A granddame wearing a vibrant multi-feathered hat could not understand why people kept laughing at her. A steward took pity on her and revealed the source of the joke. Someone had placed the head of a large baked trout in the middle of her hat.
The feast had hardly begun when it became so dark and murky outside, that a bevy of lamps and candles were lit. Then, much to the surprise of the weatherwise, who had forecast a beautiful evening, the sky was illuminated by lightning. The light show, rather than detracting from the enjoyment, only increased it, but when a particularly loud roll of thunder rattled the windows, it silenced the revellers for a moment.
Windswept and damp from the rain that had started to fall, Catherine tugged on the sleeve of an usher and asked, “I am Catherine Ashmore, sister of the May Queen, where shall I sit?”
“Aye, I know who ye are, more’s the pity. Sit where ye like, that’s assuming anyone will entertain ye.”
Catherine ignored him as she spied Suzy Worsley and her betrothed, John Atkinson, who had played Little John in the pageant and was still in costume. “Where’s Lavinia?” she asked, sitting at their table uninvited.
“She was here a few minutes ago,” answered Suzy. “She’s probably gone to pee.” Emboldened by wine and good cheer, she loosened her tongue. “Since she came up with her ladyship from the green, she’s been treated like one of the guests, and has been keeping company with Dorothy Faulkner, who has taken a real shine to her. Now, if it was you…”
But Catherine was not in the mood for sancture. “Huh, in that case, she'll be even harder to please when she comes home.”
“Jealous?” said Suzy with satisfaction. “I’m not surprised. Lavinia is everything you’re not.”
Catherine picked up a cup of wine and drained it. “Why is Lavinia’s beauty always thrown in my face?”
“Because she's the best model you could have for temper and manners. Look at what you just did, sloshing back that wine like a drunkard. How can anyone treat you decently when you behave like a slattern?”
“I come from the same stock as Lavinia, so why shouldn’t I be treated the same?”
“Because you’re mean and nasty and think of nobody but yourself. You're as different from Lavinia as light from dark.”
Catherine stood up. “This is tedious. I’m not staying here.”
“And miss your sister and the dancing?” asked John sarcastically.
“That's why she wants to go,” said Suzy. “The spiteful little cat cannot bear to see her sister treated so well. Go on, leave. Lavinia will probably blush with embarrassment to see you here.”
“Really?” Catherine resumed her seat. “In that case, I’ll stay and vex her just for the pleasure of it.”
Suzy’s face flooded with angry colour. “I should like to see ye swum in the river like Nancy Redfern.”
“Ha! I would sink like a stone, while you, with your fat-head and broad hips, would float and be declared a witch.”
“Heed her not,” said John. “Ye will never be taken for a witch, Suzy, you’re far too comely.”
“And what of Nancy Redfern?” said Catherine. “Is she not comelier than fat Suzy here? You certainly thought so when you kissed her.”
John, who had just raised a tankard of ale to his lips, was tempted to throw the contents in her face. “You lying little bitch!” He turned to Suzy, whose pretty face resinated with betrayal. He put an arm around her waist. “Never believe a word that comes out of her mouth. She’s just a bad-tempered hussy who needs a good slap.”
Just then, Lavinia, Alice, Sir Howarth and Lady Eleanor, entered the hall. They had been closeted in a side chamber for the past half-hour, where Alice had announced the proposed wardship. Sir Howarth, after some initial hesitation, had approved the plan.
Lavinia looked magnificent in a gown of green and gold, and Richard could not take his eyes off her. He noticed that, although she seemed happy enough, there was a degree of anxiousness in her beautiful face. He was about to approach her when Dorothy distracted him.
Meanwhile, as they walked up the centre aisle, Alice touched Lavinia’s sleeve and said quietly, “I loathe the foolishness that’s about to commence, but I suppose we must endure. Prepare to retire about midnight, for I know the noise will give me a headache.”
Lavinia assented as she saw her now former sister. “Ah, Suzy and John and Catherine. How happy you all look.”
