A Rose for the Crown (54 page)

Philippa agreed, telling the women how Young Martin had taken fourteen hours to arrive. Kate smiled wanly. Four hours was bad enough, she thought. She did not think she could have endured fourteen. She looked up gratefully at Molly, who was wiping her brow with a damp cloth.

“Just you wait, Molly Smith!” she grimaced, and before Molly could reply, Kate’s face contorted again as the urge to push took over. “God have mercy! This must be the last.”

“There, I was right!” The triumphant midwife scooped up the expelled baby and smacked its upturned rump. “You have a girl, madam, a beautiful redheaded girl!”

“Katherine,” Kate said, smiling, as Philippa gently cleaned the child.

Philippa looked up in surprise but chose not to comment. Kate was helped into bed after the afterbirth was expelled, and Philippa waited to lay the fussing infant in the crook of Kate’s arm.

“There, Kate. She is indeed beautiful, and I am a proud granddam!” She smiled at her daughter-in-law.

Kate was overcome with emotion. She stared at the tiny form, taking in every minute feature, the waving hands, button nose and matted red hair. Then she looked from one woman to the next, all smiling and nodding their approval.

“She is beautiful, is she not?” Kate whispered, tears welling. “Thank you all. I could not have done this without you.”

“I cannot remember one easier, madam.” The toothless midwife grinned down at her. “Wish all my births were like this, in truth. Now, we just need to finish up the birthing process, if you don’t mind, mistress. Molly, take the babe and wash her well, then we will see if she is able to suckle.”

Later, when Philippa was alone with Kate, she could not resist asking, “Did you say ‘Katherine,’ Kate? Is that the name you and George have chosen?”

Fiddle-faddle, Kate thought. Addle-pate! I never discussed the names with George. Now what do I say? “Nay, we have not talked about names, Mother,” she admitted.

Philippa frowned, but Kate plunged on. “In truth, you may think me vain, but when I saw her red hair and waving fists, it did put me in mind
of me so much, I had to call her the same,” she lied, mentally crossing herself. Another black mark against her in heaven, she thought; confession was in order as soon as her churching was done. She smiled benignly up at Philippa, who nodded and seemed to accept this break with tradition.

“I will tell him, if you like, Kate. I am sure he will be agreeable. Now, here is little Katherine looking for mother’s milk, I warrant.”

Indeed, the tiny mouth was working hard, and the smacking noises were beginning to turn into cries when the child was offered her mother’s breast. Katherine clamped down hungrily, and Kate squeaked as she felt the unfamiliar suction of a nursing child. The sensation was pleasurable, the joy immeasurable.

G
EORGE DID HIS BEST
to act the part of a new father. He was appropriately pleased when his parents congratulated him, and he spent a few minutes of each day with Kate and the baby, who were confined to their chamber until Kate felt the need for a change of scenery. A few times, when Philippa was present, he was obliged to hold the infant while his mother looked adoringly on, but inside he seethed with anger against the innocent child and his not-so-innocent wife.

“I shall know the truth, wife, fear not. Even if I have to wring it out of you,” he threatened one day. “I wish the babe no harm, but I will know who the father is.”

“’Tis not a good idea, George. You would regret it, believe me. What would you do if you knew? Murder the man? And then the whole truth would come tumbling out. Not only would you be hanged, but your family’s reputation would be ruined. Do be sensible.”

“I know not what I would do, but the adulterer would feel my wrath!” Kate took no notice of his threat and prepared her breast for Katherine’s next feeding. She knew George did not care to watch and would leave. He did not disappoint her.

“I am for Lavenham tonight. Do not expect me back.”

“You are going whoring with your boys, I suppose. How you do shame me, George,” she said icily.

“Who is the whore here, Kate?” he retorted and slammed the door behind him.

