The Miracle at St. Bruno's (61 page)

I said quickly: “I suppose when one despises another person as I do you that could scarcely be called indifference.”

“So you despise me? You are sure of that?”

“Absolutely sure.”

“Yet you enjoy despising me. Answer truthfully. Your heart beats faster when you see me; your eyes have a sparkle. You can’t deceive me. I will have much to teach you, my wildcat. You will find me a very good tutor.”

“As no doubt many have before.”

“You should not be jealous of them. I would give up them all for you.”

“Pray do not deny yourself. Go where you will. Continue to tutor others. All I ask is that you leave me to myself.”

“Leave the mother of my sons?”

“They have yet to be conceived.”

“A matter which causes me great impatience. Let us escape the dragon … now.”

“I see what you mean by your tutelage. You have forgotten that I am not some tavern wench or serving girl. You would have to behave very differently if you wished to impress a lady of breeding.”

“I have not of course mixed in such circles as you. You might instruct me in the manners you expect and, who knows, I might try to please you … if you pleased me.”

“I shall return to the house now,” I said. “I have walked far enough.”

“What if I decided to carry you off with me?”

“My sister is watching us. Her husband would immediately come to my rescue.”

“Why should I fear them?”

“If you wish to marry me you could not create a situation which would be so ignominious that they could not ignore it. They would decide that you were an unsuitable husband.”

“In the circumstances…”

“In any circumstances,” I replied. “In a family like ours, the indiscretion at which you hint, if it came to pass, would mean that whatever the consequences we would avenge it.”

“You’ve a sharp tongue. Marry! Methinks you could become a shrew.”

“And a tiresome encumbrance as a wife.”

“To some men, yes. For me, no. I’ll force the venom from your tongue and make it drip with honey.”

“I had no idea you could turn such phrases.”

“You have yet to discover my talents.”

“I have had enough of them this day and will return to the house.”

He gripped my fingers.

“If you and I should marry you will have to learn to handle me more gently. You all but break my fingers.”

“When we marry,” he said, “I will treat you as you merit. And that is a matter for the very near future.”

I had wrenched my hand away and started to walk toward the house.

The Pennlyons left that afternoon. “How peaceful it is,” I said to Honey, “knowing that they are not so close.”

“What shall you do, Catharine?” she asked anxiously. “You could return home. We could say that your mother was ill. While they are away is the time to go.”

“Yes,” I said, “that’s the time.”

Then I thought: If I went he would come after me. Or worse still he would betray Thomas Elders. I pictured all those who had entertained the priest being brought before a tribunal.

Edward had many rich lands; very often those who had estates to be confiscated were the ones who suffered most.

I mentioned this to Honey and she grew pale. She knew it was true.

“I’ll not run away,” I said. “I’ll stay. I’ll find some way. I swear I will. Don’t worry. It’s bad for the child.”

I knew in my heart that I was enjoying my battles with Jake Pennlyon. It gave me a kind of inverted pleasure and although there were moments when I was afraid it was the sort of fear a child experiences, a fear of goblins and witches in the woods, terrifying but irresistible.

I would stay, I said.

Three days after the Pennlyons had gone I was at my window looking out on the Hoe when immediately below in the courtyard I saw Jennet; she was walking stealthily toward the stables and there was something concealed under her apron.

Luce looked after me now—poor ill-favored Luce whose left shoulder was higher than the right and who was more than ordinarily pockmarked. I missed Jennet in a way. Luce worked well and was devoted to me; Jennet had betrayed me and so started the whole affair with Jake Pennlyon, though I supposed he would have found some other way of starting it if that had not happened. But Jennet with her fresh young face and her soft sensual lips and thick untidy hair had interested me more. I wondered how far Jake Pennlyon had gone with Jennet. He would not be one to waste time courting a servant girl, I was sure.

And what was she doing now going down to the stables? Meeting some groom? I wanted to find out, so I slipped out of the house and went out by the small door into the courtyard.

