by Anne Herries
‘I see…’ Catherine wiped away the tears she had shed for her mother’s suffering. ‘I thank you for telling me this, ma’am. It has hurt me, but I have wondered and I am glad to have the mystery solved.’
‘You should not speak of it to your mother when you write, Catherine. It would only remind her of things she wishes to forget.’
‘I shall say nothing of it,’ Catherine replied. ‘Does my husband know what his father did to my mother?’
‘I do not know,’ the dowager replied. ‘I have not told him, but others may have. He has not spoken to you of this matter?’
‘No, he has never said more than that there was a quarrel.’
‘Perhaps you should not tell him either. He may not wish to know what a knave his father was, for I think he reveres his memory. It would be natural in a son to think well of his father, I dare say.’
‘Then it is best I say nothing to him,’ Catherine replied. ‘I shall leave you, ma’am, for we dine in a short time and if I keep you talking you will be late for the meal.’
Catherine turned and left her mother-in-law. She had been stunned to learn of what had happened to her mother all those years before. How evil that man must have been to shut an innocent lady in an oubliette deep in the bowels of the earth! And what kind of a man had stolen her from her husband to give her to a monster?
If Andrew truly revered his father’s memory, she could never tell him what she had learned, for it might destroy his faith in the late earl. She did her best to control her shudders as she went back downstairs to rejoin her husband. Andrew was not his father. He was not the wicked Marquis of Leominster. She would not allow what she had just learned to spoil her happiness, despite the uneasy feeling that had come over her as the dowager countess told her the story.
She understood now why Lady Anne had spoken to her that way on her wedding day. It showed her mother’s strength of character, and her magnanimity that she had been able to greet the son of the man who had stolen her from her husband with a smile. She had allowed Catherine to marry Andrew of Gifford, but she must have suffered some doubts—felt a rush of horror from the past?
Catherine could not quite put the story out of her mind, try as she would. She suspected that it would linger at the back of her mind for some time to come.
Catherine was pleased that the dinner served to them that evening was well cooked and tasted as good as anything that came from her mother’s kitchens at home. She particularly liked the dish of plums and the sweet custards, and she noticed that Andrew ate heartily, whilst his mother finished her portions without complaint.
‘A little more variety in the dishes might be acceptable, Catherine,’ the dowager said when she had finished. ‘But you are fortunate in your cooks.’
‘We shall have more dishes in future,’ Catherine told her. ‘The stores here were very low, but tomorrow my servants visit the market with money for spices and the preserves we lack. I am sure we shall be able to serve you a better dinner tomorrow, ma’am.’
‘What silver you have is of good quality,’ the dowager remarked. ‘Again, you need more than you presently have, Lady Catherine.’
‘The servants have a mountain of silver to clean,’ Catherine replied patiently. ‘Please do not feel the need to use my title, ma’am. That is for others, not my husband’s mother.’
‘Very well, Catherine,’ the dowager replied. ‘If you wish, you may call me Elspeth. It is a name I have seldom used, but you have my permission to do so, for I do not believe you would wish to call me Mother?’
‘I have only one mother,’ Catherine replied. ‘But I shall be happy to call you by your given name in private.’
‘We are agreed,’ the dowager said, nodding to Catherine and then her son. Andrew had hardly spoken for the past hour. ‘I shall retire to my chamber—I dare say you will wish to spend some time alone together. My women will have unpacked my things by now and I shall spend my time in sewing. I shall work on a linen cloth for your table, Catherine. It will be my gift to you—though I also have a silver ewer in my chest as a wedding gift for both of you.’ She stood up, glancing at her son, though he made no response. ‘Goodnight, Andrew—Catherine.’
Andrew was silent until the door closed behind her. He glanced at Catherine, who still sat at the far end of the table. ‘Do not trust her too far, Catherine. She knows how to charm when she pleases, but she can be vicious.’
