The Scandalous Duchess (26 page)

‘Yes, to Kettlethorpe. To see how the rebuilding is progressing. I may have a hall fit to receive visitors by the end of the summer. And to see the children, of course.'

The Beaufort children. For a moment I felt the weight of his regard full of compassion for me, the brief pressure of his fingers on my hand, acknowledging that my Swynford children were no longer all under my care. But John and Henry and Joan waited for me at Kettlethorpe with Thomas Swynford. I smiled, to reassure him that Blanche's death
was not about to reduce me to a bout of tears as it could still sometimes do.

‘You'll not see me in Kettlethorpe,' the Duke gave solemn warning. ‘The fleet's sailed and I must follow without more delay.' He led me round a stall selling pans and cooking pots. One of the pans fell to the floor, dislodged by a climbing child, the clang and roll making my mare skitter again, and John laughed. ‘I'll send you a gift.'

I caught his glance. ‘An iron pan?'

‘Do you want an iron pan? I cannot imagine why. But if that is what you want…Why give a woman something she will not make use of?'

‘Like a chain of rubies.' I nodded at the chain around his neck. ‘Your daughter Philippa once told me that you only give valuable gifts to people you don't particularly care for.'

‘Did she?' His eyes registered bafflement.

‘Like silver cups with lids.'

‘Have I ever given you one?'

‘Yes. But I think she's right.' I laughed. ‘So I'll have the iron pan and the wagon-loads of wood or the prime venison or the tun of wine…'

‘Well, it must prove something if I'm concerned for the roof over your head and your sustenance,' John admitted, still amused, still holding tight to my bridle, for the mare, scenting her stable now that we were in the environs of the castle, was keen to have her head and continue through the gateway. ‘I was not aware that Philippa was so observant.'

What was it that made me look up, away from him? Something caught at my senses in that moment, like the threatening drone of a hornet before it stings. Except that it was no wasp. It was no sound that alerted me. I looked
around at those who rode with us. The Mayor was occupied only with the list of complaints clutched in his fist, the merchants merely jostling for position. The priest might have drunk sour ale from the downturn of his mouth, but I had rarely seen him smile. I glanced at the Duke who had turned to cast an eye over an altercation between two men over the sale of a horse, and seemed entirely unaware.

There was nothing for my concern here. We continued on our way, until the street became uneven and I took control of my own creature again, falling behind at the parting of the ways when the conversation once more ranged over rents and tenancies, and then the ducal party was alone.

‘What is it?' John murmured, once more riding beside me on the final stretch, quick to pick up my unease.

‘I'm not sure. Perhaps nothing.'

There was nothing here to give me cause for worry, to spoil these last days. Once in the castle courtyard, as I slid from saddle to ground, Simon Pakenham, our Leicester steward, approached and bowed as he took the mare's reins from me.

‘I trust you enjoyed your day, my lady.' His voice and face were sombre, but then when were they not? Few of the Duke's officials were quick to approve of me.

And there was the Duke walking beside me.

‘Are you anxious over something?'

‘No. Not a thing. Except that you will leave me.'

Our leave-taking was passionate and bittersweet in private.

Don't leave me
.

Once I would have said it. Once I did. I no longer shamed myself or him by putting my longing into words. It was not
the life we led, to be together, to be able to map out the pattern of our days for month after month. What purpose in my dreaming over an existence where our days together could be enjoyed without interruption? What I knew was that wherever duty called him, he would return to me.

In private we allowed emotion to rule. In public he handed me over to my escort, formally putting me under their protection with a bow and acceptable words of farewell.

My journey to Kettlethorpe was without incident, my reunion with Agnes and the children one of noisy delight. Not even a pair of squabbling storm-crows on the new roof of my manor gave me pause for thought.

I had seen the little cavalcade of three horses and single baggage wagon from my chamber and idly watched it draw nearer. After two weeks at Kettlethorpe I had decided that Master Burton, Master Ingoldsby's young and enthusiastic replacement, had my new hall well in hand. It had no need of my supervision, leaving me free to return to my position at Hertford. I would take Agnes and the children with me. The days of hiding my Beaufort children were long gone. They would join the nursery at Hertford.

