Puritan Bride

by Anne O'Brien

  She would not have missed it for the world.

  The Marlbrooke town house in the Strand, flanked by other houses of the rich, was, of course, far smaller than the rambling wings and inconvenient corridors of Winteringham Priory, but she quickly realised that it had far more to offer in the way of luxury and comfort. It was now perfectly understandable to her why Lady Elizabeth sighed over it when damp chills settled over the Priory. And so many people were there to welcome them with warmth and easy friendship. No wonder Elizabeth found life in London more congenial and easier to bear. Her high sprits and lively anticipation were infectious as they set themselves to wring every moment of pleasure from a week of celebration and festivity.

  It was rendered even more attractive by Felicity’s decision to absent herself from the household for a few days to visit a cousin.

  ‘Shall we not then have the pleasure of your company, Felicity?’ Elizabeth was all concern as she pulled on a pair of fine kid gloves, turning them to admire the smooth fit. ‘I had presumed that you would accompany us.’

  ‘No. I have no wish to attend Court. And it is my duty to visit Cousin Mary, who I believe is unwell.’ Felicity sniffed, mouth curled in derision, as she took the opportunity to express her opinions at length. Such lewd behaviour as went on there, if only half the rumours were true! Why, she had heard—and did not doubt it for one moment—of one of the Queen’s ladies-in-waiting actually giving birth to a child in an anteroom at the New Year’s festivities! What sort of behaviour was that? She eyed Kate with ill-concealed malice. It would do well for the lady to note the society to which Marlbrooke belonged and to which he would no doubt choose to return when the inheritance was settled.

  ‘For after all …’ Felicity’s lips thinned even further as she warmed to her task ‘… my lord has always expressed his appreciation of the culture and sophistication to be found here in London. The wit of clever conversation with friends, the music and dancing. The theatre. And the elegance of the fashionable company, of course. Why would he possibly wish to bury himself in the country? He will see no attraction there, I warrant, once the novelty of life at Winteringham Priory has worn off. I am sure that you will soon see this for yourself, Mistress Harley, brought up in Sir Henry Jessop’s austere household. It will be very different from your own limited experience.’ Felicity folded her hands complacently, having made her point.

  Kate could make no reply. The spiteful observations were to remain with her, making for uncomfortable speculation. It was unfortunately true. This was Marlbrooke’s world, not hers. Kate closed her eyes and mind to the comments she imagined from Sir Henry on the frivolity of Charles II’s scandal-ridden Court. Or, even worse, from Simon Hotham’s bitter lips.

  ‘I doubt that Marlbrooke is quite as shallow as your picture paints, my dear Felicity. But we shall miss your company, of course.’ Elizabeth responded to Felicity’s words, as always, in the handling of her companion, her tone gentle and conciliatory, if a trifle dry.

  Marlbrooke, later in private, was not.

  ‘Thank God! It would seem that occasionally the Heavens are pleased to smile on sinners! Let us make the most of Cousin Mary’s chronic ill health. She has my utmost sympathy.’ And so saying, swept them off to a performance of Macbeth at the newly opened and most extravagant Duke’s Theatre. Here any concerns that Kate might have had concerning the wisdom of her visit to Gilliver’s den of iniquity were swept away by the enchantment of colourful scenery, ingenious devices and dramatic performance of Master Shakespeare’s bloodcurdling tragedy.

  They attended the Royal Court at Whitehall, of course. To a ball, to a reception, to a masque. On Wednesday morning they gathered with other privileged members of London society to watch Charles and Queen Catherine dine in formal splendour. Promenades in St James’s Park enabled them to admire the avenues of trees and the expanse of water. It was indeed a round of pleasure. Marlbrooke was usually in attendance to guarantee their comfort—but not invariably so. If he gambled and wasted his fortune, Kate did not see it. If he spent his nights alone or in female company, she was not aware. You have no right to think about it! The voice in her head was sharp as it lectured her. What is it to you how he spends his time? But she was honest enough with herself to recognise the sharp twist of jealousy when she and Lady Elizabeth spent an evening at home without him.