As I approached the stables I heard voices. Jennet’s rather shrill one and others in a lowered tone.

I opened the door and there they were seated on the straw. Jennet had spread a cloth and on it were pieces of lamb and mutton with half a pie. With her were Richard Rackell and a stranger.

Jennet jumped to her feet with a cry of dismay. Richard stood up and so did the other, a dark-haired man whom I guessed to be thirty or more years of age. The men bowed; Jennet stared wide-eyed and fearful.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Mistress,” began Jennet.

But Richard said: “A peddler has called with his wares, Mistress. He has traveled far and is in sore need of food. Jennet brought him something to eat from the kitchens.”

“A peddler?” I said. “Why does he come to the stables?”

“He was on his way to the house and so weary that I said he should rest here awhile before taking his wares to the house.”

There was something dignified about Richard, interesting too. Moreover, the advent of a peddler was always exciting, more particularly here than at the Abbey. There we were not far from London and could take barge to the Chepe and buy from the mercers and lacemakers and merchants.

The peddler had come forward and bowed to me.

“His name is John, Mistress,” said Richard. “He craves your indulgence.”

The man bowed again.

“Can he not speak for himself?”

“I can, Mistress,” said John; and his voice reminded me of Richard’s.

“You have traveled far?”

“From the North,” he said.

“You should have gone to the kitchens. There they would have fed you. There was no need for the maid to steal food and bring it here.”

“’Tis not the fault of the maid,” said Richard gently. “’Twas I who sent her for food. Peddler John was footsore and sank into the straw to rest awhile.”

“Well, he can eat to his fill. And, Jennet, you may go and bring some ale for him to drink. He can come to the washhouse then, and there spread out his wares for us to see. Jennet, you may take him to the washhouse when he has eaten and I will tell Mistress Ennis that we have a peddler who wishes to show his wares.”

I found Honey and when I told her what had happened she was as eager as I to see what the peddler had brought. He spread out his pack. In it he had silks to make kerchiefs; he had trinkets and little boxes and combs. I saw a magnificent comb, to be placed in the hair and to stand so tall that it added three inches to the height.

I pounced on it and stuck it in my hair. Honey declared it was becoming.

I left her brooding over the peddler because I wanted to try the comb; and I thought of myself wearing it at the betrothal ceremony, which but a short while ago I was planning to escape.

I dressed myself in a russet velvet gown and I placed the comb in my hair and I liked it. I wanted to show it to Honey and was about to go to her, when it occurred to me that she might still be considering what the peddler had in his pack. I glanced out of the window and at that moment saw her with the peddler. He had rolled up his pack and they were talking earnestly. Then I saw her take him across the courtyard, through the door and into the house, not toward the kitchens but to that part where she and Edward had their apartments.

That was strange. When peddlers came they were not invited to that section of the house. They showed their wares and were refreshed and allowed to rest, while their mule or mules were fed and watered in the stables; after they had shown their goods to the mistress of the house they did the same for the servants. It was an occasion when the peddler called and an excitement to us all; but they were not entertained in the owner’s apartments.

I could only imagine that she had found something in his pack which she thought might please Edward, and was filled with curiosity to know what.

I went into the punch room, which I supposed was the most likely place to find them.

They were not there. I drew aside the curtain and mounted the stone stairs to the solarium. This was a large room with a curtain placed halfway which could be pulled to divide it. The curtains were pulled and I went through to the second room. There was no one there. Then I heard their voices and guessed where they were. At the end of the solarium was a door which opened into a small chamber and inside this chamber high in the wall was a peep—a star-shaped hole which was scarcely perceptible. Through this one could look down to the hall to see who was arriving.

The door of this chamber was now shut and as I walked toward it I heard the sound of voices.

They must be there.

“Honey,” I called. “Are you there?”

There was a short silence. Then Honey’s voice said: “Yes, yes, Catharine. We … we’re here.”

I opened the door. Edward and Honey were seated at a table and the peddler sat with them.

