by Anne Herries
What exactly was that? Andrew wondered. He vaguely recalled his mother saying that his father had given his word to pay the King homage in London, but had broken from his guards and betrayed his promise. He was killed outside his home, but Andrew did not know the rest of the story. When the King summoned him to court he had been told that he would be given a chance to prove himself, but nothing concerning his father—or his father’s distant cousin, the lady Melissa—had ever been mentioned. It remained a mystery to this day, though he believed that it had had something to do with the Marquis of Leominster—and Harold of Meresham.
Did it matter? As far as he was concerned the feud was at an end, had died with Meresham. He liked Harry Melford and…there was something that appealed to him about the sister.
Catherine…her name was Catherine. For a moment a smile lurked about his mouth as he remembered the way she had looked up at him as he lifted her to her horse’s back. Had she felt the attraction between them as deeply as he had? Even at the fair, when their eyes had met so briefly, something had passed between them, and again in the village when he had flirted with her so wickedly. The memory of her lovely face had lingered on in his mind these past weeks. She had not forgotten him either. He would swear to it!
He sighed and shook his head, for he knew that it could not matter. She had stirred him in a way that few women ever had, but he must put the memory from his mind. She was not for him! He had done what he could to restore peace between his family and Melford’s, but he sensed that the mystery went much deeper than he knew. It was unlikely that Melford would agree to closer ties between their families. Andrew should not even consider such a thing. And indeed, why would he? He knew nothing of the girl other than that she made his pulses race and aroused a hot desire in his loins. He could pursue her, tempt her, but he accepted that Catherine of Melford was for marrying, not for seduction. He would be opening a nest of serpents if he thought of anything less than marriage as far as she was concerned. It was true she made him burn with a fierce need that he had never known before, but he doubted anything could come of his feelings. Melford might have declared the past forgotten, but he would not want his daughter to marry Andrew Gifford.
It would be far better simply to forget that he had ever seen the girl. It was a chance meeting, no more. He had felt something as he swept her off her feet, her own special perfume filling his nostrils, but no matter. To become involved with the daughter of Melford would bring bitter recriminations from his mother and involve endless trouble. His friendship with her brother could continue, but Catherine was not for him.
No, he must simply put her out of his mind…and yet in his heart he knew that would not be a simple thing to do, for somehow she had found a way to inflame his senses as no other woman ever had.
Catherine rose early the next morning. At home it was often her habit to ride or walk before she broke her fast. She did not wish to ride—she had ridden a long way the previous day—but a walk in the gardens would help to ease the stiffness in her limbs.
She wrapped herself in the dark blue velvet cloak she had worn for travelling, pulling the hood up over her head to keep out the chill wind that had blown up that morning. She decided to walk to the end of the parterre and then return. It was not so very far and yet it would give her an appetite.
She had discovered one white rose grimly clinging to life amongst the sheltered walks, and was bending to see if it had any perfume when she heard the crunch of someone walking on the gravel paths and glanced round. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw the earl coming towards her.
‘Good morning, Mistress Melford,’ he said, his eyes moving over her. ‘I see you have also been taking the air?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Catherine replied. ‘I like to walk or ride in the mornings before I eat—and I rode far enough yesterday.’
‘You had quite a journey,’ Andrew agreed, his mouth curving slightly at the corners. Something about her made his heart race, causing him to forget his determination to put her from his mind. ‘You will feel stiff this morning, I dare say?’
‘Yes, a little,’ Catherine agreed. ‘We shall stay here for two days to rest the horses and ourselves.’
‘You are with friends,’ Andrew said. ‘I was glad of a place to stay last night, but I must go on today.’
‘Oh, must you…?’ Catherine was disappointed and she blushed as she knew it was evident in her tone. ‘I suppose you have business in London?’
‘None that is important,’ Andrew said. ‘But I must not impose on your friends. It was good of them to offer me hospitality for the night, but I cannot stay longer.’
‘No, I suppose not,’ Catherine said reluctantly. She looked at him and then away again quickly, because she did not wish him to see that she was affected by him. ‘Perhaps we shall meet again at court, sir?’
‘Yes, I am sure we shall,’ Andrew said. He moved forward, impulsively plucking the rose and giving it to her. ‘It is a shame to leave it to the frosts when it might do better at your breast. You outshine any rose, Mistress Melford. I shall think of you here as I ride on.’
‘Oh…’ The blush rose in her cheeks. ‘You should not say such things to me, sir.’
‘Should I not, Catherine?’ he asked, a wicked gleam in his eyes. ‘I dare say others will say far more once you are at court. You must take care, for there are rogues even amongst the King’s court.’ He bowed to her elegantly. ‘I wish you a safe journey and shall look forward to meeting you again.’
Catherine watched as he walked away from her. Her heart was beating very fast and she knew that she was smiling. She held the rose to her nose, inhaling its perfume. A strange warmth curled inside her, pooling low down in her abdomen. He made her feel so very odd, with a tingling sensation down her spine. What bold eyes he had! She thought that he was almost too attractive—perhaps a little dangerous—and she wished that she knew why his visit had seemed to make her mother uneasy. She was beginning to like him rather a lot, and she was not sure that it was a good idea to let herself think of the Earl of Gifford too often.
