‘Monmouth is a man of many moods, weak and easily led,’ he stated coldly. ‘I fail to understand why a man blessed by birth and the love of his father ever drifted into opposition to the Court. Why, also, has he made an enemy of his uncle James, who will prove ruthless in his retribution should Monmouth come to England to try and take the throne? James Scott, Duke of Monmouth, would fare better to forget his treasonable ideas, to remain in the Low Countries hunting and making love to his mistress and other frivolous pursuits.’
Catherine glared at him. ‘England founders beneath James and you know it. As a Catholic king he cannot last. A returning Protestant king would surely be welcomed and we could all look forward to better times. The nation loves Monmouth. James would make papists of us all, and he is in danger of doing so should Parliament let him have his way. Already people murmur under his tyranny.’
‘Even so, James was the due, legal successor to King Charles—our sovereign. Do you think that taking up arms against him is the answer?’ Elizabeth retorted.
‘Catherine, this is not a subject to be discussed at table,’ Marcus remonstrated sharply.
Catherine met his eyes, eyes that gave nothing away but saw everything. His words told her to be silent, but she had gone too far to be curbed. ‘When might it be discussed, Marcus? When the Duke of Monmouth arrives on our doorstep?’ Her artless comment drew uneasy smiles from Elizabeth and Roger, and an appalled look from George, but when Marcus’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, Catherine felt a prickle of foreboding.
‘Why, do I detect a malcontent, Marcus, here at Saxton Court?’ George said with quiet irony. ‘Your own wife, Marcus?’
Catherine looked at him. ‘Please do not mock me, George. I am not a rebel. I have no weapon. I have only my heart, which seems rare enough these days in England. I am an English woman and in favour of a Protestant king. The Duke of Monmouth’s cause is most passionately my own—with respect, sir,’ she added, inclining her head gracefully.
A mildly tolerant smile touched Marcus’s handsome visage, but the glint in the dark eyes was hard as steel. His gaze did a sweep of his guests, noting the cold glint that had appeared in George’s eyes as he seemed to study Catherine in a new light. Despite his stirring unease, he managed to laugh lightly.
‘Who can blame you, George, for thinking we have a Radical in our midst?’ His eyes fastened on his wife. ‘My wife has clearly spent too long at The Hague in the company of Dissenters. Have a care, Catherine. George has orders to arrest anyone expressing such extreme views. Ladies are no exception.’
‘And what a delightful prisoner she would make, eh, George?’ Roger said jovially in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere around the table. ‘However, Monmouth is like a piece on a crowded chessboard, as yet with no more value than a pawn.’
Catherine jerked her head round to him, not yet ready to let the subject that had attracted her beloved Harry to The Hague drop. ‘You forget that pawns may advance to the final square of the game and be transformed,’ she remarked.
Roger smiled at her indulgently. ‘True, my dear, but there are many powerful pieces on a chessboard—Prince William of Orange, for one, himself half a Stuart, King James’s nephew and husband of his eldest daughter, Mary. Unlike Monmouth, William has a legitimate claim to the English throne, and a popular one, since he is a Protestant. Should Monmouth cross over to England and attempt to usurp his uncle with a rebellion, it will lead to his downfall, mark my words.’
‘A rebellion is nothing without rebels,’ Catherine countered. ‘And it is no secret that there are many in these parts who would support him in a Protestant rising—should he decide to come to the West Country, in a place where he was received like a prince five years ago, greeted by country folk and fêted by gentlemen, where people have been long known for their independence and their attachment to liberty—or their rebelliousness, as you will. When I came to Somerset, I believed I would find myself among friends.’
‘Be assured that you will have friends in abundance, my dear Catherine,’ Roger said smilingly, ‘but you must realise that many of those that choose to follow Monmouth have a low opinion of him and have no wish to see him made King. They would prefer to have a man made of sterner stuff and they follow Monmouth only because of the lack of any alternative leader attuned to their cause. I have to say that his supporters are more selfish than wise.’
