Lady in Waiting

It looked very much as if the play was about to become a riot. Catherine was turning away when she heard her aunt’s voice calling to her.

‘Come away, Catherine. There will be a fight ’ere long. It is not a fitting entertainment for a young lady of your breeding. When we are in London we shall see something better than this mummery.’

Catherine looked about for the young lad she had spoken to earlier and saw that he too was being led away from the trouble by a man who looked as if he might be his father. She smiled to herself as she recalled his boast and wondered if young Kit Marlowe would achieve his ambition. And whether fortune would be kind to him if he did.

Travelling players were at the mercy of their patrons, as were ambitious playwrights. Rich men were sometimes moved to support a group of players they admired, but those less fortunate were forced to tramp the country performing where they could for whatever was given them.

Following her aunt into the inn, where a meal of cold meat, pickles and a dish of hot buttered turnips was being served, Catherine frowned over the behaviour of the young blades who had turned the performance into a brawl. It was monstrous unfair to treat the unfortunate players so, and had she been a man she would not have hesitated to tell them so. Indeed, had her aunt not arrived to take her away, she might have been tempted to speak sharply to the man in the brown leather jerkin.

It was growing dusk when Catherine heard the horrible snapping sound and their carriage jerked to a sickening halt. She was thrown from her seat, and after recovering her position scarcely had time to glance at her aunt before the flaps at the windows were pulled aside and the groom was apologising.

‘The leading pole has snapped, my lady.’

‘Can it be mended, Jake?’ Lady Stamford asked.

‘Not right ’ere, it can’t, my lady. We shall need to find a blacksmith and ’ave ’im make a metal splint…’

‘Then what are we to do? How far is it to the next inn?’

‘Five miles or more, my lady.’

‘I cannot possibly walk that far…’ She glared at the hapless groom. ‘Go and fetch the blacksmith or a carpenter. And be quick about it. It cannot be long before darkness falls and I do not wish to be sitting here all night.’

‘No, my lady.’ He looked at her hesitantly. ‘Could you not ride in the baggage coach? We could mend the pole in the morning…’

‘Pray do as you are told, sirrah. Go and see to it at once.’

‘We shall need to lead the horses off the road, my lady—and the carriage is blocking the road. No one can pass until we move it to one side.’

‘Well, do so then!’

‘Yes, ma’am—if you and Mistress Catherine would be good enough to get down.’

‘Get down?’

‘It will make things easier, Aunt,’ Catherine said, seeing that Lady Stamford was outraged at the idea. ‘And the carriage might overturn if they have to rock it to move it.’

‘In that case we shall oblige.’

Catherine smiled inwardly as her aunt was helped out of the carriage. The look of dismay on Lady Stamford’s face as she stood at the side of the road was amusing, but after some minutes, while the coachman and groom attempted to move the cumbersome vehicle, the situation became less diverting. Catherine had begun to feel uncomfortable herself, for it turned a little chilly and looked as if it might rain soon.

‘Where is the baggage coach?’ Lady Stamford demanded irritably, as her servants showed no sign of moving the cumbersome vehicle. It was obvious that she was beginning to think riding with the maids might be more desirable than standing by the side of the road. ‘Have all my servants deserted me? I am not accustomed to being so ill served.’

‘The coach is slower than our carriage—and poor Ben and Jake are doing their best, Aunt.’

‘Then their best is not good enough!’ She looked set for another angry outburst when they heard the sound of horses’ hooves approaching. ‘Ah, perhaps it… Oh, it is merely a rider.’ Lady Stamford’s face registered her disappointment, but in another moment she was smiling as the rider dismounted and came towards them.

‘You are in some trouble, ma’am?’

‘Indeed, sir, as you see.’ Lady Stamford threw out her hands. ‘These incompetent fools of mine make no progress and I fear a storm is imminent.’

‘I believe you may be right.’ The stranger glanced at dark clouds gathering overhead. ‘You need help, for it will take more than two men to move that carriage.’ He made her a little bow. ‘May I introduce myself, ma’am. I am Sir Nicholas Grantly and I have relatives living just a short distance away. If you would consent to accompany me I am certain they will offer you and the young lady shelter and refreshment while their servants assist yours to clear the road.’

