Geoffrey Condit (7 page)

    “Servants can be kept silent.”

    “A whole town?  Not likely.”  As their horses threaded through the traffic, the swish  of Catharine’s silk cloak seemed to distract her. “Where did you get this cloak?  I’ve never felt anything like it.”

    “It’s lined with fine Persian chain mail.  Please wear it in London.  I have enemies here.”

    Catharine’s lip’s thinned.  “Getting back to your objections, my lord.”

    Peter arched his eyebrows.  “You still can’t stomach my name?”

    “You said not to use it until it comes easily to my tongue.”

    “I did, stubborn creature.”  He pursed his lips.  “My other objection?  I don’t know any archbishop or cardinal who would go against the King’s wishes.  Nor would I willingly put their lives and careers at risk to further our plans.  I’m not willing to have our good servants well-being damaged either.”

    “No one would dare.”

    Peter snorted.  “How little you know of politics.  You think I don’t have enemies?   Everything I do is examined to see how it may be twisted to someone’s advantage.   I am not a fool.  I’ve lived through too many intrigues and attempts on my titles and wealth not to understand what would happen if we tried to end this marriage.”

    Her angry eyes and stony face mirrored the heavy resentment he felt.  He wanted to shake her, to get her to admit what he said was true.  Her uncompromising attitudes and selfish behavior infuriated him while her beauty and desirability drew him like a magnet.  But there was no place to go.

    “Lord Kendall!”  Catharine  blurted.  At the edge of the street stood a wretched man, startled, with new agony in his eyes.  His hose, shirt, and doublet, once fine, but now little more than rags, draped a hungry frame.  A plain woman in a tattered gown, and a girl nearing adolescence, stood next to him in uncomfortable silence.

    “Lady Catharine,”  Kendall choked out.  “I am sorry you see me in these straits.  We have very little.”  Shame lay plain in his thin face, but uneasy hope claimed his eyes.

    “What happened?”  Catharine’s shocked voice pulled Peter to a stop next to her.

    “We lost our manor after hiding Sir Alfred Wentworth.  He came back to test the waters for Tudor, but we didn’t know.”

    “How long ago?”

    “A year ago.”  Kendall’s empty voice broke.  His wife and daughter shuffled their feet in embarrassment.

    “Then you shall have something.”  Catharine took off her emerald ring, and the gold necklace with the ruby stone.  She put them into her purse and handed it down to the man.

    “Bless you, Lady Catharine.”  Kendall face lighted with disbelief, then hope.  “I don’t know what to say.  We will husband the wealth well and pay you back one day.”

    “No, Lord Kendall.  I am Lady Trobridge now.  Married to a great lord who counts these as trifles.”  She smiled.  “I hope we will see each other under better circumstances.”

    Kendall shifted uneasily at her words.  “The House of Trevor.  You have made a great marriage, Lady Catharine.”

    “A Yorkist, Lord Kendall.”

    “He is your husband,”  Kendall admonished, eying Peter edgily.  The clamor of angry voices from milling traffic rose behind  them, and Peter grabbed Catharine’s reins and urged Grey Harold forward.  A block down the cobbled road, Peter handed back her reins.  Catharine furious, grabbed them and turned away.

    Peter clenched his fists in rage.  The girl is mad.  How can anyone not see ...  He felt the blood rush to his face.  “Don’t you ever do such a stupid, fool-hardy thing like that again.  Kendall is a well-known Lancaster noble.  You compromise us by behaving in open sympathy with their cause.”

    Catharine’s cold eyes stared back at him with open disdain.  “You want me to let them starve on the street?  What sort of man are you?  Kendall was a close friend of my father’s.  I, at least, feel for his circumstances.  You, my lord, feel only for your position.”

    Peter cast his voice low and intent.  “I feel for all of my people, my lady.  If I hesitate to make an exhibition of myself, it is for their protection.  When I act, I must consider not only myself, but all those I represent.  You had better do the same.”  He caught her haughty gaze, and swore under his breath, then said,  “Willing or not, when you took my name, you inherited  this cross.  Get your emotions under control, and rule your actions. To hell with your delicate outrage.  There are many ways to handle a situation.”

