Puritan Bride

by Anne O'Brien

  ‘Be assured, my lord.’

  ‘As a result of the letter,’ Marlbrooke continued, ‘Mr Hotham is at present residing with his son at Widemarsh Manor.’

  Verzons’s eyes flickered in what might have been surprise, but his control was firm. He inclined his head. ‘There is a family connection with Mistress Adams, of course.’

  Kate walked forward to stand beside Marlbrooke and placed her hand on his arm. It was clear that the deliberate gesture of unity with him was not lost on Verzons, as had been her intention.

  ‘No, Master Verzons.’ Her voice was low, but she fixed his pale eyes with a clear gaze. ‘There is now no connection. Mistress Adams is dead. She has been murdered this night.’

  The steward’s pale skin became even more colourless as he looked from Kate to his employer and back again. ‘I hope that you will accept my condolences. Has the murderer been apprehended?’

  ‘No. But, before God, he will not go unpunished.’ Kate felt Marlbrooke’s muscles bunch under her hand.’

  ‘Assuredly. As he will undoubtedly answer before God for this most wicked of sins, my lord.’ Verzons bowed and walked from the room.

  ‘Go to bed, Kate. There is nothing you can do now. I will see to matters for Gilliver. The rest can wait for tomorrow.’ He enfolded her in his arms to give her comfort, brushing his lips lightly over her hair. She rested her head against his chest, grateful for the warmth and simple closeness of his body. ‘It has been an exhausting evening for you. You must be tired.’

  ‘A little.’

  She turned to go as she was bidden—and then looked back.

  ‘I finally realised tonight. Richard’s words meant nothing. They never did. He told me that he loved me, that he would always love me. I was naïve, was I not? He wanted the estate, not me.’

  She did not wait for his reply. Indeed he did not know what to say. His own initial relationship with her had been based on equally mercenary principles. But at least he had not compounded it by vowing his undying love for her—until he had come to know her. But that would be of no comfort to her tonight. He felt the weight of her sadness on his soul as he watched her climb the stairs to her bedchamber.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Where do you suppose she got all this?’ Kate examined the contents of the cedarwood box in amazement. She had spread them out on the table and now sat back to raise an enquiring eyebrow at Elizabeth.

  On her return to the Priory the previous night, she had fallen into an uneasy sleep, her dreams haunted by unpleasant suspicions and bloody deeds. Waking early and feeling unhappy and unrested, she was glad to rise, wrap herself in a cloak, and walk in solitude round the gardens. It was not pleasant, there being a chill wind from the east, but she needed the space to collect her thoughts and grieve for Gilliver.

  She found it difficult to shed tears for the old lady. She had not known her well and had found many of her ideas and opinions suspect, if not immoral and against the teachings of her childhood. But she had given her unknown niece an easy affection and the method of her death had sent a shock wave through Kate. She should not have died in that fashion.

  And then there was the inexplicable matter of her Uncle Simon and Richard, arriving most opportunely. When she had believed that Richard would go back to Widemarsh earlier in the afternoon after he had left her at the Priory. She blocked off the trend of her thoughts. It could not be.

  But the one insistent thought, which returned again and again to trouble her, was that if Richard wanted the Priory for himself, had always wanted the Priory, then he had been willing to use her without principle to achieve it. And whereas she had suffered the torment of guilt that she had once, misguidedly, promised him her love, he had had no qualms in persuading her that he looked for her hand for her own sake. And a further sly thought insinuated itself in her tortured mind. Had not Marlbrooke done the same? He had said that he loved her, and she had come to believe that it was true. And to desire it above all things. For the one brilliant, shining fact amidst all the lies and deceit was that she loved Viscount Marlbrooke. Furthermore, she had discovered to her chagrin that the events of the past had no bearing whatsoever on her present feelings towards him. When had it happened? When had love stalked her, like Isolde’s spirit, to invade her senses, her heart, her very soul? Perhaps it was that moment at Glasbury when she had seen the ruin and desolation in his own life and she had accepted the vibrant joy that he could bring to hers. Or perhaps it was simply the touch of his hand on hers which set her pulses racing beyond her control. Whatever, she loved him, and had to hope that this new, bright love could withstand the bitter shadows of the past.

