by Anne Herries
‘How can it be wrong?’ Will asked. ‘Had I allowed you to think me whole hearted, that would have been deceit…but as for the rest…’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Remember, the blame is to fall on me, Catherine.’
She gazed up at him a moment longer and then inclined her head. ‘Very well, it shall be as you wish, Will Shearer. I am happy to be your friend, but if our parents are angry at the deception, it is you who must bear their censure.’
‘Have I not given my word?’
‘Yes…’ Catherine looked at him curiously. ‘Is Elsa very beautiful?’
‘Yes, very beautiful—but no more so than you, Catherine. If my promise had not been long given to her…’ He shook his head. ‘I thank you for listening to me. Shall we buy some trinkets from the pedlar now? It shall be my treat to thank you for your patience, Catherine.’
‘I have some coins in my purse,’ Catherine told him. ‘But let us see what he has to offer, for I wish to find something special to take home for my sister.’
‘Anne…’ Will frowned. ‘She was but a toddler when I last saw her, but I dare say she has grown now?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Catherine agreed. ‘In some ways Anne is more a woman than I am. Come, let us see what we may purchase from the pedlar before he moves on.’
The streets of Cheapside were congested with the press of people, horses and wagons. It was perhaps the heart of the old medieval city, for it had long thrived and the conduits had run with wine when King Edward I had brought his Queen to London, and when the Black Prince was born. Severe punishments were sometimes carried out near the fountain at St Mary-Le-Bow, and at the corner of Wood Street was the cross King Edward had raised to mark the spot where Queen Eleanor’s coffin rested. However, it was Cordwainer Street that Catherine wished to visit to buy new shoes.
It was almost an hour later, her purchases made, that they left the shoemaker she had chosen to patronise. She was laughing at something Will said to her and did not notice the youth following close behind her. When he seized her purse, which still contained one silver piece, she gave a little cry of alarm, turning too late as he sped off down the street.
‘Damn his eyes!’ Will cried and hesitated, torn between giving chase and the need to protect Catherine from any other villain that might be lurking. However, even as he hesitated, a man stepped out from the doorway of a merchant’s house, barring the thief’s progress. There was a short, sharp tussle, which resulted in the man wresting Catherine’s purse from the wretch. The thief wriggled free and was allowed to go, though a hue and cry had been set up and some of the men from the street had started to give chase. The man came up to them, made a little bow and presented the purse to Catherine. ‘Well done, sir,’ Will said. ‘I dared not give chase for I feared to desert Mistress Melford.’
‘I am very glad to be of service to Mistress Melford at any time.’ The Earl of Gifford’s gaze rested on her face. ‘I hope you were not hurt, lady?’
‘No, he did not harm me,’ Catherine said, her lips curving in a smile. ‘Once again I must thank you for your help, sir.’
‘I am always at your service,’ Andrew replied. ‘But you should conceal your purse about your person, for there are too many rogues in these streets—especially at a time like this.’
Will was looking from Catherine to the earl, a slight frown creasing his brow. ‘You have met this gentleman before, Catherine?’
‘Yes…’ A delicate flush touched her cheeks. ‘The earl helped my brother when some rogues attacked us on our journey to London.’
Andrew inclined his head. ‘Andrew, Earl of Gifford, at your service, sir. I believe I may know of you, though we have not met—I believe I have seen you with your mother. You are William Shearer, son of Lady Anne, I think?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Will said and bowed respectfully. ‘I have seen you once before, I think, passing in the street. You were pointed out to me—but I do not often come to town. My father is not in the best of health and my elder brother travels abroad in the service of the King. I remain in the north and care for our estates.’
‘A worthy employment for any man,’ Andrew said. ‘I am obliged to visit the court often, for I must answer the King when he summons me—but I should be happy to remain on my estates for most of the year, even though they are not as large as I might have hoped.’
