Dog-faced Clement Selby greeted Kate from a bench in the hall doorway, his grizzled and wrinkled visage wavering between joy to see her and worry about the circumstance that called her there. “I have let no one cross this threshold, Mistress Clifford, nor climb those steps.” As if, with his lameness, he had any chance of preventing a trespass.
“Has anyone come asking to do so?”
“Not as such, mistress. There was the laundress. She knows we need fresh bedclothes by evening and she is not happy about the delay.”
“She will be well paid for her patience. You heard nothing in the night?”
He shook his head. “The wine—”
“Yes, my cousin’s potent gift.” Kate took a deep breath. “I will go up.”
Clement called to Lille and Ghent, who had been sniffing the bottom steps and looking up toward the landing with worried growls. “Best leave the dogs with me, mistress.” He bent to touch noses with them one at a time, something few people had the courage to do. Lille and Ghent adored Clement and settled on either side of his chair, their heads in his lap while he stroked their ears.
Kate handed him their leads, then set off up the outer stairway to see for herself the horror the goodwife had described.
She was surprised by the chill breeze when she opened the door, but one whiff had her grateful that Griselde had had the presence of mind to open the shutters. God be thanked it was as yet a subtle odor, but she must remove all trace of it before Margery Kirkby arrived. Damn William for bringing this trouble to her house. Damn him. For two years she had carefully built this delicate enterprise to pay for the masses for her late husband’s soul, despite the mess he had hidden from her. His guild members knew of the request in his will and would wonder if she did not honor it. In one night her cousin had risked it all. Here, before her, lay the body of a man murdered in her place of business. A business that could survive only if the powerful in York felt the house was safe, secret.
Kate took a few steps into the room. Mother in heaven. She pressed her hands to her heart at the sight of the man’s puffy, ruined face. It took her back in time to a hanging she had witnessed as a child, a vision that had haunted her sleep for years, the eyes pushed out by the swelling, the color so dark she had thought the man had been burned at the stake before hanging. The devil’s face. For such a horror to lie here in this room she had furnished with such loving care . . . It sickened her. Was he a stranger to her? Might he be someone she knew, someone Griselde had not recognized? She could not tell with the face so distorted. Whoever he had been in life, and however he had come to such a fate, she wished such a death on no man. Crossing herself and whispering a prayer for his soul, she stepped outside for a deep breath of fresh air to calm herself and quiet her anger. She must clear her head and decide how to proceed, how to dispose of the body without calling attention to the activity.
Down below, Lille and Ghent began to bark excitedly, the sounds they made when a favorite human approached. A man laughed, called out to them with affection, then shushed them. William was here. God be thanked, he had come. But he must not sense her relief. He must see only her shock that he would bring such trouble into her house, and hear only her command that he remove all trace and never connect the man’s death in any way with her property.
Returning to the room, she crossed it and walked round the body, trying to gauge how badly the floor had been stained. Her stomach roiled with anger. He must be removed, and soon, so that Griselde could scrub down the floor in time for it to dry before tomorrow’s guest arrived. Fragrant oils in the wash water, and applewood in the brazier to both dry and sweeten the air. Perhaps first a brief fire of juniper and rosemary—their incense might mask the worst of it.
“God help us.” Kate turned to see William hesitating at the threshold, resting his gloved hands against either side of the doorway as if holding it up. He was a handsome man, of medium height, slender, wearing his fine clothes with grace.
“I thank you for arriving so promptly. Now come closer, cousin. Come see the trouble you have brought me.”
His first step was reluctant, and she thought he might stop there, just over the threshold, but suddenly he crossed to the body, crouched down, and touched the braided rope before turning away. “God’s blood.”
“We void our bowels as we die, did you not know?” she said. “How could you let this happen in my house, William? Did you expect trouble? Is that why you did not ask my permission to host this man?”
