Текст книги "Lion Triumphant"

Автор книги: Philippa Carr

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“We don’t have such ceremonies here,” said Jake Pennlyon. “We’re plain country folk.”

“My sister must behave in the manner expected by her family,” said Honey.

I smiled at her. Dear Honey, she was so grateful to me for protecting her and Edward from the malice of these Pennlyons.

I said: “We will walk in the gardens and keep in sight of the windows.”

I was surprised at myself. But I did want to do battle with him—though from a safe place it was true. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist the desire to tell him how much I disliked him.

His eyes lighted up. I wondered how much he understood of me.

As we went out together he said: “So we have escaped the dragon.”

“Honey is no dragon. She is merely observing the laws of propriety.”

“Laws of nonsense!” he said. “You and I are as good as married. ’Tis not as though I’d tumble you in the grass, get you with child and leave you.”

“In accordance I suppose with your usual practice.”

“’Tis a well-worn practice. But curb your jealousy. When I have you I’ll be content.”

“I doubt that.”

“The contentment?”

“I was thinking of the other.”

“Not trying to evade your responsibilities, I trust. It would go ill with you and yours if you did.”

“You are a cruel, ruthless man. You are a blackmailer, a rapist, you are all that good and honest men … and women … despise.”

“You are wrong. The men seek to emulate me; as for the women there are dozens of them who’d give ten years of their lives to be in your place.”

I laughed at him. “A braggart too.”

“You please me,” he said.

“I’m sorry for that.”

“Yes,” he went on, “you please me as I please you.”

“Your powers of perception are nonexistent. I hate you.”

“The kind of hate you have for me is very close to love.”

“You have a great deal to learn of me.”

“And a lifetime to do it in.”

“Do not be too sure of that.”

“What, trying to evade your vows!”

“Vows … what vows? You threaten rape; you blackmail. Then you talk of vows.”

He stopped short and pulled me around to face him. I was aware of Honey at the window and felt safe.

“Look me straight in the eyes,” he said.

“I can think of pleasanter sights.”

He gripped my arm in a manner which made me gasp.

“Please, will you remember that I am unaccustomed to physical violence? You will bruise my arm. You did so when you last gripped it.”

“So I left my mark on you. That is well. Look at me.”

I gazed up haughtily into those fierce blue eyes.

“Tell me now that you are indifferent to me.”

I hesitated and he laughed triumphantly.

I said quickly: “I suppose when one despises another person as I do you that could scarcely be called indifference.”

“So you despise me? You are sure of that?”

“Absolutely sure.”

“Yet you enjoy despising me. Answer truthfully. Your heart beats faster when you see me; your eyes have a sparkle. You can’t deceive me. I will have much to teach you, my wildcat. You will find me a very good tutor.”

“As no doubt many have before.”

“You should not be jealous of them. I would give up them all for you.”

“Pray do not deny yourself. Go where you will. Continue to tutor others. All I ask is that you leave me to myself.”

“Leave the mother of my sons?”

“They have yet to be conceived.”

“A matter which causes me great impatience. Let us escape the dragon … now.”

“I see what you mean by your tutelage. You have forgotten that I am not some tavern wench or serving girl. You would have to behave very differently if you wished to impress a lady of breeding.”

“I have not of course mixed in such circles as you. You might instruct me in the manners you expect and, who knows, I might try to please you … if you pleased me.”

“I shall return to the house now,” I said. “I have walked far enough.”

“What if I decided to carry you off with me?”

“My sister is watching us. Her husband would immediately come to my rescue.”

“Why should I fear them?”

“If you wish to marry me you could not create a situation which would be so ignominious that they could not ignore it. They would decide that you were an unsuitable husband.”

“In the circumstances…”

“In any circumstances,” I replied. “In a family like ours, the indiscretion at which you hint, if it came to pass, would mean that whatever the consequences we would avenge it.”

“You’ve a sharp tongue. Marry! Methinks you could become a shrew.”

“And a tiresome encumbrance as a wife.”

“To some men, yes. For me, no. I’ll force the venom from your tongue and make it drip with honey.”

“I had no idea you could turn such phrases.”

“You have yet to discover my talents.”

“I have had enough of them this day and will return to the house.”

He gripped my fingers.

“If you and I should marry you will have to learn to handle me more gently. You all but break my fingers.”

