her change in expression better than she might have guessed. ‘You will please me by making a good marriage, Catherine.’ He nodded his approval. ‘Your mother and I wish you to be happy and we have decided that you might be suited with Lady Anne’s second son, William.’
‘Oh…’ In her surprise Catherine was unable to mask the shock her father’s words had given her. She did not know William Shearer well, but she remembered him as a boisterous youth who had pulled her hair the last time they met. For some reason a picture of another man flashed into her mind—the man she had first seen wrestling at the fair. ‘If it is your wish, Father.’
Rob frowned as he saw the expression in her eyes. ‘It is not decided, Catherine. Your mother would never agree to a forced marriage, but we have cherished the idea that our two families might be joined. However, you will meet him in London and we shall see what you feel then.’
‘You are so good to me!’ Catherine said and ran to the bed, bending down to embrace him.
Rob patted her back and put her from him. ‘None of that, girl! Go to your mother now. I believe she has some work for you.’
Catherine nodded and left him, making her way through the Hall to the stair that led to her mother’s favourite day chamber. As she expected, she discovered her mother working at her needlework, her sister, Anne, already sitting on a stool close by. Catherine believed her youngest brother to be upstairs in bed, and as she entered, Lady Melford got to her feet, clearly impatient to leave.
‘There you are, Catherine. Your father has told you the news. I hope you are not too upset?’
‘I wish you could come too, dearest Mother,’ Catherine said. ‘But I know that you must stay here with my brother and Father.’
‘Yes, I must. However, I did not wish you to give up your treat,’ Lady Melford said, smiling at her. ‘Now sit with your sister and help her with her sewing while I go up to Richard.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ Catherine said and moved her stool to her sister’s side. She reached out for the piece of needlework her sister had been working on. She saw at once where the stitches were wrong and used the little knife that hung from a silver chatelaine at her waist to cut the silk and remove it. ‘You make your feather stitching this way,’ she said, showing her sister how to work the intricate stitch.
Anne was looking at her oddly. ‘I heard Father say that you are to marry Will Shearer,’ she said. ‘Is it true, Catherine?’
‘I believe it is what Father wants,’ Catherine said, a slight frown coming to her face. ‘But I am not sure. I was hoping…’ She shook her head, because her dreams were fanciful. She had seen the stranger only briefly at the fair, again in the village when he had spoken to her, and leaving their house. She was unlikely to see him again, and yet she could not help feeling that she would like to meet a man who was as strong and handsome as he had been. But she did not imagine he was truly interested in her—he had merely been flirting. Besides, his visit had seemed to distress her mother for some reason. She must put him from her mind. ‘If it is my father’s wish, I shall try to obey him.’
‘I wish it was me going to London,’ Anne said, an envious note in her voice. ‘I should like to be married…’ Something flashed in her eyes and for a moment she stared at her sister as if she hated her.
‘In two years Father will think of arranging a marriage for you,’ Catherine told her.
‘It might be too late by then,’ Anne said, and, jumping up, ran from the room.
Catherine stared after her. What was wrong? Anne was always an impulsive girl, but she did not normally behave in such a way. Something must have upset her. Catherine finished unpicking all the bad stitches her sister had made and then replaced them, because her mother wanted the cover for a cushion she needed for her chair. She would talk to Anne later and see if she would tell her what was wrong, but for the moment she wanted to be alone with her thoughts.
Marriage was such a big step. It would mean that she would no longer be able to spend her days with her mother, sister and brother…instead she would be the mistress of a large house with all the cares that entailed. Her mother had taught her all the things she needed to know to perform those duties, but no one had told her what it was really like to be married.
Catherine had some ideas about how babies were made, for she had seen the yard dogs mating, and watched puppies come into the world…but surely there must be more? Lady Melford was very contented; sometimes when she and her husband were together her eyes would shine with happiness. If only Catherine could be as happy when she married! She had listened to the storyteller spin his fables of romance when he visited them at Christmas and for feasts, and she thought that it would be wonderful to find true love—but did it really exist? And would she find it in an arranged marriage?
A rebellious look came into Catherine’s eyes. She would never willingly displease her father, but if William Shearer had not improved his manners, she would never wish to marry him!
Andrew dismounted as soon as he realised his horse had gone lame. The animal was a favourite and he did not wish to cause more damage or pain. He had hoped to be in London by nightfall, but he must lead the horse to the nearest inn and have it attended.
He supposed that it did not matter, for he had no particular reason to hurry. He was not expected back for a few days, and he was reluctant to renew his affair with Lady Henrietta. He regretted now that he had given in to her charms on his last visit to court. He suspected that she could be petulant, perhaps vindictive, and would not take it kindly if he tried to finish the relationship.
At one time he had considered her a suitable match, which she was in many respects, but he had suddenly realised that he had no real affection for her. Marriage to such a woman would be a mistake. He would never quite trust her, and a man must know that his sons were his own. However, to break off the affair suddenly would be cruel and pointless. He must find a way of detaching himself from her gently, and that would take time. His best hope was that she would grow tired of waiting and decide to bestow her considerable charms on another.
He had been slowly leading his horse for almost half an hour when he saw the inn ahead. He sighed with relief, for he could find shelter there for himself and his horse. No doubt the innkeeper would know where he could find a blacksmith to attend to the matter of the loose shoe.
He was welcomed into the inn by the genial host, who was pleased to offer supper and a room for the night, as well as to have the blacksmith summoned for the gentleman’s horse.
‘If your lordship would kindly go into the parlour and wait, my wife will bring soup immediately, and there are some good chops, a capon and a meat pie to follow if your honour should care for it?’
‘Soup and the capon will be sufficient, thank you,’ Andrew said. He nodded to the host and went into the parlour, where he saw three men sitting together huddled by the fire. It was not truly cold out and he thought there was something odd in their manner, but they gave him no more than a glance before getting up and walking out.
Andrew was pleased that they had gone, for they had looked like rogues to him, and he would sleep easier if they were elsewhere. A man in his position normally travelled with a considerable train of servants and men-at-arms, but sometimes he preferred to travel alone. He walked over to the fire, a torn scrap of vellum catching his eye. Bending down to retrieve it, he saw that two words remained legible of whatever the paper had contained.
‘Must
