by Anne Herries
A thought flashed into her mind, a thought so base and unworthy that she was ashamed it should even have occurred to her. Andrew was her husband; he cared for her. He would not murder her so that he could marry another woman! It would be wicked of Catherine even to consider such a thing.
No, she would not let herself think it for a moment! Lady Henrietta had implied that she and Andrew were close friends, and that he would welcome her to his house at any time. She had clearly believed that he intended to make her an offer before the King ordered his marriage to Catherine, and must have had reason to expect it. Yet if Andrew truly loved Henrietta, he could have refused the King’s request, though it might have incurred Henry’s anger. It might have meant that Andrew would not be raised to a marquis; it might have meant that he would not have received a generous gift from the King.
Such thoughts were a betrayal of her feelings for the man she loved. Catherine thrust the terrible suspicions from her mind, though she could see speculation in the dowager’s eyes and knew that she was thinking those same thoughts. Elspeth had suffered two unhappy marriages. Both her husbands had deceived and abused her trust. It was not to be wondered at if she had her suspicions, but Catherine did not share them.
She loved Andrew and she trusted him. No one had tried to kill her. The fire had been an accident. She would put the incident out of her mind and concentrate on her preparations for Christ’s Mass.
‘I am going to oversee the making of puddings and a plum cake for the festivities, Elspeth,’ she said. ‘Tell me, do you wish to help us? You should stir the puddings once for luck, and perhaps we should put a silver coin into one of them?’
Lady Gifford looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You are much stronger than I thought, Catherine. You will do well as my son’s wife if he hath the wit to see it. Yes, I shall help with the puddings. I have a special recipe of my own that I will share with you, if you should wish for it?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Catherine said. ‘I want this to be a good Christ’s Mass for all of us, Elspeth. I intend to give all the servants gifts, and to deliver gifts to the poor folk in the village.’
‘Yes, that is a good tradition,’ the dowager said. ‘When I was the mistress of Gifford I did so every year, but after we left there the custom was forgotten. I shall enjoy helping you make small gifts for the children. Violet sweets and comfits are popular, also peg dolls. A length of cloth or food for the winter is welcome in every house, Catherine.’
‘Yes, Mother always gave food and cloth,’ Catherine said. ‘I think we might make rose creams if we can purchase the essence. I shall give my list to Sarah and let her visit the shops in town. We have another ten days and we may make several sweetmeats and trinkets if we try….’
Andrew paced the floor of his chamber. Despite all his inquiries it seemed that no one knew of a secret entrance into Catherine’s chamber. He was certain that no one had passed through the dressing room or his chamber, which, since the only other door was locked, meant that the fire must have been an accident. He had rashly accused his mother, which had led to her giving him cold stares each time they met. Perhaps he had wronged her, he admitted now. It was obvious that she and Catherine were getting on better than he had expected.
On his return from visiting various neighbours, he had discovered them busy sewing toys and pretty trifles for the poor of the village. Each child was to have a cloth bag filled with sweetmeats and cakes, and some were to have a wooden toy or peg doll. The wooden animals were carved by one of the servants in his spare time. He usually took them to market to sell, but, learning of his craft, Catherine had purchased every one he had, leaving him free to make more to sell.
‘You do not mind that we have decided to distribute gifts to the poor folk in the village?’ Catherine had asked as Andrew stood in the doorway watching as they worked. ‘Your mother is very clever with her needle, and we have made some cloth dolls for the children, as well as these wooden figures. Earlier, we made some toffee and rose creams, for Sarah had the essence in her stores.’
‘You are the mistress here,’ he replied. ‘You must do as you think fit, Catherine.’
‘Tomorrow Sarah is going to show me where to gather holly, ivy and mistletoe for the house. We shall distribute the gifts on the following day.’
‘Do not forget that we dine with Sir Robert tomorrow evening.’
‘No, I had not forgotten,’ Catherine said. ‘I shall enjoy meeting our neighbours, Andrew. What gown do you think I should wear? Would my cloth of gold be too much for a country dinner?’
