Robert put his arms around Catherine’s neck. “I want you to stay with me.”
Catherine drew back. “Your father lies ill in his bed. He needs me.”
“I need you.” Robert buried his face in Catherine’s shoulder. “Stay here with me.”
“And what of your father, Robert? Would you have me leave him alone when he is sick? I would not do so if you were ill.”
“No, Mother.”
“Then what would you have me do?”
Robert sat back again, folding his chubby hands in his lap. He stared at his thumb but did not raise it. “You must go home to Father. And I must stay here with Auntie Ann.”
Catherine roughed up Robert’s hair. “I would not leave you for my pleasure. It breaks me to part from you.”
“It will please the Lady Elizabeth to have me stay.”
Catherine laughed at this. “No doubt, boy. Will you tell me your reason? Unpack your heart to your mother, Robert, so that I may go with a free conscience.”
He swung his legs again, and Catherine finally stilled them with her hands. “Tell me,” she repeated.
“My father does not love me,” the boy said at last. “I fear his looks.”
Catherine’s heart shriveled. She would not tell the boy that his impressions were mistaken, though she longed to. Instead, she nodded. “Then you will stay here with Ann and you will pray for me and for your little sister until I return.” She thought about adding William to the list and decided against.
“That I will do,” said Robert without smiling. He put out his hand, and she shook it.
By the time Catherine had finished packing her things, and unpacking Robert’s, the day was far gone. Ann was feeding the children, and she was sitting with Kat and Diana at supper when they heard the horses in the front courtyard.
“Who is that at this hour?” said Kat, throwing down her napkin and going to the window. “Beshrew me, it’s Benjamin Davies.”
“Benjamin himself?” asked Catherine. Her stomach bounced.
“The very man,” said Kat, as he banged at the door, “in the flesh.” She motioned one of the men to answer and went back to her seat. “Let him wait.”
Catherine said, “You sent to his home?”
“Of course. For horses and men to ride with you. I didn’t ask if he was there.” The man returned to announce the arrival of Benjamin Davies and a messenger. “I suppose we should go and meet our trouble.”
But the messenger had followed the man servant inside. “I come from Overton House with news for Lady Catherine Overton,” he said to the room.
“I am Catherine Overton and you may give your news to me.” She held out her hand.
“I am to deliver myself in words,” the messenger said. “Privately.”
“You see no one here but the private household,” snapped Kat. “Say what you have come to say, man.”
“Very well.” He sniffed and directed his nose at Catherine. “I am told to inform you that your husband means to file a writ of divorcement against you and no longer will consider you as his lawful wife.”
36
Benjamin Davies was pacing in the front hallway, and he slapped his leg when he saw the women come racing out after the departing messenger. “I thought you were sending me to the doghouses for my pains,” he said, but they rushed past him.
“Who has sent this message?” Catherine demanded, but the young man kept walking. He nodded at Benjamin as he passed by and went out the door. “Who? I insist that you tell me,” Catherine shouted. “He is gone. Like that. And what am I to do?”
Benjamin said, “What has happened?”
Kat came forward and took the man by the hand. “We were in the middle of dining and in comes this wretch to say that Catherine’s husband means to divorce her. Have you heard of such an outrage?”
“I have not. Who was he, Catherine?”
She was still standing at the door and she pushed it closed. “I have never seen his face before.” She put her forehead against the wood and whispered, “It cannot be true.” She turned but the room seemed too large and bright and she leaned back against the door to steady herself.
Diana Davies came running downstairs, and Benjamin said, “There’s my daughter.” He grabbed Diana in a big hug and she grinned.
“Come and eat,” said Kat, guiding Diana away from Catherine.
Benjamin said, “Lead on to the victuals, girl, before your father shrinks to nothing. Tell me about your grand audience with the king.”
Diana took her father by the hand, prattling about the royal clothing and the mounds of food. Kat threw Catherine a look behind their backs and she followed, arranging her face for the girl. The men had begun to remove the dishes, and Benjamin shouted at them to stop and let him have a bite.