  As promised, she was taken to make her curtsy to the King at Whitehall, at a formal reception to welcome the newly appointed Portuguese ambassador. She was nervous, understandably so when face to face with her King, unable to raise her eyes above the gold buttons on his waistcoat as she sank gracefully to the polished floor, her skirts billowing round her. But Charles was quick to put her at her ease. He had been well informed.

  ‘Lady Elizabeth. It is good to see you in town again and in health. And Mistress Harley. The Puritan bride. So I get to meet you at last.’

  ‘Yes, your Grace.’

  She risked a glance, to find him smiling at her with complete understanding. Tall, taller than Marlbrooke, loose-limbed and swarthy, the lines of cynicism were already deeply engraved on his harsh face. But his smile warmed her heart: she understood at that moment why many could speak of him with such affection.

  ‘And are you enjoying your first experience of Court, Mistress Katherine?’

  ‘Yes, your Grace. It is beyond anything I had dreamed of.’ She fought against the acute embarrassment of knowing that her family had waged war against this man and rejoiced in the death of his father on the scaffold. Charles, with quick intelligence and intuition, was aware and took steps.

  ‘The past is over, Mistress Harley. I hold no grudges for the past. Especially against beautiful women.’ His smile illuminated his harsh features to a fleeting beauty. Kate now knew why so many women found it easy to surrender to Charles’s demands. She looked up in consternation at his accurate reading of her thoughts, her face becomingly flushed, her deep blue eyes wide with apprehension as her King held out his hand to lift her to her feet.

  ‘You are a lucky man, Marlbrooke.’ Charles cast him a sly glance, a knowing grin.

  ‘I think so, sir.’

  ‘If she were not yours, I might consider giving you some competition.’

  ‘I would hate to refuse you, your Grace.’

  ‘But you would, of course. And rightly.’ His Majesty laughed with utmost good humour, touched the Viscount’s arm. ‘Come, Marlbrooke, and play a hand of cards with me for your sins. It will take us out of the reach of our Portuguese visitor with his bad English and inability to stay silent.’ He bowed to the ladies. ‘Lady Elizabeth. Until next time.’ And then, before he turned away, ‘I delight in your company, Mistress Harley. And regrettably leave you to the safekeeping of my lord Marlbrooke.’

  ‘And I felt no better than a prize pig, to be haggled over!’ Kate announced to Elizabeth when they were alone.

  ‘Never a pig!’ Elizabeth laughed gently at Kate’s outrage, understanding the conflict of allegiance that pulled at her.

  ‘A filly, then!’ She was not to be placated.

  ‘But a very pretty one—or his Majesty would not have noticed you.’ Lady Elizabeth saw the answering gleam in Kate’s eyes. ‘And you have to admit that he has an easy charm.’

  Kate was prepared to admit to no such thing, but returned the pressure of Elizabeth’s fingers.

  Taking a seat against the painted walls to ease her aching limbs, Elizabeth took the time to point out some of the notables at Court. The notorious Barbara Castlemaine, smaller than Kate had expected, but eye-catching with her vibrant hair and sharp features. The Earl of Clarendon, the King’s chief minister, portly and already nervous at his master’s lack of political interest and disinclination for business. And, of course, Frances Stewart, Charles’s most recent mistress, tall and elegant and quite beautiful, setting herself up as Lady Castlemaine’s rival with consummate skill. It made for engrossing entertainment. But throughout, Kate could not but be aware of eyes turned in her direction. All asses
sing. Some pitying. Some critical. Her new court dress gave her confidence, of course—who could fail to admire the tight bodice with its full sleeves and low neckline, to delight in the soft fall of full skirts of violet silk, over a brocaded petticoat? Dressed in the height of French fashion, Kate gloried in its femininity—and deliberately closed her mind against Gilliver’s imagined strictures against vanity and avarice. Even the growth of her hair gave her some satisfaction— the style achieved by her maid and a careful application of satin ribbon was almost acceptable.

