by Anne Herries
‘Madam,’ a voice said, causing Catherine to swing round in surprise. ‘I see that you are well prepared for the morrow. I came to bring you some gifts from my uncle.’
‘Lady Henrietta…’ Catherine stared at her, a tingling sensation at the back of her neck. She had given instructions that no one should be allowed into her private parlour unless she gave permission, and she certainly had not given permission for this lady to enter. ‘Why did Sarah not announce you?’
‘I dare say she did not know I was here, for I came in at a side door seldom used. I visited that way sometimes when Malchester was alive—for he welcomed my company after his wife died.’
‘Indeed…’ Catherine’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the other woman’s face. ‘It may have escaped your notice, madam, but Malchester no longer lives here. I prefer that visitors come to the front of the house to be announced.’
‘It is hardly your place to tell me what to do,’ Lady Henrietta said. ‘Your husband knows I am here. He has told me I may come and go as I please.’
Catherine frowned. The tingling sensation was spreading down her spine. Something was making her feel very odd—what was it and why did it make her feel alarmed?
‘I believe my husband would not do that without telling me first, madam.’
Lady Henrietta walked over to where Catherine had piled her presents. She picked one of them up, reading the label and tossing it down with contempt. ‘Sweetmeats you have made yourself, I dare say?’ Her top lip curled back in a sneer. ‘What a perfect chatelaine you are, Catherine—but men do not love women like you. They find you boring; that is why he comes to me when he leaves your bed in the night. He must get an heir with you, but for his pleasure he comes to me.’
Catherine heard the venom in her voice, and felt a sick feeling of foreboding inside. She knew what she had noticed the moment Lady Henrietta entered the room. It was her strong perfume. She had smelled that perfume before in her chamber: once on the night when the rug was set alight and again on the night she discovered that Tilda had been attacked.
‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Catherine said as the realisation swept over her. ‘You entered my bedchamber through the secret way and set the rug on fire. You thrust a thorn into my horse and frayed the straps so that my saddle would slip—and you hit my serving woman. She smelled your perfume, though she could not recall it, but she knew there was something.’
‘How clever of you to work it out at last,’ Lady Henrietta said, smiling coldly. ‘But have you realised that your husband is my accomplice? We planned it together, for he must not be implicated in your death. He wants you dead so that he can wed me.’
‘You are lying,’ Catherine cried. ‘Andrew loves me. He would never do anything to harm me.’
‘What a simple, trusting fool you are,’ Lady Henrietta snarled. ‘He wants me. He has always wanted me. He married you because he had no choice. The King forced him to wed you, and he saw that it was the best way of securing the honours and wealth that was owed him by your family. He despises and hates you, but he must appear to treat you well so that no suspicion falls on him when you meet your death.’
‘I do not believe you,’ Catherine said, lifting her head proudly. ‘You are deceiving yourself if you believe that my husband wants you. I know that you were his mistress once, but he has put that behind him. He loves me—and he would not betray me by coming to your bed from mine.’
‘Such a fool!’ Lady Henrietta said, her face working with temper. ‘He may seem a loving husband, but in his heart it is me he wants. Once you are dead, he will beg me to return to him, and he will marry me.’
‘You are the fool, madam,’ Catherine said. ‘You have tried to kill me three times, but you did not succeed. You will not succeed now. I have only to call out and the servants will come running.’
‘They are all scurrying about like demented ants preparing for your celebrations tomorrow, but it will be such a sad day, for you will not be there to welcome your guests.’ Lady Henrietta pulled something from beneath her cloak. She raised her arm, the knife with its long, gleaming blade flashing in the light of the candles. ‘Before anyone can reach you, you will be dead and I shall be gone as silently as I came.’ She rushed at Catherine, her arm raised.
‘No!’ Catherine screamed. ‘Help me, someone. Help me!’