Her cousin rose slowly, staring all the while at the corpse, shaking his head. At last, tugging down on his jacket in a gesture of control, he met her eyes. “Who found him?”
That was his first thought, to wonder who had found the corpse? By the rood he would take care of this, and quickly. “Goodwife Griselde. What happened here, William? The chamber was reserved in your name. Who is this man?”
“My dear Katherine.” He stepped round the body to take her hand. “I am so sorry you have witnessed this.”
She shook off his gloved hand. “Why is a stranger lying dead on the floor of my house?”
“Do you think I planned this? Where is Alice?”
Kate noted his use of her first name. “Oh yes, the whore Alice Hatten. I do not know where she is. What I want to know at this moment is how she came to be in my house. You know the rules. You vowed to abide by them.”
“She is a good woman who has no other means of making her way in the world.” Alice had once served in his household, until he got her with child and Isabella threw her out.
“I know she is a good woman, William, no thanks to you. But we have a contract. You and Drusilla, no guests, no common prostitutes. You broke the contract. Now dispose of this body. Remove it at once!”
“She is not a common prostitute,” he growled.
“You broke our contract.”
He paced back and forth, eyeing the floor as if searching for something, then moved over to the bed, pulling off his hat, smoothing his hair as he studied the room. She had never seen him so agitated. “It does not look as if anyone slept here last night,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. He was right—the bedclothes had not been disturbed, though the dead man wore only a linen shirt and breeches. William moved past the bed, bent to retrieve a bowl from the floor, and sniffed. “Wine.” He kicked something on the floor. “The flask.” Both had been tossed aside as if there had been a struggle. Whatever happened here, it had occurred before they’d withdrawn to the bed, but after the man had removed his outer clothing. His jacket and cloak were folded on the bench at the foot of the bed, and his boots were on the floor.
Kate told William that Griselde thought she had heard two men’s voices. “His state of undress suggests your guest had a late, unexpected visitor.” While she spoke she watched William’s eyes, how he could not rest them, but kept searching the room. He was frightened. As if her gaze discomfited him, he stepped over to the window, putting his back to her. “What happened here?” he whispered, again as if to himself. “I told no one of his coming.”
“Who was he, William?”
He turned to her, shaking his head. “I would never knowingly cause you such trouble, Katherine. You must believe me.”
“Remove him. And say nothing of where you found him. If you involve me I’ll ruin you, William. You know that I can.”
“So much for familial loyalty.”
“You brought this trouble on me, cousin.”
He pressed his fingertips to his eyes, took a breath. “I did. Of course you are angry. Tonight, after dark, I will send someone for—”
“Before sext. By tonight the stink of the corpse will be worse. Bring something to wrap him in so that it looks as if you are carrying a tapestry, bed hangings—just remove him by midday, William. I have guests this evening in the other chamber and Lady Kirkby arriving tomorrow for a fortnight. You know how I depend on this income.”
“I cannot move him so soon.”
“You can, and you will. I must air the room, scrub the floor, and let it dry.”
“Someone must search for Alice. She might be in danger.”
“Yes, well, it is sweet that you have recovered your conscience. If she did not hate you yet, I trow she will have come to her senses.”
“That was long ago—”
“I will look for her. And when I find her, I will tell her you are going to pay her well for her silence. Which you will do, William.”
He bowed his head.
“Who was he, William? Why would someone want him dead?”
“It is better you know nothing of him.”
Of course he would say that. It is what men did, endangered women by keeping them in ignorance, the bloody fools. “You will at least tell me this. Are Griselde and Clement in danger? Am I?”
He tried once more to take her hand and comfort her, but he tucked it behind him when she backed away. “I will send a retainer to guard this house.” He paced over to the door. “And yours on Castlegate.”
“No. Your retainers will call attention to my properties, attention I do not need.”
“Are you certain, Katherine? I don’t know what happened, or why. I told no one of his presence. Even Alice did not know his name.”
She wondered about that. “Whores make it their business to know who is visiting the city.”