Honey said: “We were just about to look at the pack. I wanted Edward to see something.”

I said I would like to have another look at them. I bought some cambric to make a petticoat and Honey bought some needles and thread.

There was nothing of interest to Edward and I wondered why Honey had brought the peddler into the house.

Edward appeared to be rather tense and there was a pulse beating in his temple which I hadn’t noticed before.

Three nights after the day the peddler came I saw the galleon again. The Pennlyons were still away, but I expected them to be back at any time. I awoke as I had on that other occasion. It was three o’clock in the morning. I wondered what had awakened me. There was something going on. In my sleep I had been aware of unaccustomed sounds—or had I been half awake? The great harvest moon—almost full—shone into the room; I rose and went to the window: and there was the galleon in all its glory, its four masts clearly visible—the tallest and most majestic ship I had ever seen.

The
Rampant Lion,
dwarfed beside it, made me laugh. I wished that
he
could be here at this moment. How I should like him to see that other ship! But the idea of wishing that he could be with me for any reason whatsoever was so contrary to my wishes that I must laugh at myself.

Then I saw the boat on the moonlit waters; it was clearly making for the shore. I knew then that it contained someone from the galleon.

I could hear Jake Pennlyon’s voice: “By God’s Death, it would seem that you are describing a Spanish galleon.”

He hadn’t believed I had in fact seen what I claimed to. He had pooh-poohed the idea of a Spanish galleon daring to enter the harbor.

As I watched, the rowing boat disappeared as it had on that other night. I did not return to bed. I sat watching.

Half an hour passed. The galleon was still there. Then I heard movements below. I looked down and saw a light in the courtyard. Instinct told me that the movement below was in some way connected with the galleon. Something was happening and my curiosity needed to be satisfied. I wrapped a robe about me and putting on slippers, I descended the staircase and went down to the courtyard.

As the cool night airs enveloped me I heard voices—quietly whispering. I saw the lantern and there was Edward and with him a stranger. I slipped back into the house, my heart beating fast. I ran swiftly to the solarium chamber and looked down through the peep. Edward had come into the hall and with him was the stranger. I could see them only vaguely in the dim light. They were talking earnestly; then Edward led the stranger up the stairs to the punch room and I could see them no more.

I was bewildered, but I was sure that someone had come from the Spanish galleon to see Edward.

I went to my room. The galleon had started to move. I stood there watching as she slipped below the horizon.

I was possessed by a sudden fear. Edward, who seemed so gentle, was involved in some intrigue. That much was obvious. Where would it all lead us? So far his association with the visiting priest had brought me to a situation which was distasteful and would have been alarming if it had not been so ridiculous. At the same time it was not going to be easy to extricate myself from the Pennlyon web.

I went back to bed. Sleep was impossible. I had a glimmering of what this night’s visitation meant.

No, I told myself. Edward would not be such a fool. He is too gentle, too much a dreamer. But it was precisely men such as he who placed themselves in dangerous situations.

I spoke to Honey next morning.

“What happened last night?” I demanded.

She turned first red and then quite pale so I was aware that she knew something.

I went on: “I saw the Spanish galleon in the harbor.”

“A Spanish galleon! You were dreaming.”

“Not this time. I saw it and there was no mistaking it. And that was not all. Someone came ashore, someone who came to this house.”

“You
were
dreaming.”

“I was not. I saw a man come here. Honey, I am involved with your follies. Have I not placed myself in a desperate situation because of you? I won’t be in the dark.”

She looked at me steadily for some moments and said: “I will be back in a moment.”

She came back with Edward. He looked very grave, yet his lips were firmly set as though he were determined to continue with what he had begun.

“Honey has told me that you saw something last night. What exactly was it?”

“A Spanish galleon in the bay, a boat rowing ashore and your bringing a man into the house.”

“And you surmise that the man you saw was the one who came ashore?”

“I am certain of it. And I do wonder what is happening.”