Kat nodded and the food was swiftly returned to the table, the maids peering with wide eyes around the side door, thinking the king had surely reversed his course. Benjamin sat down and looked into a goblet. “This one’s clean enough. Pour me a glass, Daughter.” He had Diana’s own cup, and she giggled as she served the wine and watched him drink. “My God, you’ve grown a foot, girl. What do they feed you? Gold nuggets?”
“I eat fine meat and drink good wine. Catherine insists I get my exercise in the garden every day. I am studying herbs and diet, Father. My writing improves as well. You would have been proud to hear the way I carried on conversation with the king’s daughter. She is rather froward, though, and frowns at everything.”
“Herbs? Writing? So you make my daughter a scholar of weeds?” Benjamin raised his cup to Catherine. “A great taxing of female wits.” He winked at his daughter and drank.
“Diana has an excellent mind,” said Catherine soberly. She went to the door, where Eleanor was hiding, and sent her downstairs for the puddings. “She has capacities for much learning.”
“You will make a Margaret More of her, no doubt,” said Benjamin, “and then she will bore all the men to death.” He smiled at Diana but his eyes returned again and again to Catherine. “So you sat next to the elder daughter, did you?”
“I did, Father.” Diana’s voice was suddenly very soft and her eyes were distant with remembering.
Benjamin’s right eye twitched and he sank his teeth into his lower lip. “Well.” He considered for a few silent moments, and Catherine almost spoke up for Mary Tudor, but he suddenly slapped his thigh again. “Lady Catherine, you can tell me her whole course of study on the road to Overton House.”
“What?” Catherine gasped.
Kat Champernowne’s voice was ice. “You mean to go with her?”
“Why else would I have come?” asked Benjamin. He tore himself a chunk of bread. “Have you no butter in this house?”
“I meant to travel with a few servants only,” said Catherine. Bells were clanging somewhere under her heart, and she put her hand on her ribs. “How can you leave your houses untended?”
“Ah, the houses. You have come to me with a timely request, Catherine. My brother Lewis means to visit from Conwy, and I would like a reason to be gone.” He wiped his beard. “The man is a pedant and a whoremonger who fancies himself a philosopher. I would like to be gone before I am forced to endure another schoolteacher’s lecture on goodness while he pinches my maidservants’ backsides.”
“Listen to Catherine,” said Kat. “It is not proper. You will not accompany her. Not alone. No.”
“Ladies, if you did not want me to come, why did you call on me? Did you think to appropriate my property and my people without my oversight?”
Kat’s head reared back at this. Her nostrils flared and she looked like an angry mare. “I supposed you a gentleman who would not let a lady venture by foot alone onto the road to her . . . her sick husband.” She glanced at Catherine.
“And so I would not. I mean to make sure she gets there myself. Stop worrying your head about appearances, woman. She will have her maid and whatever other girls she wants about her, and my men will be with us. I ass
ure you there will be no appearance of impropriety. Do you want her to get there in one piece or don’t you? God’s foot, she’s got a baby in arms.” He turned to Catherine. “Where is the little one?”
“My friend Ann has her below.”
“She goes with you?”
“Yes. The baby, I mean. My son will stay here.”
“Your son? He is here?”
Catherine gulped. “Ah. Yes. He has arrived from the north. He wishes to remain here. He is weary of travel, I think, and has fallen in love with Elizabeth.”
“The boy may stay with us,” said Kat Champernowne. She was still scowling at Benjamin.
“It is decided then,” said Benjamin. “Things being as they are, I will take you home.”
“Things being as they are, I think Catherine should go unaccompanied,” said Kat.
“You have a choice. You could have provided Catherine with horses and servants yourself. And now she will need a lawyer.”
“Why does she need a lawyer?” asked Diana, and Kat scowled.