“When we marry,” he said, “I will treat you as you merit. And that is a matter for the very near future.”

I had wrenched my hand away and started to walk toward the house.

The Pennlyons left that afternoon. “How peaceful it is,” I said to Honey, “knowing that they are not so close.”

“What shall you do, Catharine?” she asked anxiously. “You could return home. We could say that your mother was ill. While they are away is the time to go.”

“Yes,” I said, “that’s the time.”

Then I thought: If I went he would come after me. Or worse still he would betray Thomas Elders. I pictured all those who had entertained the priest being brought before a tribunal.

Edward had many rich lands; very often those who had estates to be confiscated were the ones who suffered most.

I mentioned this to Honey and she grew pale. She knew it was true.

“I’ll not run away,” I said. “I’ll stay. I’ll find some way. I swear I will. Don’t worry. It’s bad for the child.”

I knew in my heart that I was enjoying my battles with Jake Pennlyon. It gave me a kind of inverted pleasure and although there were moments when I was afraid it was the sort of fear a child experiences, a fear of goblins and witches in the woods, terrifying but irresistible.

I would stay, I said.

Three days after the Pennlyons had gone I was at my window looking out on the Hoe when immediately below in the courtyard I saw Jennet; she was walking stealthily toward the stables and there was something concealed under her apron.

Luce looked after me now—poor ill-favored Luce whose left shoulder was higher than the right and who was more than ordinarily pockmarked. I missed Jennet in a way. Luce worked well and was devoted to me; Jennet had betrayed me and so started the whole affair with Jake Pennlyon, though I supposed he would have found some other way of starting it if that had not happened. But Jennet with her fresh young face and her soft sensual lips and thick untidy hair had interested me more. I wondered how far Jake Pennlyon had gone with Jennet. He would not be one to waste time courting a servant girl, I was sure.

And what was she doing now going down to the stables? Meeting some groom? I wanted to find out, so I slipped out of the house and went out by the small door into the courtyard.

As I approached the stables I heard voices. Jennet’s rather shrill one and others in a lowered tone.

I opened the door and there they were seated on the straw. Jennet had spread a cloth and on it were pieces of lamb and mutton with half a pie. With her were Richard Rackell and a stranger.

Jennet jumped to her feet with a cry of dismay. Richard stood up and so did the other, a dark-haired man whom I guessed to be thirty or more years of age. The men bowed; Jennet stared wide-eyed and fearful.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Mistress,” began Jennet.

But Richard said: “A peddler has called with his wares, Mistress. He has traveled far and is in sore need of food. Jennet brought him something to eat from the kitchens.”

“A peddler?” I said. “Why does he come to the stables?”

“He was on his way to the house and so weary that I said he should rest here awhile before taking his wares to the house.”

There was something dignified about Richard, interesting too. Moreover, the advent of a peddler was always exciting, more particularly here than at the Abbey. There we were not far from London and could take barge to the Chepe and buy from the mercers and lacemakers and merchants.

The peddler had come forward and bowed to me.

“His name is John, Mistress,” said Richard. “He craves your indulgence.”

The man bowed again.

“Can he not speak for himself?”

“I can, Mistress,” said John; and his voice reminded me of Richard’s.

“You have traveled far?”

“From the North,” he said.

“You should have gone to the kitchens. There they would have fed you. There was no need for the maid to steal food and bring it here.”

“’Tis not the fault of the maid,” said Richard gently. “’Twas I who sent her for food. Peddler John was footsore and sank into the straw to rest awhile.”

“Well, he can eat to his fill. And, Jennet, you may go and bring some ale for him to drink. He can come to the washhouse then, and there spread out his wares for us to see. Jennet, you may take him to the washhouse when he has eaten and I will tell Mistress Ennis that we have a peddler who wishes to show his wares.”

I found Honey and when I told her what had happened she was as eager as I to see what the peddler had brought. He spread out his pack. In it he had silks to make kerchiefs; he had trinkets and little boxes and combs. I saw a magnificent comb, to be placed in the hair and to stand so tall that it added three inches to the height.

I pounced on it and stuck it in my hair. Honey declared it was becoming.

I left her brooding over the peddler because I wanted to try the comb; and I thought of myself wearing it at the betrothal ceremony, which but a short while ago I was planning to escape.

