Virginia Henley (24 page)

Patrick indicated the arrow embedded in a tree trunk then regretted it as he saw the blood drain from her face. “It’s nothing to be upset about, Catherine,” he assured her in a calming voice. “Some of the ladies use bows to hunt. This is just a stray arrow. My fault for taking you away from the safety of the queen’s hunting party. No harm done.”

Cat masked her fear with anger. “No harm at all, except my hat is gone and my lovely white doublet smeared with dirt!”

“You are still more fashionable than all of them put together, and well you know it. Let me take you back to the queen.”

When he had safely delivered her to Queen Anne’s hunting party, Patrick circled back to get the arrow. Though he searched diligently, the arrow was gone! For a fleeting moment he wondered if it had just been a vision, then he saw the hole it had made in the tree and knew his enemy had retrieved it.

His suspicion immediately fell on a member of the Armstrong clan, but what perplexed him was that he had had no premonition of being stalked or even watched. His instincts had warned him only of the imminent threat, which was highly unusual, since danger had its own dire foreshadowing. A wry smile touched the corner of his mouth. Catherine was more than a distraction; his thoughts and his senses were filled with her. He must keep his wits about him. Was his enemy in the king’s hunting party or an outsider hiding in the woods? Either could take advantage of this gathering to commit murder and have it declared an accident.

Hepburn joined King James, who was literally frothing at the mouth over the delay. “This is the last time Annie an’ her lasses hunt the same day as us. Waesucks, but women can be a curse!”

Hepburn kept the incident to himself. James was ever fearful of assassination. Patrick scrutinized the hunters, but saw no bows. Most men hunted as he and James did, with dogs and knives. He allowed the inner eye of his mind to scan and search the nearby forests but could detect no trace of a lurking enemy. Either his foe was long gone, or it was a stray arrow from a careless female.
Aye, perchance pigs can fly!

At last the king’s hunt got under way and Hepburn, deciding that forewarned was forearmed, watched his back during the next hours.

When the king’s dogs failed to bring down a large stag, James demanded, “When are ye goin’ tae present me wi’ a pair of yer fine Scottish deerhounds, Patrick lad?”

When hell freezes!
“When Sabbath whelps, Your Majesty.”

Catherine was enjoying herself. For the most part the females who hunted with bows consistently missed their targets and had attendants to retrieve their arrows. She learned first-hand that what Liz had told her about the queen was true: Anne loved horses and dogs. She also took a keen interest in fashion, and when she learned that Cat’s mother was Mistress of Elizabeth’s Wardrobe, the queen plied her with endless questions.

“What do you wear beneath your divided skirt? Obviously not a petticoat,” Anne queried.

“But it is a petticoat, Your Highness. I simply slit it up the middle and stitched it into two legs.”

“But of course! How simple. I can tell you enjoy creating unique fashions, Lady Catherine. You must design for me.”

“It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”

Though the ladies did not bag much game, they thoroughly enjoyed their hours in the saddle on such a warm June day. Cat refused to seek out Hepburn before she and Geordie left Holyrood. She shrugged a careless shoulder and told herself that she didn’t give a damn that he hadn’t come to bid them good-bye.

As Catherine had arranged with Liz, their carriage followed the Careys’ to the Earl of Mar’s town house so that she could borrow a gown for the king’s upcoming birthday fete.

Liz ushered Catherine and Maggie to her bedchamber, and Geordie had a chance to get to know Robert.

“I know that yer father is Lord Hunsdon and you and I are somehow related through my daughter’s marriage. Explain it again,” Geordie requested.

“It sounds complicated, but it isn’t really. My eldest brother wed Beth Spencer and your daughter, Isobel, wed her brother, John.”

“Oh aye, it was yer brother’s wife, Beth, who introduced Isobel to Elizabeth’s Court. My daughter’s ambition was insatiable. Tell me, Robert, d’ye think my wee Catherine is happy there?”

“I do, Lord Winton. My sisters Kate and Philadelphia are Ladies of the Bedchamber, and Catherine is a particular favorite of theirs. There are half a dozen women who happily mother her.”

Catherine and Liz stood at the open wardrobe surveying an array of dresses and gowns. “I don’t want to take one of your favorites, because I will have to make certain alterations. You are much taller than I am, for one thing.”

“Choose whichever you fancy, darling, other than my wedding gown. The green with the Tudor roses is Robert’s favorite.”

“Oh, I love this peacock blue; it’s so vivid. If I wore such a shade at the English Court it would cause a scandal!”

“I admit such a dramatic color is more suitable for a widow than a maiden, but you may have it if you like. The waist is so narrow, I don’t believe I’ll ever get into it again.”

Cat looked at Maggie. “Mother would run mad!”

“That’s the one, then, Mistress Impulsive.”

Liz removed the gown from its hanger and Maggie folded it carefully. “Patrick has invited us to visit him before we go back to England, so we’ve decided to go to Crichton right after the king’s birthday. It would be fun if you’d come too, Catherine.”

Cat smiled. “I might if he begs.”

“Hepburn strikes me as a man who’s never had to beg.”

Cat remembered the females who’d fawned on him at Court.
No, damn him to hellfire!