“I know. That is why I sent to Beverley for Alice. She has lived there for several years.” William crouched down to examine the rope round the man’s neck.
“One of your men brought her here last night?” she asked. He nodded. “So another person knows she was here. And what of the visitor? Did he have a servant with him?”
“No. He was traveling alone.”
“Unusual for a man of status.”
“I will take care of this. Quietly. I promise you.”
He was certainly being careful in his responses. Kate prayed he would be so when it mattered most. “By sext.” She left him with the corpse, hurrying out onto the landing, the cold boards creaking beneath her. As she turned the corner and reached the top of the long stairway, she saw that her manservant Sam now stood sentinel at the bottom, the dogs sitting at attention to either side. Three pairs of eyes turned to watch her descent. Lille opened her mouth to bark, but stopped at Sam’s command. Kate greeted the newcomer and crouched down to praise the dogs for their obedience, using it as a chance to catch her breath and frame her thoughts. When she felt steadier, she continued on into the hall.
She was surprised to find Griselde present.
“I feared the new servant might arrive. Did not want to leave him to Clement.” The goodwife was ladling out a bowl of pottage for her husband, who was doing his best to pour two cups of ale while leaning on his cane. Poor soul. He had confided in Kate how useless he felt, how it shamed him to depend on his wife for the roof over their heads. He had been a proud man, Simon’s factor as well as a fine carpenter. But he could no longer move about the city, much less travel. And as for the carpentry, all he could now manage were simple carvings for children—something that did not require him to lean over a workbench, and that could not be ruined too badly by his unpredictable tremors. Such items brought in little money. Despite his infirm state, and despite the money Simon had paid him to hide the extent of his financial troubles from all, including Kate, Clement had chosen not to quietly disappear. Instead he had handed over his profits to Kate so that she might keep the creditors content, and he now combed through the business accounts on the alert for discrepancies. In Kate’s eyes, he had redeemed himself.
She briefly told the couple that William was to remove the body by midday, and suggested how they might clean the floor and rid the room of the odor. “Sam will stay to stand guard. He was a soldier for a short while before entering Simon’s service, so he knows how to defend himself and you.”
Outside, William was asking Sam to wait and serve to witness the removal of the body.
“He will remain here until Lady Kirkby arrives tomorrow,” Kate said as she stepped out. She suspected that by then Seth could manage without Sam. He would have Lady Margery’s servants to assist him. She took up Lille’s and Ghent’s leads. “The new servant should arrive soon, Sam. You know him—Seth, the Fletchers’ youngest. Keep him busy until the body is gone. And tell Griselde and Clement to make up some tale about the mess in the chamber.” She had forgotten to mention that to them.
“You can trust it to me, mistress.”
“I know. God bless you, Sam.”
Seeing that William was headed for the hall door, Kate blocked his way. “Leave them.”
“I would talk to the goodwife.”
“No. You are to leave them in peace. Go now. You have much to do by midday.” She took him firmly by the arm and escorted him out to the street.
“I swear to you that I will take care of it all,” he said. “You will hear no more of it.”
“There will be consequences, William. Your guest had a visitor you had not foreseen. He has been murdered. Alice may have witnessed it. Whoever committed the crime might decide to silence her, you, Griselde, or Clement—consequences, cousin.”
“Trust me, Katherine. If anything comes to light, I will make certain that your name is clear. I have influence in this city. More than you know.”
His influence had not protected his guest. “The body, William. By sext.”
“Ingrate woman,” he muttered as he strode off to do her bidding, his breath visible as puffs of fog in the frigid morning.