John stood up and kissed her hand gallantly. “And with good reason, for we are in the presence of the prettiest May Queen ever.”
“Thank you,” replied Lavinia, blushing. “I hope you are soon united to the good girl beside you.”
John looked at his fiancé affectionately. “With luck, she’ll be the mistress of my cottage in the forest before too long. Promise you'll come and visit us, Lavinia.”
“She’ll be visiting all the time,” said Alice, “for I intend to make her my ward. Naturally her position will be very different from what it has been, but I’m sure she will never forget old friends.”
John and Suzy exchanged incredulous looks. “But this is wonderful,” said Suzy, clapping her hands. “Nobody deserves it more,” she added with a sideways glance at Catherine, who looked anything but pleased.
“And what about me?” she posed, rising to her feet.
“I will always try to take care of you,” replied Lavinia, smiling.
“Do not promise more than you can deliver,” said Alice, a warning note in her voice.
“Perhaps having someone of pedigree in the family will make her change her ways,” said Suzy. “She can’t help being ugly, but she can certainly help being nasty.”
“That’s unfair,” said Lavinia as Catherine gave Suzy a withering look. “Yes she is quick-tempered, but she’s not malevolent.”
“I can hate well if I choose,” replied Catherine peevishly. “And don’t do me any favours. I don’t envy ye a jot. But, aren’t ye getting ahead of yourself? Mother has not given her consent, nor is she likely to.”
Alice laughed mirthlessly. “She will not refuse.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Catherine enigmatically. “Mother has often said that she cannot do without Lavinia. I wonder ye want to take her. She has much of mother about her as me, only she don’t choose to show it.”
“Nonsense,” snapped Alice, finally losing patience. “You’re nothing alike in every respect, only you’re too stupid to see it. Now, mind your manners or you can leave.”
John placed one of his huge hands on Catherine’s shoulder. “Shall I throw her out?”
“She certainly deserves to be,” said Alice.
“No, let her stay,” said Lavinia quickly. “I shall be miserable if she leaves.”
Catherine was ungracious. “I told you, don’t do me any favours.” She glanced at Alice and a sly smile crept across her face. “Excuse me, I would speak to yonder Master Twissleton.”
“Twissleton?” repeated Lavinia, puzzled. “What do you want with him?”
“Have you noticed that Davy isn’t here?” Though the question was aimed at Lavinia, Catherine was looking directly at Alice. “I think Master Twissleton would be very interested to know where he is.”
Just then, the minstrels began to tune-up in the gallery. Everyone turned to watch. Seconds later there was a shriek of pain. Somehow, Catherine had toppled backwards and hit her head on the floor.
“What's the matter?” cried Lavinia, rushing to her aid.
Catherine rubbed her head. “I don’t know,” she said dazedly.
“You shouldn’t have gulped the wine,” said John. “Better you should go home and sleep it off. I'll find someone to take you.”
“Leave me alone, I’ll be better soon.”
Alice regarded her with barely disguised contempt. “Ungrateful wretch. Come along, Lavinia. If she doesn’t have the sense to recognise when people are being kind to her, then she can fend for herself.”
They reached the top table just as Sir Howarth signalled
to the minstrels to begin. They struck up a lively and jaunty tune, and the morris-dancers, Robin Hood and his now very merry band of men, the Fool, the wandering minstrel, indeed, practically everyone involved in the morning’s procession, began to caper and dance.
As decided that morning, Richard came forward and claimed Lavinia's hand. Stately and dignified, what Lavinia lacked in experience she made up for in charm. Even Sir Howarth, who was dancing with Lady Eleanor, was struck by the couple’s gracefulness.
“Do they not fit well together?” he asked his wife.
“I suppose,” she responded somewhat sourly. “You realise she’s wearing one of my old gowns.”
“She’ll have new gowns of her own soon enough,” and as the Knight and his Lady discussed Alice’s proclamation, Twissleton casually followed them around, his ape-like ears tuned to every word.