I dressed myself in a russet velvet gown and I placed the comb in my hair and I liked it. I wanted to show it to Honey and was about to go to her, when it occurred to me that she might still be considering what the peddler had in his pack. I glanced out of the window and at that moment saw her with the peddler. He had rolled up his pack and they were talking earnestly. Then I saw her take him across the courtyard, through the door and into the house, not toward the kitchens but to that part where she and Edward had their apartments.

That was strange. When peddlers came they were not invited to that section of the house. They showed their wares and were refreshed and allowed to rest, while their mule or mules were fed and watered in the stables; after they had shown their goods to the mistress of the house they did the same for the servants. It was an occasion when the peddler called and an excitement to us all; but they were not entertained in the owner’s apartments.

I could only imagine that she had found something in his pack which she thought might please Edward, and was filled with curiosity to know what.

I went into the punch room, which I supposed was the most likely place to find them.

They were not there. I drew aside the curtain and mounted the stone stairs to the solarium. This was a large room with a curtain placed halfway which could be pulled to divide it. The curtains were pulled and I went through to the second room. There was no one there. Then I heard their voices and guessed where they were. At the end of the solarium was a door which opened into a small chamber and inside this chamber high in the wall was a peep—a star-shaped hole which was scarcely perceptible. Through this one could look down to the hall to see who was arriving.

The door of this chamber was now shut and as I walked toward it I heard the sound of voices.

They must be there.

“Honey,” I called. “Are you there?”

There was a short silence. Then Honey’s voice said: “Yes, yes, Catharine. We … we’re here.”

I opened the door. Edward and Honey were seated at a table and the peddler sat with them.

Honey said: “We were just about to look at the pack. I wanted Edward to see something.”

I said I would like to have another look at them. I bought some cambric to make a petticoat and Honey bought some needles and thread.

There was nothing of interest to Edward and I wondered why Honey had brought the peddler into the house.

Edward appeared to be rather tense and there was a pulse beating in his temple which I hadn’t noticed before.

Three nights after the day the peddler came I saw the galleon again. The Pennlyons were still away, but I expected them to be back at any time. I awoke as I had on that other occasion. It was three o’clock in the morning. I wondered what had awakened me. There was something going on. In my sleep I had been aware of unaccustomed sounds—or had I been half awake? The great harvest moon—almost full—shone into the room; I rose and went to the window: and there was the galleon in all its glory, its four masts clearly visible—the tallest and most majestic ship I had ever seen.

The Rampant Lion, dwarfed beside it, made me laugh. I wished that he could be here at this moment. How I should like him to see that other ship! But the idea of wishing that he could be with me for any reason whatsoever was so contrary to my wishes that I must laugh at myself.

Then I saw the boat on the moonlit waters; it was clearly making for the shore. I knew then that it contained someone from the galleon.

I could hear Jake Pennlyon’s voice: “By God’s Death, it would seem that you are describing a Spanish galleon.”

He hadn’t believed I had in fact seen what I claimed to. He had pooh-poohed the idea of a Spanish galleon daring to enter the harbor.

As I watched, the rowing boat disappeared as it had on that other night. I did not return to bed. I sat watching.

Half an hour passed. The galleon was still there. Then I heard movements below. I looked down and saw a light in the courtyard. Instinct told me that the movement below was in some way connected with the galleon. Something was happening and my curiosity needed to be satisfied. I wrapped a robe about me and putting on slippers, I descended the staircase and went down to the courtyard.

As the cool night airs enveloped me I heard voices—quietly whispering. I saw the lantern and there was Edward and with him a stranger. I slipped back into the house, my heart beating fast. I ran swiftly to the solarium chamber and looked down through the peep. Edward had come into the hall and with him was the stranger. I could see them only vaguely in the dim light. They were talking earnestly; then Edward led the stranger up the stairs to the punch room and I could see them no more.

I was bewildered, but I was sure that someone had come from the Spanish galleon to see Edward.

I went to my room. The galleon had started to move. I stood there watching as she slipped below the horizon.

I was possessed by a sudden fear. Edward, who seemed so gentle, was involved in some intrigue. That much was obvious. Where would it all lead us? So far his association with the visiting priest had brought me to a situation which was distasteful and would have been alarming if it had not been so ridiculous. At the same time it was not going to be easy to extricate myself from the Pennlyon web.

I went back to bed. Sleep was impossible. I had a glimmering of what this night’s visitation meant.