He brought on such trouble and expected her to trust him, and to express gratitude? Shaking her head, Kate hurried home with Lille and Ghent, formulating a plan to send Jennet to Joan del Bek’s bawdy house on Goodramgate to ask after Alice Hatten, who had lived there a few years earlier. Joan’s women serviced the vicars choral living in the Bedern, the dean and chapter largely turning a blind eye to her business—anything to keep the vicars out of the taverns and off the streets. Unfortunately, Joan guessed the flavor of Kate’s little business and considered her a threat to her trade. So Kate could hardly expect to learn anything from the woman. Nor did she want to begin rumors of a connection to such a house. She would dress Jennet such that no one would recognize her as Kate’s servant. Yes. Satisfied with her plan, she hummed to herself to lift her mood so that she might manage to nod and smile to acquaintances along Stonegate, down Coney Street, and on to Castlegate. But Lille and Ghent, alert to every unusual noise, were not fooled by her false cheer. Some folk gave her a wide berth.
Once back in her own kitchen, Kate could not disguise her heavy heart. A man was dead. Someone who waited for him would wait and wait, perhaps never knowing what had become of him. So many times up on the borders in Northumberland she and her mother had sat huddled by the fire late into the night, waiting for her father and her brothers to return. Generations of enmity between families loyal to the Scots crown versus the English crown had created the habit of violence. A stray lamb crossing the invisible border became a call to arms, and, far too often, the death of at least one son beloved of his family. One night it had been her brother Roland, whom the men brought home draped across his horse. Roland, whose fingers had flown along the harp he loved so well, whose voice was that of an angel, who could charm the devil himself.
But it was his battle-axe that was valued. He’d perished in a bloody altercation over who owned the wool in a cart overturned by a rockfall—at least, that was the immediate provocation. Kate, too, wielded an axe with skill, trained to aim for the backs of the knees or the groin if a neck was out of reach, and to finish it with a blow to the neck when her opponent had toppled. All those from the wrong side of the border were enemies, not human beings.
And then one night it had been Geoff.
No matter how long it had been since she sat and waited for news, Kate could still remember that icy dread in her stomach, how she had known, the dark hole spreading in her mind.
She prayed that the dead man had no kin awaiting his return. But surely he did. Perhaps she could tease a name from William and find a way to get word to the dead man’s kin without bringing trouble on herself or her cousin. Perhaps she had the courage to do that.
As soon as Jennet returned with Marie, Kate took Jennet up to her bedchamber to fit her out in an old gown she had begun to cut down for her young ward. “A few stitches and the hem will be right.”
“It will need more adjustment, for weapons,” said Jennet when Kate stepped away, satisfied. “But for now . . .” She twirled round. “Am I sufficiently disguised to pay a visit to the brothel?”
Kate smiled at the transformation. “Joan will not know you.”
“She’d best not offer me work.” Jennet laughed as she departed in a swirl of skirts.
Kate was sitting in the kitchen with Marie and Berend when Jennet returned awhile later, accompanied by a scowling Phillip.
Kate had expected him to be gone until late afternoon. “You did not go on to the stoneyard to observe Connor?”
“Connor did not show up for work. So when I finished the accounts, Master Hugh sent me home. I don’t think he’s serious about making me an apprentice, pairing me with that lazy journeyman.”
“You called Connor gifted.”
Phillip gave a reluctant nod. “He is. When he handles the stone, I swear it breathes. But he’s hardly ever there of late.”
“I must see Hugh Grantham about some business this afternoon. I’ll ask him about Connor.” Phillip looked uneasy. “I promise I will neither embarrass you nor irritate your employer,” Kate assured him.
Berend set out bowls of stew for the latecomers, then stood back, rubbing the scar where an ear used to be with his three-fingered hand. He was a former soldier, missing fingers, a few toes, an ear, but a remarkable cook. With his strength and formidable appearance he was a reassuring and helpful presence in the household. And fiercely loyal to Kate. Which was why she felt she could do without William’s retainers. At the moment Berend was worried about her safety. She sensed it in how he hovered.
“Why is Jennet wearing your old gown?” Marie demanded of Kate. “You were cutting that down for me.”
“And so I was, but you declared it hideous. Have you decided otherwise now that you see it on Jennet?”
