Page 45 of The Forsaken
“Shall we sup? I’m famished,” Hugh announced. His eyes raked over Kate’s body as his hand brushed against her thigh, giving a whole new meaning to his innocent words.
Kate blushed with embarrassment, but Hugh winked at her and moved toward the door. The prospect of sharing a bed with Hugh again tonight soured Kate’s mood, but she obediently followed him. She could hardly refuse. She was his for the taking now.
TWENTY-EIGHT
MAY 1461
Berwick-Upon-Tweed, Northumberland
After more than a month at the keep, Kate began to long for something to do other than sit in the Lady Chamber and sew. Sewing and mending had their place, of course, but the hours of physical inactivity left her feeling sluggish and frustrated. She couldn’t imagine devoting years of her life to mending hose. There was a flutter of activity before the wedding, but once the day passed, life settled into a more tranquil routine.
The wedding had been held at the parish church in Berwick at the end of April. It would have taken place sooner had Kate’s gown been ready, but Mistress Reynolds had caught a chill and couldn’t finish the gown in time. Hugh had planned a feast to celebrate the marriage, but the Earl of Warwick sent his regrets, via a curt note from his duchess, and Hugh’s liege lord had taken ill with the ague and couldn’t attend. He sent a gift of two silver wine goblets with his son, Robert Ambrose, which Hugh accepted with great pleasure and displayed in pride of place on the mantel in the great hall.
Kate had also written to her father, asking after her mother’s health and inviting her parents to the wedding, but received no reply. She hadn’t expected one, but it still hurt her to know that her father had cut her out of his heart so completely. It was common knowledge that the Earl of Stanwyck had changed sides and swore allegiance to the new king, allowing Hugh and Guy to do the same. They were all on the same side now, and Kate hoped that her father might relent, but Lord Dancy was a proud man and wouldn’t be manipulated by the likes of Hugh de Rosel. Accepting the invitation, or even replying, would open the door to a reconciliation, and that was something her father had no desire for, not even if it meant a reunion with his only living child.
With most of the guests unable or unwilling to attend, the wedding feast was a small affair, held in the hall of the keep. Guy made it to the service, but the journey took a toll on him since he flat-out refused to arrive at the church in the back of a cart. It was the first time he’d been astride a horse since the battle, and although he put on a brave face, Kate saw him wince with pain when mounting and dismounting. Guy could hold the reins with his left hand but couldn’t manage the rest without putting weight on his injured arm. He cradled it all through the wedding ceremony but smiled warmly at Kate whenever their eyes met on the ride back. Kate asked Guy several times if he was all right, annoying Hugh with her fussing, but Guy assured her that he was well, and very happy for the newly-wed couple.
Guy refused to return to his room to rest after church and insisted on remaining downstairs for the celebratory feast, but he barely did justice to the meal Joan had prepared for the special occasion. There were several courses, including roast capon, baked fish, and mutton prepared on the spit, followed by a variety of sweetmeats and stewed fruit sweetened with honey and sprinkled with cinnamon, a spice worth its weight in gold and used only on the most special of days. Toast after toast was drunk to the happy couple, and Kate suspected that only a large quantity of wine kept Guy from howling with pain and crawling off to bed.
Kate was relieved when it was finally time to retire. Hugh had consumed too much wine and mead to trouble her with his attentions, and she looked forward to taking off the gaudy gown he’d insisted she wear and enjoying at least eight hours of alcohol-infused oblivion. The gown was a rose pink silk—a color Kate detested, but had been talked into by Eleanor and Mistress Reynolds—with a bodice liberally adorned with gold thread and gemstones. Kate knew she was being ungrateful, since Hugh had been very generous and complimentary of her purchases, but wished only to wear the two day gowns she’d ordered, one of deep blue wool and the other of rust-colored velvet. She’d tried to insist on an unfashionably high neckline and no adornment, but Eleanor and Mistress Reynolds had bullied her into agreeing to fur trim and a lower neckline, to please her lord. Still, the gowns were the mostdemure garments she owned, and she planned to wear them until they fell apart at the seams.
Once the wedding was behind them, Kate had to face a new hurdle—her increasingly uncomfortable relationship with Eleanor. While William was alive, Eleanor had been the undisputed mistress of the house, but now that he was gone and his title had passed to Adam, she still believed herself to be in charge. Kate supposed that as the mother of the next baron, Eleanor was well within her rights, but Hugh saw himself as the master—being that Adam was only four and could hardly be the head of the family—and he expected Kate to act the part of the mistress. Sensing Eleanor’s growing resentment, Kate decided to diffuse the tension by presenting herself in the kitchen early one morning wearing her old sack gown. A morning away from Eleanor was just what she needed, and she was sure that given time apart, Eleanor might come to value Kate’s companionship more.
“Good morrow, Mistress Catherine,” Joan greeted Kate with some surprise. “Is there aught I can help ye with?”
“No, it is I who’ve come to help you, Joan.”
“I’m coping just fine.” Joan looked defiant, as though taking Kate’s offer of help as a suggestion that she was failing in her duties.
“I didn’t mean to imply that you weren’t,” Kate rushed to reassure her. “The truth is that I was busy from dawn till dusk at the priory, and I enjoyed the work. I long for something to do, Joan. Please, allow me to assist you in some small way. Surely there’s something you’d like help with.”
Joan gave Kate a gimlet stare but quickly relented. She was getting on in years, and there was too much to do for two people. Aileen assisted Joan with the simpler tasks, like fetching water, washing out the crockery, and wringing out the laundry, but Joan did all the cooking and baking. Joan also made sure that every bedsheet, spoon, and morsel of food was accounted for. “Do ye enjoy baking, Mistress Catherine?”
“Please, call me Kate. And yes, I do enjoy baking. Shall I get started on the bread?”
“If ye like.”
Joan didn’t comment, but Kate was aware of her watchful stare as she mixed the ingredients, kneaded the dough, and shaped it into loaves. Kate carefully placed the loaves in the opening beside the hearth used for baking and turned back to Joan, eager for the next task. She was surprised to catch Aileen’s baleful stare.
“Fetch some water,” Joan said to the girl. She spoke loudly and made a gesture as if she were lifting a bucket to clarify her instructions. Aileen turned on her heel, grabbed the bucket, and left.
“She’s in a mood,” Joan commented. “Should be grateful to have a roof over her head and plenty to eat.”
“Is she upset about something?”
“How should I know? Not like she tells me. I tell ye, it’s lonely having no one to talk to all the long day. Aileen is like a shadow. I’d much rather have a nice, friendly lass to help me with the chores.”
“What will happen to her? Once she gets older, I mean,” Kate asked. Aileen was on the cusp of womanhood and might be wondering what life at the keep had in store for her.
“I don’t rightly know. It’s up to Hugh, I suppose. That girl isn’t much use to anyone, is she?”
“Well, I don’t know about that. She’s deaf, but she’s not slow-witted.”
“No, she’s sharp as a knife when it suits her.” Joan peered at the browning loaves. “Did ye bake at the priory?” She appeared to be satisfied with Kate’s bread-baking skills and seemed open to allowing her to undertake other tasks.
“I didn’t do much baking, but I learned how to do it as part of my training. Every nun and postulant had their assigned tasks, and mine was milking the cows and tending the vegetable garden. I also helped with the pickling and the making of jams and jellies.”
“Is that so?” Joan seemed impressed. “If ye’re still eager for something to do, mayhap ye can help me with that come autumn. I spend half me time preparing supplies for the winter months, and Aileen ain’t much use. More jelly ends up in her mouth than in the jar.”
