The Lord's Forced Bride

by Anne Herries

  Catherine smiled and kissed her younger sister. She had warned Anne and would say no more. When it was her sister’s time to visit the court, no doubt she would find many suitors.

  ‘You must come and visit us sometimes,’ she said. ‘And now we must go down—everyone will be waiting.’

  Catherine’s wedding was to be held at court early that morning. She would then part company with her mother, father, sister and younger brother. They were to return home to Melford, while she would go with her husband to her new home.

  How strange that word husband sounded. Catherine tried to still her nerves with the thought that at least she loved the man she was to marry. Although the wedding was being held that morning at court, there would be no reception. The court was on the point of being removed to the Palace of Sheen, which meant that there would merely be a ceremony and a glass of wine for the witnesses. It was not the wedding Catherine would have chosen for herself, and she could not help feeling nervous about the future.

  However, pride kept her head up and a smile on her face as she accompanied her mother, father and sister to the court. There was a small gathering of guests, including Lady Anne, though Will Shearer was still absent. Catherine was greeted by polite clapping and good wishes. The brief ceremony was graced by the presence of the King, who then presented her with the gift of a gold chain and left almost immediately. The courtiers followed him, and Catherine was left with her family, Andrew and Lady Anne.

  ‘I wish you well,’ Lady Anne said as they stood apart from the others for a moment. ‘It surprises me that your mother can stand to see you wed to the son of her enemy, after what happened to her, but that is her affair. I shall pray for you, and I hope you will have no reason to regret your marriage.’

  Her words had been said quietly, but with a hint of malevolence. However, Catherine had no time to worry about what had been said for her mother was coming to her. She opened her arms and was drawn into a warm embrace.

  ‘You will find gifts from all of us in your coffers, Catherine,’ Melissa said. ‘They have been sent on the wagon to your husband’s estate. No doubt you will find them when they are unpacked.’

  ‘Thank you, Mother.’ Catherine clung to her as nerves overcame her once more. ‘I love you—and Father.’

  ‘And we love you, my darling,’ her mother said and embraced her again. ‘There is no need to be frightened of the future, Catherine. You have married a good man, and there is nothing to be feared in such a marriage. I am sure he will be kind to you.’

  Catherine nodded, but her throat felt dry and she could not say the words she longed to say—or ask the questions she needed answered. What was this terrible thing that had happened in the past to her mother? Lady Anne’s cryptic warnings had made her uneasy despite herself. She wished that she had pressed her mother for an answer whilst there was still time, but it was too late now. She was the wife of the Marquis of Gifford, given to him by the King in settlement of a debt between their families.

  Catherine swallowed hard, trying to put her doubts aside as her husband came to her, a smile on his face.

  ‘Are you ready to leave, my love? Have you taken sufficient leave of your family?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, my lord. I am quite ready.’ Catherine tried to smile, but her face felt as if it were frozen. She was numbed, not quite sure how she felt about what had happened to her.

  ‘Then we shall go at once, for the horses are waiting and my men are ready to escort us.’ Andrew offered her his arm and she laid her fingers lightly on it. ‘I have decided to go to my home first, Catherine. I thought that we would spend the first few weeks of our marriage there. Afterwards, we may go on a visit to the new estates his Majesty saw fit to grant us.’

  ‘It must be as you wish, my lord.’

  Andrew looked a little puzzled. ‘Do you not know that I wish to please you, Catherine? I hope that you will be happy in this marriage.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ Catherine smiled as some of her tension eased. Perhaps she was being foolish to feel that he had married her because the King made it a royal command, and yet she could not help thinking that he had been given a new title and lands to sweeten a bitter pill. The King’s manner had seemed to suggest that he thought both families needed compensation for accepting the match, which made her a pawn—something to be bartered or sold. ‘Thank you, my lord. I am truly aware of the honour you have done me.’

  Andrew looked puzzled, but she could not laugh and be at ease with him as she had in the past, for there was a tiny part of her that was hurting—and Lady Anne’s words had stung her already tender heart. She was not sure whether her husband loved her or had married her for the sake of power and wealth.

  ‘I considered myself honoured to have won such a lovely bride, Catherine. I hope you know that I do most sincerely care for you.’

  Catherine nodded. She wanted to believe him, to be happy in this marriage, for in her heart it was what she had always wanted, but something in her held back. And then the moment was lost, for they were outside in the courtyard. Waiting for her with about a score of her husband’s men were her groom and her serving woman, Tilda. They greeted the newly wed pair with cheers and a shower of dried rose petals. Then Catherine was being assisted to her palfrey and the order to move off was given.

  Catherine glanced over her shoulder, but her parents and sister had been delayed in the hall and there was no one to wave to as she followed her husband from the courtyard. It was foolish, but a wave of desolation washed over her, and she had never felt as lonely in the whole of her life.

  She wished that she had been able to talk to Harry, to ask him whether she was being silly to feel as if she had been bartered like a bale of silk. But Harry had left before she was up on the King’s business and she knew that she might not see him for months or years. It might be years before she saw any of her family again.

