Chapter 36
December 1462
Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland
Kate left the chapel and headed for the Lady Chamber. She’d decided a while back that if she wanted to get along with Joan, it was best not to step on her toes. They each had their roles, and it was her, not Joan, who had been overstepping her boundaries. Once Kate stopped popping into the kitchen, her relationship with Joan improved somewhat. The older woman simply wanted reassurance that her position within the family was secure, and Kate was more than willing to give it as long as Joan gave her word that she wouldn’t be unkind to Aileen. Joan had been taken aback by the request, thinking it a rich woman’s whim, but she’d readily agreed, eager to get Kate out of her hair. She still heard Joan berating the girl and calling her names, but Joan hadn’t hit her again, at least not in Kate’s presence.
The corridor was completely silent as Kate walked toward the Lady Chamber. She knew it’d be empty at this time of morning. Eleanor was still abed, as was Adam, Joan was in the kitchen with Aileen, and Alf and Jed were likely already about their morning chores. Hugh and Guy had left nearly a month ago, having been called on by their liege lord to help quell the Lancastrian uprisings in the north.
Hugh had been happy to go. He’d been restless and irritable, and Kate had secretly welcomed the separation. Tonight she would write to him to tell him of the happenings at the keep, which were few. Adam had fallen ill with a fever, but recovered quickly. The weather had been inclement, but Hugh would know that being not that far from home. Kate and Eleanor had called on the Duchess of Stanwyck to find out news of her husband and son and spend a pleasant afternoon in the company of other women. In her letter, Kate would carefully ask after Guy, hoping her inquiry didn’t sound too eager or too personal.
She shivered as she sat down by the unlit hearth. She’d have to wait for Jed to bring in some firewood and start a fire. The room was cold and gray, and lonely. Kate stared wistfully at the large snowflakes falling steadily outside the window. It’d been snowing for several days now, and the snow in the yard was knee-deep. When the castle was this silent and still it felt like a tomb, devoid of any life or hope. Kate closed her eyes and recalled the days when Guy used to meet her outside the chapel. He’d stopped doing that after their near-kiss, finding excuses to remain in his room, or going out to the yard to practice with Walter for hours on end. Determined to regain full use of his arm, he spent each morning sword-fighting with Walter or Hugh, or practicing with a quintain. Some days, he came back in clutching his arm and grinding his teeth from the pain, but he carried on, convinced that with enough effort, he’d be battle-ready soon.
“I won’t be a cripple, Kate,” he’d said when Kate begged him not to push himself so hard. “I won’t be useless. I can’t spend the rest of my life sitting around, doing nothing. I’d rather die honorably on the battlefield.”
“Is it really an honorable death if you don’t believe in the cause you’re fighting for?” Kate had challenged him.
“It’s more honorable than pining after your brother’s wife,” Guy had replied.
That was the most honest thing he’d said to her since that day by the river, and the most painful. If Guy pursued her, he wouldn’t be the man she believed him to be, and if he didn’t, there was not a glimmer of hope in her already bleak life that anything might change. Guy’s resolve appeared to be driven by his desire to get away from her because he couldn’t stand the strain. They’d been doing a careful dance of avoidance, the steps becoming familiar to them both as the weeks wore on, but they could no longer deny their feelings for each other, or successfully hide them from the rest of the family, a suspicion that was confirmed by a conversation with Eleanor only yesterday.
“It’s so dull here without Hugh and Guy,” Eleanor had complained as she sat by the fire, her crewel work in her lap. “I swear, some days I think I will expire from boredom.”
“Yes, it’s very quiet,” Kate agreed.
Eleanor gave Kate a piercing stare. “Yet you seem lighter somehow since they’ve gone. Why is that?”
“No reason that I can think of.”
“I can. You’re happy that Hugh’s not here,” Eleanor observed. “Come now, Kate, what is it about your husband that vexes you so? I’d give anything to trade places with you. Anything at all.”
“That’s because you loved William,” Kate replied patiently.
