I was amused and elated to see that the wine was having its effect on them and I guessed that they would be easier to handle in such condition than they would be completely sober.
The minstrels played most of the time and there was one with a pleasant voice who came down from the gallery and sang a love song standing before the table and addressing his words to me and to Jake Pennlyon.
While the guests were eating confections of sugared spices and marchpane Jake ordered that a dance should be played, and taking me by the hand, he led me into the center of the hall.
The others fell in behind us. Jake was not a good dancer, but he knew the steps and we circled, came back to each other and touched hands as we danced; and when the dance was over he drew me to a bench where we were a little apart from the company. He continued to grip my hand.
“This … is what I wanted from the moment I saw you.”
“Then your wish has been granted,” I said.
“The first wish. There are many to come. But they are on the way. We are as good as wed. You well know that this ceremony is binding. If you wished to marry anyone else you would have to get a dispensation from the church. You are bound to me.”
“It is not so. There has been no ceremony.”
“We are bound together. All you have to do now is accept your fate.”
“Why do you not take someone else? There are women here tonight who would mayhap be glad to take you. You are of means obviously. You would not be a bad catch for any who fancied you.”
“I have the one I fancy and who fancies me … why should I look beyond though she is perverse and feigns not to want me, that amused me … for a while? But I have had enough of it and I would have you show me your true feelings. I will take you around the house which will be your home. I will show you the rooms which will be at your disposal. Come now with me. We will slip away alone.”
“We should be missed.”
He laughed. “And if we were there would be smiles and understanding. We will have their indulgence. We are all but wed and the final ceremony will take place ere long. I want to take that comb from your hair. It has a Spanish look about it which I like not. Where did you get such a bauble?”
“A peddler brought it in his pack. I like it.”
“A peddler! Are they introducing plaguey Spanish fashions here now. We’ll not have that.”
“Know this. I shall wear what I wish.”
“Don’t tempt me or I shall take it from your hair here and now. That would shock your sister and her fine husband, I doubt not. But I’ll be discreet. Come! I will show you our marriage bed and you shall try it and tell me if it suits you. It will, Cat. I know it. Something told me from the start that you and I were made for each other.”
He attempted to pull me to my feet, but I said: “I wish to talk to you … seriously.”
“We have years for talking. Come with me now.”
I said firmly: “I don’t love you. I can never love you. I am here now because of your threats. Do you think that is the way to inspire love? You know nothing of love. Oh, I doubt not that you are a past master of lust, I’ll swear that many a pirate is. He ravages towns and the women in them; he forces submission, but that is not love. Don’t ever expect love from me.”
“Love,” he said, looking intently at me. “You talk fiercely of love. What do you know of it?”
I had difficulty in controlling my features then because I had a sudden vision of what I had dreamed life would be for me: Carey and I together. Our home would have been Remus Castle; I could see the park at Remus, the walled rose garden, the pond garden with its pleached alley, and beloved Carey, with whom I used to quarrel when I was a child—as I quarreled with this man now, only differently of course—Carey, whom love had made gentle and tender as this man could never be.
He had bent closer and was looking at me earnestly.
I said: “I have loved. I shall never love again.”
“So you are not the virgin I promised myself.”
“You sicken me. You know naught of love; you know only of lust. I have lain with no man, but I have loved and planned to marry, but it was not to be. My father and his mother had sinned together. And he was my brother.”
He studied me with narrowed eyes. Why had I attempted to talk to him of Carey? It had weakened me in some way, made me vulnerable. He had no pity for me; if he loved me, I thought, he would be tender now, he would be gentle with me. But he had no tender feelings for me; his need for me was nothing but desire, a determination to subdue.
He said: “I know much concerning you. It was necessary for me to discover what I could of my wife. Your father was a charlatan.”
“He was not that.”
“He was found in the crib at Bruno’s Abbey. The whole of England knew of it. It was said to be a miracle and then it was found that there was no miracle; he was the son of a wayward monk and a serving wench. Should I marry a charlatan’s daughter, the granddaughter of a serving girl?”
“Indeed you should not,” I retorted. “Such a refined cultured gentleman cannot be allowed to do such a thing.”
“But,” he went on, “this charlatan became a rich man; he was possessed of Abbey lands; your mother was of excellent family, so in the circumstances perhaps I might be lenient.”
“You surely would not wish a woman of such ancestors to become the mother of your sons?”
“Well, to confess, she hath a way with her which pleases me, and since I have gone so far as to become betrothed to her I’ll take her to my bed and if she pleases me I’ll keep her there.”
“She will never please you. Escape while there is time.”
“I have gone too far in this.”
“She would release you, I am certain.”
“The truth is that I am never going to release her and in a short time she will be mine so utterly that she will beg me never to leave her.”
“A pretty fiction,” I said. “I know it to be far from the truth.”
“Come with me now. Let us slip away. Let me show you what love is like.”
“You are the last from whom I could learn that. I shall stay in this company until we leave. And it must almost be time that we did so.”
“Tonight we will be together.”
“Tonight? How could that be?”
“Easily. I will arrange it.”
“Here?”
“I will ride back with you and you will open your window and I will climb through to you.”
“In my sister’s house!”
“Your sister is a woman. She will understand. But she need not know.”
“You still do not understand that I am not as eager for you as you appear to be for me. You know full well that I despise you.”
“Is that why your eyes sparkle at the sight of me?”
I stood up and went back to my seat at the table. He must perforce follow me.
Morris dancers had arrived. They had been engaged to entertain us and so they came into the hall in their Moorish costumes with bells attached to them and their capers were greatly applauded. They did a piece in which Robin Hood and Maid Marian figured and this was greatly appreciated. There was more singing and dancing, but at last the banquet and ball were over.
I rode back with Edward and Honey in their carriage, but Jake Pennlyon insisted on coming with us. He rode beside our carriage as he said he was not trusting his bride to the rough roads and any vagabond who might attempt to rob us.
I whispered to Honey: “He will try to come to my room. He has said as much.”
She whispered back: “When we get back to the house I will feign sickness and ask you to look after me.”
At Trewynd when we alighted from the carriage Honey put her hand to her head and groaned.
“I feel so ill,” she said. “Will you take me to my bed, Catharine?”
I said indeed I would and gave Jake Pennlyon a curt good-night. He kissed me on the lips—one of those kisses which I was beginning to hate and tried hard to avoid. I turned away and went with Honey to her room.