‘You should give her the benefit of the doubt, Andrew,’ Catherine said, placing her napkin on the table beside her platter. ‘Shall we sit closer to the fire? It was thoughtful of your mother to leave us alone. I would wish to talk for a while, if it pleases you?’
‘Of course it pleases me to talk to you, Catherine. Is there something in particular you wish to say?’
‘I was wondering if it is in your mind to sell Malchester?’
‘No, I think not,’ Andrew said as they stood up and went over to the two armchairs set close to the hearth. ‘Why did you ask?’ He frowned as she did not answer at once. ‘I suppose my mother put that thought in your mind?’
‘I believe she thinks it hardly worth the effort of saving.’
‘Her opinion is not mine. The house is solid and in better repair than I could have hoped after two years of neglect, and the land will be fertile once it is set in good heart. I hope she has not given you a dislike of the place, Catherine?’
‘I am pleased you do not intend to sell,’ Catherine said and smiled at him serenely. ‘I know it needs a deal of work to make it as we should wish—but I rather like the house. The North Tower may need to be pulled down, though.’
‘It was in my mind to set the work in hand when we leave here,’ Andrew replied. ‘I wish to consult with a master builder, but rather than build another tower, I thought we might have him design and construct a more modern wing.’
Catherine threw him a look of delight. ‘That would add so much to the house, Andrew. I am glad that you plan for the future rather than of ridding yourself of what could be a pleasant home we might use sometimes.’
‘As I said earlier, do not take too much heed of whatever my mother tells you, Catherine. She will interfere more than is necessary if you let her. It is her nature and you may find her difficult.’
‘I am not so easily put aside,’ Catherine said, a glint in her eyes. ‘If I know I have your approval, I believe I know how to manage Lady Gifford.’ She suddenly found herself yawning. ‘Forgive me, I did not mean to do that, for it is hardly late.’
‘But you are tired,’ he said. ‘Go up to your bed now, my love. I shall not be long in coming.’
Catherine nodded, smothering another yawn. It was unlike her to feel so tired, but they had travelled a long way and she had been working hard all day. She paused at the door, glancing back at her husband, but he was staring into the fire, a strange expression on his face. She wondered why he had been so upset by his mother’s arrival. It was clear that there was unease between them. Catherine could know nothing of old quarrels and resentments, but she did not dislike the dowager countess and hoped that they could at least be civilised with one another.
She allowed Tilda to help her to undress, but she did not order a bath. Instead, she used the warm water she found in her ewer to wash before getting into bed. For some minutes, she sat back against the pile of feather pillows, trying to keep her eyes open, but the minutes ticked by and still Andrew did not come and her eyelids were heavy. She snuggled down into the warmth of the bed, closing her eyes. It could not matter if she dozed for a while, because her husband would wake her when he came.
Andrew stood looking at his lovely wife, caught by her soft beauty as she slept. Her lovely hair had spread out on the pillows, turned to the colour of flame in the light of the candles that still burned brightly close to the bed. He was tempted to gather her into his arms and kiss her until she woke and gazed up at him with love and desire. However, he knew that she was tired after her busy day and he did not wish to wake her. Besides, she
might still be a little sore after the previous night. He wanted her, but he could wait until she was less tired.
He was thoughtful as he went through to the next room and sought his own bed. It had angered him that his mother believed she had the right to invite herself to his house, but in his heart he knew it would be better for Catherine if she had an older woman to turn to with her problems from time to time. If his mother was sincere in her wish to begin anew and live in peace with her family, perhaps he should give her the chance. Had Catherine shown a dislike of her company, he would not have hesitated to send the dowager away, but since his wife was prepared to welcome her here he could not be less generous. Yet there was a little voice somewhere at the back of his mind that asked if his mother could be trusted.
He tried to smother his doubts. He knew that Lady Gifford had not been happy in either of her marriages, and perhaps he had treated her with less kindness in the past than he might have had she not brought Harold of Meresham into their home. The man was a rogue and a scoundrel, and from what he had learned from Catherine’s father, Harold should have hung before he ever came to wed Andrew’s mother.