  Marlbrooke had sent Elspeth and two other servants to Widemarsh as he had promised to care for Gilliver’s remains and see to the needs of the silent Mason and the Hothams. Elspeth had returned at daybreak with the news that Mason was nowhere to be found. There was nothing that Kate could do about it but await the turn of events.

  But for now she was seated before a smoking fire, the wind being in the wrong direction, as usual, in the Long Gallery with Elizabeth at one of her endless pieces of stitchery and Felicity picking out a mournful tune on the spinet. And in front of her lay a fortune in precious metals and jewellery.

  ‘Just look at this.’ She picked up a gold pendant, enamelled in green and white, set with diamonds and pearls. Inside were two miniatures of a man and a woman in Elizabethan dress. A delightful keepsake, if not quite in the modern taste. ‘And she was wearing as much again, if not more, when she was struck down.’

  ‘Do you suppose they are Harley heirlooms?’ Elizabeth trailed a rope of fine pearls through her fingers, holding them up to the light.

  ‘I was not aware that we had any. And unless my mother recognises any of them it will be impossible to tell. Gilliver must have been like a magpie, picking up every sparkling object that she could find.’

  ‘This looks very old.’ Elizabeth touched a gold pectoral cross with a gentle fingertip. ‘And certainly it needs a good clean. These are emeralds, I think, but the setting is broken and badly tarnished.’

  ‘And this—’ Kate picked up an intricate collar ‘—is positively mediaeval!’

  ‘I regret her death, Kate.’ Elizabeth frowned at the hoard as she chose her words carefully. ‘She was not an easy neighbour to live with, but she did not deserve to die as she did. And for what? If you are correct in your assumption, nothing was taken and no search seems to have been made or anything broken at Widemarsh.’

  ‘No. Only the letters were scattered around, and that may simply be that she dropped them when she fell.’ Kate fell silent, fingering a pretty silver-and-enamel ring with entwined hands and a heart. ‘I am sure that Mason knew, but she would not say. Indeed, I am not sure that she can speak, but she seemed too afraid to communicate in any way other than to push this box into my hands as I was leaving.’

  ‘Would the documents be of interest to anyone—other than you and Gilliver?’

  ‘If they knew what they contained—then no. They were only family letters.’

  ‘I see.’

  Kate looked up from the ring and fixed Elizabeth with her cool, clear gaze. ‘My uncle and Richard arrived together at Widemarsh after we did. We had already found Gilliver’s body. Richard said that he had not returned to Widemarsh earlier in the day.’ It was a statement of fact with no inflection in her voice.

  ‘Of course. So they are not involved in any way.’ Was there the faintest question in Elizabeth’s voice?

  The same thoughts struggled for acceptance—or denial—in both minds.

  ‘Would it be possible—this is very difficult—that whoever did it … that he thought that a will was there amongst the letters too?’ Elizabeth continued to arrange the jewels before her on the table.

  ‘It is possible,’ Kate acknowledged. ‘Only Marlbrooke and myself knew that there was no will.’

  ‘Inheritance of valuable property can cause terrible rifts in families, dear Kate.’

&n
bsp; ‘Yes.’ Kate smiled a little as she felt an inner warmth within her heart at the delicate sympathy expressed by the older woman, but she could not find the words to tell her that Verzons had probably informed Simon of the box of documents on the previous day, and had ensured that Richard was aware. She grimaced and turned back to the box, lifting a final chain of tarnished gold links from the bottom. ‘Another medieval treasure. I wonder who wore this hundreds of years ago.’

  And then she became very still, the links of the chain falling from her hand on to the table.

  From the bottom of the box, creased, folded and bearing a crumbling red seal, Kate drew out an official document. Her fingers were unsteady as she opened and spread it on the table amidst the gems. Her eyes scanned the close-written lines rapidly. Then she handed it to Elizabeth.

  ‘Aunt Gilliver had this all the time.’ Kate’s voice was without expression.

  ‘A will!’