  Catherine fixed her gaze on her husband’s back and tried to remember that only the previous day she had longed to be his wife. Suddenly though, he seemed a stranger and she could not help being afraid of what was to come that night when she must surrender herself to him, and he would be her husband in truth.

  Andrew was thoughtful as he watched his wife. They had stopped for refreshments at an inn, needing to rest the horses for a while before continuing to the house where they would spend the night. It was a property owned by the King and had been made available to them for their wedding night at his request. Andrew did not wish to expose his young wife to the sometimes rough conditions of the inns they were likely to meet with on the road. The best accommodation could be found at the abbeys that took in travellers, but it was usual for men and women to be housed separately, and this was after all their wedding night. So he had asked for accommodation at the royal estate, which he considered was the least Henry could do after the way he had imposed the marriage on them.

  It was not at all what Andrew would have wanted. He would have much preferred to take his time courting Catherine, but a command from the King could not be disobeyed. Neither he nor Catherine had had much choice in the matter, but at the time Andrew had not considered that it was a problem. Andrew had believed there was a strong attraction between them, and that Catherine would find the marriage as pleasing as he did. However, her manner since had given him pause for thought and he wondered if she was displeased that she had been virtually forced into becoming his wife.

  While he understood that there must be some shyness on his bride’s part, because they hardly knew one another, Andrew hoped that she had been willing despite the circumstances. It was in any case too late now—they were man and wife and there was nothing that could be done about the situation. He was disappointed that Catherine had behaved so coldly towards him at the wedding, and he hoped that whatever was troubling her could be resolved quite soon. He did not want the kind of marriage his parents had had, for he knew theirs had been a match made for property and influence rather than love.

  Andrew had had enough of
cold-hearted women. He wanted a warm, loving girl as his wife, and he had believed that Catherine was that girl. She had certainly seemed to feel the attraction between them—so what could have changed her into the pale, silent woman she had become this day?

  Surely it could not be only that they had been married at the King’s command? Catherine could not believe that he had consented to wed her for the sake of the title and lands the King had bestowed on him?

  ‘Are you tired, my dearest?’ Andrew asked as he went to assist her to mount after they had finished their refreshments. ‘You look pale and you have spoke but a few words since we left London this morning.’

  ‘I have been thinking, sir,’ Catherine replied. ‘I do not even know the name of the estate to which we are headed…’

  ‘My home is called Lancaster Park, and is in the county of Wiltshire,’ he told her. ‘You may think it small—my estate is not as large as your father’s at Melford—but it is a good, comfortable house and I think you will like the park and gardens.’

  ‘I do not care for large houses,’ Catherine replied, smiling for the first time since they left London. ‘If it is warm in the winter and the chimneys do not smoke, I shall be satisfied.’

  ‘Then you are easy to please, Catherine,’ Andrew said. ‘I can assure you that it is warm and the chimneys are kept clear so that they do not smoke. The bricks are red and the windows are a good size so that they let in the sunshine in summer. If you are happy there, I may build another wing as our family grows. This new estate that the King gave to us will provide extra revenue, but we do not need to visit often if we do not care for it. We shall go there first, for it is on our way, but we shall not stop for more than a few days—unless it pleases us.’

  Catherine looked at him, for he had brought his horse alongside hers so that they could talk as they rode. ‘Do you spend much time in London, my lord?’

  ‘I have done when the King had need of me,’ Andrew replied. ‘But he knows that I wish to spend more time on my estate now that I am married. I shall not go to court again for a year or two, unless he sends for me. If you wish you may come with me when I do, Catherine.’

  ‘I do not care for the court very much,’ Catherine replied honestly. ‘I think I shall be content in the country—but you must go if you wish, my lord.’

  ‘Will you not call me by my name now that we are wed?’ Andrew asked. ‘I have often wished to hear my name on your lips, Catherine—or do you prefer to be called Cat? I have heard you named so by your twin.’

  ‘Harry has called me that sometimes,’ Catherine said. ‘We were very close as children and it was a pet name for me. I do not mind whether you call me Catherine or Cat. It is your choice, m…Andrew.’

  ‘That is better,’ he said, smiling at her. ‘I hope we shall deal well together, Catherine. I believe we have felt a mutual attraction from the first. I know that I felt something when we first saw each other at the fair.’

  ‘Yes…there was something,’ Catherine admitted. ‘And afterwards. You know that I am very grateful to you for saving me from that dreadful man. Had you not come…’ She shuddered. ‘I think he would have killed me and my brother had he come alone, as he was meant to do.’

  ‘Harry is resilient and brave, but it might have been too much for him alone,’ Andrew said. ‘Together we were stronger and we had men waiting outside had we needed them, but because we moved swiftly we were not expected and had the advantage of surprise.’

  ‘It was due to you that my rescue happened so quickly,’ Catherine said. ‘I can never thank you enough.’

  ‘It is not gratitude I want,’ Andrew told her with a little frown. ‘I was hoping that you might come to love me in time, Catherine. I want this marriage of ours to be a good one, my dearest wife.’

  ‘Oh…I am sure it will be,’ Catherine said and her heart began to race. ‘I believe that we shall do very well together, sir—Andrew. Forgive me, I am a little nervous. We hardly know each other, after all.’