‘Sir, I shall be delighted to accept your friends’ hospitality, for I declare I am weary of standing here and turning chill.’ Lady Stamford turned to Catherine, beckoning her to follow as Sir Nicholas offered to lead the way. ‘Come along, my dear.’

Catherine hesitated, feeling oddly reluctant to go with him. She had recognised their rescuer as being the gentleman she had noticed at the inn. He had been in the midst of the rowdy element and laughing as heartily at the discomfiture of the poor players as the rest.

‘You do not know him, Aunt,’ she whispered, darting a glance of disapproval at Sir Nicholas’s back. ‘He might be anyone—a villain set to trap unwary travellers. Might it not be better to wait for the baggage coach, which cannot now be long behind us?’

‘Nonsense!’ Lady Stamford frowned at her. ‘Sir Nicholas is clearly a gentleman and you should be grateful he came this way and chanced upon us, for in another ten minutes we should have been caught in a downpour.’

As a steady drizzle had begun to fall, Catherine was unable to contradict her aunt, though she continued to feel doubtful until the house was reached. For who knew what kind of a man he was or where they might find themselves lodged for the night?

The house was, however, as Sir Nicholas had stated, but a short distance down the road, and proved to be a simple but sturdily built country home of good proportions. One long building had a sloping thatched roof, and ivy growing up its walls; it made no pretension of grandeur but was the home of a gentleman of some substance, glass windows having replaced the older shutters which were still in evidence but permanently nailed back.

They were welcomed at the front porch by an apple-cheeked housekeeper, who drew them in and clucked over their misfortune, promising to send Jed and Seth with the farm horses to sort the matter out.

‘For them fine carriage horses will be frettin’ themselves to a lather by now and nobody be better with horses than our Seth. He’ll see you right and tight, milady—and Seth can mend that pole of yours in a trice.’

‘I’ll take our guests into the parlour, Jessie,’ Sir Nicholas said. ‘Will you send in some wine and biscuits in a moment?’

‘Aye, that I shall, Master Nicholas. The mistress be always pleased with company.’

‘Ladies—this way.’ Sir Nicholas waved them through the rather narrow hall into a large and comfortable parlour. The wooden floor had been recently swept with sweet herbs that cast a delicate fragrance. The main wall had been hung with a fine carpet, and there was a court cupboard at one end set with burnished pewter. An elbow chair was placed to either side of the fireplace, which had a good blaze to welcome them, and there was a Gothic oak settle that looked as if it might have come from a monastery at the time of their dissolution. Stuffed cushions, embroidered possibly by the lady of the house, had been placed against the carved back. Clearly the mistress of this home was accustomed to being indulged, for there were several precious items that showed that her husband had used his wealth to bring pleasure and comfort to his wife.

‘Ah, Sister Sarah Middleton,’ Sir Nicholas said, and held out his hands as a young and comely woman came flying towards him. ‘I find you well, I hope?’

‘Nick, my darling! At last you come,’ Sarah Middleton cried. ‘I have been expecting you two days and more.’ She turned sparkling dark eyes on Lady Stamford and Catherine. ‘But who have you brought to see me? You said nothing of guests, you wicked one.’

Her scolding tone was belied by an affectionate smile as she hung on to his arm. She was a pretty, plump woman of perhaps twenty, with soft dark hair that streamed from beneath a cap of fetching lace.

‘You must not scold your brother,’ Lady Stamford said, going forward to greet her. ‘For he found us stranded on the road after our carriage unfortunately broke down and took pity on us, which was exceedingly kind of him. I hope we do not trespass on your hospitality too much, ma’am?’

Sarah’s face glowed as she replied, ‘No, indeed, ma’am, for it is just what I should do myself and Nick knows it. He was perfectly right to bring you here and only just in time.’ The rattle of rain against the small panes of grey glass at the windows was quite fierce. ‘You must not think of leaving this night. Jessie can easily put a hot brick in the best guest room and Nick can spend the night in the nursery.’

‘Where my nephew will ensure that I sleep not at all,’ her brother replied. ‘I thank you for your attention to my comfort, Sister, but you are perfectly right to offer shelter to these ladies, and I shall be happy to give up my room for their sakes.’

