by Stella Riley
On the other hand, she’d just as soon that their paths crossed as little as possible for there was no point in tempting providence.
Afterwards, she realised she ought to have known better than trust to luck on a day when nothing had really gone right. Life, she often thought, was either blissfully trouble-free or composed of one petty irritation on top of another. Not that the sight of Luciano del Santi riding towards her was precisely petty; in her present jittery mood it was more like incipient cataclysm. Kate jerked Willow’s head round in exactly the manner she’d always deplored in Celia and set her careering across the common in the opposite direction.
He chased her – and that was something else she ought to have expected. She didn’t know how well he rode and wasn’t going to waste time turning round to look … but she could hear his hoof-beats drumming behind her own. If he was a good enough horseman, he’d catch her. Willow was no match for the powerful black he was riding.
Damn! thought Kate. Why can’t he see he’s not wanted and mind his own business?
Her hat abandoned the struggle and went whirling away behind her, leaving her hair to fly free of its pins and stream in the wind like a banner. Deciding she’d have to know if he was gaining on her, she swivelled her head, got a mouthful of hair and discovered that he was. Rapidly.
She tried to encourage Willow to a fresh burst of speed but it was pointless. He came gradually up behind her and then slowly but surely drew level. Kate turned her head, spat the hair out of her mouth and glared at him. He laughed. Then he reached across to grasp her bridle.
Suddenly shaking with something she told herself was temper, Kate struck at his hand with her riding-crop. He flinched but did not release his grip and, in no time at all, brought both horses to a quivering stop. There was a moment’s fulminating silence while furious green eyes met satiric midnight blue ones. Then he said simply, ‘Salve, Caterina.’
‘Don’t call me that!’
‘You don’t like it?’ And, with a slanting smile as he held out her maltreated hat, ‘Or perhaps you like it a little too much.’
‘As someone once said – don’t flatter yourself.’ The look of polite disbelief on his face coupled with the mere fact of his having managed to retrieve her hat, added fuel to the fire but she forced herself to take the hat without snatching and was rewarded with a sight of the bright red weal on the back of his hand. She said blightingly, ‘I can only presume that either the house is burning down or someone’s dying. If not, why the --’
‘Hell?’ suggested Luciano dulcetly. ‘Devil?’
‘Why come chasing after me?’ she snapped. ‘It must have been obvious, even to you, that I – that I prefer my own company.’
‘Not especially. I thought your horse was running away with you.’
‘Nothing runs away with me!’ she said. And then, realising he’d thought no such thing, had to use her hands to push back her hair to stop herself hitting him again. ‘Oh – go away, can’t you? I’ve had my fill of del Santis this morning. Or even of Falcieris.’
‘Ah.’ He surveyed her thoughtfully. ‘So Gianetta told you that, did she?’
‘Yes. I believe her exact words were that she, Gianetta Falcieri del Santi, was unaccustomed to waiting over an hour for water to be heated for her bath and to occupying a chamber which is of utterly miserable proportions.’
‘Really? I’m impressed. I’d no idea her English was that good.’
Kate gritted her teeth and jammed her hat back on her head.
He laughed again and said, ‘Lost for words, Kate? Never did I think to see the day. Haven’t you even any questions?’
‘No. Your insufferable sister can call herself Queen of the May for all I care. The only name that interests me is my own. And, as far as I can recall, I’ve never given you the right to make free with it – in any language.’
‘I stand rebuked.’ The slight inclination of his head was a masterpiece of irony. ‘As for Gianetta … there are two things you should bear in mind. First, that she has a strong sense of the dramatic; and second, that she was brought up by my uncle and styles herself accordingly.’
Kate shrugged and stared balefully between Willow’s ears. As usual, he was using his multiple graces to emphasise her own lack of them. She knew that. She only wished he’d stop looking at her in just that way so that her nerves might have time to settle. He didn’t. Instead, he said gently, ‘Why did you panic just now?’
‘Panic? I never panic.’
‘No? Then you give a fair imitation of it.’
Kate pulled herself together and awarded him an indulgent smile.
‘I know it must be difficult for you – but try to accept that I simply didn’t want your company. Neither yours nor anyone else’s.’ Then deciding to attack, ‘Why did you bring your sister to us? You must have other friends.’
He remained perfectly unruffled and continued to survey her with mild amusement.
‘That was a rather poor shot, wasn’t it? You know perfectly well that I’ve no friends at all – or not of the sort to whom I could safely entrust Gianetta. And, rather than allow you the pleasure of making some caustic observation on the subject, I’ll do it for you,’ he continued, as she opened her mouth to speak. ‘I’m rich and not entirely unpresentable and therefore I am tolerated. No more and no less. But I’m also a foreigner and a usurer – and the one is no more forgivable to most of your countrymen than the other. Ah – and no. I do not lose any sleep over it.’
‘I never supposed you did,’ said Kate. And then, ‘You don’t like us much, do you? It makes me wonder why you’re here at all.’
Something cold and dangerous awoke in the dark eyes and then was gone, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined it. Certainly his tone was smooth as butter as he said, ‘I’m earning a living as best I may. What else? And, as for the English, I believe I’m learning to differentiate.’
