My fists clenched at the memory. “I am well aware of what Master Horton said this morning. It is his behavior that was unseemly, and I cannot understand why you do not see that!”
Father shook his head over my words. “Nay, we are not discussing Master Horton. We are discussing you.”
“All right, then. Why should my behavior be of any concern to these new suitors?” I flung out an arm toward Blanche, lounging so beautifully in the chair, sipping at the goblet Andrew had brought for her. “They will be looking only at her, never at me. It has ever been so.”
“Because it would be improper for her to marry before you. The elder daughter must marry before the younger. I will not have Blanche spoken about like that young Brewer girl last year; what was her name?”
“Mary,” Blanche and I said in unison, then glared at each other. Mary Brewer had been one of Blanche’s gaggle of friends, the girls who followed Blanche around in rather the same way that ducklings follow their mother: because they are too stupid and helpless to do otherwise.
“Yes, Mary Brewer,” Father repeated. “A pretty enough lass, I’ll warrant, but married before her elder sister. And why? Why? Everyone knew why. Because she was hiding a rising belly under all those skirts.”
“No one would believe that of me, Father,” Blanche said, bristling.
“Of course not, my angel.” He turned toward her, his voice soothing, crooning. “Everyone here in Whitelock would understand that your sister couldn’t marry because of her reputation.” Before I could splutter a protest, he went on, “But outside of this town, it would be different. Gossip is a vicious thing. I will not have a word spoken against you.
“And therefore…” He spun back to me, a finger pointed at my nose. “You will mark me, because I believe I can turn this situation to our advantage. I am going to get you married so that Blanche can be free.”
“How nice for Blanche. Am I to have any say in this?”
Blanche smirked. “Say? You should say yes to any man who offers for you.”
“You think I would make it that easy for you?”
“Kathryn!” Father grabbed my shoulders. “Blanche offers you sisterly advice in a spirit of Christian charity and this is how you thank her?” He gave me a shake, hard enough to rattle my teeth in my head, then released me. I had to take a step to catch my balance.
He stepped away from me to regain his composure, turning his back on both of us. Blanche stuck her tongue out at me and I rolled my eyes.
Still turned away, Father said, “Now, daughter, will you listen to me or no?”
I shifted so I no longer had to look at Blanche. “I will listen.” What choice did I have?
“Good.” He faced me once more. “As I have said, you must marry before Blanche. However, you have offended and outraged every decent, God-fearing, eligible man in this town—”
“There are—” I bit off my words. I decided not to say what I was thinking: that there were no decent men in this town, only men who lust after Blanche. “Please, do go on with what you were saying.”
He looked at me askance through narrowed eyes, then continued. “As I say, no man from Whitelock will have you, but though a lesser man might despair of ever getting rid of you, I plan to take advantage of the good fortune that has fallen upon our village.”
“To get rid of me.”
His glare deepened. “Aye.”
I began to suspect his plan, and ice gathered in my belly. “How is this good fortune for me?”
He put a finger under my chin, crushing my teeth together and tipping my face up toward his. “It is good fortune in that neither of them know aught of you. If we can keep you away from them and quiet for a few days, we may have a chance.”
I took a step backward, away from his dominating presence, and collided with Blanche’s chair. She shoved me forward again, setting me stumbling. As I steadied myself to face Father again, I shuddered to think of his plan: the merchant in him wanted to sell me, sight unseen, to a stranger we knew nothing of. And he expected me to be happy about it? “A chance?”
He shook his head as though I were a little child who misunderstood. “Yes, Kathryn, this may well be your only chance. With my wealth and their ignorance of your nature, we may strike a deal.”
“You’re talking about a deal, Father. I’m talking about my life.” I struggled to calm myself. “Will you keep them from talking to the neighbors as well?”
He smiled grimly. “With the dowry I mean to offer, a canny fellow will put the neighbors’ talk down to jealous gossip.”
I could hardly swallow against the rock in my throat. “I see you have thought of everything.”
