled. Though he preferred to undress a woman, he also liked dressing one, when her smooth skin and tender flesh settled into the confines of whalebone and lace. He tugged the strings, tightening them with ease, savoring the smell of lavender and woman that was Katherine. Smoothing the fabric, he let her go.

  They sat down at the table and ate in haste. Katherine juggled the cat in one hand and her food in the other, barely managing to keep the cat and the food apart. Nicholas found their antics amusing and could not tell who got the bigger meal, Katherine or Montford.

  Soon they were on their way downstairs to the stables, Montford, now latched into the basket, and the pretty vision of Katherine in her new dress covered by her drab cloak, ruining the disguise completely.

  * * *

  The rain had left the air crisp and—just as Nicholas had said—the ground a muddy mess. Katherine wished she had her pattens to keep her feet above the muck as she walked across the courtyard on tiptoe, her skirt carried high to keep the hem out of the mud.

  Jeremy had the mounts ready. Nicholas tied her bundles onto the back of their horse, and they were off.

  The going was slow. The roads, what could be seen of them, had turned to a deep quagmire, making the horses skittish. After leaving Salisbury, they’d not even seen a signpost, and Katherine realized how impossible traveling on foot would have been under these conditions.

  After following a set of barely visible carriage tracks, they’d been dismayed to see them disappear into several inches of standing water. They’d coaxed their balking mounts through the sludge, yet had not discovered a trail at the other side.

  To Katherine’s great relief, Nicholas decided at that point to rest and water the nervous horses. Not far from there, they found a high grassy mound, with a stream running down the side.

  Henry helped her dismount. Nicholas led their mount to the stream, paying her no mind.

  The day had warmed. Katherine would have found it pleasant, had she not been wearing the heavy cloak. She knew she should take it off, yet she felt unaccountably shy in such revealing and fancy attire. She put down the basket containing Montford. Knees shaky from disuse, she hiked up her skirt to keep from tripping, and walked over the rise. Upstream from the men and horses, around a bend, she found a place hidden by tall beech trees where she could have some privacy. The water looked brisk and inviting. She looked around before removing her cloak. The gentle breeze stroked her overheated skin. She breathed deeply and reached down into the cold stream.

  “You look wondrous fine, mistress.”

  She whirled around to see Jeremy smiling at her in approval. “Fie, I want no compliments from you Jeremy Haywood,” she said, pleased, none-the-less. She looked at her cloak where she’d left it carefully folded. In her new dress, she did not feel as exposed with Jeremy as she had with Nicholas.

  Jeremy’s smile faded to a look of discomfort. He cleared his throat. “Last night…this cousin of yours…he did not do anything…” His voice bumped up several notes, “improper, did he, mistress?”

  “Nay, he did not,” Katherine assured him. “He behaved as a gentleman.”

  “I cannot trust him,” Jeremy avowed, screwing his forehead into wrinkled furrows. “There is something not right about him.”

  “You are correct, Jeremy. He is not as he seems.” Katherine hoped to fend off his suspicions, and she disliked perpetuating a lie. “He is not my cousin.”

  “Oh.” Jeremy looked at her strangely. “Then who is he and why does he help you? I cannot imagine it is out of the goodness of his heart. He does not seem to use that organ overmuch.”

  Katherine looked up into Jeremy’s sky-blue eyes—eyes that reminded her inexplicably of Edward sometimes. She could not tell him about the wound, or of tending Nicholas in the cottage. “I did him a service, and so he helps me in return. He would be traveling to London in any case.”

  Jeremy frowned. “We’re not so far from Ashfield. I would take you back there myself.”

  “Jeremy, I have not come this far to turn back now. I will never go back to Ashfield. I will not marry Finch. I’d as soon die. So, you see, I have no choice.”

  “’Tis brave you are, mistress.”

  Katherine scoffed. “Brave? I think not. ‘Twould have been brave to stay. No, Jeremy. Do not think it. I have run away because I have not the courage to face the future father had made for me.” She looked around at the trees and verdant scenery. “But I find I like to travel. There is much to see.”

  She started toward the stream, and he followed her.

  “What of you?” she asked. “Are you sorry you have come? I greatly fear you cannot return either. Father would sooner turn you out than have you back. You must continue on this journey as well. What will you do when we get to London?”

