A Rose for the Crown (17 page)

“’Tis a pity only boys can inherit property, Master Haute, is it not? Will Ightham pass to a nephew or a cousin?” George asked guilelessly. “I do not know your family.”

“But, George, there is no law against women inheriting property,” Richard responded innocently. “Where did you get that idea? My Anne is named in my will, and Ightham will one day be hers, in fact.”

Richard thought back to that conversation as their ramble continued and ground his teeth for falling into such a simple trap. Soon after that revelation, George had turned his full attention on Anne, and poor Anne was easy prey. Her eyes never left the boy’s face. She blushed every time he came into her presence, and she became tongue-tied when he addressed her. As a father, he knew not whether to scotch the relationship outright and risk breaking his child’s heart or grin and bear a son-in-law he was beginning to dislike. True, he liked the boy’s father well enough and knew Anne would not be averse, but . . . He could not put his finger on the anxiety he felt, so he resolved to talk to Elinor about it that night. For once, he could not fathom which way his wife’s mind was turning, but he knew she was watching the young couple as closely as he. In the end, a second son would not be good enough for his Anne, he knew.

At the same time, he could not help but be amused by Kate’s antics to attract George’s attention. She dropped a kerchief in his path and batted her eyelids shamelessly at him when he picked it up and handed it back to her. She urged him to race her along the path by the stewpond and matched him stride for stride until the end, when she purposely let him win, pretending she was winded so that he must put his arm around her to support her. What a little minx! Richard chuckled. It must be killing her to see George fawn on Anne like this.

The final day of George’s visit was a day full of joy and sorrow for Kate, and she felt guilty for rejoicing that Richard and Elinor had turned George away without giving the young man hope of a betrothal with Anne. Her sorrow for Anne was matched only by her joy at George’s change of heart. Once George had found out which way the wind blew, he had lavished his good-byes on Kate, pressing her hand to his lips.

“Adieu, my fair Kate,” he whispered. “Until next time!” allowing the impressionable girl to believe he had been in love with her all along.

Anne had refused to be there to say farewell and was weeping in her chamber. Richard knew in his heart that he and Elinor had done the right thing and that George was naught but a weak boy with an eye to an inheritance, but it was hard to hear his daughter spill her sorrow out onto her bedcovers.

Handsome George had cantered off down the lane with nary a backward glance, and both girls’ hearts had gone with him that day.

6
Ightham, 1463

G
eoff! Geoffrey! I know you are hiding here somewhere,” Kate called. She picked up her skirts and ran from tree to tree in the woods beside the upper lake. The stream that fed the lake was swollen after the night’s rain, and she chose not to cross it on the precarious stepping-stones. She ran along the edge, lifting her dress with one hand and holding her caul with the other to stop her unruly hair from flying out. She was so anxious to tell Geoff her news that she had not bothered to strap on her wooden pattens, and her leather shoes and wool stockings were wet and covered in mud. She knew she would be chastised by Elinor on her return but was too intent on finding Geoff to worry.

The tall beech and rowan trees gave her some respite from the sun, but they also caused shadows that could readily hide a boy. Kate was beginning to get impatient when a voice came out of the copper beech behind her.

“Ha, ha, my fine lady! You be too concerned with your muddy shoes to look up and see where I be hiding!”

Geoff clambered to the ground and stood with his legs apart, grinning
at his sister. He was tall for his nine years, with the promise of physical prowess, except for his arm. The year before, he had fallen from an apple tree and broken his left arm badly. It had not mended well, and its growth was forever stunted, severely compromising his ability to be of much use on the farm. Richard had offered to take the lad on as a page, promising to teach him his letters, so that he might learn to be a clerk. John was reluctant to let Geoff leave—even a one-armed field hand was better than none. However, John’s new wife, Joanna, urged John to let the boy go, arguing that Geoff would have a more promising future at Ightham. Besides which, Joanna was pregnant—she and John hoped for another son—and, Joanna pointed out, Geoff’s was a large mouth to feed.

The boy was devastated to learn of his fate. His world revolved around the seasonal routines of the farm; he and Johnny were very close and he felt safe there. He cried himself to sleep, praying that some act of God would save him from having to leave the home he loved. Then one early spring evening, he recognized the horse tethered to the hitching post in the farmyard. It belonged to Ralph, the groom from Ightham.

That was three months before, and Geoff’s instincts had been right. As a boy, he was expected to hold his own in the Haute household. He got none of the gentling Kate had had from Richard. When Elinor heard she was to put up with yet another Bywood child, she redoubled her efforts to make both siblings regret they had ever heard of Ightham Mote, this time concentrating most of her resentment on Geoff. He was a far more satisfying target, because he had none of Kate’s boldness nor was he under Richard’s constant protection. The boy was quick to learn his reading and writing, and when the chaplain complained about his willful pupil—which was often—Elinor took great pleasure in ordering a beating or assigning him more than his share of menial tasks, such as emptying the family chamber pots and cleaning the cooking pots, to “improve his character.” Geoff dared not complain to Richard about his treatment for fear of aggravating Elinor further. His only joys were found near his big sister and in the woods, where he went in secret to search for nature’s treasures.

“You do try my patience, Geoff,” Kate said crossly. “’Tis good news I
bring you, and now methinks I shall not tell it.” She pointed to the nest he was retrieving from the crook of a branch, and her interest was piqued. “What is it you have there?”

“If you tell me the news, then I’ll show you this,” he teased, hiding the nest behind his back. His impish twinkle and her own dirty shoes reminded Kate of that September day at the river when they had both been covered with mud.

