Invidia

by E. H. Schutz

  Katharine smiled and whispered into Helena's ear. “How do you fare, darling?”

  The faint reply came, “I shan't be able to stand soon.”

  Katharine chuckled low into Helena's ear, bent down to retrieve the discarded dress, and laid it across the anvil. Regaining her grip on Helena's hips, she turned her round and enfolded Helena in her arms, kissing her deeply before lifting her up and settling her on the anvil. Helena gazed at her through half-closed eyes, and Katharine smiled as she gently ran a hand up the inside of Helena's trembling thigh. She could feel the heat coming from Helena as she—

  Katharine jolted from her daydream, disturbed by an unexpected touch. The cat was rubbing her head insistently against her hand. Katharine stroked the soft fur of the cat's ears, taking care to avoid the scrape along the side of her head.

  “Oh, Kitten. What am I thinking? This house is so large and comfortable, and not so hot, and not laden with soot. I do well enough for myself, but it is nothing like this.”

  The kitten purred in agreement.

  “I love her so much, Kitten, and she shall never be mine. Is that not awful? He does not at all care for her. How I wish I had found her first! We would have lived the best of lives.”

  The kitten purred in agreement.

  The door opened and Katharine looked up to see Helena. Their eyes met, and Helena shrugged.

  “I told him that you must be off working. He replied that you have great strength of character to work so very hard and long, and that the local population would do well to emulate your work ethic.”

  Katharine frowned. “He did not note the darkness?”

  “Perhaps he did. He nonetheless did not question me. I did tell you that he is not one who is interested in what I have to say.”

  Katharine sighed and stared out of the window. After a long moment, she looked back at Helena. “I suppose I ought to go, then.”

  “Stay with me one more night. Please.”

  Katharine felt compelled to leave, but the imploring look in Helena's eyes wore through her resolve. She smiled wanly at Helena. “Very well.”

  Hours later, Helena, curled up with her head resting on Katharine's bosom, slept contentedly. Katharine lay on her back, caressing Helena gently and staring out the window. Tears silently rolled down her face and soaked into the pillow. How could the earl not love this woman, or find it in himself to care for her even a little? The injustice of it filled Katharine with rage, and she had to concentrate on remaining still as to not awaken Helena. She remained restless for the remainder of the night, only briefly falling asleep just before dawn, and awoke early, tired and upset. When Helena asked her what was wrong, she shook her off and went outside to work, skipping her breakfast.

  An hour or so after, as she was refitting some hinges in the stables, she heard a throat being cleared behind her. Turning round, she found the earl standing, hands behind his back and a stern expression on his face.

  “May I help you, milord?”

  The earl remained silent, continuing to stare her down. When she did not react, he spoke. “What is the meaning of the front gates?”

  Katharine thought of several answers to that, primarily that the meaning of the front gates was that one was entering the property, but opted to not reply thus. “I am afraid I do not catch your meaning, milord.”

  “I mean, Smith, that those gates are ridiculous extravagances. I thought I had made myself clear to you how things ought to be done?”

  “With respect, my recollection is that you suggested that I consult her ladyship regarding the design of any work in the house and on the gates.”

  The earl snorted. “Surely you jest? I specifically said that Helena enjoys pretty things, but at no point did I imply that her taste was at all to be followed.”

  Katharine pursed her lips and took care to modulate her voice. “Then perhaps, milord, you ought to have made yourself more clear in the matter. At any rate, I designed the gates without much input from her ladyship as she was content to allow me to work. I did, however, take her taste into account.” Katharine could feel her ire rising again. Fatigued, angry, and irritated at the earl’s tone, she gritted her teeth and waited for him to leave. He did not oblige. Instead, he snorted.

  “Surely, surely you jest. I thought that you, a blacksmith and worldly woman, would find Lady Wiltshire's tendency toward frivolity amusing since you have made your way and she has made very little.”

  Katharine could feel herself turning red. “Milord, I find it somewhat amusing that you would spend the money on me when there is a perfectly good smith in Shaftesbury who could have done for you solid, plain work for a third of my fee. That is all I find amusing.”

  The earl raised an eyebrow. “I see. Well. I hired you because of your dedication to the true religion. I am not certain of that other fellow's sympathies and prefer to distribute my silver to those who will use it for good.”

  Katharine suppressed a smirk. “Milord. I was not aware that adhering to the true religion involved building unattractive gates.”

  He blustered in response, then closed his eyes tightly, opening them again into a glare which might have melted pig iron. "You, for all of your appearance of propriety and piety, for all of your sitting straight-backed through the services, you are one of them!"

  Katharine fought to keep a neutral expression on her face. What did he mean by 'them'? Them as in ordinary Protestants, or them as in Catholics? She hoped he did not notice her disquiet.

  "Them?"

  "Yes, them! They who follow the Crown instead of God! They who would have the Church permanently besmirched by popery! I ought have known better than to hire a woman blacksmith. Of course you would not follow the true Church! How could I have been so blind?"