Kate stroked Katherine’s soft hair and ran her finger down the plump cheek. The baby raised her gray-blue unfocused eyes to her mother’s face as she worked away at the breast. Kate smiled down at her and rocked gently back and forth, humming a lullaby. She thought that George might have made her lose her temper at another time in her life, but the birth of Katherine had brought a peace into her heart she could not describe. All the mothering instincts fostered by time with Matty and the Haute young ones were now centered on the precious bundle that lay in her arms. She felt she could not love another living soul as she did this child.

Except for Richard.

H
E HAD SENT A LETTER
through Margaret, which she kept locked in her little chest.

“My dearest love, ’Tis with great joy I hear of the birth of Katherine from Martin Haute, who proclaims to all he is a proud grandfather. I am ashamed to deceive him, certes, but ’tis well he believes this. I will come to you when you are at Tendring. I cannot wait to hold both Kates in my arms. Your loving Richard.”

Snow had closed the road to Stoke during much of January, and it gave Kate time to regain her strength before the move to Tendring. The house was completed by Christmas because of the clement weather, and Jack sent word she could take possession at any time.

Margaret had wanted to come to Chelsworth to see Katherine, but the snow arrived in tandem with Twelfth Night, and traveling was nigh impossible. Day after day the skies had loosed snowfall upon snowfall over the barren landscape, burying sheep that had strayed from the flocks now snugged into barns and farmyards. Hedges disappeared under drifts, and it was hard to tell where one field started and another left off. When the sun came out, the snowbanks sparkled like so many diamonds.

“’Tis beautiful, is it not, Mother?” Kate leaned out of the open casement. “’Tis nature’s way of slowing us down, I think.”

“Aye, ’tis beautiful, Kate. But you must shut the window before the
child catches cold!” Philippa rocked the tightly bundled Katherine in her cradle. She flicked a flea from the coverlet and gazed lovingly at her drowsy granddaughter. She is the image of her mother, she thought. But those eyes—they are unusual.

Kate was also thinking about gray eyes. Richard was never far from her thoughts, and she knew she would not see him until winter melted.

I
T WAS
M
ARCH
before Kate was able to move to Tendring Park. A carter was hired to take her furniture and other belongings from Chelsworth, and Kate was a little perturbed that the man had not cleaned the dung-smeared cart thoroughly. She made the man throw a few buckets of water into the cart and used a besom broom herself to sweep it clean. Three of the field hands carried out her bed, table, chests and Thomas Draper’s chair, and Gareth staggered out with a bench. Philippa followed him with two stools and a trestle for Kate’s kitchen, and Molly appeared with a bundle of clothes. A few pots, two platters and some earthenware cups were added to the pile, and Kate reappeared with another bundle of linens. Last to be loaded was the oak cradle that had been in the Haute family for two generations and for which Philippa assured Kate she had no more use.

“’Tis for your children, Kate, our Haute grandchildren. Certes, you should have it,” she insisted as Kate tried to refuse it. Kate’s guilt sat heavily with her, for she loved the older woman dearly now. But she murmured her thanks and found a safe spot for it wedged behind the driving seat. Next to the cart, Maud was holding Katherine as if the baby were a piece of Venetian glass, and Katherine was crowing at her and blowing bubbles.

Maud laughed. “See how I can make her laugh, Kate! Oh, must you take her?”

The two women smiled, and Kate thanked the little girl for being such a good nursemaid while they had prepared for the move. Maud held Katherine out and Kate bent and took her child and kissed Maud farewell. Then she turned to Philippa, who was pulling at her nose or trying to hide her tears, Kate could not decide which. The women embraced, the baby between them, and Philippa lavished loud kisses on
Katherine. The carter helped Kate up beside him, and Molly jumped up easily onto the back of the cart, her legs swinging jauntily.

“Farewell, Mother. Farewell, Maud.” Kate waved to them as the two oxen moved the heavy cart out of the courtyard and onto the road.

“Farewell, Kate! We shall come and see you soon! God speed!” Philippa called, suddenly feeling very alone with only her youngest child left.

