"My only child died of the bloody cough," said the woman, collapsing back onthe cushioned settle. "Nearly two years gone. And it was over a year before that when Richard's baptism took place. My poor Alyson was much hurt when you ignored both the occasion and the invitation to stand godfather."
Abruptly, Charles stood and crossed to stand before his aunt, where he bowed, and took her hand. Katherine watched, surprised, but Charles said, with what she could only believe was genuine remorse, "I am bitterly sorry, ma'am, and can only assure you that no notification of either the baptism or the funeral ever reached me. Not only had I never been informed of young Richard's birth, I have, I am deeply sorry to admit, no knowledge of Alyson's birth. I was never notified of any such situation." He paused, then sighed. "I can only assume that my mother purposefully omitted to tell me anything of your family. She was, perhaps, no friend of yours."
"She hated me," said Aunt Margery loudly and at once. "And I loathed her. Your delightful Mamma believed that I had tried to stop my brother marrying her."
"Did you?" asked Charles, intrigued.
"Naturally," said his aunt. "Oh, she came from a good family and had a reasonable dowry, but she was a minx, and I was well aware that she had hopped into bed with him long before their engagement."
"Really," said Katherine, awaking from her dreams. "How shocking. How did you know?"
"When my poor brother brought her here to meet me, and afterwards insisted on bringing her again and again, even though it was quite obvious that we did not enjoy each other's company, I was well aware of it," Margery said with belligerent rancour. "Besides, you, young man," she addressed Charles, "were born just seven months after their wedding day."
"Was I now?" Charles chuckled. "I had no idea. Not of any of this. But I'll not judge my parents' behaviour. I am simply sorry that my mother's temper kept her from informing me of your family. I apologise for never having met your daughter, my lady, and in particular for not attending the funeral, nor even thanking her for her invitation to be a godparent. I hope to become better acquainted with young Richard in the near future. Who was his father?"
The lady straightened her back. "Another marriage I disapproved of. But no matter. The child is now in my care, and he is your nearest kin until you have heirs of your own. Which means, I should like to point out, that when I die, which might be at any time since I am almost in my dotage, you have a duty to take Richard into your care."
"I doubt your dotage is imminent, aunt," Charles remarked. "But I'll gladly add the child to
Cheerfully interrupting Charles, Katherine stood and took the child from his nurse's embrace. She looked into the wide brown eyes and pointed chin, wide smile and thick curls, and kissed the point of his little snub nose. He looked nothing like his dark eyed grandmother, nor Charles, but she found him delightful. "I had a friend once," she sighed, who married and had a little boy. I loved them both before they moved away. And my favourite nurse had her own child who played with me when I was young. Another boy whom I adored. Your grandson is beautiful, my lady."
Charles watched her, interested. He had rarely seen an infant and had certainly never touched one in his life. Without younger brothers or sisters, all other infants were safely secluded in separate quarters and watched over by their nurses. Sons of other families were rarely offered any opportunity to involve themselves with any other person's child.
Smiling as Katherine delighted in young Richard's dimpled knees below the silken smock, his feathered curls, round soft cheeks and tiny grasping fingers, Charles wondered, also for the first time in his life, what it would be like to have offspring of his own. He could easily, he decided, become very fond of his small cousin. But what depth of feeling he might have for his own son, was as yet beyond his imagination.
Chapter Sixteen
“She may consider herself in her dotage and near death's door, but I do not. Did she mention what she intends dying of?"
"Age," suggested Katherine. "An exaggeration, I think., But would you be horrified at taking someone else's child into your household?"
"Our household."
"Sometimes I don't think you mean it about getting married. I mean, it was always just a ruse, wasn't it? To say I was a bride-to-be when I wasn't." She paused. "Do you mean it?"
They had declined to stay overnight at the Sweet house, and instead took several rooms at a local tavern, where they sat talking until midnight. They were waiting for Henry and Clovis who had both been sent off on different errands to discover what they could about Ned Pars and the rest of the staff, and since Fortune had also disappeared, it was assumed that either she had accompanied one of them, or had an idea of her own.