  He wrung his hands, and for a moment Katharine was concerned that he might actually fall on his knees to beg of the Lord forgiveness for this obvious oversight. When he did not, Katharine summoned all of her internal fortitude to make a reply. The outcome of this conversation seemed a forgone conclusion, but perhaps she could at least preserve her dignity.

  "If you suspect that women making their own way in the world is a function of...popery, then you might wish to educate yourself on Rome's opinions regarding women. Insofar as our own religion is concerned, if the Queen is allowed to have an occupation, then I daresay so might I." She crossed her arms and glared at him, belatedly realising she had omitted his honorific. It was not as though it would make a great difference at this point, only that he might challenge her to a duel. She was unsure whether a noble would challenge a commoner to a duel, but she felt it wise to consider the possibility.

  He looked up at her, pure hatred in his eyes. She glared back at him with what she hoped was supreme disdain for and indifference to his position.

  "Get off of my property," he growled, rage creeping into his voice.

  "I shall make haste."

  She turned to saddle her horse as he continued to glare at her, muttering under his breath. With great deliberation, she adjusted each piece of tack. Finally, taking her horse by the reins, she walked toward the stable door. She approached the earl, stopped, and looked him in the eye.

  "Treat your wife better, or you shall find that someone else will."

  He made to backhand her. She ducked, and managed to check her temper. Assaulting a noble would do her far more damage than her words already had. Silently, she walked out of the stable, mounted her horse, and took off at a gallop, seething.

  The weather had turned foul, and the rain began to pour down upon her as she rode back into town. She regretted not one word, for her employment was forfeit whether she had said anything or remained silent. She fumed at the foolishness of a man who had everything—everything: a beautiful wife, a lovely home, means for which he did not have to sweat, and time to pursue whatever he might, and here he spent it ignoring beauty and berating anyone who might appreciate it. And for what? Some concept of a more pure church?

  Katharine shook he
r head to get the rain out of her eyes. So many times now she had broken the commandment against adultery, but even if she never saw Helena again, she would forever break the commandment against coveting one's neighbour's wife, and she would never forgive Robert Butler, Earl of Wiltshire, for squandering the gift God had presented him in Helena.

  Helena sat down to dinner, noting that Robert was not yet seated. She enquired after him to the butler, who bowed and replied that had not seen his lordship, apologies, madam. She had just determined to wait for ten minutes before asking for dinner in her room when Robert swept in the door, looking uncharacteristically dishevelled.

  He sat down in his chair with none of his ordinary composure and sighed. Helena cocked her head to one side, observing his odd behaviour mutely.

  At last, he settled into his chair, and to Helena's great surprise, for the first time in their marriage, offered an unbidden explanation.

  “I have just been involved in a most distasteful confrontation.”

  Helena blinked at him, awaiting elaboration. None was forthcoming. He served himself and began to eat. Perhaps, she decided, she had been premature in thinking that he was about to impart useful information to her. Warily, she watched him and ate a bit herself. Several minutes later, he spoke again.

  “I've decided to hire a new blacksmith.”

  Helena fumbled with her knife for a moment, managing to recover herself instead of dropping it. She placed it carefully on her plate and looked back up at Robert.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I will be hiring a man from London to finish the work. He comes highly recommended, and is a man of good character and proper religion. I do apologise, my dear g—Helena. I have heard that you amuse yourself by sitting and watching the smith work, but you will have to cease because it would hardly do for you to be hanging about with an unmarried man. Propriety, you see.” He took another bite of his pheasant.

  Helena stared at him, utterly lost for words. “You...Robert, what has happened with Katharine Palmer, then?”

  “Eh?”

  “Palmer. The Tisbury smith who has been working for you all these months, Robert.”

  “Her name is Palmer?”

  “Yes, Robert. It even says so over her door.”

  “Curious. Why would a smith name herself anything other than Smith?”

  Helena peered at him, unsure if he actually wanted an answer to that question. She could feel her face grow hot with irritation at his obliviousness.

  “Robert. Her family may not always have been smiths. You certainly were never a butler.”

  “Well, now that is quite different. Butler is my family name. It has been that way for centuries.”

  Helena could not help but roll her eyes at the ceiling, and pushed back from the table. “I've rather lost my appetite. I think I shall retire. Good night.” Without awaiting a reply, or even for the butler to open the door for her, she left.

  She did not return to her room, but rather went instantly to her cloister. The cat joined her, curling up contentedly on the altar and watching Helena's movements. Helena knelt in front of the altar to pray a Pater Noster. The cat reached out and batted at a loose strand of hair as Helena prayed. Upon finishing, she opened her eyes to see the cat staring solemnly at her, and she giggled. Now calmer, she stood and paced the room, hoping that Katharine would come through the door.

  As the sun set and the light in the room turned to twilight, Helena turned to face the stone door from whence Katharine steadily refused to come. She set her jaw and stepped on the trigger. Machinery engaged and the door opened. The cat jumped off the altar and moved to investigate the new space. Helena stepped through and picked up the lantern Katharine had left at this end several months ago, telling Helena it was a spare. Helena, for her part, had thought Katharine to be taking preparedness a bit far, but was thankful as she carefully struck the flint and lit the candle.

  The cat wound herself around Helena's feet. Helena smiled down at her.

