The Unconventional Maiden (12 page)

‘Good,’ said Gawain. ‘I will make you known to him.’

As they approached the hall, their ears were assaulted by the sound of viols, recorders and bagpipe. The rhythmic sound of feet clumping on the floor shook the building. There was a hum of voices, as well as those raised in song. It struck Beth that everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves. Even James’s priestly brother had a smile on his face. He was standing next to Catherine, who was chattering away to him. She was about to point them out to Gawain when he surprised her by leading her on to the floor and they joined one of the sets for a country dance.

Beth had never thought she would enjoy herself so much, but she found such pleasure in dancing with Gawain, that she was unaware how many pairs of eyes were turned on the pair of them. Not that she danced solely with him as there were several traditional country dances and the movement of the dance involved processing in such a way that changed one’s partner several times.

It was during one such dance that Beth came face-to-face with Master Bigbury. He looked delighted to see her.

‘Mistress Llewellyn, I did not think I’d get to meet you like this. Let me introduce myself,’ he said eagerly.

‘I know who you are,’ said Beth in a friendly manner. ‘Sir Gawain spoke well of you, Master Bigbury. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, although I do believe the dance is hardly the right place for us to converse.’

‘Aye, you’re perfectly correct,’ he said hastily. ‘I will speak to Sir Gawain about dropping by at Raventon if that is acceptable to you?’

‘Of course, I look forward to seeing you,’ said Beth, knowing she lied.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the movement of the dance took him away from her and she found herself confronting Gawain once more.

‘I saw you talking to Master Bigbury,’ he said.

‘He is going to ask your permission to call on me,’ said Beth with a wry smile.

‘You agreed then,’ said Gawain, surprised.

‘Aye, as it will be good practice for me. I will converse with him as long as I am chaperoned by your aunt,’ she said with aplomb.

‘I would not allow him to speak with you, otherwise,’ said Gawain, amused.

When the dance came to an end and Gawain went to speak to Master Bigbury, Beth hurried over to where Catherine sat alone, pale-faced and gazing into the distance. ‘Are you feeling ill?’ asked Beth.

‘A little faint. It is so hot in here,’ said Catherine, fanning herself with her hand.

Beth felt worried about her because she was a person who never complained. ‘Would you like to go outside?’

Catherine nodded and Beth helped her to her feet and, arm in arm, they left the hall. They went into the garden and sat on a bench overlooking the river. Both were silent for a while and then Catherine sighed. ‘My heart is heavy. I used to be extremely fond of Father Hugh, well before he became a priest. Earlier when I was speaking with him, I forgot that he was no longer the young man I used to know. I spoke of matters that were burdening me, but I should have kept them to myself.’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ asked Beth.

Catherine shook her head and stood up. ‘If you will excuse me, Beth, I must speak with my nephew.’

Beth could see she was really worried. ‘Of course. Would you like me to come with you?’

Catherine shook her head and walked away.

Beth wondered what it could be that was bothering Catherine so and hoped that Gawain could ease his aunt’s mind. As for herself, she remained where she was, gazing out over the river and thinking of Gawain and how it felt when his arm had slipped about her waist and he had held her close during the dance. She closed her eyes and could almost feel his lips on hers before trailing a path down the side of her face and her throat. Then she heard footsteps behind her; thinking it might be Gawain, she turned her head. Her smile faded as she saw that it was the priest.

He was staring at her in a way that made her feel ill at ease, then suddenly he gave a wolfish grin and fear trickled down her spine.

B
ut when Father Hugh spoke, his words were commonplace and not frightening at all. ‘Good evening, Mistress Llewellyn. I see you are making the most of this charming location.’

‘Aye, it is hot and noisy inside, but I must not linger as my guardian will be wondering what has happened to me,’ said Beth, a hint of breathlessness in her voice as she stood up. She felt less scared, but was convinced she had seen him before this day and intuitively knew the memory was not a good one.

‘I will not keep you long.’ His elongated eyes appeared to be silver slits in this light. ‘I was greatly saddened to hear of the deaths of your menfolk.’