  Yet she still felt vulnerable in the face of such sophistication and more than thankful for Elizabeth’s reassuring presence. The arrogant smiles and whispered asides, not quite hidden behind gently fluttering fans, tore at the rags of Kate’s self-possession that she was determined to wrap herself in. She might find it difficult to retain her composure, but still held her head high. Ignorant of Court ways she might be, lacking in clever conversation and sophisticated banter, but she had wit and intelligence and so would hold her own. For whatever reason, she was betrothed to Viscount Marlbrooke and so owed something to her new status. And to her father’s memory, whatever his political allegiance. She discovered that she had a depth of pride which she could draw on—and it was demanded of her frequently.

  ‘So you are Marlbrooke’s bride.’ If she had to respond to that observation one more time, delivered by some Court beauty with raised brows, glossy curls and a supercilious air, Kate felt that she would explode! But she learned quickly how to reply. A calm smile. A condescending inclination of the head.

  ‘Indeed. I am Katherine Harley.’

  ‘I believe your family once owned Winteringham Priory? Before losing it to the Oxendens when your father fought for Parliament.’ There was invariably an accompanying curl of the artfully rouged lips.

  ‘Yes. Winteringham Priory is legally mine. It was stolen from my father. But I have now returned and my family are once more in possession.’ She would raise her chin a little. ‘And Viscount Marlbrooke, of course.’

  ‘It is a sudden decision, is it not? We had not realised that Marlbrooke intended to wed. He will be sadly missed if he decides to absent himself from Court for any length of time.’

  ‘Our marriage is an obvious outcome, both desirable and to the benefit of all parties.’ The challenge in Kate’s eyes dared anyone to contradict her. ‘Where we shall live for most of the year will be a matter to discuss after the ceremony.’

  ‘So, when will you be married?’

  ‘Very soon. My lord Marlbrooke desires a rapid conclusion. As I do, of course.’ Which effectively put an end to most interested, if patronising, enquiries. And, in all truth, Kate had to admit that she came to enjoy the encounters.

  So did Lady Elizabeth, when she chanced to hear the end of such.

  ‘I see that you have the makings of a politician, dearest Kate. I cannot tell you how pleased I was to see Lady Templeton discomfited. She had high hopes for her daughter—a disagreeable girl.’ Her eyes glinted in appreciation. ‘I do believe that Marcus would be proud of you!’

  ‘Perhaps. But do not tell him.’

  * * *

  The Viscount did not need to be told that his betrothed was the subject of much speculation and comment. And he used his own methods to allay it and smooth her path. For the most part, he remained at her side, attentive and charming, to protect and encourage. When he could not, she was still firmly in his vision, so that he noted the approach of Mistress Dorothea Templeton, once an object of Marlbrooke’s casual interest.

  ‘Do you not dance, Mistress Harley?’ Here Kate recognised an enemy of some calibre in the flash of blue eyes and the toss of honey curls.

  ‘No. I have never learned these French dances, which are so fashionable.’ She decided on honesty as the best policy. But not too much!

  ‘How unfortunate.’ They watched the dancers draw to an end in a stately corant and then step into a more lively saraband. The pavane, Kate had already realised with a whisper of regret, was not in fashion. The lovely Dorothea showed her teeth—and a dimple!—in what might have been mistaken for a smile. ‘Life at Court is so tedious if one is unable to dance. Do you not find it so? But then, you have not had the advantage of mixing in Court circles, have you, Mistress Harley?’

  ‘Why, no. My uncle, Sir Henry Jessop, would have condemned such superficial frivolity and so ensured that my education was on a higher plane.’ Before she could say more, Kate felt a hand rest lightly on her wrist as a smooth voice at her shoulder answered for her.

  ‘Mistress Harley has not had the opportunity to indulge in dancing, Mistress Templeton.’ The Viscount stepped forward and bowed with graceful ease. He lifted his eyes to Kate’s. She saw the mischief lurking in their depths. ‘Her gifts, which you should know are considerable, lie in quite another direction.’

  ‘Indeed, my lord?’ Mistress Templeton assayed an arch look, fair brows raised in delicate wings.

  ‘Indeed, ma’am. You would not believe the extent of her skills.’