I
T WAS A SHORT WALK
to Tendring Hall from Kate’s new house at the bottom of Dog Kennel Field. She had been concerned that the noise of the hounds would disturb baby Katherine’s sleep, but in the pitch black of night, the dogs were quiet. Jack had promptly named her new home Dog Kennel House, and she had not the heart to say she thought it was an ugly name. The south road to Stoke passed close to her house, and she made her way along to the tree-lined driveway of the Hall. The April sun was high, and a flock of starlings passed overhead like a black cloud across the blue sky. She had come to admire the fine proportions of Tendring Hall, and even though it was not as imposing a property as Ightham Mote, it was more pleasantly situated, with fine views over Howard’s southern fields and an impressive stand of timber in the grove to the northeast. Behind the stables was a high-walled garden, where Margaret supervised the growing of herbs and flowers. As she passed the stable, Kate saw Wat talking to the smith and waved. He bowed his head, grinning at her, and then ran ahead to open the front door.

“Good day, Dame Katherine. I hope Molly be well.”

“Aye, Wat, she is well. It is only three hours since you saw her. Good heavens, you are as bad as a rutting stag.” Kate laughed at him. “What say all the other wenches you have forsaken for Molly? There must be a basket of broken hearts in Stoke.”

“Nay, madam. I fear they have forgotten me, for I have been lovesick for Molly this twelvemonth or more.” He was eager to prove his steadfastness.

Kate patted his arm and passed into the hall. Margaret had sent for her, and she was anxious to know what their day together would bring. Her friend was opening up new worlds for her at Tendring. Margaret was
an avid reader and also enjoyed long discussions with Jack on politics, commerce ships and farming, Jack’s favorite topics. Kate was proud to be Margaret’s friend and to be included in these discussions: Her horizons were being expanded.

Lettice and William ran down the stairs and chased each other round the hall before coming to a standstill in front of her. They were followed closely by Rose, who was her usual sour self.

Rose scowled. “My mistress tells for you to go up to the tower room,
madame. Et alors, mes enfants,
you come back to your
chambre
with me,
s’il vous plaît.”

Kate smiled at them. “Go along, children. I shall come and see you anon.” She knocked on Jack’s office door, and a tall, balding man let her in. “Good day to you, Master Bliant. I hope I do not disturb you. Lady Howard would see me.”

John Bliant’s face did not move a muscle. He bowed and resumed his seat at the table. Certes, he is a dour man, Kate thought as she went through the archway to the stairs in the tower. It was curious that Jack had chosen him as steward among his gentlemen to follow the infirm John Braham. Jack assured her that Bliant kept his accounts perfectly and that he would work on his servant’s prickly personality.

“Margaret!” she called as she mounted the circular stone stair to the second story.

She wondered why no one responded. The warmth from a crackling fire reached her as she arrived at the top of the staircase that spilled directly into the sunny solar. Kate’s heart missed a beat when she saw the reason for Margaret’s silence.

“Richard! Oh, Richard!” She was laughing and crying at once as she ran into his arms. He stopped her mouth with a kiss that melted away months of separation.

“I am sorry I did not get word to you, Kate. But my lord of Warwick has gone to Calais, and I had the chance to leave the palace. So I rode hard to see you.” He took her hands and studied her. “Let me look at you, my sweet rose. ’Tis too long.”

“Almost a year it would seem. I have missed you so much, but you are diligent with your letters—and I am not. I thank you for them all.” She
kissed him again and then remembered, “You have yet to see your child, Richard. She is beautiful, you will see.”

Kate could not stop talking, she was so elated by this unexpected meeting. She never doubted Richard’s feelings for her and trusted him to be loyal. For her part, she knew she could love no one but him. They appraised each other. She saw a less boyish face, a grimness to his mouth and the beginnings of a furrow between his eyebrows. He had grown an inch or more and filled out across the chest and shoulders. He observed the more womanly curves and a new serenity of expression and thought motherhood had only improved her.

“Jack told me to tether my horse at the tower and use that door to enter. I left John—my squire—at the inn in the village. Margaret was here when I came, and I am afraid I frightened her for a moment.” He grinned. “She told me to wait while she sent for you.”