A Rose for the Crown (50 page)

R
ICHARD HAD HEARD
the Howards return from the feasting and turn in for the night. They had spoken in low voices, and he had also heard other female voices, which he presumed were those of Margaret’s gentlewomen. Kate had fallen asleep almost as soon as they had finished their lovemaking, her head cradled in her arm and still on her back. Richard was not particularly tired but appreciated that Kate might be tired after her long day. He did not understand the mystery of childbearing and lay there marveling that their enthusiastic lovemaking did not disturb the child. A child! His child. He wondered if it would look like him, but then he looked at Kate and hoped it would inherit her chestnut hair and freckles. That reminded him. He peered closely at her face and noticed some of the freckles seemed to have been obliterated. Puzzled, he licked his finger and gingerly touched her nose, where most of the hated blemishes resided. On his finger was a telltale residue of white powder. He was touched by this childish vanity, and his heart lurched with a feeling of devotion he had never felt before. He got out of bed, knelt at the priedieu, and, looking up at the crucifix, swore to protect and love this woman and the unborn child to the best of his ability. With that, he blew out the candles and curled up beside her to sleep.

“Is there no one who will wonder where you are, Richard?” Kate whispered when they came awake with the crowing of a cockerel. “You have been here all night.”

“Nay, Kate. No one questions the comings and goings of a king’s brother. I’ll warrant George is in someone’s bed at this very moment, too.” Richard stroked her hair.

Dawn was spreading its gray light through the window slit, but it was
too dark to make out more than Richard’s silhouette. Kate wound a lock of his long hair round her finger, making a ringlet of it. They lay side by side, listening to the noises in the abbey: loud snores from Jack and more from those sleeping in the corridors, wrapped in their cloaks; the distant chanting of the monks at prayer in the chapel; the lowing of cows coming awake in the meadow and needing to be milked; and again a cock’s crow.

“Tell me more of yourself, Kate,” Richard whispered, taking the hand that was tracing the outline of his face as if to commit it to memory and kissing the palm. “You did not tell me why you went to Ightham Mote.”

It was Kate’s turn to sit up and lock her hands around her knees and tell Richard her story. She talked of Snoll’s Hatch and of Bywood Farm. Her knowledge of her parents’ lives before she was born was negligible. The memory of her mother was fading, although she vividly recalled the night of Martha’s death. Richard caressed her back as she relived the pain. She told him of her mother’s connection to Richard Haute and that through some miracle he had offered to take her into his house as companion to Anne. Of her father she knew little, she said, except that he had fought in France alongside King Henry. At the mention of France and his soldiering, Kate remembered her keepsake.

“I almost forgot! I have a gift for you.” She jumped out of bed and groped in the gloom for the velvet pouch she had made for the coin. She found it in her bundle of clothes and then stumbled across the room to the prie-dieu.

“Fiddle-faddle! There has to be a tinderbox around here somewhere,” she grumbled, kicking something hard as she looked. “Ah, here it is! And if you should need it, here is the piss pot.”

Richard chuckled at her lack of pretension. She unstuck one of the candles and lit it, cupping the flame in her hand against the draught from the window. Richard moved over for her, and she handed him the pouch, carefully pulling the blanket around her. He withdrew the coin now hung on a leather thong, and turned it over in his hand.

“What is it, Kate?” He peered at the worn lettering in the sputtering candlelight.

“’Tis an
écu
—from France. I know not the value, but ’twas what my father left me when he died in February.” And she told him the story of
the coin and how she learned about loyalty. “Father must have died at the same time our child was conceived, and it seemed the right thing to give you.”

“Then ’tis precious indeed, my love, and I shall wear it proudly. I thank you!” He put the coin around his neck. “I hope, when the time comes, I will demonstrate such duty to my friends, too. I think I would have liked your father.”

“Aye, and he you. And, love, if ’tis of no import to you, I should like to call the babe John, after my father, an it is a boy.” She smiled as he began to tease her breast.