He was handsome and she found him attractive. He had shown her gallantry, but nothing in his manner had given her cause to hope that he intended more than a casual flirtation.
Chapter Four
I t was a very cold morning when Harry Melford’s party set out on the last stage of their journey to London. They had spent more than a week on the road, for Catherine’s brother had chosen to linger at the houses of friends to rest the horses. Some of those friends had decided to ride with him and it was now a very large and merry group that descended on the capital. Their mood was in tune with that of the people as the celebrations had already begun, though the prince’s wedding was not to take place for some days. However, the royal event was drawing nobles and their families from all over the country, and as they approached the city the roads became crowded with richly dressed ladies and gentlemen and their trains.
‘It is as well that Father made preparations in advance,’ Harry told his sister. ‘I do not think that there will be a room to be had in the city.’
Catherine looked about her with excitement. She had never seen so many people in one place before, and because of the coming marriage there was an air of anticipation and goodwill. The working people waved at them as they passed and shouted the prince’s name, as if they were not sure who they were and did not wish to miss the chance of seeing the royal party arrive.
Lord Melford had taken lodgings in a large house near the Palace of Westminster, for it was here that most of the important festivities would take place. He had made the arrangements on behalf of his family before his illness, and it had been decided that they would keep the lodgings, even though Catherine would spend much of her time with Lady Anne. It would be foolish to let the house go as there would be nothing available elsewhere when the rest of the family came to town. It was one of the most popular areas to be staying for the festivities. King Henry VII had spent large sums of money restoring and i
mproving the palace, though for private use it was known that he preferred the palaces of Greenwich and Sheen.
Catherine noticed the streets were cleaner here than some parts of the town they had passed through, where the narrow medieval roads were choked with filth in the gutters and the smell of rotting waste was overpowering. Catherine was relieved when they went inside the house for it was a substantial building and she had been shivering with cold. She saw that the house was in the new style with half-timbered walls and an overhanging upper storey; the inner walls were panelled with a pale golden oak that gave the rooms a light, airy feeling and did not harbour the dust of old tapestries. The wooden floors had been swept with sweet herbs that morning, their fragrance lingering in the air.
The steward welcomed them to the house, and then introduced Catherine to a woman that he said would care for her every need while she stayed in the house.
‘It is such a shame that the others could not be here,’ Catherine said to her brother. ‘They would have loved to see all those banners in the streets.’
‘Wait until you see the pageantry Henry plans for Katherine of Aragon’s arrival, Cat. The celebrations at court will be something you will remember for the rest of your life.’ Harry smiled at her. He was rather pleased that the task of introducing his twin at court had fallen to him, because he was a popular young man, and he would enjoy showing his sister off to his friends. ‘Lady Anne Shearer will be calling on us tomorrow. She will help you choose your new gowns. You must be properly dressed when we attend the celebrations, Cat.’
‘Yes, Harry. I want you to be proud of me.’ Catherine’s eyes glowed.
‘You have always been perfect to me.’ Harry grinned at her. ‘But, dressed properly, you will make a stir at court. I dare say I shall be fighting off all the young bucks who want to become your beau.’
‘Oh, Harry! It sounds so exciting.’ Catherine laughed. ‘But I should have liked Mother and Anne to be here—and Father too.’
‘Mother has been to court many times, and Anne will have her turn. This is your chance, Cat. Father hopes that you may find someone you wish to marry, but I think you should just enjoy yourself. There is plenty of time to find a husband.’
‘Yes, I know that my parents hope that I may take Will Shearer, but I am not sure I wish to wed him.’
‘Well, you need not if you do not wish it,’ Harry told her with a fond look. ‘You know that I would always support you if you refused him—besides, the parents only want what is best for you. Father would not see you unhappy, Cat.’
Catherine nodded, because she knew that he was right. She looked about her as she followed the serving woman up a wide wooden staircase to the next landing; the house appeared to be adequately furnished with carved oak and walnut pieces that she thought looked foreign rather than English. When her bedchamber was reached, she was pleased that it was clean and sweet with crimson damask curtains at the windows and around the half-tester bed. A coffer on a stand had been provided for her clothes and there were stools and a trestle table. The room seemed a little bare, the dark crimson furnishings rather dull and heavy, but she thought it comfortable enough.
‘Your things will be brought up shortly, Mistress Melford. Is there aught you wish for? Some refreshment perhaps?’
‘Nothing for the moment, thank you, Tabbitha,’ Catherine said and smiled at her. ‘I shall dine with my brother later, I dare say. For the moment I should prefer to make myself comfortable.’
‘If you need anything, you have only to send for me, Mistress Melford. It is my pleasure to serve you.’
Catherine thanked her and she went away, leaving her to settle into her new surroundings. She went to look out the window, but the glass was thick and grey, giving her a distorted view. She opened the window and looked out at the garden. It was rather damp and dismal for it was a dull day, though she could just about see the river at the far end.