  “Do you wish to accompany me, Kitten?” The cat purred in response. Helena scooped her up and picked her way down the passage in the dim, flickering light. She had only been down this passage twice before, both times to meet Katharine in the forest.

  Reaching the trapdoor at the tunnel's end, Helena set down the lantern, placed the cat gently on her four feet, and took a deep breath. The last time she had tried to open this door, it had been a terrible, embarrassing disaster, and this time Katharine would not be here to assist her out of trouble or to open it for her. She eyed the bottom of the trapdoor with trepidation, all of the scenarios of her failure running through her mind. Finally, she shook her head, grumbling at herself. Considering all the ways in which she might fail would not get the door open.

  Helen put her shoulder to the door and pushed upward with all of her might. To her great surprise, the door actually cracked open and air carrying the scent of grass and soil rushed into the tunnel. However, she was now standing almost fully upright and the door was only open by a couple of inches. She tried to push the door off of her shoulders, but found it too heavy. She frowned and looked down at her feet, then nearly slapped herself with the obviousness of the solution. She dropped the door shut and ascended the steps as far as she could go, so that she now crouched under the door. Putting her shoulder to it, she stood up. Slowly at first, and then more quickly, she managed to heave the heavy door upward and open to the cool night air. The cat, startled, cautiously sniffed at the opening, then shrunk back into the passage. Helena smiled and picked her up, and the cat settled contentedly into Helena's bosom.

  Helena looked round her and realised that she actually had no way of knowing which way she faced, nor which way she needed to walk to reach Tisbury. Alone in the thick wood somewhere on her husband's estate, she realised how truly helpless she was to do things for herself. She felt the tears welling up behind her eyes and the knot in her stomach which always formed when she was about to cry. But Helena did not cry.

  “How would Katharine go about this?” she asked aloud. The cat purred. Her voice sounded large to her in the near silence of the wood. It surprised her. The light steadily decreased as Helena considered her predicament. She turned to the trapdoor, wondering whether she ought return to the house, and then it hit her that the house, being in the direction of the door—that tunnel never wavered from its initial path—meant that if she walked in the opposite direction, she would eventually come to the end of the wood, and finally, perhaps, a road, and then Tisbury.

  “I certainly shan't go back. Not after all of this.”

  So Helena set off in the darkness, the flickering candle in the lantern casting only the palest circle of light in front of her. As she picked her way over the various roots and stones which imposed themselves in her path, she realised that the road to Tisbury actually curved a bit to the right when they were on their way to church, and that she might be walking off into the wilds of Wiltshire, perhaps to be eaten by a wild animal and abandoned by the cat.

  “Oh, Lord. What shall I do now?”

  As if in answer, the bells of the church sounded the hour. The cat's ears twitched and she raised her head. Helena cast a grateful look toward Heaven and altered her course. The bells had sounded quite distant, and she was not certain whether that was because of the wood, or because she had wandered too far away from the direction of the village. No matter. She was headed in the right direction now, and picked up her pace to a more purposeful stride. Now that she was not afraid of losing her way, she found herself more able to enjoy the quiet peace of the wood.

  Presently, she came to a narrow path worn in the underbrush which further sped her on her way, and it was not long before she came out onto the high road, just at the edge of Tisbury. The sky had grown fully dark now, the air gone cold, and in her haste Helena had neglected to dress for the weather. She shivered as she carefully made her way round the end of the street behind the houses. It would not do to simply walk up to Katharine's front door an
d knock, especially at this time of night.

  She crept along the backs of the various cottages which lined the Tisbury high street until she came to what was certainly Katharine's. Neat, straight rows of vegetables filled the entirety of the small back garden, and a shed stood square in a corner. Helena smiled. Only Katharine could make such order of flora.

  Helena paused at the iron gate, and called Katharine's name. She meant to call for her quietly, but it came out as a near whisper. Helena tried again. Her hands shook as she clutched at the gate, whether from the cold or from fear of being caught out, she was not certain. Finally, she managed to get sound from her voice.

  “Katharine.”

  Helena heard a shuffling from inside and soon Katharine appeared in the doorway, her features made indistinct by the light shining from behind her.

  “Helena?” Katharine's voice held a tone of disbelief.

  “It is I.”

  Katharine came to the gate. “It is you, indeed.” She opened the gate and gestured for Helena to precede her down the path between the halves of her garden. Helena entered the open doorway and immediately felt warmer. She found herself in a cosy room with a bed in the corner. The cat jumped down from Helena's arms and made her way instantly to the bed, where she made herself at home. A small iron table stood beside with a candelabra and a small stack of books upon it. Katharine came up behind her and wrapped her arms around Helena's waist. She nuzzled Helena's ear.

  “Not to complain, my love, but what in Heaven's name are you doing here? And why are you dressed so lightly? And how is it that you have Kitten but no warm clothing?”

  Helena leaned back into Katharine's embrace. “Robert told me that he is replacing you.”

  Katharine stiffened at the mention of the earl. “Ah. Yes. We had words earlier. I may have been slightly disrespectful.”

  “I do not doubt that he earned it. But whatever shall happen now?”