Marie made a face and returned to her stew, asking Berend questions about the spices and the vegetables. At a very young age she had been trained to cook for the household in Calais, alongside a mute serving man who did the kneading, stirring, reaching, and lifting that she was too young to handle. Kate had noted Marie’s interest when she arrived and had quietly asked Berend to befriend the girl. Marie now often assisted him in the kitchen, quite ably according to Berend. At least she showed an interest in something.
Kate motioned to Jennet to step outside with her.
Out in the cold, Kate smiled at how lovely her maidservant looked. Jennet might attract a suitor wearing that gown to church on a Sunday. But she was so proud, she was not likely to accept it as a gift. “What did you discover?”
“Alice was not at the bawdy house. And I heard nothing on the streets, no gossip. About her. But I did hear a woman on High Petergate commenting to her companion as they passed your house that all the bustle must be readying for Lady Kirkby’s visit.”
“All the bustle, you said. So you saw someone removing the—item—from the solar?”
“That had already been moved, and one of Master Frost’s men was carrying a bucket down the steps for Goodwife Griselde. She told me the item had been loaded into a cart that headed off toward Bootham Bar.”
So William had the body. Kate had wondered how he would dispose of it without sparking his wife’s disapproving curiosity. A cart toward Bootham Bar. Would he take it into the Forest of Galtres, burying the body somewhere deep in the woods? Or might he weight it with stones and send it to the depths of the River Ouse? She wondered what it was like, knowingly depriving an acquaintance of the last rites, a burial in consecrated ground. Would William sleep tonight? Would she?
“Mistress Clifford?” Jennet touched Kate’s hand.
She shook herself out of her thoughts. “I did not realize that Lady Kirkby’s visit was common knowledge.” Perhaps the archbishop had mentioned it to someone? Kate sensed that her uncle, the dean of York Minster, was not a close confidant of the Archbishop of York, Richard Scrope. He might not have felt comfortable telling him of Kate’s request for discretion. If Scrope had spoken of it, might the murder have anything to do with it? Kate could not know that yet, so she pushed the thought aside. What mattered was that there was much work to do to prepare. Margery Kirkby was expected midmorning on the morrow, and would bide for a fortnight in the large chamber on High Petergate, her retinue in the hall below. And the smaller chamber needed freshening for tonight’s guests, in fact, so the larger chamber could be aired after cleaning. Those were her priorities at present.
“I should see that the laundress has collected the bedclothes, mistress, and help Goodwife Griselde,” said Jennet.
“When you’ve eaten. I will join you at the guesthouse after I see Hugh Grantham.”
In the kitchen, Kate had a word with Berend about protecting her wards. Fingering a meat cleaver, he assured her she had nothing to fear. “We will work on a meat pie. That will keep them in the kitchen until your return.”
Simon had laughed at her choice of cook, predicting that Berend would desert their kitchen as soon as someone noticed him at market and offered him a job as a retainer. But she had stood her ground, and Berend had rewarded her confidence with five years of loyalty, and a willingness to step outside the kitchen when she needed his strength or comfort or advice when she fought inner demons. She had grown to think of him as her guardian. Marie and Phillip would be safe with him.
To compensate them for having their morning routine disrupted, Kate took Lille and Ghent across Castlegate and let them off leash so they might run through Thomas Holme’s extensive gardens to the river. A generous swathe of his property across Castlegate was given over to a park, a number of small gardens, and a wild band of underbrush and trees that Lille and Ghent loved to explore. Their enjoyment of the area was part of Thomas’s payment for his use of the guesthouse with his mistress. Kate’s kitchen also enjoyed the bounty of the herb and vegetable gardens, but that was an arrangement she had made with her cousin and Thomas’s second wife, Catherine Frost—a young woman with her own secrets to keep.