“And you should love Hugh. He’s a fine man, Kate. He’s strong, handsome, and ambitious. He’s more ambitious that my Will ever was, God rest his soul. Will was too decent for his own good at times. Had he been as clever as some, he might have doubled our holdings and filled our coffers.”
“We are comfortably off,” Kate argued.
“Comfortably off is not the same as rich, is it, and where would we be without your dowry? We still have to economize if we hope to make that money last. Why, I’m sick to death of boiled mutton and mashed turnips. I’d like to have a table as fine as that of the Duchess of Stanwyck. I’m still tasting that marzipan,” Eleanor said, closing her eyes and sighing wistfully. “I’ve never tasted anything so divine.” She sighed. “Maybe Hugh will distinguish himself somehow. They say that Edward is generous to those who are loyal to him. He’s been giving out lands and titles like Christmas sweets.”
“I only want Hugh and Guy to return to us unharmed,” Kate replied, doing her best to keep her patience in check. Eleanor was beginning to grate on her.
“Do you? Both of them?” Eleanor scoffed. “I don’t think you’d be too heartbroken if you found yourself a widow. Well, let me tell you, Kate, there’s no glory in being widowed. You become nothing. Less than nothing. You have no husband, no position, no money of your own, and no prospects. If Hugh cared anything for me at all, he’d find me a husband. I’m done with my mourning, and I’m still in my prime. I can even still bear children. So why shouldn’t I remarry?”
“No reason that I can think of.”
“Oh, there is a reason. Hugh will never allow me to take another husband. He’s too shrewd for that. If I marry, my husband will become father to my son and assume control of the de Rosel estate until Adam comes of age. And if anything were to happen to my boy, God preserve us, he would get it all. No, Hugh will keep me here until I shrivel up and die, unless the situation changes.”
Kate was about to protest, but saw the truth in Eleanor’s words. Eleanor wasn’t as naïve or trusting as Kate had first assumed, and now that she was out of mourning, her mind had turned to her future and she didn’t like what she saw. But Eleanor wasn’t one to make demands, at least not outright. Bluntness wasn’t the way to influence Hugh. Eleanor never argued or did anything to anger him. She was all feminine frailty when he was around, bringing out his chivalrous side. Hugh was in control of Eleanor’s fate, and she’d do anything to keep him sweet—a skill Kate had yet to learn—but Kate was sure her sister-in-law would get her way in the end. If Lord Dancy died, Hugh would inherit the entire Dancy estate, making it easier for him to let Eleanor go since he would no longer be dependent on the de Rosel lands for survival.
“Hugh should really do something about Guy,” Eleanor continued.
“How do you mean?”
“I mean that Guy is five and twenty, and still unwed. He’s a fine-looking man, if not wealthy in his own right, but if Hugh found him an heiress, that would bolster all our fortunes. Of course, the only way an heiress’s family would consider Guy would be if her reputation were slightly tarnished. Guy could follow Hugh’s example, and bag himself a noble lady,” Eleanor said with a sly smile, clearly referring to the circumstances of Kate’s own marriage. She studied Kate’s mutinous expression. “You don’t look pleased with my suggestion. Don’t you think it’s time Guy took a wife? I wager that his giving his affections elsewhere would make you none too happy. I see the way he looks at you. It reminds me of how Hugh looked at me when I first married Will. That’s the thing with brothers, they always want each other’s toys.”<
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“It’s not my decision whether Guy marries or not, so it matters little if I’m pleased with the idea.”
“No, you don’t get to make any decisions,” Eleanor agreed. She never stopped reminding Kate that she wasn’t the mistress of Castle de Rosel. Of course, Eleanor was mistress in name only, but that seemed to be enough for her. It gave her that small bit of authority that she so desperately needed.
“I don’t want to sew anymore today,” Kate said. “My head is beginning to ache. I think I’ll go rest for a bit.”
“Suit yourself,” Eleanor replied. “I prefer being here to sitting in my room. At least here I’m not completely alone. Lord, I even miss Walter, that impudent little whelp.” She sighed. ‘I think he finds me beautiful.”