No, I told myself. Edward would not be such a fool. He is too gentle, too much a dreamer. But it was precisely men such as he who placed themselves in dangerous situations.

I spoke to Honey next morning.

“What happened last night?” I demanded.

She turned first red and then quite pale so I was aware that she knew something.

I went on: “I saw the Spanish galleon in the harbor.”

“A Spanish galleon! You were dreaming.”

“Not this time. I saw it and there was no mistaking it. And that was not all. Someone came ashore, someone who came to this house.”

“You were dreaming.”

“I was not. I saw a man come here. Honey, I am involved with your follies. Have I not placed myself in a desperate situation because of you? I won’t be in the dark.”

She looked at me steadily for some moments and said: “I will be back in a moment.”

She came back with Edward. He looked very grave, yet his lips were firmly set as though he were determined to continue with what he had begun.

“Honey has told me that you saw something last night. What exactly was it?”

“A Spanish galleon in the bay, a boat rowing ashore and your bringing a man into the house.”

“And you surmise that the man you saw was the one who came ashore?”

“I am certain of it. And I do wonder what is happening.”

“We can trust you, Catharine. I know what a good friend you have been to us both.”

“What are you doing, Edward? Who is the man who came here last night?”

“He is a priest.”

“Ah, I thought it. Have you not had enough of priests?”

“They are good men who are persecuted in God’s name, Catharine.”

“And bring persecution to others,” I murmured.

“We must all suffer for our faith if called upon to do so.”

“It serves no purpose these days to stand in the marketplace and declare that faith, particularly if it is against that favored by the Sovereign and her ministers.”

“You are right and you must know what is happening. Honey and I think that you should go back to the Abbey. We may be in some danger here.”

“There is danger everywhere. Tell me who the man was who came last night.”

“He is a Jesuit priest. He is English. He has been persecuted for his faith. He comes from Salamanca in Spain.”

“And he was brought here on the galleon?”

Edward nodded. “He will work here for the good of his faith. He will visit houses…”

“As Thomas Elders does,” I said.

“First he will stay here with us.”

“And so place us in jeopardy.”

“If God wills it.”

“Is he here now?”

“He left the house in the early hours of the morning before the servants were astir. He will arrive today in the midafternoon. I shall greet him as a friend and he will stay with us awhile until he makes his plans. He will be known as John Gregory, a friend of my youth. He will be a member of this household until he departs.”

“You are placing us all in dire danger.”

“It may well be, but if we are discreet we shall be safe enough. If you wish to return to the Abbey, Catharine, you should do so.”

“And what will the Pennlyons do then, think you? What if I flout them? If I go home while they plan a ceremonial betrothal feast do you think they will calmly accept this?”

“They must do what they will.”

“And Thomas Elders and your Jesuit and Honey and yourself?”

“We must look after ourselves. What happens here is none of your making.”

Honey was looking at me earnestly. “We will not let you marry Jake Pennlyon if you are so set against it.”

“If I am set against it! I hate the man. How could I be anything but set against it?”

“Then we must devise a plan and the best seems for you to leave here and, as Edward said, if they make trouble they must then make it.”

I did not answer. I had decided against going back to the Abbey. I was not going to let Jake Pennlyon think I had run away. I would stay and face him; I would outwit him in my own way.

Meanwhile, Edward and Honey were getting deeper into intrigue and I trembled for them.

That afternoon John Gregory arrived at the house. He was greeted as an old friend by Edward and was given the red bedroom with the big four-poster bed and a window which looked out over the country for miles.

He walked with a limp and there were scars on his left cheek and on his wrists. He was tall and stooped a little and had a certain haunted expression in his eyes which I could not forget.

He looked to me like a man who had suffered. A fanatic, I decided, who might well suffer again. Such people made me uncomfortable.

The servants appeared to accept the explanation of his visit. I watched them carefully to see if there was any suspicion, but I missed Jennet, who was such a chatterer and had often unconsciously let me into the secrets of the servants’ quarters. Luce was efficient but taciturn, and I thought then of reinstating Jennet. She was contrite. I was beginning to doubt my motives, though, and I was not sure whether the sight of her angered me because she had betrayed me or because I couldn’t stop thinking of Jake Pennlyon’s laying his lustful hands on her and wondering, of course, whether he had seduced her already.

I did, however, take her back with me the day after John Gregory came.

