The Miracle at St. Bruno's (62 page)

“We can trust you, Catharine. I know what a good friend you have been to us both.”

“What are you doing, Edward? Who is the man who came here last night?”

“He is a priest.”

“Ah, I thought it. Have you not had enough of priests?”

“They are good men who are persecuted in God’s name, Catharine.”

“And bring persecution to others,” I murmured.

“We must all suffer for our faith if called upon to do so.”

“It serves no purpose these days to stand in the marketplace and declare that faith, particularly if it is against that favored by the Sovereign and her ministers.”

“You are right and you must know what is happening. Honey and I think that you should go back to the Abbey. We may be in some danger here.”

“There is danger everywhere. Tell me who the man was who came last night.”

“He is a Jesuit priest. He is English. He has been persecuted for his faith. He comes from Salamanca in Spain.”

“And he was brought here on the galleon?”

Edward nodded. “He will work here for the good of his faith. He will visit houses…”

“As Thomas Elders does,” I said.

“First he will stay here with us.”

“And so place us in jeopardy.”

“If God wills it.”

“Is he here now?”

“He left the house in the early hours of the morning before the servants were astir. He will arrive today in the midafternoon. I shall greet him as a friend and he will stay with us awhile until he makes his plans. He will be known as John Gregory, a friend of my youth. He will be a member of this household until he departs.”

“You are placing us all in dire danger.”

“It may well be, but if we are discreet we shall be safe enough. If you wish to return to the Abbey, Catharine, you should do so.”

“And what will the Pennlyons do then, think you? What if I flout them? If I go home while they plan a ceremonial betrothal feast do you think they will calmly accept this?”

“They must do what they will.”

“And Thomas Elders and your Jesuit and Honey and yourself?”

“We must look after ourselves. What happens here is none of your making.”

Honey was looking at me earnestly. “We will not let you marry Jake Pennlyon if you are so set against it.”

“
If
I am set against it! I hate the man. How could I be anything but set against it?”

“Then we must devise a plan and the best seems for you to leave here and, as Edward said, if they make trouble they must then make it.”

I did not answer. I had decided against going back to the Abbey. I was not going to let Jake Pennlyon think I had run away. I would stay and face him; I would outwit him in my own way.

Meanwhile, Edward and Honey were getting deeper into intrigue and I trembled for them.

That afternoon John Gregory arrived at the house. He was greeted as an old friend by Edward and was given the red bedroom with the big four-poster bed and a window which looked out over the country for miles.

He walked with a limp and there were scars on his left cheek and on his wrists. He was tall and stooped a little and had a certain haunted expression in his eyes which I could not forget.

He looked to me like a man who had suffered. A fanatic, I decided, who might well suffer again. Such people made me uncomfortable.

The servants appeared to accept the explanation of his visit. I watched them carefully to see if there was any suspicion, but I missed Jennet, who was such a chatterer and had often unconsciously let me into the secrets of the servants’ quarters. Luce was efficient but taciturn, and I thought then of reinstating Jennet. She was contrite. I was beginning to doubt my motives, though, and I was not sure whether the sight of her angered me because she had betrayed me or because I couldn’t stop thinking of Jake Pennlyon’s laying his lustful hands on her and wondering, of course, whether he had seduced her already.

I did, however, take her back with me the day after John Gregory came.

I lectured her a little. “You will serve
me,
Jennet,” I reminded her. “If you ever lie to me again I shall have you beaten.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said demurely.

“And you should be warned not to listen to men’s tales. They will get you with child and then what will happen to you, do you think?”

She blushed scarlet and I said: “Remember it.” I could not bring myself to ask her for details of what had happened between her and Jake Pennlyon because I told myself it was undignified—and yet in a way I did wish to know.

A day passed. I knew that the return of the Pennlyons could not long be delayed. The period of respite was coming to an end.

The Pennlyons were back. One became aware of it at once. Even the servants seemed excited and the tension in Trewynd had increased. Since they had returned the presence of John Gregory in the house had become more dangerous.