Catherine was aware that he looked at her as he spoke, and she wondered what was on his mind. Did he blame her family for his disappointment—and did he imagine that she knew of the quarrel between their families? His smile was not as friendly as it had been when he had compared her to a rose. She glanced at her companion, feeling oddly uncomfortable, though she did not know why.
‘I believe we should go home, Will. My brother may be wondering where I am as we have been out some hours.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Will frowned. ‘We must bid you good day, my lord. Perhaps we shall meet at court?’
‘I shall look for you, Will Shearer,’ Andrew replied and inclined his head to Catherine. ‘Lady, I wish you well. Take care of yourself, for I should regret any harm that came to you.’ He walked on, leaving the pair together.
Will looked at Catherine. ‘Did you not like the earl? Methinks he likes you very well, Catherine.’
‘It is not that I dislike him…’ She bit her soft bottom lip. ‘I am not certain, but I think there was some quarrel between his father and mine. Lady Anne spoke of it, though she would not tell me exactly what had passed between them. My father received him privately a few weeks back, and therefore I would think the feud is ended—but I believe his visit made my mother uneasy. However, he has done my brother great service and they are friends.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Will said. ‘You are afraid of displeasing your parents. Yet surely if it happened long ago…’ His gaze narrowed as she shook her head. ‘Do you wish me to ask my mother what happened and tell you?’
‘I do not think I should ask that of you,’ Catherine replied. ‘If it happened long ago, I dare say it no longer matters.’
‘Poor Catherine,’ Will said softly. ‘I think you like the earl more than you admit, but you are a little wary of your feelings.’
‘Am I so easy to read?’
‘Perhaps to me, for I am in a like case. I love Elsa, but my family would not accept her, and so I can never offer her the honourable marriage she deserves.’
‘It is a hard thing,’ Catherine agreed, looking pensive. ‘But I do not know if we are in a like case, for I am not sure what my father would say.’ She shook her head and blushed, because she did not even know if the earl truly liked her. ‘I think we should talk of something else. Come, let us go home, Will. I have had enough of shopping for one day.’
‘I am glad that we are friends,’ Will told her, giving her his arm. ‘At least we may comfort one another, Catherine.’
She smiled at him. He was so much kinder than she had remembered. She thought that it would not have been so very hard to marry him if he had wished for it…and if she had never met Andrew of Gifford.
Chapter Five
C atherine had struggled against the feeling of loss that had overcome her as the earl walked away from them. She would have loved to spend more time in his company, but she knew that it would not be wise. Lady Anne had warned her against seeking his company, and Catherine ought not to defy her too openly. Her mother’s friend had been kind in agreeing to chaperon her at court, and to take her shopping for her new clothes. Besides, she must know something important or she would not have warned Catherine against becoming too friendly with Andrew. What could it be? Did he know? Was that why he had looked at her so strangely when they met earlier that day?
It was a mystery, and Catherine could not help but feel that a shadow hung over her as she dressed that evening for her first appearance at court. She had come to London full of anticipation, believing that she might find both love and romance, but now it seemed that she had no reason to hope.
At least Catherine’s father had promised t
hat she would not be forced to wed against her will, which meant that she could return to her family at the end of this visit. It would be foolish to feel upset—after all, she hardly knew Andrew Gifford.
She was being foolish! How could it matter whether he liked her or not? She did not know him. Catherine was determined to put all thought of disappointment from her mind. Just because a young man made her heart race, it did not mean that they were destined to be together. She would make the most of her time in London, because she might not visit again for a long while.
To Catherine the ancient palace seemed a cold, echoing place, though she had been told that his Majesty had made many improvements since he came to the throne. She was not surprised that he preferred one of his smaller palaces for private life, but it was here that most important events of State were held and it was here that a feast was being given for the nobles who had come to London to welcome Katherine of Aragon. The princess herself was still making her journey towards the city, but this evening was the start of the festivities that would last for many days once she arrived.