His grey eyes seemed to dance with wicked laughter for a moment as they rested on Catherine. Unwilling to be charmed so easily by a man she suspected of being a rogue, she gave him a cold look and saw the sparkle die from his eyes, which became rather serious and thoughtful.

Catherine’s attention was drawn away by Sarah Middleton, who was insisting that Lady Stamford take the place of honour in the chair to the right of the fire. Rather than take the lady’s own chair, Catherine went to the settle and sat on its hard seat. She was grateful for the cushions at her back after hours of wearisome travel and longed for the familiarity and comfort of her own bedchamber.

Lady Stamford and Mistress Middleton were talking easily to one another. The introductions made and refreshments brought by the smiling Jessie, they passed on to the topics of the day.

‘You may depend that Her blessed Majesty will never be properly secure while the Catholic impostor lives,’ Sarah declared. ‘They do say that wicked plotter Norfolk would marry Mary of Scots if he could, and there is even talk that he planned to have our Queen murdered…’ She looked at her brother appealingly. ‘Have you heard aught of this, Nick?’

‘There is much talk,’ Sir Nicholas said. ‘And everything is not yet clear, but fear not, Sarah, while Her Majesty has men like William Cecil about her such plots will always fail. Besides, the Queen likes not to hear criticism of Norfolk and for the moment he escapes the punishment he deserves. I should not let the gossip disturb you, Sister, for I dare say it will all come to nothing in the end.’

‘You always make me feel so much better,’ Sarah said and gave a little shiver. ‘I should not want to see another Catholic Queen on the throne of England.’

‘Forgive my impetuous sister if she offends.’ Sir Nicholas shot her a warning look. ‘Our family has reason to distrust such a regime, for my father suffered many setbacks and fines while Mary reigned, and was lucky to escape being burned as a heretic—but there are Catholic men I claim as friends.’

‘Oh, you need not fear to offend,’ Lady Stamford assured him. ‘Queen Mary of England burned my first husband’s elder brother as a heretic. To see our glorious Elizabeth replaced by a woman brought up amongst the Catholic French would go against all I have been taught to believe. I have heard she is a vain, flighty creature and would cause nothing but harm if she ever came to power. Besides, when I was young I was lady in waiting to Anne Boleyn— God rest her soul! In my eyes her daughter Elizabeth is our true queen and shall always be so; though others may deny her I shall remain loyal.’

‘Amen to that,’ Sir Nicholas said. ‘For myself I would see no other than Gloriana on the throne.’ His eyes flicked towards Catherine, sitting silently on the settle. ‘What say you, Mistress Moor?’

‘I can only echo your sentiments, sir. I am persuaded you are wiser about such matters than I…’ She sent him a haughty look that would have disconcerted many a man, though he gave no sign of having noticed except for a faint gleam in his eyes.

However, the coolness of her tone brought a frown to Lady Stamford’s forehead. ‘Come, Catherine, you can give Sir Nicholas a fairer answer than that. Your father is staunch in his support for Her Majesty and you must have heard his opinion often enough.’

‘Indeed I have, Aunt, and my father is most loyal to Her Majesty. I meant no offence to anyone. I must blame my lack of courtesy on the long hours of travelling. Forgive me…’ She avoided looking at Sir Nicholas, making her apology to the room at large.

For a time there was silence, and then their hostess stepped in to the awkward moment with a little tutting cry of dismay.

‘You look exhausted, Mistress Moor,’ Sarah Middleton cried. ‘I am thoughtless to keep you talking when you must be longing to rest. Jessie shall take you to your chamber. We dine when my husband returns at seven. I pray you will forgive the lateness of the hour, but Matthew has been to inspect a distant field with his neighbour and was not expecting company.’

‘You are very kind, ma’am. My father often keeps late hours himself.’

Catherine blushed the more because she knew she had been rude to Sir Nicholas. She had come close to insulting her generous hostess’s brother and it was very bad of her.

She was taken to task for it when she was alone in the bedchamber with her aunt.

‘I do not like to see such manners in you, Catherine,’ Lady Stamford said, looking at her with disapproval. ‘Sir Nicholas has been all that is good. You might at least be polite if you cannot do better. If you behave like this in London you will never catch a husband.’

Catherine accepted the rebuke in silence, acknowledging it to be fair. Indeed, she was not sure why she had taken against Sir Nicholas, for he had done no more than laugh and call out to the actors. Perhaps she had been a little too harsh in her judgement.