But at the moment, Charles had almost forgotten about other matters, and took Katherine's hands very firmly in his own.
"You imagine I would back out?" he demanded. "Are my feelings so shallow? Is my character so untrustworthy?"
She stared down at his hands around hers, the strength of their grip and the whitened knuckles, the ridges along the sides of his palm from the grip of sword and knife, and the roughened palms from use of bow and string. "But you haven't answered."
"I shall answer with pleasure." Charles lifted one hand, his finger under her chin, forcing her face up to meet his eyes. "Once or twice across the years I have thought myself in love," he said softly. "But never before have I experienced the power of the emotion I now feel for you. I desire your company and your touch. Above all, I wish to please you. I have every intention of marrying you, if you permit it, and of living constantly in your embrace."
Katherine sniffed, then giggled. "A constant embrace? You might get a little bored. What if I never, ever let you go. Even when we have dinner? Even riding to market? Visiting the queen?" She laughed. "And the privy?"
He leaned back, releasing her. "I'd have no objection."
But the door creaked open and three heads peeped in, checking first to make sure they were not interrupting anything. Henry said, "My lord, we have news, if it is not an inconvenience."
And Fortune hiccupped, saying, "It can't possibly be inconvenient, because the news is very interesting."
"Sit down, all of you," Charles ordered, "And explain."
With a muffled clatter of chairs, Clovis sat and said, "Tis that groom Ned Pars, m'lord. We met him sure enough. He done all the mischief, like as not. But he ain't alone."
"Head groom now," said Fortune, "but he used to be a sailor. For years he sailed with Piers Baldwin's partner, Captain Edward Neville."
Henry stood again, poured wine from the jug for the earl and at Charles' request, for everyone else as well, including himself. "We are conspirators after all," smiled Charles. "After years of denying any interest in conspiracy, I now find I am thoroughly enjoying it. Continue, Henry, tell me what has happened."
"My lord, knowing us as your lordship's servants, it took quite some time to gain Ned Pars' trust. But we suggested the local tavern, which is not this one luckily, and when the man was well-nigh drunk, he began to talk."
"He were mighty loyal to that there cap'tin," Clovis insisted. "Reckon he'd do wot he were told."
"While the men proceeded to drink far too much," Fortune continued, "I spoke to the child's nurse. It seems there is no doubt that little Richard is your aunt's grandson, and I feel extremely sorry for the poor dead mother. Your Aunt Margery is not an easy character, and I imagine she made her daughter's life very hard. No wonder she ran off with an unsuitable man. The first to offer, I expect."
"Legally married?" Katherine asked. "So the little boy is Charles' legal heir?"
"Oh indeed," said Fortune. "But I could not get the name of the father. I have a suspicion, putting two unrelated facts together of course, which one should not do, but it might have been either James Willis, or Captain Edmund Neville."
Katherine gulped. Charles stared. "Why James Willis," murmured Katherine.
"It would have been a reason to kill him," Fortune pointed out, "because Lad
y Sweet disapproved so much of the baby's father and would want him out of the way while taking over herself."
Charles asked, "And the groom admitted to his attempts at assassination? And whether this was from hatred of me, or simply desire for the inheritance?"
"Nah," said Clovis. "Bugger didn't admit to nuffing."
"However," Henry said, "he has a group of friends, one of whom works with him at the stables, and another who still sails with Captain Neville. And he was proud to speak of how tough they were, how courageous, and how loyal. They would join him, he said, in any fight if called, and had done so. But," he added, "he said some had , sadly, been killed."
"The association with this captain partner to Piers is interesting," said Charles. "I shall look into that. You, Henry, will please investigate the faint possibility that the father of this child could be James Willis. Clovis, on the other hand, may gain more from continuing a friendship with the delightful Ned Pars. Have you ever considered becoming a stable groom, Clovis?"
Clovis grinned. "I knows one end of an 'orse from t'other, but that's about all. Reckon I can try."
"Perhaps," suggested Katherine, "you approach him saying you can't stand working for Charles and need another job. That might get the man talking."
