“I see it now!” I shouted. “You mean never to allow me to marry at all. Blanche is your treasure. She will have all, and I will be an old maid because you love her entirely and me not at all!”
“Not marry? Kathryn, I would like nothing better than to have you out of my house!” He paused, glancing at the open door and from there to the stairs. “Oh, so you heard what I said to Sir William? What have I done but told the truth? What have I done but warn a man of more worth than you deserve that he would be naught but miserable shackled to a shrew like you? How could I endanger our family by marrying you to a man of status and power? Once he knew what you were, he would destroy us. Instead of a good alliance, it could only be bad!”
I shook my head. “It has always been thus. Blanche has all, Kathryn gets nothing.”
“Tomorrow we shall see the nothing Kathryn gets,” Father said ominously. “If this knight wants one of my daughters, I will see if he will have Blanche. You will marry, if I have to beggar myself to dower you. There must be some sum of money, some pile of coins that will induce a man, any man, to take you off my hands.”
“Talk not to me,” I said. “You are no father to me.”
I flew up the stairs and into my bedchamber. I did not come out all the rest of the day, but then, I do not think I was missed.
A soft tapping drew me from sleep. I lay still, dream-cloudy, trying to identify the sound. Had that blasted woodpecker returned? Was one of the servants up early?
It came again, a dull thud against wood, and close by. Not a servant, and not the determined strike-strike-strike of a woodpecker. Almost like….
I sat up. Pulling the blanket around my shoulders, I groped my way to the window, shuttered against the night. My only guide was the faint moonlight that bled around its imperfect edges. I placed a tentative hand upon it and leaned close, listening.
The noise came again, right in my ear. I jumped back, the blanket falling from my grasp. Shivering with more than cold, I picked it up again and drew it tight around me.
Something was hitting my window.
Oh.
I frowned. It was, no doubt, one of the suitors throwing rocks, thinking he was aiming for Blanche’s window. This had happened before. He was probably down there with a couple of musicians, ready to sing some execrable love song and then offer to climb up to show her how much he loved her.
After the day I had had, I grinned at the prospect of destroying his hopes.
I fumbled my way to the bedside table and struck a candle into life. Back at the window, I yanked on the shutters with one hand, hauling them open and leaning out with my candle held high.
It was not the group of men and musicians I expected. It was one man alone.
“Ah, look,” he said, to no one in particular. “A light. The sun arises.”
I knew that voice. Already, I knew his voice well.
“Nay, Sir William, you are mistaken. It is only a candle.”
Even in the dark, the night lit only by stars and a crust-thin sliver of the moon, I could see his grin. “Nay, my lady,” he echoed, his voice lilting, teasing, “I mean you.” He raised both hands toward me in exaggerated pleading. “Have you never been wooed before?”
No. I had not.
“Of course I have,” I said, pitching my voice lower, careful of waking Father and the Mountain who slept in the chamber below mine. “But never by a moon-mad fool such as you.”
“O speak again, bright angel,” he cried. “She speaks, and yet she says nothing.”
I scowled fiercely. “I say something, sir! I say, begone!”
“Not without that which I came for.”
I set the candle down on the windowsill and took a deep breath. Mayhap if I indulged his whim, he would depart the sooner.
“Which is?”
The flash of his grin once more. “The assurance of your love, of course.”
I turned away from the window and he howled like a dog, setting off all the dogs along the street.
I flew back, nearly knocking the candle off the sill. “Hush!”
He was gone.
I craned my neck, looking up and down the street. Below me, a shutter opened, and Father’s head poked out. I jumped back, blowing out the candle. House by house, the dogs settled. The shutter below creaked shut. I returned to the window. The street was empty. Disappointment was a cold stone in my stomach.
Lifting the smoking candle, I walked back to my bed, chiding myself. How could I be disappointed? There was nothing real here, nothing serious.
Something hit me square in my back. I spun. A pebble lay on the floor at my feet. I charged the window, nearly flying out.
“Fool! Have you returned?” My voice was half-whisper, half-shout.
He held up his hands again, this time shielding his face. “There is more peril in your eyes than in all the dogs of High Street, or in your father’s walking stick.”
I had to stifle a laugh. The idea of my paunchy, lazy father pursuing this warrior in defense of my honor was worse than ridiculous.
“Indeed,” I replied. “Take care you do not gaze upon me too long, lest like Medusa I turn you into stone.”
“Better I should perish here, a statue in the street, a beggar at your window, than live without your love.”
The laugh burst out of me—I could not help it—but he did not seem offended. He smiled. Was that his end? Laughter? Was this all just mockery of the shrew?
I glowered down upon him, leaning farther out the window so that he might see it. “Lest you think me so easily won by false flattery, look upon me now. I tell you I love you not, though you swear you love me a thousand times.” I smacked the sill beneath me. “We only met on Sunday!”
He cast his eyes appreciatively over my body and I realized how I must look, leaning out the window in my nightgown. Quickly, I straightened, and he smiled.
“Lady,” he said, hand over heart, “by this blessed moon, I swear I love you.”