“I have. And to that end, I have decided that you and your sister must stay at home for the time being and not see anyone at all.”
Blanche leaped from her chair, toppling it with a heavy thud. “What do you mean, we must stay at home and see no one? No one at all? Not even the new gentlemen?” She flew to Father and clung to his arm.
He patted her hand. “Yes, my dearest child, you must stay at home for a few days, but you must understand that it is the only hope we have of convincing one of these men to marry Kathryn.”
She tipped her head to one side, considering. “True. A man would only marry her if he didn’t know her.”
I clenched my hands into fists. “Really, must I stand here and listen to this? I’d much rather go drive needles into my eyes.”
“Kathryn, please,” Father protested. “We are only being truthful. I am very sorry it is hard to hear, but there it is.”
“Please allow me to understand you,” I said. “You are going to keep us at home whilst these gentlemen are here in town, and of course they will hear through the local gossips that you are a very wealthy man and that my dowry will be substantial, and that, all by itself, will convince one of them to marry me without ever speaking to me once?”
He gave me a look that said I was a dolt. “No, of course not. He may wish to speak to you, of course, but we will hope that will only be once the deal is done. In the meantime, you will stay at home, and you will behave yourself. And you will resume your lessons again.”
Blanche made a whining noise in her throat like a puppy but otherwise did not complain, which surprised me. She had moaned and moped through all of our years of lessons, be they mathematics, rhetoric, or languages.
“I don’t understand,” I said.
Father rocked on his feet, heel to toe and back again, looking smugly satisfied. “One of the young gentlemen approached me in the square just now and asked if he could do me the honor of calling on me later today. Obviously, he wants to ingratiate himself to me, and through me, to you girls.” Blanche smiled up at him. “I started to put him off, but he was persistent, a quality I greatly admire in a man, as well you know.”
“Though not in your daughter,” I muttered, not intending him to hear.
“He offered to bring me a gift, and I could not nay-say him. The gift,” he said, with a finger pointed at each of us in turn, “is a tutor.”
“Father,” I said, striving to remain calm. “We do not need tutors. We know more Latin than the priest does.”
“Well I know it,” Father said. “But do you not see the beauty of it?”
“I do,” I said with a sigh. “Does Blanche?”
“Of course I do,” she said. “I know you think I’m a fool, but I’m not.” She sniffed, offended. “This gentleman will bring us a tutor. And we shall stay at home, and see no one. And then….” She blinked several times and looked to Father for help. Clearly, the beauty of it escaped her.
I put the two pieces together for her. “This gentleman has impressed Father with his wealth and education by providing us with a tutor. He has also found a way into our house, even though we are supposed to be remaining quietly at home away from any contact with others.” The blankness of her eyes told me she still did not understand. “The tutor will provide a reason for the gentleman to spend time at this house wi
th Father, where you will be having your lessons with the tutor provided by this gentleman. And of course, there will be occasion for the tutor to find himself in a situation that brings you and his true employer—the young gentleman—together from time to time.” Never mind that I was going to have to endure this torment myself. What mattered, of course, was Blanche.
“Oh,” she said, perking up. “That’s good, then.”
“But Father,” I said, turning back to him, “are we truly to believe that this young gentleman is traveling through our town on business and he just happens to have a tutor with him?”
Father grinned, that same feral grin he had shown to Master Horton earlier. “Now why would I question such a thing, Kathryn? I choose to take the young man at his word, and so should you.”
I shook my head. “And I suppose every bachelor in the county will soon be at our doorstep with a tutor.”
“One can only wait and see,” Father said.
“But will I actually be obliged to have lessons?” Blanche demanded, hands on hips.
Father patted her cheek. “Let us see what we shall see, all right, my dove? It will not be for long.”
“All right, Father,” she said. “But only if you promise me that this will get a husband for Kathryn.”
Father glanced at me. “I promise, dear one. I promise. Both of you.”
I threw up my hands.