If I was not waylaid by chance visitors.

I held Joan in my arms, pointing out the newcomers. Master Burton would offer them ale and bread and chivvy them on their way. The need to return to Hertford had begun to lay an urgent hand on me, even though the Duke would not be there.

The travellers pulled into the courtyard, but not before, Joan still clutched hard against me, I was down the stairs and
standing beside the leading rider. They had barely drawn to a standstill.

‘What is heaven's name are you doing here?'

Not the most unctuous of welcomes but, as I very well knew, this visitor had no taste for Lincolnshire seclusion. She slid down to stand before me and it was only then that I saw the expression on her face behind the weariness of travel.

‘Philippa! What is it?'

I could not imagine what had brought my sister all this way from Hertford. And then when she simply looked at me without replying, terror rose in me, filling me to the brim like a winter storm drain.

‘Is it Margaret?'

‘No.' Briefly her expression softened. Blanche's death had touched us all. ‘Margaret is well. And my children too.'

‘Then the Duke—'

‘It nothing to do with the children or the Duke. No one's dead,' she interrupted. There was no mistaking the emotion in her eye, and it seemed to me that she had ridden the whole distance with some gnawing worry as her constant companion, a burr beneath her saddle that gave her no peace.

‘What has happened?'

‘The sky has fallen on your head, Katherine.'

‘What?'

Pale of face, jaw clenched, she was making no sense.

‘And all things considered, on my head too. I thought it better if I was not part of Duchess Constanza's household just at this moment.'

‘Why not?'

‘It is not something that I will discuss out here.'

‘There's no one out here to hear!'

Her servants had gone, Master Burton directing the horses to my smartly renovated stables. There was no one to eavesdrop apart from Joan who was more intent on watching the ducks marching across the grass behind me.

‘I would still prefer to say what I have to say in the privacy of four walls. The words are not ones I normally find a use for.'

I thought for a moment through the complicated weaving of my sister's thoughts, still unable to imagine the cause of her distress. There was only one possibility.

‘Is it Geoffrey?' I asked finally.

And she burst into tears.

Five minutes later we were in my chamber, my sister divested of her outer garments, seated on my bed with a cup of wine in one hand and a square of linen in the other. Her sobs had become mere hitches of breath although her eyes were still bright with tears and undoubtedly hostile. I sat beside her, Joan on the floor at my feet.

‘What has he done?'

‘Who?'

‘Geoffrey!'

‘It's not Geoffrey I've come about. It's you!' Philippa dragged a breath into her lungs and expelled it. ‘How could you be so stupid?'

It was as if she had struck me, a sharp open-handed slap.

‘What have I done?'

‘Only destroyed you reputation!'

‘No…' This must be some mistake.

‘Do you want me to tell you what is said and written about you?'

Not waiting for a reply, she told me. The words used against me filled my room with such vile hatred that I could barely stay enclosed within it, but as I stood, my sister's hand shot out to drag me back and anchor me next to her on my bed.

‘Listen to it, Katherine. See what you have done. This is what you have created. A monster. A whore.' Philippa did not spare me. ‘An unspeakable concubine. A foreign woman who lured the Duke into shameless fornication and adultery. A prostitute who seduced the Duke from his lawful wedlock.'

At first I was disbelieving. Of course the Lancaster household knew of the duality of my position, but never had I heard such a string of vicious epithets and I knew it would not be from Constanza's lips. To remain silent and circumspect would shield us all from widespread disgrace. Of course there would be talk outside the Lancaster walls, but from where had this diatribe been born?

‘Where has this come from?' I asked. ‘Surely no one would believe such nonsense.'

‘They would when it's from the mouth and pen of Walsingham!'

The name sent a shiver down my spine. Thomas Walsingham again, bitter priest and vile writer of letters. He had been silent since the mending of relations between the Duke and Parliament a year ago at the start of the new reign.