  ‘Why did she not say so? Why did she not show me? Instead she wove some tale of it being hidden in a priest hole at the Priory—she even gave me the keys, you remember. I cannot understand her motives. When she wrote to me, did she intend to give me this? If so, what changed her mind?’

  Elizabeth read the document through twice and then returned it to Kate, her expression grave. ‘I confess that I am as bewildered as you are. But more important—I believe that this complicates matters for you on a personal level. Am I correct?’ Written early in 1643, mere weeks after the birth of his baby daughter, the will was a sharp reflection of Sir Thomas’s deep concerns for the security of his family and property in the event of his untimely death.

  ‘It is not what I had hoped for. Why did my father do this?’

  ‘For safety in a time of great danger?’ Elizabeth reached out to cover Kate’s hands with her own as they rested on top of the document. ‘If he feared for his life, he would have done everything in his power to protect his young wife and baby daughter.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  ‘The entail would not necessarily be broken. It would simply be a sensible arrangement with you as ward of your uncle Simon, leading to a dynastic marriage when you came of age.’

  ‘With Richard.’

  ‘That is what your father envisaged, certainly.’

  ‘And Simon holding the reins until I reached my majority. Or even longer if I became his daughter by marriage. It puts a different light on Simon’s involvement, does it not? He could hardly claim to be disinterested in the outcome of my inheritance. Do you suppose that he knew of this?’

  Elizabeth sat quietly for a moment and considered the sensitive matters thrown up by the contents of Gilliver’s box.

  ‘We cannot know. But more importantly—would you wish for this, Kate? For marriage with Richard?’

  ‘No.’ Kate kept her eyes on the document before her. ‘I will marry Marlbrooke. After all, the contracts are all drawn up.’

  ‘I am not talking expediency, Kate! Forgive me, but I had thought that you were not indifferent to your cousin.’

  ‘That is true,’ Kate admitted in a low voice. ‘He had spoken to me of marriage, and before I came here I thought that … but I do not love him. I realise that now.’ She ran her fingers round Marlbrooke’s ring on her finger. ‘And I cannot rid myself of the gravest suspicions about Gilliver’s death.’

  She began to pack the jewels back into their box, a deep line between her brows, but left the sealed letter on the table.

  ‘What do I do with this?’ she asked. ‘I am much in need of advice.’

  They were interrupted by Verzons’s soft footed approach. ‘My lady.’ He bowed, indicating the two figures standing in the doorway behind him.

  ‘Forgive me, my lady. I took the liberty of admitting these gentlemen, knowing them to be closely related to Mistress Harley. Mr Hotham requires urgent conversation with her about Mistress Gilliver’s affairs.’

  ‘Of course, Verzons.’ Lady Elizabeth smothered a sigh. ‘You did right. Bring wine, if you please.’ She turned to acknowledge Simon and Richard Hotham, but remained seated. ‘Welcome, gentlemen. Kate’s family will always be welcome here. Please sit. I understand your complaint, sir.’ She inclined her head towards Simon as he lowered his limbs to a chair with a grunt of pain. ‘I too suffer. Kate’s knowledge has helped me greatly.’

  He inclined his head. ‘She was well taught by her mother in herbal lore.’

  ‘Indeed. What can we do to help you? Marlbrooke is expected back at any time, but I will help all I can. I trust that you will accept my condolences on the sad death of Mistress Adams.’

  Richard too sat. His face was solemn, as might be expected on so difficult an occasion, but Kate noted that he made no attempt to engage her attention or meet her eyes. His concentration was all for his father.

  ‘This is not altogether in the way of a social visit, my lady.’ Simon’s words were impatient to the point of brusqueness and barely polite. ‘I have demands on my time and I do not wish to linger at Widemarsh longer than absolutely necessary. The house is too damp for my liking and comfort. Katherine took some papers away with her yesterday. I find that I have a need to see them.’

  ‘As I explained, Uncle Simon …’ Kate executed an elegant curtsy ‘… they are personal family letters, from last century for the most part. They have no bearing on Gilliver’s affairs.’

  ‘If I could inspect them, I can satisfy myself and will return them to you instantly. Then the matter will be closed.’