She put out her hands to protect herself, catching Lady Henrietta’s wrist. They struggled fiercely, for they were well matched in strength, and Catherine was fighting for her life. Once the older woman managed to get one hand free and stabbed at Catherine, but she caught the blade, ignoring the sharp sting as it cut the palm of her hand. She tried to grasp the handle and pull it free from Lady Henrietta’s hand, but she had a tight hold on it. Catherine screamed again loudly, and then someone came rushing into the room.
Seeing what was happening, Elspeth seized the fire iron from the hearth. She raised it high, bringing it down sharply on Lady Henrietta’s arm, its force so hard that the knife was sent spinning across the polished wood floor.
At that moment Andrew came into the room. He heard Lady Henrietta’s scream of fury as she launched herself at the dowager, her nails going for the woman’s face. Giving a shout of anger, Andrew seized her from behind, imprisoning her as she fought to get free. She screamed, hurling abuse at him and everyone else, her eyes wild with something akin to madness as she screamed insults at Catherine.
‘She is a witch! She stole your love from me,’ Henrietta shouted wildly. ‘She must die and then you will be free of her…’
‘Be quiet, Henrietta,’ Andrew said. He spun her round to face him, his fingers digging into her flesh. ‘I do not love you. I never loved you—and now I hate you. You tried to kill my wife, and for that you must and shall be punished. I shall have you taken to your uncle. When he learns what you have done, he will have you incarcerated somewhere safe so that you can do no harm to others.’
‘No!’ She launched herself at him, her fingers striking him in the eye so that he jerked back, releasing her involuntarily. Whirling around, she ran from the room.
‘Damn her!’ Andrew said, his right eye watering. He turned to look at Catherine, seeing the blood on her hands, which his mother was trying to staunch. ‘She has hurt you, Catherine…the she-devil!’
‘It is nothing,’ Catherine said. ‘You must go after her, Andrew. She is a danger to herself and others.’
‘But you…’ He took a step towards her, then stopped and looked at his mother. ‘You will take care of Catherine, Mother?’
‘Of course. If you had thought about it before now, you would have known that she is like a daughter to me. You know I suspected that Lady Henrietta was out to harm her, and as soon as I heard her voice raised I came in. Thankfully, I was in time.’
‘Elspeth saved my life,’ Catherine said. ‘She will help me. I will come to no harm now. Go after that poor woman, Andrew. Take men with you to look for her. I think she is out of her mind and I do not know what she may do.’
‘I shall tell her uncle that she must be restrained. Unless he wants her to die on the gallows, he will see that she can hurt no one else.’
‘Go then before she has the chance of more mischief,’ Lady Gifford said. ‘I shall bathe Catherine’s hands and apply a salve. Your wife is brave enough to bear what she must—now go!’
Andrew threw another agonised look at his wife, then strode from the room. The dowager led Catherine to a chair, making her sit down. She turned as Sarah came hurrying into the room.
‘Bring cold water, linen and salves,’ she commanded. ‘Your mistress is hurt—that witch tried to kill her and she fought against the knife with her bare hands.’
Sarah hurried to do her bidding, returning swiftly with the water and salves. She saw that blood had soaked into her mistress’s gown, and gave a cry of distress.
‘Lady Catherine, you are sorely hurt,’ Sarah cried as she knelt at her mistress’s feet, holding the bowl for Elspeth. ‘How did Lady Henrietta com
e here? We all had orders not to admit her.’
‘It seems that Andrew had sense enough for that,’ Lady Gifford said wryly. ‘But that witch seems to know her way in and out of this place better than any of us.’
‘I think she may have been the old master’s mistress for a time when she was very young,’ Sarah said, surprising them. ‘My father told me that he saw her coming from Malchester’s chamber when she was no more than fifteen. It was a few weeks after that that her marriage was arranged. Father thought that her uncle had discovered her secret and married her off before she disgraced them all. I believe she came here sometimes after he died, because I found things moved in the old master’s room and thought he must haunt it.’
‘So she was given to a man twice her age,’ Catherine said thoughtfully. ‘But she survived him and she fell in love—and then she was abandoned for another woman. It is hardly surprising that she hated me. I believe her wrongs must have played on her mind to such an extent that she lost her wits.’