“Nay,” I said. “Swear not by the moon. She is inconstant, changing, altering with every day. How shall I trust your love if you swear by the moon?”
“Then what shall I swear by?”
My skin broke out in gooseflesh. Was this still a joke? How was I to believe him? I did not know him at all, and all of his words felt like jests.
“Do not swear,” I said, taking up the candle to end this farce. “Much as I have enjoyed your company this night, this declaration of yours is too sudden. It is like lightning, gone before one can even say, ‘Look, it lightens!’ Therefore, good night, and give this passion of yours time to grow before you speak of it again.”
I blew him a kiss, secure in the knowledge of my victory. The breeze of it extinguished the candle, leaving me blinking in darkness.
It was silent outside, and I reached for the shutters, a little disappointed he had been so easily disposed of after all. Until, “Why did your father say me nay?”
There was nothing of humor in his voice now.
My heart fell to my feet. I felt it strike the floor and lie there, pulsing feebly. I left it there and leaned into the window frame once more. “What do you mean?”
He stood closer now, directly under my window, hands on his hips. I could hardly make him out; only the white of his shirt peeking out from under his doublet, the flash of his teeth as he spoke. “I asked for your hand in marriage. He refused me.”
An arrow through me, then and now, but this arrogant man would never know. I forced lightness into my voice. “He is a merchant, sir. A merchant never accepts the first offer.”
“He should, if there is little reason to expect a second.”
“Oh!” I stamped my foot again. “You….” I knew I should shut the window, slam it closed on him and his wicked tongue. But my blood was like wine in my veins and I could not do it. What was this?
“Hear me,” he said, more softly. “I am the only husband for you.”
My skin went to ice, then fire. I tried to force scathing, scornful
words from my lips, but I could not move, could not think. Without the candle, he could not see the effect his words had upon me. Could he?
“Until tomorrow, lady,” he called, bowing low.
I had to extricate my fingernails from the wood of the sill one by one as he disappeared into the darkness
Chapter 6
Thursday
When we went down to the courtyard for lessons in the morning, Blanche stopped me at the door. “You realize your behavior yesterday will force me to sit with that fat music master today.”
“Let me dredge up some sympathy for you.” I closed my eyes and screwed up my face, straining. “No, sorry, nothing there.”
She crossed her arms, frowning. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Blanche. I assaulted an innocent man and embarrassed myself in front of a group of gentlemen who are my last hope of marriage and a life outside of Whitelock, solely for the purpose of discomfiting you today. I am truly that devious.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You might have done. I never understand why you do what you do.”
“No,” I replied, stepping out into the sun. “You wouldn’t, would you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, her fingers grazing my shoulder as she reached for me. I shrugged her off.
“What is wrong with you?” she called at my back. “I used to think you were the smartest person in the world, but really you’re more a fool than anyone.”
I whirled around. “A fool? You call me a fool?”
“Yes!” Her face was more wary than angry. “How hard would it be for you to smile at a man? What would it cost you to say what they want to hear?”
“You mean like you do?” My fists rolled in on themselves. “Everything. It would cost me everything.”
Fury darkened her beautiful features. “Your refusal to bend is going to cost me everything,” she snapped. “But that’s what you really want, isn’t it? You don’t care what happens to you, as long as you make me unhappy as well.”
I turned away and marched over to the language master, leaving her standing in the doorway.
I plopped down on the bench beneath the apple tree. Master Cameron looked up from his book, startled, then nodded a greeting even as his eyes swept past me to light upon Blanche. She favored him with a smile, then turned her attention to Master Lucas—nay, the disguised Master Horton—who held a small pipe in his hands. Master Horton shot me a venomous glance and rubbed the back of his head. At least he had exchanged his foolish headgear for a cap more sober and appropriate. Together they walked to the opposite side of the fountain where their outlines could just be viewed through the dancing water. Beside me, Master Cameron kept his eyes on my sister as his fingers shuffled aimlessly through Plato.
I contemplated smacking him in the head with one of the other books piled at his feet to get his attention, but decided it was not worth the uproar that would follow. It was too hot.
“I have learned quite a bit of German,” I said finally. “My father does a great deal of trading on the Continent, you see, and I have been helping him with his contracts and such.”
“Hmmm,” Master Cameron mused.
“Printed books came from Germany originally, as I am sure you are aware, although there is now a printshop in London. Have you ever seen a printing press, Master Cameron?”
Master Cameron tilted his head and sighed. “Her lips are of coral, and her breath does perfume the air around her.”
“Master Cameron!” I brought my foot down on top of his.
He yelped. It was quite satisfactory.
“Mistress Kathryn, forgive me,” he said, leaning down to rub his toes. “But have you never been in love?”
“Tell me, sir, is it possible for love to take hold so suddenly?” I allowed my voice to hold all of my scorn.
He shook his head, the sunlight turning his curls into a halo. I had to admit, he was beautiful. “Until I found it to be true,” he said, “I never thought it possible, or even likely. But now….”
“One cannot love without knowing the essence of the beloved, Master Cameron.”
He looked at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “She is everything sweet and maidenly and modest. Look at her!”