If Sir Nicholas asked her opinion again on some point she would answer him with the consideration he deserved. She need not go out of her way to be friendly but there was no occasion to be impolite.

Chapter Two

C atherine would have liked to spend some time alone in the garden before joining the others that evening, but since it was raining it was barred to her and she did not want to go down too soon for fear of any inconvenience to her hostess. Lady Stamford took a long time over her toilette, and in consequence they did not go down until summoned by a maid. If she had hoped for a quiet moment alone it was not granted her.

Over supper she was given no opportunity to reveal her mellowed mood, because Matthew Middleton was a big, bluff man who talked and laughed a great deal. He had much to say for himself, and wanted to hear what his brother-in-law had to contribute on many topics, his loud voice dominating the conversation. However, Catherine found it interesting to listen, for in this way it was revealed that Sir Nicholas had but recently returned to England after some eighteen months of travelling on the Continent.

‘You wrote of your visit to Italy,’ Matthew Middleton said, attacking the good roast goose set in front of him with gusto. He ate with his fingers and a knife in the time-honoured way, using a trencher of bread to soak up the rich sauces, though all the ladies had been provided with both a knife and a spoon, a luxury not always to be met with in country houses. Besides each plate was a bowl of scented water for washing the fingers, and a napkin of soft white damask. ‘I hear it is discouraged to visit the country now in some circles, for folk do say it is a place of devils and would have none of these canting Papists.’

‘You know I hold no love for Papists, Brother—but it does a man’s mind good to behold the wonders of Rome. There is beauty beyond imagining to be seen there, and it would be a sad day if religious prejudice ever prevented our experiencing such things.’

‘Well, well, I suppose you are right, Nick. I say only what is the opinion of many these days.’

‘Wait until you see the marble statuary I have brought for your beloved garden,’ Sir Nicholas said, smiling at his brother-in-law with obvious affection. Despite their banter there was clearly a good understanding between them, and Catherine found herself envying the warmth of this family circle. ‘And somewhere amongst the baggage that follows me I have a crystal posset set for Sarah that came from Venice. When you have seen these and more of the treasures I have brought back from my travels I’ll wager you will sing another tune.’

‘I trust you have not brought Matthew any indecent ladies?’ Sarah said, and then giggled at the mocking look in her brother’s eyes. ‘You will have our neighbours denouncing us as wicked pagans before the pulpit on Sunday.’

‘Only ladies swathed in folds to cover their charms—and a cherub or two, sister mine,’ Nick replied and blew a kiss to her. ‘Though for my own estate it is a different matter, and I have some fine Greek gods in all their maleness—but I had best not tell you more lest I offend those innocent ears.’

Sarah dimpled and shook her head at her unrepentant brother, turning her bewitching smile on Catherine.

‘You will forgive us for neglecting you, Mistress Catherine, but it seems an age since my brother was here with us. He has sent messages and gifts from his journeying, but to have him here is a gift beyond price.’

‘Yes, I imagine it must be so. I have only my father, my aunt and cousin. It must be pleasant to have brothers and sisters.’

‘I have another sister,’ Sarah told her. ‘Agatha is some fifteen years older and has a different mother, but Nick and I are true brother and sister. We had another brother, Harry, but he died when travelling in Italy with friends. It was some years ago and I was but a child, so I hardly remember him, but Nick adored him of course.’ Following her gaze across the table, Catherine saw that the laughter had faded from Sir Nicholas’s eyes and wondered at it. What could cause him to look like that? There was bleakness and anger in his face, a kind of haunting sadness that somehow touched her heart.

‘That was sad for your family,’ she said. ‘It is always hard to lose someone you love.’

‘Yes, but much harder for Nick than me,’ Sarah said, seeming to become aware of her brother’s silence. ‘And Matthew has three sisters and two brothers, of course.’ She looked fondly at her husband. ‘We are truly blessed with our family in having many of them close by.’

Her husband smiled at her and addressed some trifling remark to Nick about his journey. After that, the talk was turned to politics, touching briefly on the plot concerning the Duke of Norfolk’s alleged attempt to arrange a marriage with Mary of Scots without seeking the Queen’s permission, and then veering to the shocking prices of wheat and wool, before coming round to family matters. Catherine found the time passed very pleasantly, and though she said little herself she enjoyed the conversation of others.