‘You knew them?’

‘I visited the shop in Pater Noster Row once or twice to purchase books.’

‘So that is where I have seen you before,’ said Beth slowly.

He looked startled. ‘You have a good memory as you must have only been a young girl at the time. Jonathan’s passing must have been a great loss to your father. Such a clever and witty young man, if wrong in his thinking on occasion.’ He pursed his lips and, for a moment, Beth thought he was going to say something more about her half-brother, but when he spoke, it was only to say, ‘And your father gone, too, now. A double tragedy for you, Mistress Llewellyn. No doubt you will be seriously considering selling his business now you are in the market for a husband.’

‘Did my guardian tell you that?’

‘Who else?’

‘Then perhaps you should have asked him that question.’ Beth was unconvinced that Gawain had discussed the matter with the priest. It was more likely to have been Catherine after what she had said earlier to her. ‘Now if you will excuse me, Father Hugh, I really must return to the house.’

He put out a hand and clutched her sleeve. ‘Dally a little longer, daughter, and tell me if Sir Gawain has got any further in his search for their murderer?’

‘Why did you not ask him yourself?’ said Beth, noticing that the priest’s fingernails were long, like a falcon’s talons, and she wanted to shake off his hand.

‘Alas, Gawain is not prepared to discuss the matter, not even with his father’s old friend.’

Beth’s throat was suddenly tight with emotion. Where was this priest’s compassion that he should persist in his questioning? ‘You deem he would talk to me, a grieving daughter, about it?’ she asked.

She could see that her reply surprised him. ‘You were dancing earlier so it appears to me that you have decided to leave mourning behind. Surely you want your father’s murderer caught?’ he said.

Beth felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘That goes without saying, but I am only a woman and leave such matters to Sir Gawain. Just as I accept what he says about my father approving of my behaviour here this evening. It was his will that I should take a husband, not mine.’

Father Hugh said sharply, ‘I watched you dance with your guardian. I do not know what he has been telling you about his wife, but he can never be free of her whilst she is alive.’

Beth was taken aback. ‘Why do you say this to me? It has never crossed my mind that he and I …’ Her voice trailed off because she knew that was a lie and it appeared to her that the priest saw more than she wanted him to. She had no idea what would have happened next if they had not been interrupted.

‘Father Hugh, by St George, what do you think you are doing?’ said Gawain angrily. ‘Unhand my ward immediately! You forget yourself.’

The priest released Beth instantly and faced Gawain, a slight smile playing about his thin lips. ‘Such fury, Gawain. I hope that you are not forgetting your position.’

‘I know exactly where I stand,’ said Gawain, his expression uncompromising.

‘Good.’ The priest fiddled with his sleeve. ‘I hope you have also remembered that the Cardinal is expecting
you to bring him up to date on what you might have discovered. I can tell you that his investigations in France came to a dead end. Is there aught you can tell me and I will pass a message on to him?’

‘I will seek an audience with the Cardinal when I am ready,’ said Gawain.

Father Hugh clicked his tongue against his teeth. ‘I am only trying to help you, my son, but I can see that you have inherited your father’s unwillingness to accept the truth, so I will leave you.’ His robes brushed the ground as he swept past Gawain.

Once he was out of earshot Gawain turned to Beth and took her by the shoulders and gazed down at her with concern. ‘If it were not that he was a priest I would have punched him for his behaviour towards you. Did he force you into telling him anything? I know he used to scare me when I was a lad, but I always tried to conceal it.’

‘He did scare me, but I responded to his questioning by referring him to you,’ said Beth, feeling safer now and wanting to rest her head against his chest and have his arms around her but knew she must not give in to her longings. Whilst dancing with him, she had forgotten about his wife, but Father Hugh had forced her to remember her existence.

‘Clever girl,’ said Gawain, his hands moving gently over her shoulders in a soothing manner. He knew he should be keeping his distance, but the need to touch her and give her reassurance was overwhelming.