  Don’t mention chickens or salted fish! Kate held her breath, but kept a polite smile pinned to her face during the interchange.

  ‘Then I must look forward to knowing you better, Mistress Harley.’ The lady was now not nearly as confident.

  ‘I too,’ Kate responded as she deliberately placed a proprietorial hand on Marlbrooke’s sleeve. ‘Lady Elizabeth has spoken of you and told me much about you. I feel that I know you well already.’

  On which unsettling comment, and with no encouragement to linger from the Viscount, Dorothea found an excuse to return to her mother’s side.

  ‘Congratulations, Viola.’ The Viscount eyed her with interest. ‘You have vicious claws, I see. And need no help from me to keep the harpies at bay.’

  ‘No, indeed. But I …’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I hoped that you would not shame me by mentioning …’

  ‘Chickens?’ He laughed aloud, his striking features alight with pleasure, causing others to turn their heads. ‘What a delight you are to me.’ He bent to press a kiss to Kate’s hand where it still rested on his arm and then—to her shock—to her temple.

  ‘My lord!’

  ‘Now what? Why do I always seem to be the object of your displeasure?’

  ‘No … I …’ She stammered helplessly, caught up in his devastating allure. ‘It is so public. People will see us.’

  ‘I have done nothing improper,’ he assured her. ‘I am allowed to show my considerable regard to my betrothed.’ He pulled her hand through his arm to lead her through the elegant rooms. ‘If you do not dislike it, of course.’ He slanted a quick glance down to her upturned face. ‘I should hate for you to retaliate with your fist, as you once did.’

  ‘I would not!’

  ‘I am relieved to hear it. Then, since we are for the moment in such pleasant accord, let us see if this more than tedious reception can provide us with some refreshment.’

  Yes. They were in agreement, she thought, as he procured for her a glass of sack.

  But it did not last long.

  She was unfortunate to overhear a conversation between Marlbrooke and an elderly, stout lady in opulent satins, who patted his arm in a familiar gesture of longstanding acquaintance.

  ‘So you have brought your future bride to Court. Pretty enough—but a country girl I presume, by her strange hairstyle.’

  ‘Yes. That is Katherine Harley. And there are reasons for the cropped curls.’

  ‘Ah, so you will be mysterious, my lord. I forgive you. You are very like your father, God rest his soul. What a shame that you have to wed her to safeguard your property. I hope that we will still see you—that you will not absent yourself from Court and settle down to the tedium of country life.’

  ‘I expect to spend some time at Winteringham Priory.’

  ‘And is it your intention to rebuild Glasbury Old Hall?’

  ‘It is in my mind.’

  ‘I can understand. But surely, my dear Marl
brooke, the Court holds too many enticements to keep you long in the country?’

  Kate did not hear his response as they moved away. But she found herself wondering if the enticements had golden curls and blue eyes, and if so, whether the Priory would be enough to keep him by her side.

  She smiled reassuringly at Elizabeth, leaving her to believe that she had not overheard the exchange. But her heart was sore and she could find little enjoyment in the remainder of the evening.

  It might have been mended between them.

  Next day Marlbrooke bought her a fan, a little half-circular folding device, cunningly crafted and delicately painted with violets.

  ‘It is very pretty.’ Kate opened it to reveal the tiny flowers around the edge. ‘I have never owned a fan before.’

  ‘Perhaps I should teach you how to use it.’ Marlbrooke smiled at her solemn expression. ‘So that you can flutter it and flirt madly—and have all the gentlemen in submission at your feet.’

  ‘I could not!’

  ‘Of course you could.’ He wilfully misunderstood her. ‘You have me at your feet, after all. And I am reputed to be a hard case.’

  She looked up, startled, resisting as he captured her fingers and proceeded to slide his teeth along the ends, nibbling gently. When she tried to clench her fingers into a fist to thwart him, he resisted, prised her hand apart and promptly transferred his mouth to her palm. ‘I can feel the beat of your heart through your blood,’ he murmured against her soft skin. ‘It has quickened a little. I hope that I am the cause.’ She felt his mouth curve provocatively against her palm.