Father waved his hands at us in dismissal. “You need to be on your way upstairs, girls, because the young gentleman said he would call on me almost directly after church.”
“Now?” Blanche squealed. “He’s coming here now?”
“Yes, even now.”
Blanche stamped her foot in a pretty protest. “Oh, but Father, do not send me away! He is bringing a tutor for me; surely I should be here to meet them!”
“Not at all, dearest. It would not be appropriate. Gentlemen only. I must insist you go upstairs with your sister.”
She was working herself into tears. I intervened, for I could not deny that I was curious myself.
“Father, if it please you, perhaps Blanche and I could stay out of sight and only listen.”
“What would be the reason for that?”
Blanche turned on me. “Yes, what would be the good of that?”
I stared at her hard. “If we remain in the serving hall, there in the back, we can hear—and perhaps see a little—and learn something of this gentleman who has come to town. For if indeed he has a matrimonial inclination, I should think you would understand that we are curious to know him, Father.”
Father looked at me through narrowed eyes, trying to ascertain if I had some deeper reason for wanting to spy upon him and the young man. I prayed he would not realize I had done this many times before.
“Well,” he mused, “so long as you stay out of sight and make no sound, I suppose there can be no harm. But mind you,” he cautioned as Blanche jumped up and down, clapping her hands, “not a peep out of you!”
I grabbed Blanche by the arm and dragged her toward the rear of the hall. “Not a sound, Father. We swear it.”
For once Blanche did not protest rough treatment at my hands but followed me out the wide archway into the short corridor at the back of the hall. A door opposite led outside; a narrower arch to the right opened into the kitchen. I positioned Blanche on one side of the big arch and spun into place on the other just as a pounding on the front door summoned Andrew, who looked at us askance as he went past to answer it.
Blanche did not realize that I had kept the better vantage point for myself. I was so well concealed that I would be able to peer out and see Father’s chair and perhaps the person next to him. Blanche could see nothing of the chairs, only the hall. I smirked at her from across the opening. This was the advantage of having spied here many times before.
Father had established himself in his favorite seat near the massive hearth at this end of the hall. In this warm season, the collection of other fine chairs—carved wood, tooled leather, crushed velvet—were arranged in a circle with Father’s seat, rather than the fire, as the focal point. Andrew escorted the arrivals down the length of the hall to present them to Father.
The gentleman was pleasant-looking but unremarkable, with hair that fell in dark waves to brush his broad shoulders. His doublet, though made of fine-quality materials, was ill-fitting, its orange hue contrasting badly with the blue of his hose, and his gown too short for him. The overall impression was of a man wearing clothes that had been made for someone else. But perhaps they had; perhaps he had just come into an inheritance. Or perhaps he had borrowed finery to come courting.
A step behind the gentleman was a man who had to be the tutor, and Blanche, on the other side of the arch, could not contain a gasp. I glared at her. Were we to be discovered…. Yet, I could not truly blame her. He was as beautiful as one of the carved angels in Leicester Cathedral, his golden, curly hair framing his face like a halo. Because he was slight and lithe of build, his drab homespun clothes hung on him like sacks, but it hardly mattered, for all one could look at was that face. Too bad for Blanche that he was not one of the gentlemen coming to court her.
The gentleman and his servant bowed in unison as Andrew announced them: “Master Lawry, of Leicester, sir.”
“You are well come, Master Lawry,” Father said, gesturing to the chairs. Master Lawry bowed again and moved in that direction, hesitating before he selected a seat next to my father and waving the tutor to the bench for servants set alongside the hearth. Blanche craned her neck to watch the handsome young man for as long as possible, sighing.
“And so,” Father prompted, “you wish to continue our conversation of this morning?”
“I do,” Master Lawry said, “I do.” He sounded ill at ease and cleared his throat. “Forgive my impertinence, Master Mulleyn. I know I am a stranger here, both in your home and in your town. Yet since my arrival yesterday, I have had an opportunity to become aware of….” He hesitated. “You have a daughter.”