Benjamin said, “I leave the decision to Lady Catherine. Ah, here’s the sweets.” The serving men set down two rhubarb tarts, and Benjamin fell to, scooping out enormous bites. “Eat, girl,” he said to Diana.
Catherine watched him for a few moments before she said, “I will accept Benjamin as my traveling companion.”
37
Benjamin slept in a bedroom downstairs from the women, and in the morning he was awake at dawn, calling down the hallway for Catherine. She was already awake, though Ann was still asleep beside her. The dream had visited her again, but this time the man had worn a hooded cloak, and she could not see his face. Her bitten thumb throbbed, and she cursed the king under her breath. Catherine heard Benjamin well enough, but she buried her face in her pillow to block out his voice. Ann turned over and sighed irritably.
“Madam?” It was Eleanor, tugging at the edge of the bedclothes. She had Veronica in the crook of her arm. “Ann?”
Catherine threw back the sheet, and sat up. “Climb in here.” She took Veronica and Eleanor bounced over her, settling in while Catherine nursed the baby. Benjamin bellowed again, and Catherine gritted her teeth. “I could chop his tongue out with a cleaver. These men, always eager to be on their horses before the sun has its chin over the horizon.”
Eleanor smiled. “I think he is eager to see Master Overton.”
“And you? What are you so eager for?”
Eleanor shrugged, and Catherine nudged her. “Go to, you’re not so innocent as all that.”
Eleanor suddenly became very interested in the state of her nails. “I suppose not. But I am full gone twenty years old, Madam. I’m not for all markets anymore.” She smirked, one eyebrow going up. “I think I will die if I don’t see Joseph soon. You know how it is when a man loves you? It’s like he wants to eat you up and you feel all sweet inside.”
“Impertinent wretch.” Catherine slapped Eleanor’s hand lightly and the girl rolled over, giggling to herself. Catherine switched the baby to the other breast. “But, yes, I know how it is. I could teach you a thing or two about it.”
“About what?” Eleanor was serious, and she sat up.
Catherine just shook her head. She didn’t want to kill the girl’s spirits, not this early in the morning, but Ann said, “She could teach you not to take the word of any man as the gospel of your life.”
“Ann,” said Catherine.
“I only tell the truth,” said Ann. “Divorce you? How does he dare to think it?”
“We know only that a message came,” said Catherine. “We have no letter from William’s hand.”
“Divorce?” repeated Eleanor. She shook Ann’s arm. “What divorce?”
“Nothing,” said Catherine. “We must go home and set our house right.”
Benjamin hammered on the door. “Are you getting out of the bed before the leaves fall or will I have to break in and drag you to the horses?”
“I will tell you more later,” said Catherine. “Time to get dressed.” She called, “We’re coming.”
They were quickly in their clothes, and Catherine rebound her thumb with fresh linen, pulling the edges of the bite together to knit them. Ann brought Robert into the dining gallery, still rubbing his eyes, while they were breaking their fast, and the boy sat on Catherine’s knee, leaning against her chest. She stroked his hair while she ate her bread. “You will be a good boy while I am away?”
“I swear it, Mother.” The boy studied Benjamin. “Will you be good, too, sir?”
“Ha!” Benjamin pushed back from the table. “That boy has his mother’s wit.” He wagged his finger at Robert. “Mind your mistresses while we are away.” He gave the boy a swift pat on the head and went out, humming a sad tune.
Catherine kissed Robert’s hair. “Ann will give me a report of you, be sure of it. And she is fierce in her love for you.”
“Auntie Ann will whip me if I misbehave.”
“I will at that.” Ann came in, wiping her hands on a towel. “Now come, Robert, and let your mother eat her fill.” She sat at the end of the long dark table, and the boy hopped from his mother’s lap and ran to Ann.
Catherine finished her ale. She could see men loading her cases onto the pack horses, and Eleanor was already outside, almost bouncing on the balls of her feet. Kat Champernowne was directing them all, and she ignored Benjamin Davies when he came by her to check his saddle.