‘Should I be flattered? Or no. You’d have to say that, wouldn’t you? After all, Mother’s chancing her best glassware on your account.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘And now – if you don’t mind – I’d like to continue my ride. Alone.’
‘As you wish.’ His eyes raked her face. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing you’d like to ask me?’
‘No,’ she said impatiently. And then, formless suspicion flaring in her mind, ‘Don’t they say ‘Ask no questions and you’ll be told no lies’? I assume Father knows what he’s doing. But I think … yes, I think you’re worried about something Gianetta may say.’ She stopped, her eyes widening as an errant thought slipped neatly into place. ‘I also think you came after me in order to deliver a prepared explanation. Not the truth, of course – just a little something to satisfy my curiosity.’
The beautiful, fine-boned face held not a trace of expression. If she had touched a nerve, there was nothing to show it. He merely said, ‘Having declined to hear it, you’ll never know, will you? But, just out of interest … what makes you so sure it would have been a lie?’
‘Because you wouldn’t have risked your neck over unfamiliar country to make me a present of the truth,’ came the prompt reply. ‘You never give that away at all, if you can help it. It’s something you play games with.’
He took his time about answering her and, when he did, it was to say reflectively, ‘How well you think you know me. You should beware, however, of over-simplification.’
‘You would think that, of course. I’ve never met anyone so determined to be inscrutable.’
‘Tell me,’ he invited, his tone at distinct variance with the devil dancing in his eyes. ‘Do you have other interests – or am I the only one?’
The shock of it stopped Kate’s breath and sent the blood tingling into her cheeks.
‘Oh – don’t misunderstand me,’ he continued, an infuriating smile bracketing his mouth. ‘I recognise the compliment. And in a few years’ time when that nettle-sharp brain of yours has matured a little, I may even be able to return it. Who knows? But in the meantime you would be
safer cultivating a sense of proportion and not indulging in too many frail hopes.’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes you have. I am pointing out – as politely as possible – that I am not available.’
Kate stared at him, incapable of speech but intensely capable of murder. Finally and with enormous care, she managed to say flatly, ‘Imagination and monumental conceit must run in your family. The truth, of course, is that I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.’
‘You ought,’ came the mocking reply, ‘to have said you wouldn’t marry me if I were the last man on earth. It’s equally banal … but at least I might have believed it.’
‘You just want the satisfaction of telling me that I won’t be asked,’ spat Kate. ‘Do you take me for an idiot?’
‘If I did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. As it is, I’m simply attempting to provide you with two valuable lessons.’ He paused and then, when she said nothing, went on smoothly, ‘The first is that other people’s weaknesses are useless to you until you learn to manage your own; and the second is that you can’t read me half as well as I can read you.’
‘You think not?’ she asked witheringly.
‘I know not. For the reality, dear Kate, is that you’re fast becoming petrified by the ambivalence of your emotions – and that is why you took fright just now. You’re afraid to do more than scratch the surface of your mind because you don’t know what you’ll find.’ He gave her a slow, blinding smile. ‘Hoist with your own petard, as they say. But I’m sure you’ll get over it.’
* * *
He left the next day for London and the long journey to Genoa. Kate did not speak to him again before he left and, even after he had gone, it was an effort to batten down her inner turmoil. At any other time, she would have taken the trouble to investigate Meg Bennet’s suddenly doleful behaviour; now, however, she was too busy seething to give it more than a passing thought. And when Tabitha tried to tell her something that Gianetta had apparently said about her brother. Kate said baldly, ‘Don’t, if you love me, mention that man in my hearing. The very thought of him gives me an ague.’
On the following Sunday and with a week still to go before Easter, Richard received news which effectively crushed his hopes of celebrating the festival at home with his family. Pym had renewed his attack on Strafford with a Bill of Attainder.
‘I’ll have to go back,’ said Richard. ‘There’ll be a vote.’
‘What’s a Bill of Attainder?’ asked Kate.
‘An act of Parliament designed to protect the security of the state. When the courts have failed to prove a man guilty of treason, an Attainder can declare him so by law. You might call it a last resort.’ He stopped and looked into his wife’s eyes. ‘I know. But I can’t, in conscience, stay away.’
‘No.’ She strove to keep her voice expressionless. ‘Will you go today?’
‘Yes. It’s barely noon so I can get as far as Oxford.’ He rose, smiling at her. ‘And you’ll follow after Easter with Amy?’
‘You’re taking Amy to London?’ asked Celia, surprised and none too pleased. ‘Is she to be married?’
‘One can but hope,’ murmured Eden. And then, ‘What are you going to do with our little Italian jewel-tree?’
‘Leave her here with you,’ responded Dorothy promptly. ‘Since the only person she’s formed any sort of relationship with is Tabitha – who won’t, in any case, want to spend the summer in London – it seems the obvious answer. But what about you, Kate? Will you come?’
With her own private demon safely en route for Genoa, it was too tempting to refuse.
‘Yes,’ said Kate lightly. ‘I believe I will.’