Midday the grounds were a quiet refuge within the city, the calls of songbirds and waterfowl, wind in the trees, the rushing river all masking the usual street sounds. No matter the weather, Kate often used the peace of the place to restore her sense of balance before heading back out into the fray.
By the time she, Jennet, and the dogs set out for their afternoon appointments, the morning’s snow flurries were replaced by an icy sleet. But Kate’s squirrel-lined cloak and hood were warm, her rabbit-lined boots kept out the damp, and she counted her blessings.
In Stonegate, Jennet went on to the guesthouse while Kate stopped at a goldsmith’s shop to see whether a brooch she had brought for repair was ready. As she left the shop, tucking the small pouch in the purse she wore at her waist, she heard her cousin William greeting someone. His expression was so uncommonly grim that the mercer who had called out to him hurried away as if grateful to have escaped his bad humor. Kate hooked her arm in William’s and drew him into the shadow beneath an overhanging story. The dogs stood sentinel to either side of her.
“Have you disposed of it?”
“Can’t you smell it on me?”
“No.” She pressed his arm. “Are we safe? You know I have an important guest arriving for a fortnight.”
“God help me, Katherine, is that all you can think of? Your trade?”
Glancing nervously about, he tried to push her aside, but she widened her stance and stood firm.
“If you would tell me who he was, I might be able to judge for myself what precautions I should take.”
“And I might be able to judge that as well, if I knew who had murdered him. But I was not there.” He kept his voice low and watched the street.
“You are in trouble, cousin, I can see that. I have a right to know what it is.”
“Have you found Alice?”
Telling, that he should ignore her demand. “No. You might send one of your retainers to Beverley, eh? Find out whether she returned on her own? I am worried for her. And for Griselde, if the murderer heard her out on the steps. Was the man from King Richard? A messenger? Or from the exiled Duke of Lancaster? Are you in the middle of that?”
“I’ll send one of my men to Beverley.”
So he would not comment on that, either, though she guessed he was aware of the rumored escalation in the conflict. She would remember his reluctance to reveal his loyalty, king or duke. For now, she said simply, “Thank you.”
“Why is Lady Kirkby biding with you?”
“My uncle Richard arranged it. She is on a mission for her husband, raising support for a peaceful reconciliation between the king and his cousin.”
“The dean of York is a confidant of Lord Kirkby? I would look to your uncle then for news of the king or the duke.”
Clearly he had no intention of confiding in her. “Thank you for doing as I asked, William.”
He bowed and bid her good day. “I am off to the York Tavern for several ales to wash away the taste of death.”
She caught his arm. “You sent a cask of wine to the guesthouse yesterday?”
“I did.”
“For Alice and your guest?”
He frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“Griselde and Clement partook of it. They found it uncommonly strong.”
“That will teach them,” he muttered. “Is that all?”
“For now.”
He moved on, but after a few steps, he turned to say, “Have a care, Katherine. Go nowhere without the hounds.”
“I will not.”
He nodded and set off again, this time continuing down Stonegate.
As if she understood, Lille leaned against Kate’s hip, earning an absentminded ear rub, which inspired Ghent to lean against the other hip. Such canine affection would usually warrant a laugh, but Kate was not even smiling when she motioned them to move on. As she crossed to Grantham’s house the burdens of the day weighed Kate down. Had she known when she woke what troubles this day would bring . . . Added to her worries was a new, nagging question—had her cousin arranged the murder? His belated concern had not dislodged that idea. She did her best to push that aside as she knocked on Grantham’s door. Hugh’s servant welcomed her into the hall.
Kate apologized for intruding, seeing that Grantham was still at his dinner with his family. But Hugh rose from the table at once, assuring her it was high time he returned to work. His wife Martha asked after Marie, and commented on what a fine young man Phillip was. Her kindness was a welcome distraction from Kate’s troubles.
Hugh continued in the same vein as his wife while leading the way to his office in a separate building behind the house. “I must commend you on your gifted ward. My factor is mightily pleased with him. He says he has never felt so at ease handing over the account books. Very satisfied with young Phillip’s work, very satisfied.”