“It’s time to say good-bye, little son,” said Catherine. She swallowed and wiped her eyes. “Come here and kiss me and let me remember the feel of your arms.”
Robert met her halfway and hugged her tightly about the neck. Catherine’s eyes met Ann’s over the small boy’s shoulder, but Catherine couldn’t decipher her expression. She held her son, feeling the narrow ribs and hips, putting her nose into his soft black hair.
“Now. I will go see how the sun hangs over our home and come back and you will be almost as tall as I am when I see you again. You will eat, hear me?”
They walked outside, hand in hand, and Robert shifted his grasp from Catherine’s to Ann’s. Eleanor brought the baby, and Robert gave his small sister a formal peck on the cheek.
Elizabeth was with her writing master and could not come down, but Kat shook Catherine’s hand. “The girl needs you here to keep her strong. She looks hale, but I fear her condition is unsteady.” She spoke low, her eyes on Benjamin.
“I will return before the summer is high in the sky,” said Catherine.
“Keep an eye on that man,” said Kat. “He certainly keeps an eye on you.”
“Give my regards to Reg, if you should happen to see him,” said Ann. She was fussing with Robert’s shoe ties and did not look at Catherine.
“That I will. Any words in particular?”
“Just my greetings,” said Ann. She glanced up and her cheeks were burning with a light Catherine had never seen on her face before.
“Consider it done,” said Catherine. She hugged her friend, then Diana, and arranged herself in the saddle. Benjamin threw himself onto his horse and signaled his man, who jolted forward. Catherine turned to see Robert, waving until she was out the front gate. Hatfield House flamed in the morning light, and Catherine watched until it was only a flicker through the trees.
The weather was fine, a green wind blowing the scent of bluebells and daffodils through the countryside, and the clouds tumbling as though nudged along by the finger of God. Catherine closed her eyes until a rut threw her forward. “Mother of God, that almost snapped my neck. I’ll be a pile of broken sticks by the time we get there.”
Eleanor was stroking Veronica’s head. “I hope he remembers me.”
“Joseph? He’s not that dull, is he?”
“What if he has found another maid?” Eleanor murmured.
“If he has, then he wasn’t for you. He has only been gone a few days. Did you not get a moment with him before he went?”
“Barely a second,” Eleanor said sullenly. Then her mouth
twisted. “Perhaps more than a second. But those kitchen maids were like midges in summer. I almost slapped them.”
“He will be there. And if he’s not, you’ll find another.”
Eleanor pushed herself to sitting. “But I’m not—” Her face flushed and she covered her mouth with her hand.
“A virgin?” asked Catherine. “Tush, girl, what you have done, others have done before you. There are ways to mask it if need be.”
“Is that what you meant to tell me?”
“In part.” Catherine leaned forward. Benjamin was riding behind them, and she could hear him, humming to himself. “I have made a study of women’s travails. It is one of the subjects we were making receipts for at home. But my women are gone, disappeared. You are a woman I could trust, Eleanor, if you would want to learn what I know.”
“You were a nun! A woman of God! How can you talk so?”
“The men have too many Gods these days for a wise woman to commit herself to any one of them. I say what I think, but not in the wide world where anyone can hear. There are methods to make you a maid again, if that is what you want. If you want Joseph, you must require that he take you as you are.”
“As Master William took you.”
“Yes. And my condition was worse than yours.” Catherine glanced over her shoulder.
“Joseph was not exactly my first,” Eleanor said, “but he thinks he was. I tried to act as though I didn’t know where anything went. Is that evil?”
“He likely paid no attention,” said Catherine. “You tell him nothing to the contrary unless your conscience demands it. Is the other man nearby?”
“He is always nearby.” Eleanor pulled the baby tight against her chest and rocked her from side to side.
“You needn’t tell me. I’m not your confessor. All I advise is that you protect yourself from shame and poverty. No one will pick up a woman who believes herself that she is fallen.”
City of Ladies Page 19