  A bright smile started at the corners of his mouth and traveled to his eyes, banishing the concern she’d seen there moments before. “There was not much for me at Ashfield, you ken? But, London?” He said it with reverence. “A man can make his fortune there.”

  As he spoke, his shoulders went back and his chin up, and Katherine saw him as the lad he might have been, had he not been born to the stables. With grand clothing, such as she now wore, he might look nice indeed. Who would know he was naught but a servant?

  Nicholas leaned against the smooth gray bark of a beech tree, just out of sight of Katherine and Jeremy. A gentle breeze ran through the leaves, clean and shiny green from the night’s rain. He could hear the babble of their voices, but could not make out their words. They looked companionable, even intimate. Watching them in discourse, Nicholas experienced a flash of irritation. He rubbed at his temples, and sighed.

  The lass looked comely enough, now that she’d taken off the cloak. With a smile on her face, holding the hem of her dress above the mud, the dour Puritan was gone. Except for that damned cap.

  It would have to go next.

  Why did he even care? With his plan well along the road to fruition, should he not leave well enough alone? He’d posted the letter this morning. If all went well, she’d be off his hands as soon as they got to London.

  Then, at long last, the vow he’d made to his father would be fulfilled. He could get on with his life.

  Not bad for a fortnight’s work, he thought with satisfaction.

  Nicholas watched Katherine venture into the stream, tiptoeing along a series of flat rocks. Jeremy hovered on the bank nearby. She gathered her skirt in one hand and reached down into the water with the other. Suddenly she lost her balance and teetered backward, landing on her bottom with a small shriek.

  Nicholas started forward, but stopped short as he realized she needed no help. Instead of the tears and indignation he would expect from a damsel in this type of distress, gay peals of laughter rang through the autumn air. Lazy sunshine filtered down through the leaves to dance upon her where she sat in the water, leaning back on both arms, bust forward. Her face tilted up like a joyous and pagan sun worshipper.

  If a smile had lightened her dour looks, and a dress made her look less sallow, this exuberant laughter transformed her. She possessed a radiance and sensuality reminiscent of a painting he’d once seen by the artist and diplomat Rubens. He watched, still enchanted, as her lusty laugh gave way to girlish giggles. Jeremy, who had given into the infectious hilarity, held out a hand, and she accepted it. He pretended for a moment to throw her back in the water before pulling her out. They stood together on the stream bank, laughing with an open affection.

  Nicholas stepped away from the tree into the clearing. Katherine saw him first, then Jeremy. Their laughter faded as they stood facing him like two
naughty children. Her grin slowly turned into the mask she wore so much of the time. Nicholas watched the missish Puritan replace the delightful hoyden he’d admired but a moment before.

  He turned away. The sooner he got the two of them off his hands the better.

  Katherine stood in a spot of sunshine and fanned out her skirts. A distinct chill had come over her, not from the cold water, but from Nicholas. She watched him stride over to a fallen tree branch, bread and cheese in hand. Raising one foot up on the branch, he leaned forward, an elbow to one knee with his back to them, his displeasure evident by the tilt of his wide shoulders.

  Katherine sighed. How ungrateful of her to ruin the dress. The minor water stain on the bottom had been nothing compared to the new one it would have when dry. And Nicholas would have to suffer a soggy traveling companion as well.

  Henry brought her a chunk of cheese and a piece of bread. “We have only water to wash it down w’.”

  “I’ve water a’plenty,” she said, wringing out the hem of her dress.

  “That ye do, mistress.” Henry made a half-smile and walked off.

  She sighed and bit into the bread. It wasn’t as if she’d tried to fall in the water. She’d simply been startled by her own reflection. Her likeness had looked so completely unfamiliar, like another woman altogether. For a moment, she’d wondered if perhaps fairies played a trick on her. What a ridiculous thought!

  But she should not have been wearing her new finery and walking in a stream overfull from the night’s rain. No wonder Nicholas was angry with her.

  * * *

  Back on the horse, Nicholas was grateful they’d placed a blanket between them. It not only kept him from getting wet, but also concealed his insistent erection. In spite of his irritation at Katherine, or perhaps because of it, he found himself wanting to drag her off to a secluded spot where he could make hard love to her until his good humor returned.

  “I’m sorry I’ve ruined the dress,” she said softly.