“It is about Phillip I wished to speak to you, Hugh. And your journeyman Connor. Phillip tells me Connor is often absent, and he worries about having so little instruction. I am determined that he should be accepted as apprentice in the minster stoneyard. He needs some basic instruction, for there are plenty young men with the same dream. If you cannot provide that, I must find another place for him.”
Hugh fussed with a chisel he was using to anchor a stack of parchment. “I am sorry about Connor. It’s the drink, you see. He has no sense of when he has had enough. No doubt that is why he did not come today. I have spoken with him about this problem, and he has expressed remorse, promised to reform. I thought having Phillip depending on him might give him a reason to keep his word. But the devil has him in his grip and will not let go.”
“I am sorry to hear of this. To be frank, it makes me even more determined to find another journeyman for my stepson’s purpose.”
“Not so hasty, Katherine.” Hugh patted her arm. “I don’t overstate the case regarding Phillip’s value to me in keeping the accounts. I don’t want to lose him. What if I were to work with him here, in my workshop, on the carvings I have undertaken to finish? I have promised Sir Ranulf that we will complete his family’s chantry chapel before Easter, so I have taken up the chisel and hammer once more.”
She placed her hand on his, nodding. “That is a generous offer, Hugh. I shall present it to Phillip.”
“Surely he could hope for nothing better than what I offer, to study with a master?”
“No, I cannot imagine so. But Simon’s children would rather be contrary than wise.”
Hugh nodded. “I’ve children of my own. I understand.”
“There is another matter to discuss. I have a guest arriving tomorrow for a fortnight’s stay in the house on High Petergate. She travels with a not-so-small retinue, enough that we have much to prepare. So that we might not disturb you, tonight, you will be entertaining in the smaller chamber.”
“Katherine . . .”
“It is a lovely room, the bed almost as large and just as elegantly appointed. You are the last of my York customers to stay there until she departs.” She saw his expression soften to know others would be far more inconvenienced. I’ve got him now.
“We shall be quite comfortable, I am sure.”
At sunset, a mere erasing of the slight contrast between the sleet-heavy clouds and the gray sky, Kate and Jennet hastened back across the city along the slushy streets. They hurried to reach Castlegate before the deepening chill froze the slush into dangerous ruts and ridges, the dogs straining at their leads. The two women had worked hard to bring order to the house after the events of the morning, and now, weary in bodies and spirits, they moved along in focused silence.
Kate had left instructions for young Seth, the new manservant eager to win her approval, to tend the fragrant fire in the large bedchamber throughout the night in order to hasten the drying of the scrubbed floor. She wanted no trace of the tragedy lingering to greet Lady Kirkby on the morrow.
Berend welcomed them back with a spicy meat pie and mulled wine. Kate tried to relax beside the crackling fire in the hall hearth, assuring herself that she had done all that she could, though she imbibed slightly more wine than she usually permitted herself. Phillip and Marie tried to trap her into revealing what had so upset Griselde, and she derived some enjoyment from disappointing them. They were even more curious to hear that Jennet was sharing Kate’s bedchamber.
“A lady’s maid often shares her mistress’s bed.” Kate laughed at their protests that she was no lady, though she was not so lighthearted as she pretended. She thought it prudent to have Jennet near in case the dogs woke them in the night, to help her defend her wards. Jennet’s lodging in the small house between Kate’s home and the street felt too far away that evening.
When at last Kate readied for bed, it was with a prayer that she might sleep soundly.
As she closed the shutters against the cold, she noticed that it was snowing again. Big, lazy flakes. But the beauty of a snowy night held far less appeal for Kate than the soft, warm bed. Jennet was already snoring as Kate pulled closed the curtains and slipped beneath the bedclothes, head and all. Soon the warmth drew her down, her body growing heavy, her prayers confused.