    “My delicate outrage, at least, has a conscience behind it, my lord.”  Her defiant eyes gave nothing, and her voice held only scorn.

    He ground his teeth, the muscles cording in his neck.  She’s a complete idiot.  No, a complete innocent.  Just as dangerous, but far different.  “I applaud your sensibilities, Catharine.  Many would have let them starve.”

    “Like you, my lord?”

    When is she going to quit?  He wanted to drive the sweet anger from her lips, and then kiss them, but he turned away.   “There are less overt ways of helping people in need.  Especially those who can compromise you.”

    “I was not raised that way, my lord.”

    “You also do not have several thousand people depending on you, my lady.  Rest assured this incident will reach the welcoming ears of my lord of Buckingham, and he will sent his agents to investigate.”  Catharine’s face went white.

    “Do you want several thousand Kendall’s walking the roads of England,” he went on.  “Displaced and turned out because their lord had his lands forfeit?  Your actions are their safety, my lady.”

    Catharine remained silent, but her face had lost its anger.

    “As Lady Trobridge, your are more than expensive gowns, rare jewels and endless wealth.  You are the acting conscience of all those men, women, and children who live on our lands, and work for us, and our trading houses.  They are your family.”  He caught her gaze, and held it with brutal intensity.  “Remember this when your fine conscience is wounded, and you’re tempted to act as you did today.  Trusted agents can be sent in the night to accomplish what we cannot do in the day.”

    Catharine swallowed, her cheeks stained red.  “I stand reproved, my lord.  I did not know I had a position beyond that of a broodmare and ornamental curiosity.”

    “The women of Trobridge are picked for their brains, my lady.  But they may have to be taught to use them.  To think on their feet.  As for a broodmare, we haven’t even gotten to the touching stage, or it would seem, beyond insulting each other in public.”

    “Some things take time, my lord.”  Her long lashed eyelids closed, and tiny smile played at the corner of her lips.  They turned east on Tower Street.

    The Tower of London.  The great royal fortress loomed vast, stretching near a quarter of a mile with walls rearing forty to sixty feet high. They entered through the Lion’s Gate, named for the royal menagerie kept there.  The cries of strange animals rose around them.  The captain of the guard saluted them, and exchange familiar words with Peter.  Penetrating deeper into the fortress, they crossed the stone causeway to the Middle Tower.  There they rode over the second causeway to the Byward Tower and up the Water Lane to the Green Tower, the main entrance to the inner fortress.

    An orderly man in sober black hurried forward, and smiled, his close cropped beard bunching.  “Good to see you, Peter.  Who is your beautiful companion?”

    “The new Lady Trobridge,  Robert.”  Dismounting, they handed their reins to their men-at-arms.

    “By the King’s command,”  Catharine interrupted, her grey eyes challenging.

    “With a tongue to match her hair,”  Peter added.   “Sir Robert Brackenbury, this is Catharine, Sir Humphrey Clifford’s daughter.”

    “A pleasure, Lady Catharine.”  Robert’s infectious good humor created the proper response in Catharine.  She relaxed, smiled, then seemed to remembered herself and curtsied.

    “Sir Robert, I apologize for my rude behavior.  This marriage worked a rather alarming change in my life.  Five days ago I lived as a Ward of the Crown. Today, I am a Baroness.   My family lands have been restored.  Westmoreland is now part of the Trevor holdings.”

     Peter coughed, and caught Robert’s eyes.

    “Of course, my lord thinks having this Barony will hurt his credibility at court,” Catharine said.  “‘A hot bed of contentious idiots’ he called those who populate his new barony- my people.”  Her lips tightened.

    “Peter has a point, Lady Catharine,”  Sir Robert said, his face serious.  “His Grace does not bestow lands easily.  He is a careful man, and not given to explaining himself.  But then the Trevor family has a history of wise decisions when it comes to dealing with the Throne and treachery is not one of their vices.   They have always kept a distance from involvement in politics.  There is more to this than meets the eye.”