“Aye, Kate, John is a fine name. But if she’s a girl, you shall name her Katherine. I shall brook no argument on that!”

“If that is your wish, my lord. There is nothing I will deny you when you touch me in that way.” Her laugh turned into a low moan of pleasure.

I
F
J
ACK AND
M
ARGARET NOTICED
Richard slipping out into the corridor not long afterwards, they never mentioned it to Kate. They all joined the other guests, many of whom were bleary-eyed and tender-headed, back in the chapter house to break their fast following terce in the chapel at nine. Only the monks were awake for prime that morning. Of the royal party there was no sign; it was cosily ensconced in its apartments, eating privately.

Richard must have joined them there, Kate decided. As she lifted a piece of cold meat to her mouth, she glanced across the room and saw the back of a very familiar head.

“Cousin Richard!” she cried, dropping the meat and causing several of her neighbors to stop their conversation and frown at her. She blushed. “Forgive my manners, I pray you.”

Richard Haute heard his name and turned to look. At the same time, the young woman seated next to him also turned at the sound of Kate’s voice.

“Kate!” A smile lit up Anne’s face. She nudged John and whispered to him. He craned his long neck around and following Anne’s gaze, spotted Kate. He waved his knife gaily at her. As soon as the tables were cleared, Kate went to greet the family. Anne had blossomed with motherhood;
her figure had filled out, and she looked less like a tiny bird. John stood by her side proudly, and it was plain that Anne still doted on her mate.

Richard Haute took Kate in his arms and lifted her off her feet. “Why, child, you are not the feather I remember,” he said, pretending to be winded as he put her down. “But I am right glad to see you, sweetheart.”

“And I, cousin!” She turned to the others. “’Tis good to see you, John—and you, my dear, sweet Anne.” The two women embraced tenderly. “And perhaps my state makes me seem heavier, Richard, for I am happy to tell you I am with child.”

The men murmured pleasantries, but Anne gave a cry of joy, throwing herself at Kate anew. “I am so happy for you, Kate. ’Tis a wondrous thing being a mother, you will see. Oh, how sad I am my Nan is not with us, for I would dearly love to show her to you.” Anne took Kate’s arm possessively and led the party out into the sunlight of the monastery garden. “She is a beautiful babe, is she not, Father?”

But Haute was preoccupied, and Kate saw him searching the groups outside for someone. Kate whispered a query to Anne, who laughed and turned to tease her father. “Oh, Father, stop looking for Lady Darcy. She has not been invited, so no matter how hard you look, you will not see her.”

Richard laughed and turned his attention back to them.

“It has been proposed that Father marry the Lady Elizabeth Darcy, a young widow of some wealth, and he declares he is quite in love with her,” Anne said and feigned a melodramatic swoon.

“You are disrespectful, daughter,” Richard said with little conviction. “Aye, Kate, ’tis the truth. I am hoping to wed the fair Elizabeth. It has been too long since I had a wife to comfort me.”

Kate did not think comfort was exactly what Elinor had ever given Richard, but she smiled. “I am pleased for you, cousin. You deserve a good and loving wife,” was all she ventured.

Martin came striding over to grasp Richard’s arm in salute. “God speed. Richard! I am surprised I do not see you more often at court these days since I am become the queen’s usher.” Under his breath, he added: “I do not much like being at court so often; but ’tis her grace’s wish.”

“And was it her grace’s wish that you razed the hairs from your face, cousin?” Richard laughed. “I hardly recognize you thus.”

Now that Martin was clean shaven, Kate had been struck by George’s likeness to his father and found it disconcerting. She felt she was addressing a much younger man that her father-in-law and found herself blushing.

“Has Kate told you I am to be a grandfather?” Martin beamed as he announced the news. “I am well pleased with my daughter here.” He put his arm around Kate.

“Are you for the hunt this morning, Martin?” Richard asked.

Martin nodded. When the three men took their leave, Richard bent down to whisper, “You might like to find my page later today, Kate. I believe you are acquainted.”