‘Catherine,’ Marcus said when his wife opened her mouth to argue the point with Roger, ‘we are supposed to be celebrating our marriage—and your new life at Saxton Court. Can we not be united in peace and harmony? Let there be no more talk of Monmouth. Time enough for that later, should he decide to raise his standard here in the west.’ He saw her colour rising, but his dark eyes flashed his wife a warning that she would be ill served to cross him.
For a moment Catherine floundered beneath this monumental slap to her dignity, and did her best to hide her chagrin that Marcus had reminded her of the reason for this get-together. She glanced at him scathingly, noting how his hand flexed on his goblet of wine, and she knew he was wishing that her neck and not his goblet were in his grip.
It was Margaret who brought back gaiety to the feast, and although the rest of the evening swept past in a relaxed and congenial atmosphere, there wasn’t a moment when Catherine did not feel her husband’s eyes resting heavily on her.
It was not until they left the dining parlour that Elizabeth steered Catherine to one side, out of earshot of Margaret, who had disappeared to the ladies’ retiring room, and the gentlemen, who had hung back to drink their port.
Replete with food and wine and having mellowed a little, Catherine was happy to have a moment alone with her sister-in-law. Elizabeth had looked out of sorts all evening, and Catherine had the sense to realise that this was probably because she was a standing reminder of the wrong her father had committed to her family—whatever that might be—that had brought all this about. Whatever the breach, and sick at the idea of Elizabeth disliking and resenting her, Catherine wanted to repair it, and was vain and young enough to suppose that with good will she could do so, until she heard what Elizabeth had to say.
‘I advise you not to continue in this vein, Catherine, lest Marcus becomes angry. He has such a violent temper. You would do well not to aggravate him with talk of Monmouth. Do not make free with such matters.’
Meeting her sister-in-law’s eyes, Catherine felt the first flash of genuine anger. ‘I might be Marcus’s wife, but I will not become humble before him. I am not some trained underling to do as she is told. I have thoughts and opinions of my own. I shall not indulge him,’ she said coldly.
The thought of Catherine indulging anybody, even Marcus, brought a reluctant smile to Elizabeth’s lips. The girl was much too high-spirited to be servile, and fully as arrogant as Marcus. The two of them would be a combustible combination. ‘I can see you lack meekness and docility—and a respect for authority, Catherine. Nevertheless, you will do well not to provoke him.’
‘Then he should not speak slightingly of the Duke of Monmouth. Treasonable ideas, indeed! I fail to see what is treasonable about wanting a Protestant king to rule England.’
Elizabeth peered closely at Catherine’s face. ‘There you go again, unaware of the harm you do Marcus and yourself by being so outspoken. My goodness. I am concerned for you, since you are now part of the family. You’re as ignorant about such matters as a child, aren’t you? What did you expect from Marcus? His support? He is a soldier, who has sworn loyalty to King and country. If he should utter one word in favour of Monmouth and his cause, then it will be seen as a treasonable act and the consequences would be dire. Do you understand, Catherine?’
Catherine looked into her eyes and suddenly felt herself startlingly weak and naive. ‘I only said what is true.’
‘Only as you see it. I am telling you to be careful. Listen to me, Catherine. I am going to talk to you as I would to any member of my family who is about to bring the name into disrepute, and I
will not waste time dancing around in circles that go nowhere. These are dangerous times—particularly in Somerset, which is a hotbed of dissent. The loyalty and secrecy of the rebels make it difficult for the Government to learn what is going on. You speak dangerous words. Your opinions are your own affair, but be quiet about Monmouth and his cause. Keep your lips sealed. Someone might hear you. Start listening instead.’
Catherine was vexed, more with herself than anyone else. She did not want to be open and obvious, like a child. Such had been her stupidity that night, and there is nothing like chastisement for making one realise one’s mistake.