‘You would excuse the devil himself,’ Lady Gifford said with a snort as she applied a cloth to the palms of Catherine’s hands. ‘She tried to murder you so that she could steal your husband and take your place here. You should hate her, not feel sorry for her.’
‘I cannot hate her, despite what she did,’ Catherine said. ‘She has nothing but a life of misery ahead of her—and I have everything.’
‘You forgive too easily,’ her mother-in-law chided as she bound her hands with fresh linen. ‘The salve will help to heal you, Catherine, but nothing will stop the pain until the wounds begin to heal.’
Sarah gathered up the used cloths and carried them away.
‘It does not matter,’ Catherine said as the girl went out. ‘I am grateful for what you did, Elspeth. Had you not been here, I might have been dead. Andrew would have been too late to save me.’
‘I did what anyone would have done,’ the dowager said, but Catherine thought she saw tears in her eyes.
‘You were brave and resourceful,’ Catherine said. ‘I know what I owe you, Elspeth.’
‘You owe me nothing,’ Elspeth replied. ‘When I first came here I intended to make as much bother for you as I could. I was angry that I was not invited to the wedding—’
‘But you have done nothing but help me,’ Catherine interrupted, smiling at her. ‘We may have our disagreements, Elspeth, but I think we are comfortable together. I shall tell Andrew that you are always welcome in our home, wherever we are.’
‘I thank you for that, Catherine. After the festival of Christ’s Mass I shall go home—but if you will have me, I shall come to stay again in a few months.’
‘If it is your wish,’ Catherine told her, ‘you must go—but for my part you are welcome to make your home with us.’
‘You are always generous, Catherine.’
‘I miss my mother,’ Catherine said with a smile. ‘I know she will visit sometimes, but she has my sister and youngest brother and cannot leave her home for long. You have no one but us, and I would have your companionship, Elspeth.’
Elspeth turned away to tidy the remaining linens and salves. ‘Well, we shall see what your husband has to say, Catherine. All I can say is that I hope he will catch that wretched woman before she has the chance to cause more trouble.’
Catherine looked for Andrew’s return anxiously throughout the day, but it was late and she had retired to her chamber to rest when at last he came to her. She had not undressed and was working at some sewing, though with her bandaged hands she was making poor work of it. Andrew walked towards her and took the work from her.
‘You should not even try to do this, my love.’
‘The stitches are so bad that I shall have to unpick them,’ Catherine said with a rueful laugh. ‘But it helped to pass the time. I was very worried, Andrew. Did you find her—did you see her uncle? Did he believe what she had done?’
‘I saw Sir Robert, and, yes, he did believe me,’ Andrew said gravely. ‘Apparently, Henrietta had always had a wild streak. Her malady comes from her mother. He told me that his sister had to be restrained for some years before she died of a fever. The bad humours run through the female line, and he has thankfully avoided it. He sent his sincere apologies and said that he will do all that is necessary to restrain Henrietta.’
‘I was afraid he might not believe you,’ Catherine said with a little shiver. ‘Poor Lady Henrietta, what a terrible life lies ahead of her.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Andrew said, frowning. ‘I always knew there was something different about her—but I blame myself. It is true that once I had thought I might ask her to be my wife. She seemed sane enough when I knew her, though wilful and prone to fits of temper. If I drove her over the edge…’
‘No, my love, you must not blame yourself,’ Catherine said. She went to him, patting his arm with her bandaged hands. ‘Did her uncle not say that she was always wild? Mullins says that she was Malchester’s mistress when she was but fifteen and she was married off to save her family from shame. Sarah thinks she visited Malchester’s chamber sometimes, moving his things. Perhaps she was happy when she knew him? It must have angered her to see me sleeping in what must once have been his bed, and to know that I was your wife. How can we know what brought her malady on her? You must be thankful that she did not bring her madness to your home, Andrew.’
A shudder ran through him. ‘God must have been with me the day I met you, Catherine. Had I married Henrietta—’ he broke off and shook his head. ‘We did not find her. In her present state there is no telling what she might do. I have ordered all the doors to be locked at night, and there will be men on guard night and day.’