  ‘That is perfectly true,’ Andrew agreed. ‘The marriage was forced on us both and it was not the way I would have liked to begin, Catherine. I had hoped that we might know each other a little better before we took the decision to marry.’

  ‘Oh…’ She glanced down, her heart beating furiously. ‘I shall try to be all that you would want in a wife, husband.’

  ‘I am sure that you will be, Catherine,’ he said. ‘I think we shall take things slowly, my dearest. It is customary for the bride and groom to be bedded on their wedding night, often in front of their friends and family, but as we did not have the usual reception it did not happen. We do not need to rush into these things, Catherine. It may be better if we get to know each other before we actually become man and wife in that way.’

  ‘Oh, yes, if you think so, Andrew.’

  Catherine blushed and looked away. She did not know whether to be relieved or sorry that he had suggested they should wait to consummate their marriage. It would save her blushes that night, but she would not have minded becoming his wife if he loved her. If he was in no hurry to bed her, did it mean that he was not in love with her?

  She could not fault his kindness or his manners, but she would rather that he had told her he loved her and carried her straight to their marriage bed. If he had been impatient to make love to her, it would have shown her that he really did love her.

  Andrew thought that Catherine was relieved to be spared the ceremonial of bedding on the first night. He wanted to claim her as his bride, but rather than destroy her sweet innocence by impatience he was prepared to wait until she knew him a little better. Once they had become true friends, he could begin to teach her about the duties of a wife.

  After they had dined that evening, Catherine retired to her room alone. She summoned her maid to undress her, trying not to blush as the girl made sly remarks about her fine husband and the pleasures that were in store for her that night. As soon as she was in her night-chemise she sent Tilda away and sat down on the padded stool provided, beginning to brush her long hair. She had always brushed her hair many times before she slept, and the action soothed her. When she heard the knock at her door, she jumped and swung round to look as it opened and Andrew entered.

  He was wearing a long robe of heavy silk in a dark blue colour, and his feet were encased in soft leather slippers. He was carrying a small leather casket, which he handed to her.

  ‘This is your wedding gift from me, Catherine. There was no time to buy gifts in London, but these pearls have been in my possession for some years. I saw them once at a goldsmith’s shop and bought them against the day I married. I hope you will like them.’

  Catherine hesitated, then reached out to take the gift. She opened the domed lid and glanced inside, giving a little gasp of pleasure as she saw the long string of large creamy pearls.

  ‘Oh, Andrew, they are beautiful!’ she cried. ‘I have never owned anything as lovely in my life.’

  ‘They are just one of the gifts I shall give you once we are settled,’ Andrew told her. ‘You are beautiful, Catherine, and you deserve to have beautiful things.’

  ‘Mother gave me some bolts of silk to make into gowns, and my father gave me a string of lapis lazuli—but these pearls are wonderful. You are so generous to give them to me, Andrew.’

  ‘You shall have earbobs to match them, bangles of gold and silver, and rings for your fingers,’ he said. He looked at her for a moment in silence, then reached out to touch her cheek. ‘You are very lovely, my Catherine. You will not mind if I kiss you?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ she said, catching her breath as he lowered his head, his mouth touching hers softly. His kiss was sweet, tender and brief. Catherine keened the loss when he moved back. She wanted to cry out, to tell him that she would like him to go on kissing her, but she did not wish to be forward. Modesty was much prized in a virtuous woman and she did not wish him to think her immodest, though her body clamoured for his. Surely if he wanted to make love to her he would take h
er to their bed now, this minute?

  ‘Go to bed now, Catherine,’ Andrew said. ‘Tomorrow night we shall sleep in our own house. Once we are home we shall begin to get to know each other. In time we shall be lovers.’

  Catherine watched as he left her alone. She wished that she had the courage to call him back and tell him that she wanted to be his in every way, but she was afraid that he did not wish to stay.

  Andrew spent some time standing at the window, looking out at the night. His chamber was comfortable and contained all that he could need, except his wife. His body was on fire for her. It had taken all his strength of purpose to keep from her bed once he allowed himself to kiss her, because her response had been so sweet and he had felt that she would not have denied him had he taken her. Yet because of her silence, and her reserve on their journey, he felt it best to wait for a while. Rather he should burn with need than his rash impatience should give Catherine a dislike of the marriage bed.

  He would control his desire for her until they had become good friends. If there were something bothering her about their marriage, he would prefer that she tell him about it. Once all her doubts had gone, they could become truly man and wife, as he wished.

  Meanwhile, he must compose a letter to his mother. It was his duty to tell her that he was now a marquis and had a new estate to add to his wealth—and that he had married the daughter of a man she so hated. He frowned as he sat down at his writing board and dipped a quill in the ink. What to tell her? His mother had never shown an interest in love or his happiness. It might be best to stress the fact that he had married at the King’s command. She would want to know about his new honours and the estate at Malchester Beck, as it was not so very far from her own. He drew the parchment sheet towards him and began to form a letter. He would instruct his mother that when she finally met Catherine—which would not be until he gave her permission to visit—she greeted her with all the honour due to his wife.