Large numbers of trestle tables had been set up in the great hall chosen for the banquet that night, the King’s table at the head of the room and the others set at right angles. Banners of gold, crimson, yellow and blue hung from the vaulted ceiling, and the walls were hung with magnificent tapestries, giving it a festive air. Catherine felt lost as she saw the large room filling with richly dressed nobles, the men often in over-gowns trimmed with fur and the ladies in flowing dresses heavily embroidered with pearls or precious jewels. She would not have known where to go, but her brother led her to one of the lower tables, taking his allotted place. He smiled at her and told her not to be nervous.
‘You look very well, Catherine,’ he told her with a nod of approval. ‘You have no need to be afraid of anyone, for you are my sister and I am proud of you.’
Catherine shyly whispered her thanks, but she still felt a little uncertain. Some of the ladies seemed very proud, and the gentlemen with them looked at her with cold eyes. She knew that many of the nobles were ranked above her brother, and she saw that the most important had been given a place at the high board, sitting to either side of the King. It gave her a little shock when she noticed that the Earl of Gifford was sitting at the end of the royal table, to his Majesty’s right, but several places further along.
If he was entitled to sit there, then King Henry must favour him, she thought. She glanced at Harry and saw that he too was looking at the earl, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. What was he thinking? Had he expected to be seated at the King’s board? Catherine was not certain.
‘Have you ever sat at the high table, Harry?’ she asked.
‘Yes, once or twice, when Henry invited me,’ Harry said. ‘I had done him great service at the time, but others have his favour now…’
‘Are you angry about something?’
‘Not angry,’ Harry said. He hesitated, then, ‘There is a man sitting at the high board I dislike. I had thought him out of favour, but it seems he is returned to it.’
‘Where does he sit?’ Catherine asked.
‘Next to the Earl of Gifford,’ Harry replied, lowering his voice. ‘I do not understand why the King has received him back at court. When I left he had been banned for…fighting.’
Catherine sensed his deep displeasure. ‘Why was he fighting?’
‘I cannot tell you now,’ Harry told her in a low voice. ‘I reported him to an officer of the court and his Majesty banned him for two years, but it is less than one and once again he sits in a place of honour.’
‘His Majesty must have good reason, Harry.’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ her twin agreed. ‘But if I had had my way he would have been thrown into a dungeon!’
Obviously, the man had done something Harry considered beyond forgiveness. ‘What is his name?’ she whispered.
‘He is Earl Ronchester,’ Harry said. ‘Have nothing to do with him, Catherine. I shall tell you more later, but take my word—he is not to be trusted.’
Catherine nodded her agreement. Glancing at the man her brother had mentioned, she saw that his eyes were on her, the look in them so strange that a shiver ran down her spine. She did not know why but she was chilled, her throat dry with sudden fear. She supposed that some might think him handsome, but he had a darkness about him that she did not like, and she turned her head away sharply. Fortunately for her peace of mind she did not see the expression on his face, nor was she privy to Ronchester’s thoughts.
For the next hour or so, as course after course of rich food was brought to table, she did her best not to think of Andrew Gifford and she would not let herself glance in his direction more than once or twice.
‘You do not eat much, Catherine.’ Harry’s words brought her back from her reverie. ‘Is it not to your liking?’
‘The sauce with the swan was very rich,’ Catherine said. ‘I ate a little and it made me feel slightly queasy so I have not eaten anything more—though I should enjoy some fruit.’
‘I shall peel an apple for you,’ Harry said. ‘And you must try some of the dates and nuts.’
She thanked her twin, taking a sip from her wine cup. It was quite sweet and pleasant, but very strong, and she dare not drink too much of it for her stomach really did feel uncomfortable. Indeed, she was beginning to feel decidedly unwell.
As the feast progressed the entertainment went on. They were treated to a show from the jugglers, who did amazing feats with swords and torches of fire, which they managed to keep in the air for long periods. After the jugglers had delighted them, the tumblers put on a show that had everyone laughing and calling out, especially when the fool started to caper about the room, striking people with his pig’s bladder, sometimes receiving a blow for his pains. It was when the minstrel began to sing that Catherine knew she was going to be ill. She got to her feet abruptly and went swiftly from the room.