‘You cannot think she will try again?’
‘Who knows what she might do in her condition?’ Andrew said. ‘Until I know she is no longer a danger to you, my men will be alert to any possibility.’
Catherine felt coldness at the back of her nape. ‘I must confess that I shall be relieved when she is restrained, but I cannot help feeling pity for her. She has so little and I have so much…’
‘I feel sorry for her also,’ Andrew replied. He reached out, drawing Catherine to him, gazing down at her face. ‘But there is nothing we can do for her.’
‘We can pray that she finds peace,’ Catherine said, lifting her face for his kiss.
‘Yes, we can pray for her,’ Andrew said. ‘But we have talked enough of Henrietta. What of your poor hands, my love? Would you like me to dress them again for you?’
‘Elspeth tended them for me and they are comfortable,’ Catherine said. She gazed up at him. ‘Your mother says that she must go after we have celebrated Christ’s Mass. I have told her she is welcome to come to us whenever she wishes.’
Andrew studied her face. ‘You do not find her presence here irksome? I know that she is a difficult woman.’
‘Perhaps once she was,’ Catherine replied. ‘But she is lonely and she needs us, Andrew. Can you find it in your heart to forgive her for the years she neglected or was unkind to you?’
A rueful smile touched his lips. ‘If you can accept her, then I dare say I shall,’ he said. ‘You must be tired after such a day, Catherine. Shall I leave you to sleep?’
‘Will you not lie beside me until I sleep?’ she said, giving him a look of love. ‘I shall rest more easily if you are here.’
‘If you wish me to remain with you all night, I shall,’ Andrew told her, bending his head to gently kiss her mouth. ‘I am yours to command as you will, my love.’
Catherine looked around her hall, seeing the smiling faces of her guests as they enjoyed the simple but delicious fare she and her servants had prepared for them. The wassail bowl had been passed round, and the cold meats with spiced relishes, mince pies, marchpane with dates and walnuts, almond cakes, apple tarts and sweetmeats were being consumed with every sign of enjoyment. Wine syllabubs, junkets and plum puddings had proved popular with the ladies and children, and great quantities of ale, wine, fruit cordials and cider
were on offer for all those who wished for it.
Catherine had given her gifts to her servants earlier, and apart from Sarah and her father, who remained to help serve their guests, they were enjoying their own celebrations with the ale and cider Andrew had provided.
Some of the guests had sung songs of Christmas cheer to entertain them, and there had been a great deal of laughter and merriment as the evening wore on. Catherine was a little surprised that Sir Robert had brought his wife and family, for she had been afraid that after what had happened with his niece he would feel awkward and stay away.
‘I am glad to see you here, sir,’ she told him with a warm smile.
‘I would not have us bad friends,’ Sir Robert told her. He glanced at her hands, which were still lightly bandaged, though they had already begun to heal. ‘You must forgive Henrietta, Lady Catherine. She inherited this malady from her mother. I should perhaps have had her locked away some months ago, but until recently her moods came and went and were controllable. I did not want to forbid her her freedom until it became necessary. I had no idea she planned such evil.’
‘I have forgiven her and I pity her,’ Catherine said. ‘But have you no news of your niece?’
‘I have seen nothing of her since the morning she attacked you,’ he said. ‘I shall send word as soon as I have some news.’
‘Then I shall bid you and your family a pleasant Christ’s Mass and we shall speak no more of this tonight.’
‘You are generous, Lady Catherine. You have my sincere apologies for what was done to you.’
Catherine shook her head, inviting him to mingle and enjoy the evening. At least for this one night, she would allow no more talk of Lady Henrietta or what she had tried to do.
‘You are determined to go?’ Andrew asked of his mother a few days after Christ’s Mass. ‘You know that you are welcome to stay if you wish?’
‘Am I truly, Andrew?’ Elspeth inquired with a faint smile. ‘It is not what you would have said a few weeks back.’