Leaving her bedchamber, Catherine went out on to the landing, glancing out of the window at the front of the house; she opened it to see the view. From here she could just see the Palace of Westminster with its imposing towers and all the other buildings crowded into the streets leading there. As she looked down into the street below, leaning out to get a better view, a small group of richly dressed gentlemen walked past and one of them glanced up. He grinned as he saw her, touching the arm of his companion, who also looked up. Catherine recognised the second gentleman instantly as the Earl of Gifford. Her heart jerked with shock, as she knew that he had seen her and she drew back swiftly, closing the window. She would not like him to think she had been spying on him! However, she heard the sound of their amusement as she withdrew and suspected that they were laughing at her.
Catherine’s face felt hot with embarrassment as she went back to her room. The earl had given her such a look! Almost intimate! It had made her heart race and she had wanted to smile and wave to him, but her pride had held her back from making a spectacle of herself in front of his friends. Yet the knowledge that he was already here in London was making her tingle with anticipation, because there was every chance that they might meet.
She was just thinking about what she ought to do next when she heard her brother’s voice at the door of her chamber. ‘May I come in, Catherine?’
‘Yes, Harry.’
He opened the door, glancing round the room, a little frown on his brow. ‘Shall you be comfortable here, Catherine? The house is not as well furnished as Father expected.’
‘It will be well enough once I have my own things.’
‘Yes, I dare say. If there is anything you lack, tell me. I shall buy it and you may take it home when you leave.’
‘Oh, no, I am certain there is nothing,’ Catherine said. ‘I am quite content here.’ Her heart was still racing and she could not put the look on the earl’s face from her mind. She became aware that her brother was speaking to her. ‘Sorry, Harry. My mind was elsewhere.’
‘You look guilty, little cat. What are you thinking?’ Harry gave her a roguish look as she blushed. ‘I suppose you are dreaming of the beaux you will find at court, but you must listen to what I say. I was telling you that Lady Anne has sent word to say that she will be here this afternoon. She has made an appointment with her dressmaker and her note says there is no time to lose, because everyone is so busy.’
‘Oh…yes,’ Catherine said, bringing her thoughts back to what her brother was saying. ‘I suppose everyone must want new clothes for the wedding.’
‘I am certain of it,’ Harry said and looked at her intently. ‘Is something wrong, Cat? You seem a little distracted.’
‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. A faint flush stained her cheeks, because she did not know what Harry would think if she told him she was very attracted to his friend the Earl of Gifford. ‘It is just that everything is very different here. I had not realised that London was so big or that so many people would be here.’
‘The city is growing,’ Harry told her. ‘Henry Tudor has brought the breath of new life to England and we all benefit from it. Explorers are opening up new worlds to us, and scholars teach us much that only a few knew before. This marriage with Spain will make our seas the safer and help to hold the peace for us all. King Henry talks of other marriages—perhaps his daughter Margaret to King James IV of Scotland, but that is for the future because she is still a child.’
‘She is two years younger than me.’ Catherine smiled at him. She knew that Harry worked tirelessly in the service of his king, as her father had once. ‘I am looking forward to seeing his Majesty.’
‘You will meet him at court. The King asked Father to bring you before this, but he wanted to wait until you were older. Many girls wed before your age, Catherine, but neither Father nor I would have you marry too soon. All we want is your happiness.’
‘I have not thought of it, Harry. I am happy with my father, mother, sister and younger brother at home. I wish that you were with us more, but I know that your life is at court for some year
s yet.’
‘Yes, that is as it must be,’ he said, giving her a fond look. ‘But you must marry one day, Cat. It is your destiny and your duty to marry and give your husband a family; it is the destiny of most women to be a wife—unless you wish to devote your life to the service of God?’ She shook her head and Harry nodded his agreement. ‘I did not think it. You are of an age now to think of marriage, and Mother will have our sister, Anne, at home for some years yet, for she is so much younger.’
Catherine laughed. ‘Anne may be young, Harry, but she thinks of marriage more than I have.’
‘If she were a princess, she might have been wed before this, but Mother would not allow it, and nor would Father. You are at a good age for a woman, though I think men should be older and have some knowledge of life. Prince Arthur is young and the King has arranged his marriage, but it is different for a prince. His marriage is important to England.’
Catherine nodded. It was the way of kings to marry their children young, often by proxy some years before a true marriage could take place, but in a family like hers it was not as important. Her twin was considered of an age to marry had he wanted, but she knew that he had no intention of it until he had made his way in the world. As a woman, she would normally be expected to marry at a younger age, but her father had not wished it for her.
‘Come down and have some light refreshment now,’ Harry said. ‘Then you may change your gown and prepare to visit the dressmaker with Lady Anne.’
Catherine was well pleased as she left the seamstress’s house later that day. She had spent some hours there deciding on the silk for her new gowns, and in the end had chosen a dark green silk, a pale yellow damask embroidered with silver and a cream figured velvet. After the choice of cloth had come the discussion concerning style and decoration, which she had settled at last in her own way. All three gowns were to be made in the same style with squared necklines and tight, tapered sleeves with hanging cuffs and flowing skirts, but the detail lay in the embroidery. One was to be heavily embroidered with beads at the hem and shoulders, another was to be plain but for some stitching about the waist, and the third was to be braided and sewn with pearls.