It was time to let the past go, Andrew decided. There had been too much bitterness. He had no time to dwell on what might have been, for he must work all hours if he was to get the land into good heart in time for a harvest next year. He would ride to his neighbour in the morning, and ask Sir Robert to release the labourers who by rights should work for the lord of Malchester. At the same time, he would offer hospitality to Sir Robert and his family.
Andrew sat down at his desk, drawing a ledger towards him. He knew that he would not sleep for some hours. His loins throbbed with desire for the young wife who lay next door. A part of him longed to go back and wake her, but his conscience told him that she was unused to being a wife and chatelaine and needed to rest. She would need to feel fresh in the morning to cope with the house, her new responsibilities—and a mother-in-law who would take too much for granted if she were allowed a free rein.
Andrew smiled ruefully. His wife was going to have to grow up very quickly! He must not demand too much of her too soon. She was sweet and innocent, and he must be careful not to destroy those qualities. Catherine had given him her trust and her affection; he must allow her as much freedom as possible while she learned her duties as a wife. Besides, he had a mountain of work to do here if he were to leave before Christ’s Mass, as he had hoped.
Chapter Ten
‘T here is a great deal of linen that needs to be mended,’ the dowager countess said when she found Catherine arranging some greenery in the hall. ‘If you have brought that in for the Christmas celebrations, it is too soon. It will dry out and die before the week is done.’
Catherine smothered a sigh. She had discovered that her husband was perfectly right to suggest that his mother would interfere in all her arrangements. She had kept her patience thus far and was determined to do so despite having had her orders countermanded three times that day.
‘There is more than enough greenery in the woods, Elspeth. I shall gather holly and ivy for the festivities, but I thought these boughs would make the house seem more homely. Mother always had greenery in the house when she could, flowers too when they were plentiful.’
The dowager pursed her mouth disapprovingly. ‘Flowers drop their petals and make a mess, but I suppose if your servants have nothing better to do with their time…’
‘Everyone is working very hard to make things comfortable,’ Catherine told her. ‘Sarah set the girls to waxing the furniture in the hall and the parlours today. Tomorrow she will have them begin on the bedchambers that have not yet been cleaned. I believe we have made a good start. I gathered this from the gardens myself. Besides, I like the smell of greenery.’
‘It is well enough when it is fresh,’ the dowager said grudgingly. ‘You must do as you think fit, Catherine. But I should have waited for Christ’s Mass if I had been you.’
‘I have been wondering if we should give a party for our neighbours at Christ’s Mass,’ Catherine said. ‘Though it would make a lot of work for the servants as we should need to bake for several days, and the preserves must be brought in since we have so few of our own here.’
‘It is a pity that Andrew did not take you home. He could have come here alone in the New Year and set things to right before bringing you to this place. If he listened to me, he would sell it and spend the festivities at his home, for it is far more comfortable than this house, Catherine.’
‘Yes, he has told me so,’ Catherine replied. ‘But this estate has been neglected for so long, Elspeth. Do you not think we owe it to the people here to bring it to some order? If we make the celebrations joyous, they will join in, and that should bring them some cheer. If we leave without setting things to rights, they will lose heart.’
‘You think of others too much—’ the dowager began, but what she meant to say was lost as they heard voices outside the room before the door opened and a woman dressed in a rich velvet gown and cloak entered.
‘Forgive me for coming uninvited,’ the woman said, her voice soft and husky. ‘When I knew that Andrew was here I could not stay away another day.’ Her dark eyes swept over the room, taking in both Catherine and the dowager. ‘Lady Gifford, I think you may remember me? We met once some years ago—madam, you must be Andrew’s wife, I think? I bid you welcome, and offer you the hospitality of my uncle’s home. We hope that you will dine with us very soon.’