‘I like the green velvet,’ he replied. ‘But you must wear whatever pleases you, my love.’
‘If you like the green, I shall wear that,’ Catherine said, lifting her eyes to meet his. ‘I always wish to please you, Andrew.’
‘You look beautiful whatever you wear,’ he said. ‘If you prefer the gold, choose that. It matters little.’ His gaze transferred to his mother. ‘I take it that you plan to stay with us for Christ’s Mass, Mother?’
‘Catherine has asked me to stay on,’ the dowager replied. ‘I can help her with the preparations. We set the servants to making puddings today, and Catherine was pleased to use the recipe I gave her.’
‘I thought it was a good one, especially as we had all the ingredients but did not have all those my mother uses,’ Catherine said. She laughed softly. ‘The proof will be in the eating, Elspeth. We shall soon know how good a cook you are—my mother packed one of her puddings into my trunks, and I have ordered that we shall have that as well as your puddings on the eve of Christ’s Mass.’
Her voice carried a teasing note, and Andrew was surprised to see a gleam of humour in the dowager’s eyes. He would have expected sullen looks and a harsh reply, but Elspeth merely smiled and nodded.
‘Had I known the state of your stores here, I should have brought more of my preserves, Catherine. I think you will find the spiced peaches very much to your taste. They grow in a warm spot on my estate and have a special flavour. Some say that it is impossible to grow a good peach in England’s cool climate, but we had them every year—did we not, Andrew?’
‘Yes…yes, we did,’ he agreed, a half-smile on his lips. ‘Please excuse me, Catherine—Mother. I have some work to do before we dine.’
Alone in his chamber, Andrew tried to come to terms with his thoughts. He was certain that someone had set the fire. When he left Catherine sleeping he had glanced at the ashes of the fire; it had been smouldering, but even had a log fallen he was certain it could not have caught the rug. Someone must have entered the room and set it while he was working and Catherine slept. If it was not his mother, who could it be? Someone who wished his wife harm. He could not think of anyone, and yet he knew that she must have an enemy.
She had, of course, been abducted by the Earl of Ronchester, who was now being hunted the length and breadth of England, as a renegade. He did not imagine that the man could have followed them and gained access to his wife’s chamber—yet he could not think of anyone else who might bear a grudge against Catherine.
It was possible that Ronchester might seek to take revenge for what had happened. The man was a spiteful creature and must hate the very name of Gifford—but would he dare to come here? Would he know a secret way into Catherine’s bedchamber?
The evidence pointed to it being one of the servants, and yet he would swear they were loyal to a man. Mullins had been horrified at the idea, and his daughter had sworn she knew nothing. One or the other could be lying, but what they could hope to gain by it was a mystery. The incident was puzzling; it angered him and concerned him, for if someone had tried to kill Catherine—what would they try next?
Catherine had gathered enough holly, ivy and mistletoe to decorate the whole house. She had made one wreath that would hang on their door once the house was ready to receive visitors, for it was a sign that all were welcome. Her servants had orders to feed anyone who called at the kitchen for food, because the weather was turning bitter and at this
season the homeless soon took sick and died.
However, her chores were finished for the evening, and now she was dressed in her green velvet gown. She wore the pearls Andrew had given her as a wedding gift and the King’s gold chain. Besides her wedding ring of heavy gold, she wore a pearl ring her mother had given her. Just as she was about to go downstairs, a knock came at her door; when Tilda opened it, the dowager entered.
‘I have brought you a gift, Catherine,’ she said. ‘It is a gold cross set with pearls. My father gave it to me once when I was a girl not much younger than you are now. It was his last gift to me before he died. I want you to have it. I was told it had magical powers and would protect the wearer.’
Catherine looked at the cross, which was heavy and magnificent to look at. ‘Are you sure you wish me to have this, Elspeth? It must be valuable, and I dare say it is precious to you for your father’s sake.’