I lectured her a little. “You will serve me, Jennet,” I reminded her. “If you ever lie to me again I shall have you beaten.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she said demurely.

“And you should be warned not to listen to men’s tales. They will get you with child and then what will happen to you, do you think?”

She blushed scarlet and I said: “Remember it.” I could not bring myself to ask her for details of what had happened between her and Jake Pennlyon because I told myself it was undignified—and yet in a way I did wish to know.

A day passed. I knew that the return of the Pennlyons could not long be delayed. The period of respite was coming to an end.

The Pennlyons were back. One became aware of it at once. Even the servants seemed excited and the tension in Trewynd had increased. Since they had returned the presence of John Gregory in the house had become more dangerous.

It was not long before Jake came riding over. I was expecting him and was prepared. I had told Honey that on no account must she leave us alone together.

He sat in the hall drinking wine. Edward, Honey and myself watched him intently. He seemed bigger, more overbearing, more arrogant and sure of his ability to get what he wanted than I remembered even. I felt the surging hatred rising in me, bringing with it that wild excitement.

The betrothal ceremony was taking place in three days’ time, he announced.

“It’s too soon,” I said.

“Not soon enough,” he corrected me.

“I shall need to prepare.”

“You’ve had all the time I’ve been away to prepare. You’ll have no longer.”

So he was commanding me already.

“The wedding takes place two weeks later,” he said with authority. “And I shall sail a month after that.”

“Where will your voyage take you?” asked Edward politely.

“We’ll be taking a cargo of cloth out to Guinea and come back we hope with gold and ivory. It won’t be a long voyage if I can help it.” He gave me his lascivious grin. “I shall be missing my wife.”

Edward said he wished him fair weather; and they talked about the sea for a while. Jake’s eyes glowed; he talked of the sea with the same intensity that he had talked of our marriage. The sea fascinated him because it was often wild and unpredictable; he would often have to fight it with all the skill he possessed. He was a man who must fight. Always he had to subdue. Marriage with him would have to be an eternal battle, for as soon as he had won he would lose interest. But why should I contemplate marriage with him? That was for some other pitiable female. I was going to play as dangerous a game as he played on his voyages. Perhaps there was a similarity between us because I at last admitted to myself that I enjoyed the fight.

We all went out into the courtyard with him and as we did so John Gregory came out of a side door. There was nothing to do but make the introductions.

Jake Pennlyon’s eyes flicked over him.

“We’ve met before,” he said.

John Gregory looked puzzled. “I do not recall it, sir,” he answered.

Jake narrowed his eyes as though he were trying to look into something which he couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m sure of it,” he insisted. “I don’t easily forget faces.”

“Were you in the North at some time?” asked Edward.

“I never was,” said Jake. “I’ll remember. It escapes me for the moment.”

John Gregory was wrinkling his brow, smiling as though trying to recall, but I fancied that the scar on his cheek seemed to stand out more vividly.

“I was delighted to see my friend,” said Edward warmly. “He has decided to stay with us for a week or so.”

Jake was now looking at me, forgetting John Gregory.

He said: “We shall expect you early at Pennlyon. We can’t have the bride arriving late. It would appear that she was reluctant.”

He took my hand and kissed it. His lips seemed to burn my skin. I wiped it on my gown. He saw the gesture and it amused him.

Then he took his leave.

We went into the house and Edward asked John Gregory: “What did he mean about knowing you?”

“He is suspicious,” said Honey in a frightened voice.

“You have never met him before?” asked Edward.

John Gregory wrinkled his brows for a moment and then said very firmly: “No.”

I dressed myself for my betrothal banquet with the utmost pains. I wished to appear as beautiful as I could for, I assured myself, the sole purpose of making him more angry than ever when he realized he had lost me.

And after the betrothal? What should I do then? I could see no answer than but to go back to the Abbey and my mother. Would he follow me there? He had to leave on his voyage, so how could he come after me?

And Honey and Edward, would he betray them? Surely he would have to prove that Thomas Elders had been celebrating Mass in the chapel. But Elders would be taken and mayhap tortured and then who knew what would emerge? And this man John Gregory? He would have to go away before I left. Of course this was what I must do. I certainly could not ruin my whole life because of the trouble they had brought upon themselves.

For the moment there was the betrothal ball and banquet and I intended to amuse myself as much as I could with them.