‘Walsingham? But why would he turn his wrath on me?'

‘You don't know?' Philippa's venom continued to pour out, her mouth ugly with her anger. ‘As I understand it, it was your stupid, stupid ride through the streets of Leicester. And don't tell me you didn't do it. I'm quite certain you did.'

‘Leicester?' What on earth had I done in Leicester to warrant such ignominy?

‘Yes, Leicester. Where you rode with the Duke!'

‘Of course I rode with him. But I don't see that it makes me a whore.' It was hard to make my tongue form the denunciation.

‘How could you have been so careless, Kate?'

‘Were we? We have always been careful not to draw attention—'

‘And I suppose his taking your reins and leading you back to the castle was the height of discretion. Is that what happened?'

And I saw it now in my mind's eye. My mannerless mare. The Duke's solution to an immediate problem. And I saw the intimacy of such an action between a man and a woman.

‘Is it?' Philippa repeated.

‘Yes. Oh, yes.'

‘Katherine, you fool.'

‘I did not think. The Duke did not think.'

‘And look where that has got you. You knew it would happen one day if you could not keep your lust in check.'

‘It was hardly lust to let the Duke curb a difficult horse.'

‘It was the height of stupidity to show the world that there is a deplorable intimacy between you.'

‘No! I don't accept that! Let me think.' I stood, pulling away from her now, to stand before my prie-dieu, but I could not kneel. This was no time for prayer. This was time for some cold hard facts and I allowed my mind to return to that day of such happiness in Leicester, when I had thought I had sensed an air of disapproval, and rejected it as my own imagination, looking for shadows where there
were none. I had allowed the Duke to seduce me with the bittersweet emotions of parting. I had refused to
see
.

But there had been shadows after all. Oh, I had not been mistaken, for I had sensed the atmosphere in that little group with conspicuous accuracy, as well as the disfavour in the eyes of the steward. But how had it grown from that minor shimmer of disapproval in the streets of Leicester to a thundering diatribe under the pen of the Duke's greatest enemy? Becoming too complacent in our love, we had forgotten the need for discretion and thus we had fallen into his hands. Our ride through the streets had offered him the opportunity for a vicious onslaught. But here was the surprise that caught at my throat…

‘But why would he cover my name with such filth?' I asked, looking over my shoulder to where Philippa still sat, folding and refolding the damp linen.

‘Because he is a hater of women as daughters of Eve. And what a weapon you put into his hand, the pair of you. Besides, it does not matter why he does it. The damage is done.'

We had become reckless in our love. Bold even. Careless of how the world would see us. Intense dismay washed over me, to destroy all my assurance and complacency. I could never be complacent again. I had become notorious.

‘Walsingham says you are a witch.' Philippa was not done with me yet.

My eyes snapped to hers.

Witchcraft? Here was a deluge of dangerous invective falling down on my head. What damage could Walsingham make in my life?

‘I am no witch.'

‘That's as may be. He says you are a promiscuous adulterer, not fit to be the governess of the Lancastrian princesses. Flaunting yourself, humiliating the beautiful and loyal Duchess who should be secure in her marriage…'

Anger began to burn, replacing fear.

‘He says that you are blatantly unashamed. And what's worse, you are of low birth. Can he find anything worse to say than that? I'll tell you if you think not. He says that—'

‘Be silent!'

Philippa subsided a little before my anger. ‘I thought you would wish to know.'

‘When you have finished lashing at me. Tell me what he says of the Duke.'

My guilt could not be measured. All my thoughts had been centred on what Walsingham had said about me, but what calumnies had he levelled at the Duke? If he saw me to be a worthy target, what fuel did our behaviour provide for Walsingham to use against the Duke of Lancaster? I shivered as Philippa delivered them in the same flat tone that she had used against me.

‘He has deserted his military duties in France for the sake of a sinful union. Any failure in England's campaigns will be placed at his door. And at yours.'