“What be so funny,” Geoff complained. “You be hard to understand, sister. One minute you be angered and now you laugh. Truly, girls be hard to understand.”

“My muddy shoes reminded me of Matty’s first birthday! Remember, when we both ended up in the river? Heavens, Mother was angered at me that day, was she not?”

Geoff grinned. “Aye, and Father. I remember it well.” He brought the nest out from behind his back and thrust it at his sister.

“So, what be the news you have for me?”

“In truth, I almost forgot! Cousin Richard has given his word that you and I shall travel home next week! ’Tis wonderful news, don’t you think?” Her eyes were shining as she took the nest and examined it closely. “Thrush,” she murmured. “I thought I heard one as I entered the wood.”

“Aye, it be a thrush’s, but the babies be long flown away. Home! You be jesting? ’Tis too good to be true!”

“Nay, I speak the truth. Joanna is close to her time, and I asked Cousin Richard if I might go to her for the birthing. Cousin Richard agreed that both of us should go, and we leave in a few days.” Both siblings stood silent for a moment, recalling their memories of the last birth at Bywood Farm.

It had taken him a year after Martha’s death, but John Bywood, being a practical man, knew he could not manage for long without a partner. Joan had married one of the field hands and moved to a nearby village, and Matty was only two and in need of mothering. Joanna was daughter of an innkeeper on the outskirts of Tunbridge, where John would stop to slake his thirst after market day. She was cheerful, buxom and sensible and had spent her life helping out at the inn. She was also a good cook and had an independent spirit.

On a previous visit by Kate to the farm, she and Joanna had become
acquainted, and Kate had been none too friendly. Joanna was not offended by Kate’s attitude one whit. She was her usual cheerful self, chattering to Kate as if she had known her all her life, and in a matter of days Kate had been won over.

“I shall never try to replace your mam, Kate,” Joanna said one evening as she prepared a rabbit for stew and Kate chopped some carrots. “I just want to be a good wife to your father and look after the young ’uns, and one day maybe”—she paused in the skinning and took a sideways look at Kate—“I shall hold my own child.”

Kate had smiled her understanding, and a bond was formed. She thought now of Joanna’s wish as she and Geoff walked back past the stew-pond. She was happy for the young wife but shuddered at the thought of witnessing another birth.

Anne was waiting for Kate at the far end of the courtyard, so Geoff waved cheerfully and ran off to the kitchens, hiding the nest under his shirt. When Anne caught sight of Kate’s muddy hem and shoes, she began wringing her hands in her apron pocket.

“Kate! Look at your shoes! I cannot bear to see Mother angry with you again. She has been calling for you this past half hour to cut more herbs for the dispensary.”

“Fiddle-faddle!” Kate used her favorite expression airily. She looked down at her shoes and then at Anne’s anxious face. “What shall I do, dear Anne? I have no wish to cause trouble with your mother.”

“If you go into the herb garden now, Mother need not know where your shoes took on the mud. ’Tis for certain muddy, too.”

Kate gave Anne a brilliant smile. “Thank you, cousin. You are so clever.” She was rewarded by a blush of pleasure.

I
T
WAS
RAINING
HARD
when Ralph, Geoff and Kate trotted up the lane towards Ivy Hatch. Ralph was none too pleased at having to ride to the Bywood farm in such conditions, but the brother and sister had already waited a day for the weather to change, and when it seemed there was no letup to the rain, Richard ordered Ralph to saddle up and go, rain or no rain. Richard was also sparing Ralph for the haying at Bywood Farm for a few days. As head groom, Ralph considered haying beneath him, but he had developed a kindly feeling for the Bywood family during his brief
visits there and did not mind helping John. Besides, Richard gave him extra payment for his labor, so he went quite willingly.

By the time the riders reached the low Weald and made their way through more cultivated land, they were soaked through. Kate sang to herself to try and keep her mind off the cold, clammy clothes that clung to her like a mustard poultice left to cool, and Geoff curled his body under Ralph’s protective cloak on their shared horse.

When he began to recognize landmarks, Geoff begged Ralph to put the horse to a fast trot for home. Ralph smiled and humored him. Kate followed at a distance, not wanting to arrive completely spattered with mud from the leading horse. Within a few minutes, they were clattering into the familiar farmyard, sending chickens flying and Fenris into a tail-spin of joy. They had arrived in time for the midday meal, and Ralph was pleased with himself for covering the miles so quickly. The front door flew wide, and Johnny and Matty came running out to greet their siblings while John and Joanna stood on the doorstep, calling their welcomes.

Johnny swung Kate down and clamped his arms around her waist.

“Johnny, Johnny, you do take the breath from me, I swear!” Kate laughed and kissed him. Then he turned to Geoff and thumped his brother several times on the back. Johnny was still the quiet one, while Geoff, now in his element, jumped up and down with Fenris, pumping his brother’s hand.

Matty hung back shyly.

“’Tis good to see you, sweeting. Let me look at you.” Kate bent down and appraised her little sister. In a few months she would turn four. She had lost her toddler chubbiness and now looked like a diminutive version of Martha. Matty clung to the security of Joanna’s skirts, and Kate felt a twinge of sadness, remembering that at one time Matty had come to her for comfort. Joanna marshaled Geoff and Matty into the kitchen and out of the rain, while Johnny and Ralph took the horses to the barn, shooing some chickens out of their way. John had held back in his quiet way, but as soon as she saw him, Kate was in her father’s arms, savoring the warmth of his embrace. Then she remembered Joanna standing by and turned to greet her stepmother respectfully. Joanna laughed, because Kate could not get near to kiss her cheek as Joanna was very big with child.