It was not long before Jake came riding over. I was expecting him and was prepared. I had told Honey that on no account must she leave us alone together.

He sat in the hall drinking wine. Edward, Honey and myself watched him intently. He seemed bigger, more overbearing, more arrogant and sure of his ability to get what he wanted than I remembered even. I felt the surging hatred rising in me, bringing with it that wild excitement.

The betrothal ceremony was taking place in three days’ time, he announced.

“It’s too soon,” I said.

“Not soon enough,” he corrected me.

“I shall need to prepare.”

“You’ve had all the time I’ve been away to prepare. You’ll have no longer.”

So he was commanding me already.

“The wedding takes place two weeks later,” he said with authority. “And I shall sail a month after that.”

“Where will your voyage take you?” asked Edward politely.

“We’ll be taking a cargo of cloth out to Guinea and come back we hope with gold and ivory. It won’t be a long voyage if I can help it.” He gave me his lascivious grin. “I shall be missing my wife.”

Edward said he wished him fair weather; and they talked about the sea for a while. Jake’s eyes glowed; he talked of the sea with the same intensity that he had talked of our marriage. The sea fascinated him because it was often wild and unpredictable; he would often have to fight it with all the skill he possessed. He was a man who must fight. Always he had to subdue. Marriage with him would have to be an eternal battle, for as soon as he had won he would lose interest. But why should I contemplate marriage with him? That was for some other pitiable female. I was going to play as dangerous a game as he played on his voyages. Perhaps there was a similarity between us because I at last admitted to myself that I enjoyed the fight.

We all went out into the courtyard with him and as we did so John Gregory came out of a side door. There was nothing to do but make the introductions.

Jake Pennlyon’s eyes flicked over him.

“We’ve met before,” he said.

John Gregory looked puzzled. “I do not recall it, sir,” he answered.

Jake narrowed his eyes as though he were trying to look into something which he couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m sure of it,” he insisted. “I don’t easily forget faces.”

“Were you in the North at some time?” asked Edward.

“I never was,” said Jake. “I’ll remember. It escapes me for the moment.”

John Gregory was wrinkling his brow, smiling as though trying to recall, but I fancied that the scar on his cheek seemed to stand out more vividly.

“I was delighted to see my friend,” said Edward warmly. “He has decided to stay with us for a week or so.”

Jake was now looking at me, forgetting John Gregory.

He said: “We shall expect you early at Pennlyon. We can’t have the bride arriving late. It would appear that she was reluctant.”

He took my hand and kissed it. His lips seemed to burn my skin. I wiped it on my gown. He saw the gesture and it amused him.

Then he took his leave.

We went into the house and Edward asked John Gregory: “What did he mean about knowing you?”

“He is suspicious,” said Honey in a frightened voice.

“You have never met him before?” asked Edward.

John Gregory wrinkled his brows for a moment and then said very firmly: “No.”

I dressed myself for my betrothal banquet with the utmost pains. I wished to appear as beautiful as I could for, I assured myself, the sole purpose of making him more angry than ever when he realized he had lost me.

And after the betrothal? What should I do then? I could see no answer than but to go back to the Abbey and my mother. Would he follow me there? He had to leave on his voyage, so how could he come after me?

And Honey and Edward, would he betray them? Surely he would have to prove that Thomas Elders had been celebrating Mass in the chapel. But Elders would be taken and mayhap tortured and then who knew what would emerge? And this man John Gregory? He would have to go away before I left. Of course this was what I must do. I certainly could not ruin my whole life because of the trouble they had brought upon themselves.

For the moment there was the betrothal ball and banquet and I intended to amuse myself as much as I could with them.

Jennet helped me to dress. She was better at this than Luce had been. She brushed my hair until it shone and our reflections in the polished mirror were glowing. There was color in her cheeks and her mass of hair escaped from her cap; she was not exactly a handsome girl but a very desirable one, I could see that. There was something soft and yielding about her; she would be seduced sooner or later I was sure, and I thought it was time to get her married.

I said to her: “Do you like Richard Rackell, Jennet?”