"A delightful suggestion, Charles smiled. "And would fit with all the other delightful suggestions we have here. That my aunt ordered the death of James Willis in order to eliminate the unwanted father, and then my own death in order to ensure the child's inheritance. But there are other possibilities. I shall investigate my cousin Piers, and his partner Captain Neville. You, Henry, investigate James Willis, although I find it more likely that his death was to pay him for so many false tales leading to the execution of many innocent people. And Clovis will continue to investigate the groom Ned Pars."
"And me?" Fortune smiled, sipping wine.
Katherine looked up suddenly. "We stay and become friends with Aunty Glum," she said, then looked towards Charles. "Would that be alright?"
"You never needed my permission before," Charles nodded. "You, my love, started this entire conspiracy when I was in the Tower. Do as you feel right, little one." And he turned to Fortune, "And, mistress Mereworth, your help and conclusions are masterly. I have magically acquired two talented aids."
"It's right," Katherine smiled. "And besides, I like the child. Hopefully Aunty Glum will be polite enough to invite me to stay, and with my maid of course."
Once again it began to rain, and it started with a storm. Henry, well wrapped had set off an hour previously, heading back towards Westminster and the city. Katherine, with Fortune's help, was in the bedchamber dressing and preparing herself for a visit of some days with Lady Sweet, while Charles, who had vacated Katherine's chamber only a few moments previously, was almost ready to leave, accompanied only by one guard, for his cousin Piers' Hammersmith home. He eyed the weather through the small tavern window, and muttered to himself.
The lightning, jagged edged, blazed like a pitchfork from black clouds to church steeple, and cracked like broken crockery. Almost immediately the thunder exploded, roared, and rolled into faded echoes. Then the rain fell, torrenting from sky to thatch, cobbles, and fields in an angry flood.
Ned Pars was shovelling horse dung. He looked behind him as footsteps sloshed through the muddy water and Clovis said, "Them beasts needs lookin' after all the bloody time, I reckons?"
Ned glowered, elbow to the spade's long handle. "Yer thinks they looks after their selves?"
"Want help?" Clovis demanded.
"Wouldn't go amiss."
There was another spade, handle bent, lying in the straw. Clovis retrieved it. "I needs a job."
Ned grinned. "Your grand gent throwed you out fer getting pissed last night?"
"How did you guess?"
It was some hours later when the rain subsided into steady sleet, the clouds loomed lower, and both Clovis and Ned rested in the hay bales, eating stale black bread and cheese.
Clovis said, "Tried to do my old master in, didn't you? No - don't bloody answer - I doesn't expect it and I ain't proper interested no how. But I must admit - wonder'n why."
"Mind yer own business." Ned was busy munching.
"Tis my business. Wellnigh killed me too."
Ned laughed. "Shame it missed.
"That there little lad up at the big house," Clovis said patiently, "tis a lovely little chap. But reckon there ain't a penny coming from that old lady. Penniless, like as not."
Ned swallowed a lump of cheese. "Ain't got no pennies. Ain't got no ha'pennies."
"And my old master, bad tempered lump that he is," nodded Clovis, "has more'n he deserves. So I reckon you reckoned, share and share alikes. But what's that little lad to you? You ain't his Pa?"
"Don't be bloody stoopid." At first Ned shut his mouth with a snap and a glare, but then he leaned back, mumbling, "Not me, no. But I worked fer a gent wot I liked. Still like Bloody good fellow, and a good sailor. Captain. Asked me to come n' work here and look after the little one while he's at sea. So that's wot I done. And will do again. 'Sides, me brovver still sails wiv the capt'in."
"Naught to do wiv the old lady?"
"Don't be bloody stoopid," Ned said again. "She don't know nuffin', silly old crow. Didn't like the capt'n, and didn't speak to her daughter fer more than a year."
But there was some delay reporting all this to Charles, for the earl was out of town and remained there. While Clovis learned more than he had ever wished about how to groom a horse, how to feed one, and how to nurse a bruised leg after being kicked by one, he learned that Both Piers Baldwin and Captain Edmund Neville had been threatened and then blackmailed by James Willis, with promises of heresy or treason accusations if they did not pay up. James Willis was therefore a man they hated. His death had certainly been desired and had therefore served two purposes. First to rid the world of an unpleasant and highly dangerous brute. Secondly to incriminate the wealthy Earl of Chilham for the death.