‘My father sold me into a loveless marriage,’ Elspeth said wryly. ‘I have known little love in my life. I want you to have it. I pray it will keep you safe from harm.’
‘You must not be concerned for my sake,’ Catherine said. ‘I do not believe that I have an enemy. I have harmed no one—why should anyone wish to harm me?’
‘People wish to harm others for many reasons. Jealousy, greed, revenge are but three.’ Elspeth looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You do not see the evil in others, Catherine. You are pure of heart and look only for good. I do not know if my cross will protect you, but it cannot harm you.’
‘No, it certainly will not harm me; it is beautiful, and I do thank you for it, Elspeth.’ Catherine went to kiss her cheek. ‘Bless you for thinking of me and giving me this wonderful gift. I shall give you a gift at Christ’s Mass, but I have nothing for you now.’
‘You have no idea of what you have already given me,’ the dowager said and turned away quickly, but not before Catherine caught the glimmer of tears in her eyes.
She smiled as she fastened the cross to her chain. It looked well with what she was wearing, and even though she did not truly believe in amulets she would enjoy wearing the pretty trinket.
She picked up her cloak, carrying it over her arm as she went downstairs to join the others in the hall. The horses were waiting patiently, their feet stamping on the hard ground, for there was a frost in the air. By nightfall there might be a light fall of snow, though the skies were too clear for it to be heavy.
Chapter Eleven
S ir Robert’s hall was decked with fresh greenery and scarlet ribbons. It was a fine house, modern and of good proportions. Catherine imagined that it was seeing this that had made Andrew think he would prefer to build a new wing at their estate rather than restore the ancient tower that had been destroyed by fire. The hall had been panelled with light golden oak, which gave the room a warm mellow feeling. The floor had a bright carpet woven in a Persian design, blue and red and gold, giving it a richness that added to the feeling of comfort and warmth. At one end a huge fire burned fiercely, throwing out sufficient heat to make the large room feel cosy.
In the centre of the room a long board resting on carved trestles had been set with platters of silver and the wine cups were also of silver with gold chasing at the edges. Clearly Sir Robert was a very wealthy man and he believed in entertaining lavishly. A huge silver-gilt salt took pride of place in the centre of the table and two large epergnes filled with crystallised fruits, marchpane and dates stood to either side of the magnificent salt.
More than twenty guests had been invited to meet the new marquis and his marchioness, and Catherine was given several small gifts by her neighbours. She was smiled upon and complimented, and her invitations to call were greeted with pleasure and the assurance that she would receive both visitors and further invitations.
‘I am delighted to receive an invitation to Malchester,’ Lady Falcon told her. ‘The marquis entertained often when I was young and I have fond memories of the house. I am glad that you and Gifford have decided to stay a while, and I shall certainly come to your dinner. I know that you must have found the house woefully short of provisions. Perhaps you would allow me to send you a basket of my preserves? We have more than we need and it would be my gift to you as a new bride, my dear.’
‘How kind you are,’ Catherine said. ‘Your gift will be accepted with pleasure, Lady Falcon, for I wish to make this a good Christ’s Mass for my neighbours and my people.’
‘I shall send a servant in the morning,’ Lady Falcon said, ‘for the sooner you have them the better. I dare say your servants have been baking for days.’
‘We have all been busy,’ Catherine said. ‘The house was in a sad way when we arrived, and it will take months to renew all the hangings, but we have already made some improvements, and I believe we can make our neighbours welcome for one night.’
‘It is the atmosphere that makes a house a home, Lady Catherine, and I am sure that yours will have that true feeling of love and content that is so important. It is clear that you and the marquis have an excellent understanding.’
‘Thank you,’ Catherine said. ‘I believe we shall do well together, ma’am.’
She turned and saw that Lady Henrietta was standing just behind them, her green eyes narrowed, her mouth unsmiling. However, when she saw Catherine look at her, she smiled and came towards her.
‘Madam, you look very well in that green. It is too hard a colour for many, but it softens the tones of your hair a little and that is flattering.’