“I’ve no doubt he does.” Kate left the Lady Chamber and went to her room. She didn’t really have a headache, but she couldn’t bear Eleanor a moment longer. Normally, she wasn’t this bad, but being cooped up in the castle while the snow fell made her irritable and argumentative.
Kate meant to come down for supper, but changed her mind. If Eleanor chose to be waspish, she’d have to dine alone. Kate hoped that Eleanor got the hint and would try to restrain herself in the future.
Chapter 37
The following morning, Kate had already finished mending the torn hem of her chemise by the time Eleanor appeared in the Lady Chamber, having broken her fast with Adam. She smiled warmly and took her customary seat by the hearth. “I slept well last night, so I’m in better spirits,” she announced.
Kate lowered her gaze to her work and smiled. She suspected that was about as close as Eleanor would ever come to an apology, but Kate was glad that she realized how spiteful she’d been the day before. With just the two of them together day in and day out, their emotional well-being depended on them getting along, even if they’d never truly be friends.
“I do hope the snow stops soon,” Eleanor said as she glanced toward the window. “Adam’s restless. A young boy needs exercise and fresh air.”
“Why don’t you ask him to give Alf a hand?” Kate suggested. “Alf’s been clearing a path from the kitchen to the stables and kennel every day since it started snowing. He’s got a bad cough and his chilblains are painful. Joan’s been putting ointment on them, but I don’t think it’s working.”
“Why’s Jed not helping him?”
“Jed’s taken to his bed. Aileen is looking after him.”
“Oh, I do hope it’s not catching,” Eleanor gasped. “I must warn Adam to keep away from him.”
“It’s just a chill. He’s on the mend,” Kate explained.
“Well, that’s good then. I’ve told Adam time and again that he’s not to fraternize with that boy, but Adam still seeks him out.”
“Adam doesn’t have anyone to play with.”
“I know.” Eleanor sighed. “Adam should have had brothers and sisters, but God didn’t see fit to bless me with another child. I lost a daughter not long before you arrived. And now with Will gone…”
“I’m sorry, Eleanor. It must be very difficult for you.”
Eleanor’s gaze misted with unshed tears. “I’m just lonely, Kate. I’d been with Will since I was a girl of fifteen, and now I’m all alone. Another few years and Adam will be taken from me. I’ll see him a few times a year, but he’ll no longer be mine. And then he’ll become a squire, and a knight. He’ll be a grown man and I’ll be an old woman. I just can’t accept that nothing of importance will ever happen to me again.”
“You mustn’t think like that. You’re still a young woman. Things might change.”
“I’m three and twenty, Kate. I only have a few good years left in me. And I do so long for more children.”
Kate nodded. At least in this, she and Eleanor were of the same mind. Kate longed for a child. She might not love Hugh as Eleanor had loved Will, but she would love his baby because it’d be her own. The thought of holding an infant to her breast, loving it and rearing it had her nearly bursting with longing. And although every woman wanted to give her husband a son, Kate wished for a daughter because a girl would remain with her for much longer than a boy. She’d have her girl for at least fifteen years.
Kate squinted hard as she tried to thread her needle. She was finding it more and more difficult to see the eye of the needle and sometimes it took a dozen tries to get the job done. Eleanor helped her from time to time, but Kate didn’t like to ask. She finally managed to slide the thread through the tiny hole and was about to return to her mending when she experienced a wave of nausea so strong it took her breath away. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, which seemed to be in the process of turning itself inside out.
“Kate, you’re as white as a sheet,” Eleanor exclaimed.
“I feel a bit sick,” Kate replied. Her forehead grew clammy and a sour taste assaulted her mouth, which was suddenly full of saliva.
“Nurse,” Eleanor called to Joan, who happened to be passing by the Lady Chamber. “Kate’s unwell.”
Joan set down the basket of linens she’d been carrying and stepped into the room, her gaze fixed on Kate, who was now panting and grasping the armrests of the chair.