A short time later, his sharp little eyes sought out Catherine. Determined to garner more information, he secured two cups of wine and traversed the carousing dancers. He was almost sent flying by Nicholas, who was marching towards the centre of the hall, a large red cushion in his hands. Sensing fun and mischief, the dancers stopped and gave him their attention. Richard however, took advantage of the distraction to boldly steer Lavinia into a secluded corner.
“My friends,” cried Nicholas, “I propose… the cushion dance!”
There was a hearty cheer as Nicholas placed the cushion on the floor. Then, to a lively refrain from a piper, gave chase to an elderly Dame who, accompanied by gales of laughter, contrived to elude him. Nobody knew whom to admire the most – the energy of Nicholas, or the dexterity of the elderly lady.
Finally, she allowed herself to be led to the centre of the hall, but as Nicholas knelt on the cushion to receive the expected kiss, she boxed his ears. Everyone roared with laughter, and Nicholas took it in good stead. Springing to his feet and stealing the kiss he was denied, as he led the spirited lady to obtain refreshment, of which they were both sorely in need, the cushion was appropriated by other couples, who promptly exchanged kisses and clouts.
“I hope you’re not going to ask me to participate in that,” said Catherine as Twissleton sat beside her. “I am not well, and I know whom to thank for it.”
“Your sister and her unexpected good fortune?” he suggested, giving her a cup of wine. “It must be vexatious to see her so much admired and you virtually ignored. I quite feel for you.”
“I don’t want your pity, and it wasn’t my sister who made me ill.”
“No? My poor child, who was it?”
“I am not your 'poor child',” said Catherine testily. “And it was Mistress Nash who made me ill.”
“Really? What did she do? You must not be afraid to tell me anything.”
“I am not afraid of you or anyone else. And why are ye pestering me? Ye look like an old fox ready to snatch a chicken.”
Twissleton crossed his legs and drank some wine. “Your comparison is not very flattering to one who has your welfare at heart.”
“My welfare? What are ye talking about?”
“If I was in a position to adopt someone, it would certainly be you. But, regrettably it cannot be. However, I can still put you in the way of making your fortune, which is practically the next best thing.”
“My fortune?” repeated Catherine warily. “How?”
Twissleton smiled. He had the fish on the hook. All he had to do now was reel it in. “Since arriving in Holton last night, I have heard much talk of witches, including, I’m sorry to say, your own family. A less sympathetic advocate may see you all burned at the stake.”
“An how is this making my fortune?”
Twissleton looked at the whiteness of her throat. He liked his little girls ‘unblemished’. “Your deliverance and fortune are in your own hands. All you need do is give evidence against them, tell all that you know. Our sagacious sovereign has observed that some children, especially the sharper ones, make credible witnesses, and who knows a witch better than another witch?”
Catherine laughed. The man was too ridiculous for words. “But I am not a witch.”
“But you are the granddaughter of a witch. I'm sure you must have seen some strange things when you visited your grandmother at Wolfdene. The casting of spells and incantations for example. Perhaps you overheard threats against people who suddenly died afterwards.”
“I have only been to Wolfdene once. Granny always comes to us.”
“How unfortunate,” said Twissleton, forcing a smile to hide his disappointment. “Tell me, does your mother receive strange visitors? Is there a cupboard containing a broomstick? Perhaps you have ridden one yourself without being aware of it. It's how witches travel. I’m told it’s expeditious and agreeable. Possibly, though you are rather young, you have attended a sabot and seen a man-like goat with huge horns on his head. If you have seen this, and can recollect the names or faces of those who attended, it would be your moral duty, not to say highly lucrative, to tell me.”
For once in her life, Catherine Ashmore knew when to keep her mouth shut. In truth, the answer to all his questions was ‘no’, but she was not about to confess it, not when there was money involved.
“Has it ever occurred to you,” pursued the solicitor, “that Lavinia indulges in evil practices to maintain her beauty? That she applies an unguent made from the fat of unbaptised babes, mixed with henbane, hemlock, mandrake, or other hellish ingredients. Perhaps she has bewitched Mistress Nash into this wardship.”