Behind her she heard laughter, and someone called out that the minstrel was well served for singing out of tune. Catherine’s cheeks burned and she was glad to leave the hall behind, seeking a place where she could vomit and not disgrace herself—but where could she be ill? She did not know the palace well and clasped her hand over her mouth, trying to hold back the torrent of hot bile that welled up in her throat.
‘Here, Mistress Melford,’ a voice said and, turning her head she saw the Earl of Gifford. ‘There is a courtyard here—no one will see you.’
Catherine hurried towards the arch he was indicating, feeling relieved as the cool night air hit her face. She rushed to a patch of bushes and was promptly very sick indeed, vomiting again and again until the need had passed. The taste in her mouth was awful and she felt the horrid lumpiness still in her mouth and on her lips. Tears stung her eyes, but she held them back, even though her pride was hurt that he should see her being ill.
‘Here, wash your mouth out with this…’ Andrew offered her a flask. She lifted it to her lips and tasted water, rinsing and gargling to clear the bitter taste before spitting it out. He handed her a kerchief, which she used to wipe her mouth and then returned to him. He slipped it inside his embroidered jerkin, looking at her in concern. ‘You must have eaten something that was not right, mistress.’
‘I believe it was the rich sauce with the swan…’ Catherine’s head was still swimming a little and she swayed. Andrew caught her arm, steadying her and once again she felt close to tears. ‘Forgive me…’
‘Perhaps, though I avoided the dish of mussels earlier, for they can often cause sickness. Did you try them?’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Catherine said. Her head was clearing at last and she felt a little better. ‘I tried most things until I ate that sauce.’
‘I never touch shellfish at court,’ Andrew told her. ‘It may not have been fresh. It has been an unkind lesson for your first visit to court, Mistress Melford.’
‘I shall be more careful in future,’ she said, recovering her composure at last. ‘Thank you
for helping me once again, sir.’ She gave him a shy look, her cheeks warm. ‘It seems that I am always in some trouble. You must think me very foolish…’
‘Not at all, Mistress Melford. To help you must always be a pleasure to me,’ Andrew said. He was about to move towards her when he heard footsteps behind him and glanced over his shoulder. ‘I believe your brother comes. I wonder if he also feels ill.’
‘Catherine…’ Harry saw her as she went back inside. He frowned at her. ‘Where did you go? You said nothing and I was not immediately aware that you had left.’
‘I was ill, Harry,’ Catherine told him. ‘I came outside to be sick.’
‘You must have eaten something that did not suit you.’ He looked at her in concern. ‘It may have been those mussels. I tried one, but did not swallow it for I thought it off. I dare say you did not realise. I should have warned you to be careful.’ He glanced past her. ‘Are you alone?’
‘The Earl of Gifford is here, Harry. He saw that I was sick and came to my assistance, for I was not sure where to go.’
‘Andrew,’ Harry said as the earl came forward out of the shadows, ‘thank you for looking after Cat. I did not realise where she had gone at first.’
‘I happened to notice and followed,’ Andrew said. He looked at Harry thoughtfully. ‘You are not feeling ill yourself?’
‘No, for I did not eat the mussels. I believe it may have been that dish that made my sister ill.’ He frowned. ‘You were seated next to Ronchester—how comes he back to court so soon? When I left for Spain he had been banned for two years.’
‘I believe he rendered the King some service and was allowed back as a boon,’ Andrew said. He looked thoughtful. ‘Your name was mentioned, Melford. He may be your enemy. I think you should be wary of him.’
‘I know well he hates me,’ Harry said and glanced at his sister. ‘I discovered him attempting to rape a young woman. I was in time to prevent it and told her brother what had happened. He challenged Ronchester to a duel, and they were both banished for fighting at court. In my opinion, only Ronchester ought to have been punished—I spoke against him, and he holds a grudge for it.’