“Who is it? You are such a tease, cousin.”

He grinned. “Your brother, of course.”

“Geoff! Here! I don’t know what to say. Aye, please send him to me when his duties are done. Anne and I will stay here in the garden until he comes.”

Kate and Anne whiled away the morning in reminiscences. In that moment when she had seen the Hautes, Kate had chosen not to reveal her liaison with Duke Richard to Anne. Anne was too innocent, Kate thought, her sensibilities too delicate to handle Kate’s illicit love or a bastard child. She was content to let Anne believe she was happily wed.

A blast on the horn and baying hounds signaled the start of the hunt. The two young women jumped up from their stone seat and ran to the courtyard to see the huntsmen off. All the guests were crowded into the small yard, tripping over dogs, their trains and each other. Horses whinnied as their gaily clad owners mounted. Kate noticed that several ladies were also ready to ride and had hooded birds of prey perched on heavy gloves. Hawking required great skill, for the handler held the raptor on the left wrist, controlling the horse with the right hand.

It did not take long for Kate to pick out Richard among the riders. He was smoothing the feathers of a falcon, and she wondered if it was Phoenix. George of Clarence called something to his brother, and Richard laughed. Even from that distance, Kate could see he was anxious to go, to feel the wind in his face, put his bird through her paces, rise to the challenge of stalking, conquering a noble animal and closing in for the kill. His eyes were searching the crowd, and Kate hoped he would see
her before he left. She stood on tiptoe and willed him to look in her direction. He eventually found her, and his smile told her their night together was not forgotten. A hot flush rose up her neck, and she could not resist a smile. Then riders and dogs were flying down the road, mantles, skirts and liripipes streaming behind them and a horn’s wail trailing mournfully after them.

“Well met, sister!”

Kate swung around and was astonished by the tall young man who stood there, his chestnut curls and cheerful smile so dear and familiar.

“Geoffrey!” Her cry attracted the unwanted attention of several disapproving matrons nearby. “Oh, Geoff, how happy I am to see you!”

She gathered the grinning young man into her arms and almost squeezed the breath from him. She could not believe he stood taller than she now, his chest filled out and his neck thickened. Anne was laughing at them.

“’Tis glad I am to see you, too, Kate.” His voice cracked between boy and man. “Master Haute told me you to come and find you. And he told me you are with child. So, I shall be an uncle. ’Tis strange indeed!”

“Aye, I am to be a mother at last. Oh, how I have missed you, Geoff. But I am pleased you are doing so well at Ightham. How are your studies? And Brother Francis? Is he still strict with you? What do you learn from Edgar? Do you still keep treasures in your secret hiding place in the undercroft wall?”

“Questions, questions, sister.” Geoff laughed at her. “I can talk with you only a little while before I have to go. Shall we walk? Or am I disturbing your time with Mistress Gaynesford?”

“Mistress Gaynesford? Oh, you mean Anne! You do not care if Geoff accompanies us, do you?”

Anne was happy to walk with them, interjecting a word here and there about life at the Mote and Geoff’s new position as page to Richard Haute. Now that he had mastered reading and writing in English, Latin and French, he was learning to play the harp with Will.

“But I have not your gift for singing, Kate,” Geoff admitted. “’Tis more like the baying of a wolf in pain!”

The women laughed. They found a patch of grass beneath an old apple tree in a quiet corner of the walled garden, where monks silently
tended the rows of vegetables meant for the monastery table. Geoff gave Kate news of Bywood Farm. He told of his elder brother’s competent management of the farm at the age of sixteen, of Matty’s attachment to Joanna and of the two new children. He recounted John’s death again and said he hoped Kate had received the French coin.

“Aye, Geoff, I did, I thank you. ’Tis in safe keeping.” She was vague. “Do you regret you are not still at the farm? You speak of it with such longing.”

“Nay, Kate. I know I am lucky to be with Cousin Richard. But there is a freedom to owning your own land that must bring contentment, although I do not envy my brother the work he must do. My work is easy, in truth.”