She was aware that Sir Nicholas had given the evening a touch of spice with his stories, many of which she was sure he had invented purely for his sister’s amusement. That he was a clever man well able to hold his own in any company she could not doubt. However, she clung stubbornly to her picture of him as an idle rogue who wasted his time with feckless companions and thought it amusing to throw rotten fruit at a hapless actor.

It was past nine when Sarah took the ladies to her parlour for a sweet tisane, which she said would give them ease and aid their rest in a strange bed.

‘Matthew and Nick will talk long into the night,’ she said, ‘and my day begins at cockcrow. I shall bid you good night now, ma’am— Mistress Catherine. I wish you both sweet dreams.’

‘How fortunate we were to find such hospitality,’ Lady Stamford said, as they retired to their chamber to discover everything in readiness for their comfort, a warm brick passed between the sheets and a small fire in the grate. ‘Such open kindness is not often met with in strangers, Catherine. It has quite lifted my spirits and restored my faith in my fellow beings.’

So saying, Lady Stamford removed her wig, climbed into bed and fell asleep within seconds of her head touching the goose-feather pillow.

Catherine lay wakeful at her side for some time, listening to her aunt’s gentle snoring and the creaking in the eaves. The moaning of a dying wind was not disturbing, for in such a solid house as this there was a feeling of safety. It must have been late into the night when she heard the tread of boots along the hall and Sir Nicholas’s voice calling a cheery goodnight to his host.

And then she slept.

Waking at cockcrow, Catherine thought longingly of her day at home. She would have been out even now with her horses and dogs, riding the estate while the dew was still upon the ground.

Rising from the bed in which her aunt slept on, Catherine dressed quickly and went downstairs. It was a fine day, the only signs of the storm some debris strewn upon the ground, and with luck she would be able to escape into the gardens without being seen.

Sarah Middleton kept a good kitchen garden, with lots of soft fruit bushes, and spring vegetables beginning to push their way through the soft earth. Everything smelled so fresh and sweet after the rain, and Catherine stooped to pick one of the herbs used for cooking, rubbing it between her fingers and holding them to her nose to catch the fragrance of rosemary.

‘You are abroad early, Mistress Moor. I had not thought to see you here this morning.’

Catherine jumped, swinging round guiltily to face the man who had spoken to her.

‘I hope I do not intrude,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I ought to have waited until we were summoned, but I looked out and was tempted. It is always my habit to rise early at home.’

Sir Nicholas looked at her, his eyes narrowing as they moved over her with slow deliberation. His study brought a flush to her cheeks, making Catherine catch her breath. There was something so essentially masculine about him then that she was aware of a feeling that disturbed her, though she did not understand it. Why did he look at her so? It was almost as if he were undressing her with his eyes! No man had ever looked at her that way before.

‘Do you ride, Mistress Moor?’

‘Yes, every day at home.’

‘You will miss that at court,’ Nick told her. ‘When in the country Her Majesty sometimes hunts and those ladies skilful enough to keep up with her may be invited to join in, but in London you will find scant opportunity for a good gallop.’

‘I believe I shall miss it a great deal,’ Catherine replied. She raised her head, a challenge she was unaware of in her lovely eyes. He should not look at her so! ‘You also keep early hours, sir—though I think you went late to bed last night.’

‘Did we disturb you?’

‘No, no, of course not. I was not asleep,’ Catherine said quickly, a flush in her cheeks. She could not meet his eyes. He would think she was criticising him again, and indeed she had not meant to. ‘I dare say it was all the excitement of the day.’

‘Yes, I dare say.’ His brow wrinkled as he looked at her. ‘Perhaps…’ Whatever he was about to say was lost as Matthew Middleton appeared. ‘Ah, my good Matthew comes. I must bid you adieu, Mistress Moor, for I have promised to ride with him. I wish you a safe journey onwards.’

Catherine inclined her head but made no comment. She envied them their early morning ride, and the thought of yet another long day in the uncomfortable carriage did nothing to raise her spirits. She found herself wishing that her aunt would be forced to delay their journey for a few more hours, and watched wistfully as the men rode out of the courtyard together.