‘You are right, and, yes, I am young,’ she said simply. ‘Perhaps I have spent too long at The Hague among political exiles, but I do understand what you are saying and will curb my tongue in future.’ She met Elizabeth’s gaze squarely. ‘I know what you must think of me. My marriage to Marcus must be a terrible disappointment for you, and your contempt for me must bite deep—and perhaps with good reason. However, I make no excuses for who I am. I had no part in the hurt my father inflicted upon your family, which is still a mystery to me, and I tried very hard not to marry Marcus.’
Elizabeth’s misgivings were etched in the troubled frown on her forehead. ‘I cannot forget for a moment that you are the daughter of that scoundrel, Henry Barrington, but for the sake of my brother’s happiness I must accept the situation.’ Unexpectedly Elizabeth smiled, and the warmth of it began to melt the icy misery in Catherine’s heart. ‘What a difficult situation this must be for you.’
Catherine found herself smiling back. ‘Yes, isn’t it? But I thank you for making it easier.’
‘You have courage, Catherine, which is something I admire. You are going to need a great deal of it married to Marcus.’
For the first time Catherine began to warm to Elizabeth. Her husband’s sister was as unpredictable as he was—one minute cool and distant, the next friendly and kind. ‘What did my father do to your family that was so terrible?’
A hard, remembering look came over Elizabeth’s face. ‘That is for my brother to tell you. What I will say is that it was very wrong of Marcus to make you a part of it.’
Chapter Five
A fter saying goodnight to their guests, when Marcus went to speak to Mr Fenton about an estate matter, Catherine escaped to her chamber. In a state of jarring tension, with a feeling of dread she waited for the inevitable moment when Marcus would seek her out. She didn’t have long to wait. He entered without knocking and closed the door behind him with an ominous thud. She turned, seeing the explosion of her husband in her room. The room, which had been calm, with Catherine seated at her dressing table brushing out her hair, and Alice and a young maid turning down the bed, was suddenly alive with Marcus’s handsome, virile presence.
‘Perhaps I am mistaken, Marcus, but I did not hear you knock,’ Catherine rebuked with a hard note in her clear voice.
Her tone suggested he had committed a grave error. His mouth tightened. ‘Possibly because I didn’t knock.’
‘Your visit is inconvenient. I am tired and wish to prepare for bed.’
‘Then don’t let me stop you,’ he said shortly. He glanced at Alice. ‘Have you finished with your mistress?’ he enquired.
Alice looked at him and smiled. ‘We have, sir.’ She indicated the other girl. ‘Martha and I were about to depart.’
‘Good. Then I bid you a pleasant night.’
Alone with her husband, Catherine’s lips tightened. ‘It was for me to dismiss Alice, not you.’
‘Then why did you not do so?’
‘I did not wish to.’ Her face mutinous, she continued to brush her hair. ‘Well? What have you come for, Marcus—to give me a lecture for transgression and a punishment to fit the offence?’
Slowly Marcus came to stand over her, stern as a guard. He stared at her for a long moment. ‘What the devil did you think you were doing? What have you to say for yourself, Catherine?’
Catherine looked at him through the mirror, steeling herself for what was to come, enduring the icy blast of his glare.
When she didn’t reply he bent his head down to hers, meeting the gaze of the tempestuous young woman, her face both delicate and animated, with her stormy eyes and soft pink lips. ‘Have you lost your tongue?’ He spoke sharply, his breath warm on her cheek. ‘When I address you, I expect an answer.’
‘Then don’t be giving me that frosty look,’ she replied with infuriating calm and no hint of apology. ‘’ Tis cold enough without that. And if you have come here to berate me you can save your breath. Your sister has already given me a tongue lashing for my remarks over supper.’
Marcus’s sleek black brows snapped together. ‘Has she, indeed? That comes as no surprise. Such outbursts are intolerable and unacceptable. How dare you embarrass me, my family and my friends in such an appalling manner? I will not abide such insolence. And don’t insult my intelligence by telling me you didn’t know what you were saying.’
‘Do you think I would speak out on such a matter if I didn’t? And you’re scarcely in a position to lecture me on manners, my lord. Your behaviour has been anything but that which befits a gentleman,’ Catherine accused him with blazing sarcasm.