"Dunno why chop the head off and leave the bugger nekkid," Clovis said, while discussing the events with Ned.
Ned had chuckled. "Not me, not me. Dunno nuffin' neither. But reckon if you slaughters a gent you hates, then get him nekkid as a rat and snigger at him after yer plunges in the knife, tis more fun by half."
"And the head?"
"Slow identifying, innit? And get more attention from them sheriffs."
"More fun?"
"Sure would be."
Clovis bit his lip. He worked with Ned Pars, laughed with him, patted his back and smiled at him. But he did not like him.
Fortune Mereworth had begun to like Lady Margery Sweet. With careful interest she had substituted her work with Lady Katherine for helping in the nursery, and discovered that the baby's grandmother came visiting persistently throughout the day, and sometimes for an hour or more. She brought kisses, hugs, and sweetmeats, and the small Richard adored his grandmother.
"What a charming young boy," Katherine informed her hostess. "I shall be more than delighted to take the little child into my household, whenever necessary. However, my lady, I really cannot believe you will be leaving this world soon. You are a most impressive lady, and remind me of my mother, whom I adored."
"Humph," said Lady Sweet. "I'm perfectly well aware, young lady, that I am considered too interfering. But my brother made poor choices. My sister-in-law was a spiteful creature, as you can guess from her behaviour. How dare she keep secretive about my poor beloved daughter and her baby? Even the funeral. That was cruel. Vindictive. Spiteful."
"Never having met the lady and knowing how Charles loved her, I can say nothing about it," Katherine answered. "But I would have loved to know your beautiful Alyson, even though you also disapproved her choice of husband. Richard is so beautiful, his father must have been a handsome man."
"My dear child," the lady squinted down her nose, "what optimism. Not at all. The man was neither gentleman nor handsome. He was a rough seafarer, the captain of a smal
l trading ship managing little more than smuggling Malmsey across the Narrow Sea. A creature without charm or education. But poor Alyson was besotted, and thought him masculine. She ran off with him, but came back when the child was due, for he had neither respectable home nor money to look after her. Richard was born here, and he is my delight, as once Alyson was."
Katherine sighed. "Now I understand," she said.
Chapter Seventeen
Regarding his cousin Piers with even more curiosity than on the previous occasion, Charles said, "What a diverting pastime it is, to investigate ones' relatives after so long choosing to ignore them. I suppose you are aware of the events I have only just discovered."
"Aunty Glum?" chuckled Piers, pouring the wine. "A vile old crone, and quite mad, you know. You met the child?" Piers appeared to glow.
"The son of your trading partner? Yes, indeed," Charles answered. "Never having so much as breathed on an infant before, I cannot be judgemental, but the child seemed delightful. Does your Captain Neville miss him?"
Piers shrugged. "I doubt it. But perhaps that's unfair. He lives a busy life and is rarely in this country, but he sent his second mate, you know, to the Sweet household to watch over the child. A ruffian if I remember rightly, but loyal. So - he cares."
Raising one eyebrow, Charles regarded his cousin more closely. "You spoke before of the love you feel for small children, even though you will never have one," he said softly. "You also care, I gather?"
Piers flushed pink. "I do. Such soft skin. Such pretty curves. Such innocent eyes. I went to poor Alyson's funeral, and before that to the baptism. That's all I have seen of young Richard - but I would give much to see him again."
Charles paused, watching and thinking. He had already guessed a great deal, and the truth was becoming more obvious. Slowly, he murmured, "You know the child to be yours, then?"
"I think - yes." Piers gulped. Tears blurred his vision. "Alyson and I - only twice. Edmund was away in Brittany. She was lonely. I was lonely too. I had never - but yes, I cared. So I cannot know. Such a beloved child. He could be mine. He could be Edmund's. But I like to think - and I hear he looks a little like me. Edmund is red haired, you know."
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