  ‘I am sorry, sir.’ Her voice was gentle, but with a level of determination that could not be misread. ‘They are not for general perusal.’

  Simon clearly tried for patience. ‘But surely they are not secret, Katherine? This is such a small matter and not one to lock horns over.’

  ‘No, indeed, sir. Surely not!’ Elizabeth tried to smooth over the growing ripples of confrontation. ‘They are personal letters. I have seen them—there is nothing of value except for family gossip.’

  Simon ignored the interruption. ‘I demand to see the letters, Katherine.’ There was a snap of anger now.

  ‘Why?’ Kate raised her chin. ‘What do you expect to find?’

  A glance passed between Simon and Richard. It was Richard who spoke.

  ‘We believe there is a will—written by your father in the last year of the siege when affairs were difficult in the war. We understand that he left the care of the Priory to my father, to administer in your name. And he gave his blessing for our union.’

  Kate shook her head. ‘I do not have such a document.’ Her innate honesty flinched at the blatant lie, but she spoke it without compunction. ‘It was not in the box discovered at the Priory.’ At least here was truth!

  ‘Gilliver was a cunning woman with her own devious ends,’ Simon continued. ‘I believe that she hid the will. Could I hazard a guess that you have indeed found it? I will not leave this house without it!’

  Kate shook her head, barely breathing when she saw the direction of Richard’s gaze. The document with its revealing red seals, momentarily forgotten, lay on the table beside her, obvious to anyone who cared to look.

  ‘Tell me about that, Kate,’ Richard requested in deceptively mild tones. ‘That document is not simply a family letter, is it?’

  Kate stood defiantly. ‘It is my property.’

  Richard rose to his feet and stepped forward. ‘I would hesitate to use force, my dear cousin, but you must see that in the circumstances you have no choice but to hand it over.’ His smile caused a finger of fear to trace its chilling path down her spine.

  ‘Really, sir! What can you be about?’ Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet in an attempt to intervene. Felicity had already abandoned the spinet and was fussing with anxious movements behind her ladyship. ‘Am I to be threatened in my own home?’

  ‘There is no need for any unpleasantness.’ Richard barely glanced at her. ‘Give me that paper, Katherine.’

  ‘I will not.’

  As Richard moved determinedly to t
ake the letter, Kate snatched it up and backed away, holding it behind her skirts. Richard pursued, intent and dangerous, all trace of conciliation vanished in his need to secure the document

  ‘The will, Kate!’

  He lunged quicker than she could react, to grasp her wrist in a painful hold, to drag her closer. It would be so easy to wrest the paper from her. In that moment Kate knew that she could not allow the document to fall into Simon’s hands, to give him the opportunity to make her a tool for his manipulation. She wrenched herself away from Richard and with a sure aim, born of panic, flung the paper into the fireplace.

  There was a bright flame. A sizzle of red wax. The paper sank to ashes. As did all Simon’s plans.

  ‘You fool,’ Simon gasped, lips drawn back from his teeth in a snarl, hands clenched on the chair arms, furious at his inability to rise. ‘What have you done? You have ruined any chance we had of turning the courts in our favour and reducing this Royalist vermin back to the gutter where they belong.’

  Richard’s self-control snapped as the quick flare of fire died away. Eyes blazing with uncontrolled fury, he raised his hand and struck Kate, an open-handed blow to her face. There was a sharp report of flesh against flesh and she fell to the floor to cower at his feet, more in shock that he should use force against her than in actual pain.

  ‘What have you done?’ he echoed his father. His face was contorted with rage. ‘It could all have been ours. Yours and mine. The law would uphold your father’s wishes. What possessed you? Has marriage to Marlbrooke become so desirable? Has he seduced you with his Court ways? Has he bought you with his body? I would not have thought you so shallow, little cousin.’ He seized her arm to pull her roughly to her feet, shaking her as a dog would shake a rat. ‘Yet you were prepared to accept my love and devotion not so long ago—when there was nothing else in your life. It seems that a title and a fortune can make any woman fickle in her affections. You disgust me!’ He shook her again, his self-control in tatters.