‘He said I should not have danced with you.’

‘Apparently he said something similar to my aunt,’

said Gawain. ‘Do not mind what he says as he is priest to neither of us and should look to his own faults and the grand style in which he and his Cardinal live before he criticises others.’

Beth sighed. ‘I wanted to escape his company the moment he approached me. Close up to him, I knew that I had definitely seen him before. Then he told me that he had visited the shop to purchase books and had met Jonathan. My brother had little time for those in holy orders except Franciscans, whom he admired for their vows of poverty and obedience to Christ.’

‘Unlike Father Hugh,’ said Gawain grimly. ‘He is a member of that rich-and-proud hierarchy of the church and belongs to Cardinal Wolsey’s household, as you might have guessed.’

‘So what do we do now?’ asked Beth.

He held her gaze for several moments and then smiled. ‘You must stop fretting about all this and leave it in my hands. Master Bigbury has asked permission to call on you in a few days. We can also expect a visit from Pip Hurst with his brother’s journal.’

Beth’s face brightened. ‘It should make interesting reading.’

‘Let us hope so. And now my aunt would like to go home and I think we should go with her.’

‘Gladly will I leave,’ said Beth. ‘Father Hugh has quite spoilt my enjoyment of the evening.’

‘I must go to London and speak to the Cardinal, but I should be back in a few days,’ said Gawain, as they went to fetch his aunt.

Beth knew that she would miss him.

The following days had passed slowly and on the fourth day she woke late to be told that a message had arrived saying that Gawain was at the shipyard and would be home later that morning. Beth was glad to hear it because she was expecting a visit from Master Bigbury that evening. She wished now that she had not shown willingness to see him and said as much to Jane.

‘Describe him to me, Mistress Beth,’ said the maid, pouring hot water into the basin on the washstand.

‘He is a wealthy widower, landowner and brewer of beer. He is much older than me.’

‘And how do you feel about marrying a much older man?’

‘I am of a mind that would depend on whether we were able to come to some agreement about his letting me have my way,’ said Beth, picking up the jar of homemade liquid soap, perfumed with rose petals. ‘Which will mean my being able to spend time in Pater Noster Row in the running of my business.’

Jane looked startled. ‘But is that likely, Mistress Beth? Will he rather not expect you to organise his household and for you to be there for him when he comes home after a long day seeing to his brewery and his fields?’

‘Exactly, so I consider a match between us unlikely,’ said Beth, trying to work up a lather with the soap. ‘But I suppose I will have to go through the motions of being willing to give his offer fair consideration to please Sir Gawain.’

Jane agreed and asked what her mistress planned to wear today.

‘The russet gown and the cream-coloured chemise,’ replied Beth.

Once her
toilette
was finished and Beth had dressed and put on her slippers, she went downstairs, thinking that no doubt Catherine would have already broken her fast. It was as she thought and Beth was eating a solitary breakfast when there was a banging at the door.

Before she could get up and see who was there, it opened and a flaxen-haired young man stood in the doorway with a parcel under his arm. He smiled at Beth.

‘You are Mistress Llewellyn?’ he asked.

‘I am,’ she replied, returning his smile. ‘And you? Could you be Master Phillip Hurst?’

‘I am and I have brought you my brother Nick’s journal.’

She signalled to him to come forwards and saw that he had the same blue eyes as his oldest brother and was just as good-looking except his face was a little leaner. ‘Would you like a drink of ale?’ she asked.

‘Thank you,’ said Phillip. ‘May I sit down?’

‘Please do. Would you like some bread, butter and ham?’

‘Aye, indeed I would,’ he said, those blue eyes gleaming. ‘It seems an age since I left home and have had little to eat since.’

Beth noticed a servant hovering in the doorway and presumed that he had heard Phillip Hurst banging on
the door. She told him to bring some refreshments for their guest and then she gave her attention to Phillip once more.

‘I will not open the parcel just yet because I do not wish to get butter on the pages,’ she said, smiling, ‘but tell me, do you read?’