“I look at her every day, master, and I am the only one who sees her quite clearly.”
He was not listening to me. He was gazing at her. I could hardly make out his words. “I burn, I pine, I perish if I cannot have her.”
“Oh, God help me,” I muttered, picking up a book from the pile at Master Cameron’s feet. I dropped it in his lap. “Is there something we could read that might draw your thoughts from all your sufferings?”
He smiled weakly. “You are too kind, Mistress Kathryn.” Setting aside the Plato, he selected a new book and proceeded to page through it upside down, never noticing his error because his eyes were once again fixed upon Blanche. She, seated on the fountain’s edge, leaned one hand behind her as Master Horton played, and tipped her chin back to look through the cascading water at Master Cameron. Catching sight of him watching her, she bestowed upon him a shy smile, then quickly cast her eyes down again.
I stood abruptly. This was outrageous. It was not enough that the gentlemen were falling over each other to court her, now we had the serving men too? “Forgive me, Master Cameron,” I said. “I am feeling unwell again. I believe I will retire.”
He barely murmured any words of consolation before he scrambled up off the bench and headed for Blanche and Master Horton.
If only the apple tree were in fruit, I would have had something to throw.
As I walked toward the door to the hall, Father came out and hurried toward me. Glancing over his shoulder, he said, “Kathryn, I need you to go inside at once. This is a matter of great importance.”
I started to object, but he cut me off, grasping my arms tightly and giving me a little shake.
“Kathryn, just this one time, you must listen to me! There is a man within, a man who is willing to marry you, who insists he will marry you—” He stopped, took a breath, shook me again. “Be courteous, Kathryn. Be kind. Be gentle and meek and reserved and all the things you are not for once in your life, for God’s sake, Kathryn, please!”
I drew myself up, pulling my arms from his grasp. “Not for God’s sake. For Blanche’s, and for yours.”
I stormed off, furious as I seemed always to be, carrying it with me to the door to the hall, where I came to an abrupt halt. Father’s words echoed. A man was waiting, a man willing to marry me. And then the words he had spoken yesterday repeated in my mind. There must be some pile of coins that will induce a man to take you off my hands.
Father had sworn he’d have the knight for Blanche, so he must have convinced one of the other men, one of Blanche’s suitors, to take me for a price. Master Horton was here, posing as the music tutor, and Master Greenwood and the other local fellows knew me too well to take me for any amount of coins, so it must be the other gentleman, Master Lawry, the solid fellow in ill-fitting clothes who seemed so uncomfortable among the other gentlemen and subordinate to his absent father.
My father had piled the gold on the table and sold me to a stranger. Now all that remained was for the gentleman to be sure he didn’t regret his bargain once he spoke to me.
Well, I could make certain this gentleman understood exactly what that bargain had bought him.
I stalked into the hall.
A man was waiting. He heard my step and turned. It was neither Master Greenwood—I could give thanks for that—nor any of the dull local fellows, nor the newcomer Master Lawry, but the man who taunted and challenged me, the one who wooed me from my window.
The man who had asked for me.
That realization struck me like a bucket of cold water, dousing my fire.
For a fragile, frozen moment, we stared at each other. He took a deep breath, as though girding himself for hard work, and then he bowed, as he had in the street, sweeping his arms out like
a courtier before royalty. When he rose, he was beaming. “There she is, my bride, my Kate.”
Stunned, I did not stop to curtsy but went farther into the hall. After my father’s words yesterday, I was so sure he would convince this knight to accept Blanche, even despite the performance under my window last night. What had passed between them today? What had been offered and promised?
What had my father given to get rid of me?
The chill lingered on my spine as I came to a stop near him, a safe distance away. I tried to recapture my anger. “Sadly, you are mistaken, sir. My father made these arrangements with you without my consent. Terribly sorry to disappoint you. Good day.” I made him the barest of courtesies and swept past—or at least, I tried to sweep past him, but he grabbed hold of my arm.
“You do not seem to understand,” he said in my ear. “When I was young, and your father would visit Bitterbrook Keep, he would regale us with stories of his daughters.”
“Both daughters?” I asked, suspicious.
“Indeed,” he replied. “And so I determined I would come and see for myself the truth of the matter. And what do I find?” He gestured with his free hand, taking in me, the hall, my whole life. “I find he greatly misrepresented your virtues, Kate. All it took was one meeting, one sight of you, for me to understand the truth of things.”
“Indeed?” I mimicked him.
He was all smiles. “Oh yes. And so, what could I do? I knew that, with so many gentlemen here seeking a wife, I had to move quickly, and so I claimed you for myself.”
His words the night before, his arms around me as I fell, the knowledge that he had asked for me and had not taken no for an answer…. I was dizzy, confused. I tried to pull my arm free from his grasp and failed. “Moved quickly, indeed,” I replied sharply. “I wish whatever moved you here would move you away again. You are easily movable, I see.” At his puzzled look, I gestured to the little footrest beside my father’s chair. “Like furniture. Like that little stool.”
He grinned, sliding his hand down my arm to grasp my hand while he dropped to one knee, patting the other. “That’s right! Come, sit on me.”
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