    “You knew of this marriage?”  Peter asked, stomach tightening.

    “Richard mentioned it in passing before he went north on his current progress.”   Brackenbury smiled lightly.  “I know the House of Trevor has never had a bride forced on its heir before.  But this might not be a bad thing.  Richard knows Westmorland is in safe hands now.  That’s worth a good night’s sleep or two.  Kings rarely sleep that well, you know.”

    “His Grace and the Queen were in good health?”

    “Yes, though the Queen’s Grace suffers from a persistent cough.”  Peter sensed foreboding in his voice.  “The princes are eager to renew their acquaintance with you.”

    “They came with King Edward two Christmas’ ago,” Peter said.  “Bess has been asking after them.  Perhaps she can visit another day.”

    “Of course.”  They walked on the Tower Green where two young boys were shooting at butts.  Prince Edward’s blond head turned.  “Peter!”  His brother, Prince Richard, let out a whoop.  They threw down their bows and in seconds, Peter found himself wrestled to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs, and grinning faces.

    “Your, Graces!”  The shocked voice of their attendant rang out, almost drowned out the barking of a young spaniel.

    “It’s fine, ”  Peter said. “A romp is just the thing sometimes.”  They wrestled for several minutes until Richard jumped up, and Edward leaned back breathing hard.  Peter grinned.  “You remember well what I taught you, Your Graces.”

    “You were good with the princes, my lord.”  Catharine’s soft voice  floated over the clip-clop of the horses hooves as they crossed the causeways and moved under the portcullis of the Middle Gate and Lion’s Gate, returning to the busy streets of London.

    “I enjoy them.  The princes liked the daggers I gave them.”  Peter smiled, satisfaction working inside from the joy of the friendships.  Splendid children.  To have sons like that.  Mayhaps I will.  God willing.  If we can get past this problem ...

    “Why did you bring me along?”  Sharp curiosity edged her voice.

    “I wanted you to see the world I live in.  The people I deal with.  As the new Lady Trobridge, you will be part of that.  These are the people and places of power.”

    “What do expect of me as Lady Trobridge?”

    Good.  She’s thinking and curious.  How do I guide her?  How do I turn her natural resentment into something else?  He glanced over at her.  Chestnut hair framed her pert face, and tumbled down long over her shoulders onto the blue cloak.

    “You, of course, have the ordering of the households wherever we may be,” he said.  “Anthony can help you.  I also want you to become familiar with the running of our trading and counting houses.  You’ll have to meet a great many people.  Do you know how to read and write, and keep estate ledgers?”

    “Yes,” she said stiffly.

    “How do you feel about this?”

    “I don’t like being Lady Trobridge.”

    “Perhaps it’s time you got over that feeling,”  Peter said, checking his anger.  “Lord and Lady Trobridge always act like a team.  That is what I need.”

    “You need?  You need?  With all this wealth, and competent people to do your bidding?”  Catharine said in angry astonishment.

    “I have never been stripped of everything and forced out on the road as you have,”  Peter said trying to be reasonable.  “It is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.”

    “And if I cannot find it in myself to give, to fulfill this need?”  She tightened her lips and stared at the ground.

    “Then, my lady, you will find yourself the ornamental broodmare you so aptly describe.  Not  pretty life.  Treated like an adult child, as so many women are these days.   I’m offering you more.  Much more.  A partnership that know only the limits we place on it.”  He watched her tiny hands, white against her reins.  God’s Blood, what does it take to get through to this woman?

    Her defiant grey eyes caught his.  “Will you seek other partners if I can not ... ”

    “My lady, do not provoke me.”  Peter clenched his teeth, feeling the blood rush to his face.  He looked to the sky, shaking his head as much in rage as disbelief.  “I will go where I will, and do what I must to fulfill the needs of my House and its future.  I am beginning to think you have no conception of any of that.”  He halted Grey Harold, and captured her gaze.  “Are you so willful and poisoned that you will not, cannot, consider another way of acting and viewing things?  For better or worse we are tied together until death us do part.”  He stared at her, and watched her bitter eyes.