Jennet helped me to dress. She was better at this than Luce had been. She brushed my hair until it shone and our reflections in the polished mirror were glowing. There was color in her cheeks and her mass of hair escaped from her cap; she was not exactly a handsome girl but a very desirable one, I could see that. There was something soft and yielding about her; she would be seduced sooner or later I was sure, and I thought it was time to get her married.

I said to her: “Do you like Richard Rackell, Jennet?”

She blushed—she blushed very easily—and lowered her eyes.

“You do,” I said. “There’s no need to be coy about it. If he had a fancy to you perhaps there could be a wedding. The master would mayhap give you one of the cottages and you could continue to work as you do now. You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Why, yes, Mistress.”

“You should be married … soon. I am sure of that. You are somewhat wanton, Jennet, I believe.”

“Oh, no, Mistress. ’Tis just…”

“’Tis just that when they lay hands on you and tell you what a fine wench you are you’d find it difficult to say them nay.”

She giggled.

“You silly girl! And you’re pulling my hair.”

I wanted to say to her: What did Jake Pennlyon do when he had kissed you? Are you going to tell me that it ended with that? But I said no such thing.

She went on brushing my hair. Was she thinking of Jake or Richard Rackell?

I thought I would wear my hair piled high on my head and then I could crown it with the comb I had bought from the peddler.

“Frizzing be the fashion, Mistress, and I can frizz,” said Jennet.

“I follow my own fashions. I do not wish to look like every other fashionable woman, nor like any serving wench.”

Resigned, Jennet dressed my hair. I put on my red velvet gown cut low at the neck and the sleeves wide and flowing almost to the hem. Not the height of fashion true, but indeed becoming, and with the comb in my hair I looked regal. I should need all the dignity I could muster to ward off the attentions of my intended bridegroom, I thought grimly.

Jennet stared at me wide-eyed.

“Why, Mistress, you look beautiful … too beautiful to be real.”

“I’m real enough, Jennet,” I said with a laugh.

She lowered her eyes and giggled. I spoke sharply to her. She knew that I was still resentful of the fact that she had sided with Jake Pennlyon against me. There was something knowing about her look. I wondered afterward whether Jennet, born to give pleasure to men, understood something of the nature of my feelings for this one, for try as I might to feign indifference, I was excited by him, albeit in hatred.

Honey came in and I immediately felt insignificant. But then everyone must before Honey’s brilliance. She was dressed in blue—deep violet blue, the color of her eyes, which accentuated their brilliance. Since she had become pregnant her beauty had changed a little and lost nothing for it.

She wore her hair about her shoulders and there was a circle of pearls about it.

She pressed my hand and looked at me anxiously.

“I’m all right, Honey,” I said.

“You look quite magnificent.”

I glanced at myself in the burnished mirror. “Like one of the Valkyries going into battle?”

“Yes,” she said, “a little like that.”

We were to ride to Lyon Court in the carriage. Edward’s carriage was a source of wonder to everyone, for few people possessed such a vehicle. Most must rely on horses or their own feet. It was uncomfortable riding in the carriage, which was drawn by two horses. People in Devon had never seen carriages before, but in view of the fact that we were dressed for the ball the carriage was very convenient. Otherwise, we should have had to take one of the mules to carry our gowns and ridden over and changed there.

I whispered to Honey as we jolted along over the rough roads: “Watch over me tonight.”

“We will,” replied Honey fervently. “Edward and I.”

“I shall be in his house. That will give him an advantage and he’ll take it, you can be sure.”

“You’ll outwit him.”

“Indeed I shall and then, Honey, I think perhaps I shall have to go home.”

“Edward and I have been talking about it. We think it is best for you. John Gregory will be leaving us and we shall be safe. He can prove nothing. Edward has influence. We shall be all right. You cannot marry to save us.”

“Tonight though I shall play this game of pretense. He will think that he has won the battle. I will let him believe that, so that he may have the greater shock when he faces defeat.”

“You enjoy this, Catharine. What has come over you? You were once so different.”

“It is this man. He arouses such feeling in me that I hardly know myself.”

“Take care, Catharine.”

“I shall take the utmost care to prove to him how much I despise him and that he shall never govern me.”

The carriage trundled along. Edward drove the horses and Honey and I sat behind him. Soon we were in the drive which led to Lyon Court. Under the elms we went and there was the house, lanterns on the porch lighting up the lions—gray stone and impregnable-looking in the moonlight.