Father held up two fingers. “I have two.”
“Indeed, indeed. But we—I have heard tell—in fact, this very morning, I have seen for myself the beauty and delicacy of your younger daughter.”
Andrew leaned between them, offering goblets of ale on a gilt tray. Father took one, the larger and finer goblet, leaving the other for his guest. “And…?”
The gentleman flushed. “My father sent—that is, I am traveling ahead of my father, to conduct some business on his behalf at Warwick before he arrives.” He certainly flustered easily, and I noticed him glancing toward the servants’ bench by the fireplace. That puzzled me.
Father chuckled, taking a sip of his ale. “You are not in Warwick, young master.”
Master Lawry responded with vehemence, “No, surely not, but what man would willingly leave heaven once he has found it? Who could part from the place where an angel walks on solid ground?” All his hesitation, all his stammering fled as he warmed to his subject. “Once I beheld your daughter’s beauty, her grace, her loveliness, how, Master Mulleyn, how could I depart without calling upon you to seek the honor of paying court to her?”
Father sat up a bit straighter in his chair. “I have told you, sir, that I have two daughters, and you speak of the younger. While my daughter Blanche is everything you have said of her and more, I will permit no man to pay court to her at this time.”
A pounding at the front door cut off any answer the young fellow might have made. Andrew went to answer it. Blanche and I exchanged a look. Who could this be?
Again Andrew returned, walking the length of the hall with several visitors, and amid the noise of their arrival, Blanche and I risked peeking out.
Father rose—he rose!— and bowed as the men approached. Andrew announced, perhaps unnecessarily, as Father clearly knew who this was, “Sir William Pendaran of Bitterbrook Keep.”
Across the archway, Blanche was clearly startled. I could see the thoughts flitting across her face: money, property, command
of others. She leaned back into the opening to try to catch a look at his face.
But I had no need to look. I knew. Of course, it made perfect sense. The massive horse, the way he called me “my lady,” his courtly bow in the street—he was a knight. My heart skipped a beat. Not only had he not left town, he was here in my house. He had a name: Sir William. It echoed with the rushing of my blood, blocking out all other sounds.
I fought to still my face. It would not do to let Blanche see my reaction.
Andrew announced the others, the mayor of our town and his eldest son, and departed to fetch refreshments, striding past us with another disapproving look. Father took a step to the side and gestured to his own chair. “Please, Sir William, allow me to offer you my seat.”
My jaw dropped. Never before had I seen Father give up his comfortable armchair to anyone.
The knight demurred, shaking his head, but Father insisted. The contrast between them was marked: Father’s clothes—the carefully shaped and padded doublet of wine-colored velvet had slashed sleeves that revealed a bright yellow silk shirt underneath, the black hose and shoes, the fur-trimmed black gown, its hems sharply edged like knives—reflected his wealth and fashion sense. But the newcomer’s clothes, though also of the finest quality, were far simpler in design and color. More pointedly, my father, a merchant who now earned his living from home while others undertook the labor for him, needed fashion’s artifice to conceal his shape, whereas the knight’s limbs were long and muscular, his shoulders and chest broad without the need for padding.
Blanche heaved a sigh, and I would have thrown a punch had we been closer. If we were heard, we were lost. But the men were occupied with introductions and settling themselves in the seats around Father’s chair, where the knight now sat, and Andrew passed us again, returning from the buttery with a tray of goblets and a pitcher of ale.
Once everyone had been served, Father sat back in his chair, now next to the knight where Master Lawry had been sitting. One hand draped contentedly over his ample stomach, the other dangled off the chair arm, gently spinning the ale in his cup. “Well, gentlemen, your visit this morning is entirely unexpected,” he said. I barely contained a snort of derision. Surely no one was fooled by his words. “This young gentleman, Master Lawry, arrived earlier to offer me the services of a tutor, isn’t that so, Master Lawry?”
Finding Kate Page 3