She blushed—she blushed very easily—and lowered her eyes.

“You do,” I said. “There’s no need to be coy about it. If he had a fancy to you perhaps there could be a wedding. The master would mayhap give you one of the cottages and you could continue to work as you do now. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Why, yes, Mistress.”

“You should be married … soon. I am sure of that. You are somewhat wanton, Jennet, I believe.”

“Oh, no, Mistress. ’Tis just…”

“’Tis just that when they lay hands on you and tell you what a fine wench you are you’d find it difficult to say them nay.”

She giggled.

“You silly girl! And you’re pulling my hair.”

I wanted to say to her: What did Jake Pennlyon do when he had kissed you? Are you going to tell me that it ended with that? But I said no such thing.

She went on brushing my hair. Was she thinking of Jake or Richard Rackell?

I thought I would wear my hair piled high on my head and then I could crown it with the comb I had bought from the peddler.

“Frizzing be the fashion, Mistress, and I can frizz,” said Jennet.

“I follow my own fashions. I do not wish to look like every other fashionable woman, nor like any serving wench.”

Resigned, Jennet dressed my hair. I put on my red velvet gown cut low at the neck and the sleeves wide and flowing almost to the hem. Not the height of fashion true, but indeed becoming, and with the comb in my hair I looked regal. I should need all the dignity I could muster to ward off the attentions of my intended bridegroom, I thought grimly.

Jennet stared at me wide-eyed.

“Why, Mistress, you look beautiful … too beautiful to be real.”

“I’m real enough, Jennet,” I said with a laugh.

She lowered her eyes and giggled. I spoke sharply to her. She knew that I was still resentful of the fact that she had sided with Jake Pennlyon against me. There was something knowing about her look. I wondered afterward whether Jennet, born to give pleasure to men, understood something of the nature of my feelings for this one, for try as I might to feign indifference, I was excited by him, albeit in hatred.

Honey came in and I immediately felt insignificant. But then everyone must before Honey’s brilliance. She was dressed in blue—deep violet blue, the color of her eyes, which accentuated their brilliance. Since she had become pregnant her beauty had changed a little and lost nothing for it.

She wore her hair about her shoulders and there was a circle of pearls about it.

She pressed my hand and looked at me anxiously.

“I’m all right, Honey,” I said.

“You look quite magnificent.”

I glanced at myself in the burnished mirror. “Like one of the Valkyries going into battle?”

“Yes,” she said, “a little like that.”

We were to ride to Lyon Court in the carriage. Edward’s carriage was a source of wonder to everyone, for few people possessed such a vehicle. Most must rely on horses or their own feet. It was uncomfortable riding in the carriage, which was drawn by two horses. People in Devon had never seen carriages before, but in view of the fact that we were dressed for the ball the carriage was very convenient. Otherwise, we should have had to take one of the mules to carry our gowns and ridden over and changed there.

I whispered to Honey as we jolted along over the rough roads: “Watch over me tonight.”

“We will,” replied Honey fervently. “Edward and I.”

“I shall be in his house. That will give him an advantage and he’ll take it, you can be sure.”

“You’ll outwit him.”

“Indeed I shall and then, Honey, I think perhaps I shall have to go home.”

“Edward and I have been talking about it. We think it is best for you. John Gregory will be leaving us and we shall be safe. He can prove nothing. Edward has influence. We shall be all right. You cannot marry to save us.”

“Tonight though I shall play this game of pretense. He will think that he has won the battle. I will let him believe that, so that he may have the greater shock when he faces defeat.”

“You enjoy this, Catharine. What has come over you? You were once so different.”

“It is this man. He arouses such feeling in me that I hardly know myself.”

“Take care, Catharine.”

“I shall take the utmost care to prove to him how much I despise him and that he shall never govern me.”

The carriage trundled along. Edward drove the horses and Honey and I sat behind him. Soon we were in the drive which led to Lyon Court. Under the elms we went and there was the house, lanterns on the porch lighting up the lions—gray stone and impregnable-looking in the moonlight.