‘I wish I could go,’ sighed Celia. ‘And really Eden, I don’t see why we shouldn’t. The baby won’t come till August and that’s ages away yet.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, as gently as he was able. ‘I can’t possibly go. I’m not leaving everything to Nathan’s tender mercies. And --’
‘But why on earth not? He can manage – and I want to go.’
‘I know you do … but you know very well why I won’t leave Nathan in control. I explained it all to you.’
Her face settled into petulant lines. Then, brightening again, she said, ‘Well, there’s no reason why I shouldn’t go, is there? It would be perfectly proper, after all.’
‘You don’t think,’ suggested Dorothy, ‘that the journey might be too much for you just now?’
‘No. Not at all.’
‘Well I do,’ said Eden, finally driven into making a stand. ‘And I’m afraid I’m not prepared to let you risk both yourself and the baby by spending the best part of three days rattling about in a coach.’
Celia stood up, cheeks pink with anger and eyes flashing storm signals.
‘The baby is the only thing you care about. You don’t think of me at all!’
‘Oh God,’ sighed Kate, under her breath. ‘Here we go.’
Eden rose to face his wife, a white shade bracketing his mouth. He said quietly, ‘You know that’s not true. But, even if it was, this isn’t the time to discuss it.’
‘Why not? Why not?’ she demanded, her voice rising shrilly. ‘I’m tired of being quiet and good and not having anything I want. And I’m sick of spending my days sewing or shut up in the still-room instead of visiting my friends or doing anything the least bit entertaining. Just because you are content to be dull is no reason why I should be so too. And if you always meant to become a farmer and stay mewed up in the country, you should have said so before we were married!’
She stopped on a tiny gasp, suddenly aware of exactly what she was saying and of the catastrophic silence all around her. Eden had no more colour to lose and Kate looked frankly disgusted. No one else, she discovered, was looking at her at all. Fright and a grain or two of shame blotted out her temper and she did the only thing possible. She burst into tears.
* * *
Richard arrived in London on Tuesday April 20th – the day on which the youthful Prince of Orange came to claim his even more youthful bride and was given the cold shoulder by his future mother-in-law. Richard’s welcome was not much warmer for he’d arrived almost twenty-four hours too late. The Commons had already cast their votes and passed the Attainder by a majority of forty-five.
‘Wouldn’t have made any difference if you had been here,’ observed Henry Cox with gruff cynicism. ‘Walk-over for the Ayes. Not that it makes any odds. The Lords won’t pass it. Fellow’s one of ’em, ain’t he?’
Upon reflection, it seemed that Mr Cox might be right. Certainly the King did not appear unduly worried by the death-threat hanging over his friend’s head. He felt he had the support of the army he’d led against the Scots and which Parliament had neglected to pay – and he’d built up a nice little party of Moderates in the Lords, all of whom were committed to preserving the existing order and looking forward to substantial rewards for services rendered.
Pym’s next move was to demand the disbandment of the eight thousand men still awaiting orders in Ireland; the King offered to retire Strafford and appoint Mr Pym Chancellor of the Exchequer. Mr Pym pretended to consider the bribe whilst deciding how best to say no without appearing to say no – then repeated his demand for the disbandment of the Irish troops and watched the whole scheme crumble to dust on the King’s refusal.
In the midst of all this, Richard found time to spend a couple of pleasant evenings in the Coxes’ house on Ludgate Hill. Though unmistakably merchant-class, they were neither pretentious nor vulgar and, by his second visit, Richard was satisfied enough to broach the delicate question of a possible marriage between Geoffrey and Amy.
‘I’d welcome such a match and I won’t pretend otherwise,’ said Henry candidly. ‘But Geoffrey’s three-and-twenty, with a mind of his own. Now, if he was to meet your girl and the two of them were to take a fancy to each other … well, that’d be best all round, wouldn’t you say?’
; ‘My thoughts exactly,’ smiled Richard. ‘A small family occasion with nothing said and no obligation on either side. Agreed?’
‘Agreed.’ Mr Cox held out his hand. ‘And I hope we can look forward to discussing it further.’
* * *
May brought the usual apprentice riots – in which, Richard was relieved to discover, Toby had not taken part – and the King appealed to the Lords to reject the Attainder. Pym, mindful of the failure to impeach Buckingham fifteen years before, took the precaution of introducing a Bill which made it impossible for Parliament to be dissolved against its own consent. And on May 2nd, the Princess Mary married William of Orange to the accompanying rumble of yet more riots.
It was at this point that Richard wrote directing Dorothy to delay her departure for a few more days.
‘We are surrounded by wild rumours,’ he wrote. ‘Everyone is supposedly hatching a plot. There are Papist Plots, Save Strafford Plots and Army Plots. So far as I’m aware, there is truth only in the last – and we have promised to pay the army, so that should soon be over. But although I long to see you, I’ll be happier for knowing you are out of London at this time.’
The Commons, meanwhile, declared its intention to defend civil liberties – and proved it by releasing the young man popularly known as Free-born John. Then it called upon the Army Plot Committee to deliver its first report – whereupon Richard Maxwell cursed under his breath on hearing Francis Langley named, then sighed with relief when, along with Suckling and Davenant, Francis was found to have vanished.