 

During the next week Catherine finished designing the little girls’ princess dresses and gave the pretty pastel material to the children’s mothers. Cat had only been able to purchase yellow, pink and blue, and remembering that Jessica had said her favorite color was lavender, decided that the only solution was to use one of her own dresses of that particular shade. Cat did the cutting and Maggie did the sewing and before Jessica’s bedtime they presented the child with the dress of her dreams.

“It seems ye are determined to spoil my nieces.” Malcolm came upon the scene unexpectedly.

“Girls love pretty things. The look on their faces is most rewarding.” Cat was ready to challenge him.

“Such luxuries are costly. It must be gratifying to have unlimited means that enable ye to be so generous.”

Catherine did not tell him that Geordie had paid. She got the impression that would please him even less than if she had paid.

“Did ye enjoy yer visit to Holyrood?”

“It was different from the English Court, but I liked Queen Anne very much.”

“Really? Some of her so-called ladies are little better than strumpets. Even the married ones are said to be promiscuous.”

“Royal Courts are always rife with gossip,” Cat declared.

Maggie piped in, “That is why Queen Elizabeth surrounds herself with young ladies whose reputations are spotless.”

“Lady Catherine must have seemed a rose among thorns at the Scottish Court.” His glance moved from Maggie back to Cat. “I imagine many eligible nobles paid court to ye.”

“None that I am aware of, Malcolm,” she assured him.

As Maggie climbed into the pony cart, Cat took up the reins to drive them back to the castle. “He takes a keen interest in my finances as well as any admirers I might have.”

“He is most likely smitten with ye, my lamb. Your virtue is obvious, and gossip has it that his late wife was unfaithful.”

“Men often become smitten with heiresses.” Cat thought of her friend Arbella and the avaricious Will Seymour.

“I believe ye’re in danger of becoming cynical,” Maggie warned.

“I warrant ’tis better to be cynical than hopelessly naïve!”

The next few days were devoted to the clothes Catherine would take to Court for the king’s birthday celebration. This time she fully intended to look sophisticated rather than demure. Since the peacock blue gown was far too long for Cat, she removed almost six inches at the front and where the back formed a train she cut off at least a foot. Then with the material she fashioned a fan-shaped ruff and wired it so that it would stand upright to frame her head from behind. Cat had designed this new fashion for Queen Elizabeth and knew it had never been seen at the Scottish Court.

“Tis beautiful material. Sometimes it looks blue and then it changes to green. The neckline is very revealing, my lamb. Are ye sure you don’t want me to raise it a bit?”

“No, no, the whole idea of the fan-shaped ruff is to display jewels upon an expanse of deliciously curved breasts,” Cat teased.

“Men have a tendency to taste delicious things.”

“Maggie, you shock me to the core,” she said demurely.

“Well, it cries out for a necklace. All ye have is pearls.”

“I like pearls. They are eminently suitable for a maiden.”

“I think I’ll remove some of the crystal droplets from one of yer white gowns and sew them on the sleeves to make ye glitter.”

“Brilliant idea, Maggie. I’ll cut; you stitch.”

The next day Catherine was surprised to see Jenny Hepburn riding with Andrew. “Jenny, I’m so glad to see you.”

Jenny dismounted and said softly, “Andrew asked my father for permission to take me riding.”

Cat glanced up at Andrew and saw that he had a bow and a quiver of arrows slung across his back. “Oh, are there archery butts at Seton? We have them at Whitehall. Elizabeth enjoys the sport.”

“No real butts; we just use a hay bale or a tree to practice. I promised to teach Jenny to shoot a bow. Please join us.”

Cat cocked an eyebrow at her friend, who nodded with enthusiasm. They waited while she had her mount saddled, then the three rode to a wooded area and dismounted in a clearing.

Using an old tree stump at the far end as a target, Andrew demonstrated his skill with the bow.

“You are an expert archer!” Catherine praised.

“Nay,” he said modestly. “I have some skill with the bow, but my cousin Malcolm is the expert. He’s a master hunter.” He offered the bow to Jenny and handed her an arrow, then he placed his arms about her to show her how it was done.

Andrew’s bow was as tall as Jenny and she could hardly pull back the string. Cat knew she did not even have as much strength as Jenny, because her arms were shorter. “We cannot manage a man’s bow, Andrew. The ladies at Court hunted with smaller bows.”

Andrew took his hunting knife and cut some long straight branches from a larch tree, then with twine from his saddlebags he fashioned each of them a four-foot bow. Once again he put his arms about Jenny and nocked one of his arrows for her. It went far of its mark and Cat suspected that Jenny only pretended she needed more instruction.

They enjoyed an hour’s practice, and after, Catherine invited them both to join her for dinner at Winton Castle.

“I’m sorry, but we cannot. I promised to have Jenny back at Crichton before the afternoon sun started to sink.”

“Of course ... perhaps another time. May I keep a couple of your arrows so I can practice my marksmanship?” Catherine watched them ride off side by side and wished she were going to Crichton.

That night when Cat went to bed she still felt a wistful longing she was afraid to explore. Once she began to dream, however, her reticence was swept away. She found herself back at Whitehall reliving the time when Henry Somerset had invited her to join him at the archery butts to give her a lesson. This time, though, Jenny, not Arbella, was her companion. Catherine was acutely aware that Patrick Hepburn stood close by, casually leaning on his six-foot bow.

The first thing that Cat noticed was that Hal Somerset’s bow was quite small, more suited to a youth.