‘Aye, Father reckoned it was a necessity. I’ve read parts of Nick’s journal, but I’ve been kept busy in the shipyard whilst we’ve the long daylight hours, so I haven’t finished it.’

‘But that which you have read, did you find it interesting?’

He hesitated and then said cautiously, ‘There’s plenty of information about the Portuguese galleon he sailed on and he had adventures, but he writes about them in a way that lacks excitement. Perhaps he did not want to make too much of the danger so as not to worry our mother or Chris. He writes about the most fantastic happenings as if he were at home and just crossing the street in a storm, instead of which he is in the middle of a mighty ocean and almost loses his life.’

Her eyes twinkled. ‘You think you could write it better?’

Phillip hesitated, then nodded. ‘I tell stories.’

‘You mean you are a real storyteller?’

‘Since I was a boy I have created tales in my head.’

‘That is a real gift,’ said Beth admiringly. ‘Who doesn’t like a good story told by a gifted storyteller or a play-acted out by travelling players?’

His face lit up. ‘That is how I feel. I would like to
join one of the troupes such as those I have seen perform at the king’s palace of Greenwich.’

Beth could not conceal her surprise. ‘You have visited Greenwich Palace?’

‘Aye, the king is open-handed and extremely hospitable, appreciative of the ships that my family have built for him,’ said Phillip. ‘Although it is true to say that Henry likes to slip away with a few friends to his smaller palace of Eltham to hunt.’

‘And what does your brother think of your talent for storytelling?’

Phillip looked alarmed. ‘God’s blood, he doesn’t know! He is only interested in designing and building ships, as well as his home and family. He believes that’s all I should care about, too. He has it in mind to find me a wife this year. I have told him I am too young to settle down. Besides, I could not support a wife.’

‘How old are you?’

‘Seventeen. I suppose he’ll have his way if I don’t do something to prevent it,’ he said gloomily. ‘If I were not the youngest brother with scarcely any money of my own, unlike Nick, whose godmother left him her fortune, I would join a troupe of travelling players and roam the country having adventures of my own.’

An idea struck Beth and impulsively she said, ‘My guardian, Sir Gawain, is set on finding me a husband. I accept that I must marry if I am to bear a son as my father wished, but I would much rather be in control of the printing business he willed to me.’

‘‘Struth! I wish someone had left me a business, but no such luck,’ said Phillip.

‘Sir Gawain is of the opinion, and so is my maid, that most husbands will not allow me to do what I want,’ said Beth, gazing at him pensively. ‘But I deem someone, such as yourself, would do so if we came to an agreement that meant you could join a travelling troupe of players and have the adventures you so long for.’

Phillip chuckled. ‘If only that were possible, but I cannot believe you are serious.’

‘Why should I not be serious?’ asked Beth, her eyes dancing. ‘Would not a rich wife suit you?’

‘Aye, but I cannot see Sir Gawain allowing it.’

‘Why not?’ asked Beth, although she thought he was most likely in the right of it.

‘Because he will say that I am too young for you and it is a crazy notion.’

‘You are but three years my junior and he would have me off his hands sooner rather than later. He is of a mind to marry me to a rich old man, but I am not interested in money. What I need is a healthy virile young man who will give me a son.’

Phillip grinned. ‘Well, I suppose I could help you out there. I’ve never had a day’s sickness in my life. We could marry and I could go travelling whilst you busied yourself with the printing of books.’

‘What is this you are talking about?’ asked a voice behind Beth.

She started and turned to face Catherine. ‘I was proposing that Phillip marry me,’ she said boldly. ‘Do you not consider that a good idea, much better than marrying an old man?’

Catherine gazed at Phillip and breathed out a sigh.
‘If I stood in your shoes, I could certainly see why that idea would be so appealing, but I cannot see my nephew agreeing with it.’

‘I told you,’ said Phillip ruefully.

‘I know you did, but it’s possible that you both could be wrong. I must marry and Sir Gawain needs me off his hands,’ said Beth, clapping her hands.