‘Damn you! You seem determined to push me to my limit.’ Drawing himself up to his full height, Marcus folded his arms across his chest and regarded her with anger and a terrifying firmness. ‘Being the daughter of Barrington, who was party to plots subversive to the throne, plots ill-conceived and destructive to the peace of the realm, it is hardly surprising that you hold such extreme views, but your position in the community forbids you to speak out on such seditious matters.’
‘Who is to say what is seditious and what is not?’ Catherine countered furiously, getting to her feet. ‘And how dare you presume to believe yourself to be entirely right? And, pray, where am I at fault in expressing my opinion?’
‘Be damned to your opinions,’ Marcus snapped. ‘What is so fine about them that you must be for ever parading them?’
‘I find the reprimand about my behaviour and what I said unjust, infuriating and hypocritical, since I am certain that everyone present—including you—must agree with me.’
‘Don’t insult my intelligence by telling me you didn’t know what you were saying.’
Catherine glared at him with stubborn, unyielding pride. ‘Of course I knew. Not content with forcing me into marriage, now you must turn preacher and impose your views on me. Like it or not, Marcus, I will not change.’
‘Good God, Catherine, you know George’s position. To openly speak against the King in support of Monmouth could bring about your arrest. George is as cunning and wily as a fox—such is the curse of red hair, so do not be deceived by his flattery. He has been empowered to search for arms and to try to discover who is actually involved in the proposed insurrection here in Somerset. So far the results of such enquiries have been discouraging—until tonight. With such radical views as you expressed and fresh from that hotbed of rebellious malcontents at The Hague, you’re in deep water here. Being my wife will not save you. George would be failing in his duty if he were to let it go.’
His words were distinct and dangerous. Catherine had to summon all her patience to stop herself bursting out in a fury. Marcus’s inquisitorial, aggressive manner angered her beyond belief. Still bruised by Elizabeth’s chastisement and with Marcus’s condemnation coming so close on its heels, all her grievances were renewed. Contrary to the warmer feelings she had begun to experience for her husband of late, at that moment she hated him with such virulence that she was capable of committing cold-blooded murder.
‘I resent it as a personal insult that anyone should associate me with sedition and anarchy. I have committed no crime that I can be charged with, nor have I any intention of committing one.’
Anger was pouring through Marcus’s veins like acid. ‘From now on you will apply discretion and forethought. Never again speak in front of others as you have tonight.’
‘By my faith, Catherine, how dare you?’ His soft voice was infinitely more intimidating than a raised one. ‘You will do as I say.’
With an imperious lift of her chin, Catherine said, ‘By your faith, Marcus? What faith? The same faith as your King?’
‘Be silent.’
‘I will not be silent.’
‘I am Protestant and you damned well know it.’
‘How can that be, when you have given your loyalty to a Catholic King? I have been too carefully reared a Protestant to think well of that.’
‘My loyalty is to England, so let that be an end to the matter. You are Lady Reresby—little though I can believe it at this moment. I would have you act the part. You will compose yourself, and call upon your dignity. The sooner you accept your position the better it will be for us all. You will be accountable to me for your actions. Is that understood?’
Catherine didn’t even recoil from the blazing violence. Fury rose up like flames licking inside her, her face as uncompromisingly challenging as his. ‘You can go to hell, Marcus Reresby, and the sooner the better. I own no man my superior—and least of all you. Ever since I was little I have been accountable to no one for my actions—not even to my father. And you’re no better than he was. You married me for your own purposes, with no more compunction than you would have married a cow.’
‘Your scoundrel of a father was equally to blame,’ Marcus stated cruelly.
Catherine’s pupils had dilated till her eyes seemed as black as his. ‘I do blame him. I wasn’t offered a choice because it’s clear women don’t have choices. Men make choices for them. You had better get used to the fact that I love Harry, I shall never love anyone else that way, and I will not be accountable to you for what I do.’
His Rebel Bride Page 10