Catherine snorted. “Ha! That shows how little you know. More likely Mistress Nash has bewitched Lavinia.”
“You think Mistress Nash a witch?” asked Twissleton, feigning innocence.
Catherine crossed her arms and pouted her lips. It was an act, and they both knew it. “I’ll tell ye nothing for nothing.”
“Ah, my beautiful child,” he said, stroking her leg, “you would make a grand witness.”
Catherine did not push his hand away. Though sexually inexperienced, she knew what he wanted, and her virginity would be very expensive. “And what will ye give me if I did?”
Twissleton was breathing hard. The curvature of her milky breasts peeping over the top of her bodice, was driving him to distraction. “If you will bear witness against Mistress Nash and your family, you can name your price.” He slid his hand further up her leg. “And a little more besides.”
Catherine playfully slapped his hand. “Ye get nothing till I be paid, but I’ll give you something on account. Would you like to know why Davy isn’t here?”
“Very much,” he breathed, his member now throbbing painfully.
Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but in the next instant, fell into his arms insensible. Startled, Twissleton sat for a moment not knowing what to do. He patted her face and grabbed his cup of wine, and in doing so, saw Alice Nash walking away. His ardour instantly vanished, replaced by overwhelming righteousness. He must take the child to his lodgings, revive her, and begin compiling her statement before she changed her mind.
But Catherine’s ungainly appearance had not gone unnoticed. “Lavinia,” said Dorothy, “what’s wrong with your former sister?”
Lavinia, rather than pity, felt embarrassed and not a little disgusted at this second public swoon. “I think she’s had too much to drink. Look, Master Twissleton is trying to rouse her.”
Alice also watched the solicitor’s efforts, knowing perfectly well that they were futile. However, of more immediate concern to her, was the bond Lavinia was forging with the younger Faulkners, especially her obvious attraction to Richard. Whilst she did not begrudge Lavinia new friends, she did not want to lose her daughter a second time, at least not yet. Besides, Einyon would not approve.
“I would dearly love to have Lavinia come back with us to Craxton Hall,” said Dorothy, speaking as though she’d read Alice’s thoughts, “but I’m sure you would not want to part with her so soon. Nevertheless, I shall expect to see you there before too long.”
“Thank
you.” Alice yawned. “Come, Lavinia, the night is already too long and I have a headache.”
“Please wait.” Lavinia went over to the still prostrate Catherine, a reluctant Alice in her wake. “She is not accustomed to late hours and strong drink. Somebody must take her home.”
“You need not engage an escort,” said Twissleton. “It will be my pleasure to take charge of her.”
“Indeed you will not,” said Alice coldly. “You have been mauling the child practically all night. One of the guards will do it,” and so saying, she gestured to a tall muscular man and issued the relevant instructions. He exited the hall with Catherine in his arms, leaving Twissleton incandescent with rage.
Alice ignored him and took Lavinia’s hand. They were about to move away when Dorothy said in a low voice, “Lavinia, it has just occurred to me that you do not have any night attire.” Lavinia’s expression clearly indicated that she had not thought of it either. Dorothy kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring something suitable to your room.”
“Goodnight, my queen,” said Richard as Lavinia swept past him. The ten minutes they had spent alone together had seemingly passed in a second, and yet it had been enough time for Dorothy’s earlier prediction, ‘that you’ll love her in return’, to be given considerable credence.
Chapter Nine
Midnight
The sounds of revelry faded into the background as Alice and Lavinia returned to their room. With only a single lamp for illumination, Lavinia felt uneasy as she walked along the corridor. The abbey was not imposing during the day, but now, as the meagre light fell on grim paintings depicting the suffering of martyrs, and the grotesque carvings on the vaulted ceiling, her imagination began to wander. In addition, such was the stillness that their footsteps seemed to multiply as though they were being followed. Somewhat unnerved, Lavinia glanced over her shoulder several times, and when a figure did appear at the far end of the corridor, she screamed.
The Sisterhood:: Curse of Abbot Hewitt Page 10