Catherine’s heart felt as if it had suddenly stopped as she looked at the beautiful woman standing in her parlour. There was such an air of authority about her, such elegance and breeding that she felt like a country nobody in the plain gown she had chosen as suitable for her duties as a chatelaine. She knew the visitor at once—how could she forget the woman who had seemed to believe that Andrew of Gifford was her property?
‘I believe you have forgot me, Catherine,’ Lady Henrietta said in a chiding tone. ‘Do you not recall that we met briefly at court?’
‘Yes, of course, ma’am,’ Catherine said, recovering her manners and her composure. ‘At least I saw you there, though I think we were not actually introduced. I knew you, but was surprised. Your arrival was just so unexpected. You are our first visitor. Are you one of our neighbours, Lady Henrietta?’
‘My late husband’s estate borders on Andrew’s home,’ the lady replied. ‘But I am staying with my uncle, Sir Robert Soames. We heard just this morning that Andrew was in residence—and that Malchester had been gifted to him by the King.’
‘Have you seen my husband?’
‘No, not yet,’ Lady Henrietta replied. ‘I had hoped to find him at home. I came to invite you all to dine tomorrow.’
‘Then you are at cross-purposes,’ Catherine said, lifting her head proudly. ‘As you may have been told, the estate has been sadly neglected, but we are bringing some order to bear—and it was our intention to invite you and your uncle’s family to dine next week.’
‘We could not put you to so much trouble,’ Lady Henrietta said, glancing round disparagingly. ‘I see that you have made some progress, but there is much to do, Lady Catherine. It would be much better if you were to come to us, for my uncle’s estate is well run and his home in excellent repair.’
‘I am sure we are well able to feed a few friends,’ Catherine said, on her mettle now because of the lady’s condescending air. ‘Will you not sit down, Lady Henrietta? I shall ring for wine and biscuits. I am sure that Sarah has been baking this morning and they will be fresh and delicious.’
‘Thank you, but I shall not stay,’ Lady Henrietta said. ‘I shall call another day, if I may? I think we might as well be friends, Catherine. I am intending a long stay with my uncle and, as one of Andrew’s closest friends, I dare say I shall be in and out of the house often enough.’ She gave Catherine a smile that did not quite reach her eyes. ‘I should warn you to stay away from the North Tower. It is in a dangerous condition. Some say it is haunted, but I dare
say it is only rumour and nonsense. Good day to you, Lady Gifford. Until we meet again.’
She turned and swept out of the room as abruptly as she had come, leaving a strong smell of perfume behind her.
‘That is a woman to be wary of,’ the dowager said once the door had closed. ‘I should be careful of becoming her friend, Catherine. If I am not mistaken, she believed that my son intended to make her an offer of marriage. Indeed, I am sure it was in his mind at one time.’
‘I think that she believed it was so,’ Catherine said, feeling a pang of what she knew to be jealousy. Lady Henrietta was very beautiful. Her manner towards Andrew at the court had been one of confidence and expectation. ‘I dare say he might have married her had the King not decreed otherwise.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ the dowager replied and frowned. ‘You should not let her take your husband from you, Catherine. She is very beautiful, but so are you—in your own way. Lady Henrietta would make most women look plain, but that does not mean she has the right to entice Andrew from you, though she will if she can. Believe me, I know what cheats men can be. I have been married twice and neither of them was faithful for a month!’
Catherine felt a sharp, swingeing pain in the region of her heart. Since the night that Andrew had made her his wife in truth, she had begun to think that he cared for her as she did him, but his mother’s words had brought back some of her doubts. How could he prefer her to the woman who had just left them? Surely no man would be faithful to a young, inexperienced girl like Catherine if he could have a woman like Lady Henrietta?
Andrew had been kind and gentle when he loved her, but he had not come to her bed the next night. She knew that she had fallen asleep waiting for him to come. She remembered that he had seemed angry and withdrawn at supper that night. Catherine had assumed that he was still annoyed because his mother had come to stay, but now she could not help wondering if it was because he had learned that the woman he truly loved was staying nearby. Had he married her to gain an estate—an estate that he now found in need of much work and money?