Joan’s eyes narrowed as she studied Kate’s face. “Come now. Let’s get ye to bed. I’ll make a brew of mint tea to settle yer stomach.”
“I hope it helps,” Kate moaned.
She thought she’d be sick before she reached the room, but she made it to her bedchamber and climbed into bed. Moments later, another wave of nausea assaulted her, and this time she couldn’t fight it. Joan pushed the chamber pot in front of her just in time. Kate wretched violently and lay back on the bed, gasping for air.
“How long have ye been feeling unwell?” Joan asked as she removed Kate’s shoes and pulled the counterpane over her. “Here, let me tuck ye in. Ye’re shivering. I’ll bring ye a hot brick in a tic.”
“I’ve felt a bit queasy these past few days,” Kate confessed.
Joan’s round face lit up with a joyful smile. “Hugh will be pleased as punch when he learns of yer condition. I was sick every day for the first three months with me first one, but she were a bonny wee lass when she finally arrived—healthy and strong. A little discomfort is a small price to pay for having a healthy bairn.”
Kate tried to focus on what Joan was saying. It had never occurred to her that Joan might have had her own children. She’d never mentioned any, and the three de Rosel boys seemed to be the loves of her life.
“You had children?” Kate muttered.
“Oh, aye. I had two girls,” Joan replied as she added a log to the fire. “They died of a fever, aged two and four.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“Why would ye?” Joan shrugged. “Not like ye ever asked.”
Kate mentally acknowledged the truth of this. She’d never asked Joan about her life, partially because she had been raised not to get too personally involved with servants, and partially because there was something about Joan that put her on guard. Joan could be all softness and understanding one minute, and all sharp angles the next. She treated everyone that way, so at least Kate knew it wasn’t something she’d done to offend the woman.
“You must miss them very much,” Kate said in a conciliatory tone. She’d have to make an effort to be kinder to Joan, especially since she still had such a hold over Hugh and Guy.
“I did, but then William was born, followed by Hugh, and then Guy came along a few years later, and Margaret three years after him. They became me children, and still are.” Joan turned away from Kate. “Ye rest now. I’ll bring ye that mint tea, and then some broth later. Ye’re just about due for yer courses, so we’ll know for certain.”
Kate didn’t bother to ask how Joan knew it was nearly her time of the month. Joan knew everything, and kept tabs on everyone, which was at times comforting, and at times unnerving, but Kate did pray that Joan was right in her assumption that she was with child. She laid her hand on her flat stomach, wondering if
Hugh’s seed had finally taken root. He would be so pleased. Kate allowed her thoughts to stray to Guy. She knew he’d be happy for her, and the thought of his blessing made her value him all the more. That was how Guy was—selfless and devoted.
Kate remained abed for three days, fighting nausea, weakness, and chills, but by the fourth day she began to feel better. The chills abated, the nausea passed, and she regained her appetite. She craved meat, which was unusual for her. Joan brought her some beef broth, but Kate wasn’t satisfied with that, so Joan made a rich stew that she flavored with onions, wild garlic, and carrots. She’d added bits of stale bread to the gravy to make the stew thicker and more filling. Kate had two bowls, and might have eaten a third had there been any left to spare. The stew had to feed everyone else in the castle.
“Ye’re looking better,” Joan remarked. “There’s color in yer cheeks, and yer ferocious appetite is a good sign.”
“I’ve been praying for you,” Eleanor said when Kate finally joined her in the Lady Chamber. “It’ll be such a pleasure to have a child about again, even if it isn’t mine,” she added sadly.
“It’s early days yet,” Kate replied.
She was brimming with joy, but at night, when she retired to her room, doubt set in. What if Joan was wrong and there was no baby after all? Joan knows what she’s talking about, Kate thought. My courses are nearly a week late and I’ve been unwell for days. It’s finally happened. Kate grinned in the darkness. She was so happy, and for the first time since marrying Hugh, she felt more at peace. Perhaps the good Lord had finally seen fit to reward her for her faith.
The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4) Page 21