‘It is my husband’s favourite gown,’ Catherine replied. ‘I wore it for him tonight. Your gown is beautiful, and the colour is rich. Did you have it made in London?’
‘It was made in France,’ Lady Henrietta replied. ‘The French have so much style, do you not think so—or perhaps you have never been to Paris?’
‘I fear that I have not,’ Catherine said. ‘I know that my husband has travelled, but I have seldom been far from my home.’
‘I dare say it was not thought necessary. You can never have imagined you would marry so well.’
‘I hardly thought of marriage at all until I met Andrew,’ Catherine said and smiled. ‘He teased me from the start and I fell in love. I would have married him had he been a humble yeoman.’
‘Indeed.’ Lady Henrietta arched her brows in disbelief. ‘You were fortunate, madam. Had the King not interfered, I fear you would have been sadly disappointed.’
‘Perhaps,’ Catherine said, refusing to show any emotion. ‘But perhaps not. Andrew is a gallant man and he saved my brother’s life; they are good friends.’
‘What has that to say to anything?’ Lady Henrietta’s eyes flashed. ‘Excuse me, I have other guest to speak to…’
Her manner implied that they were more important. Catherine’s eyes followed her as she walked away, her gown swishing rather like the tail of an angry cat. She had allowed her claws to show a little that night, but Catherine felt that she had held her own.
‘What did she say to you?’ Elspeth asked as she came up to her. ‘I dare swear it was nothing good.’
‘Nothing important,’ Catherine said and laughed softly. ‘She may tear at me all she wishes with her spiteful words, but the fact remains that I am Andrew’s wife.’
‘Yes, that is true,’ the dowager said. ‘I dare say it does not please the lady overmuch.’
‘They are calling us to dine,’ Catherine said. She saw that Lady Henrietta had claimed Andrew to take her in, but as Sir Robert came up to her a moment later she could not complain. He offered an arm to Catherine and Lady Gifford and the three went to table together. Catherine was seated between her host and another gentleman. She glanced across the table and saw that her husband was seated next to Lady Henrietta.
Catherine smiled at Andrew, her eyes meeting his with a hint of mischief that made him raise his brows and then smile at her. She nodded and then turned to her neighbour, determined not to look at him or Lady Henrietta again until the meal was over. She heard the lady’s laughter ring out several
times, but would not be drawn. Andrew was being polite to his dinner partner, just as she was being polite to hers. She would ignore the little pricks of jealousy. She could bear it and she would, because whatever the other woman did to charm him, he was still her husband—and it was her bed he would sleep in that night.
Catherine made her goodbyes to the new friends she had made. She could not avoid Lady Henrietta, and she went to her deliberately, making a point of asking her to call soon.
‘We shall keep open house from now until after the New Year,’ she said. ‘Please feel free to call whenever you wish, ma’am. I shall not be at home tomorrow in the morning, but in the afternoon I am sure to be there.’
‘Oh, I am not sure whether I have the time to call. We have so many friends to visit at this time of year.’
‘Yes, of course, you must have,’ Catherine said. ‘But you are welcome if you choose to ride over.’
Catherine went outside to where the horses were waiting to take them home. It was very cold now and a few flakes of snow had fallen, but it was nothing like enough to cause a drift as yet, and it might not settle. Andrew gave her a hand up and she took the reins, holding them lightly. Her horse shied a little and she patted its neck to settle it down.
‘Easy, my sweetling,’ she said. ‘It is but a short ride home and you will be in a warm stable for the night.’
Catherine frowned as the small party moved forward. She sensed that something was wrong with her horse, though she was not sure what. Frosty was usually the most obedient of creatures, but she snorted and tossed her head several times, and there was something about her footing that was not right. Catherine wondered if she might have a shoe coming loose, but that was the only thing she could think of. She was wondering whether or not to halt and get down when her horse suddenly shied, and then snorted, rearing up on its hind legs. At that moment, Catherine’s saddle moved sideways and she was thrown to the ground.