Lady in Waiting. Anne HerriesЧитать онлайн книгу.
a wedding gift.’
‘They are indeed most handsome,’ Catherine said and thanked her.
She must be grateful for her aunt’s consideration. Such chairs were seldom found in even the best houses, and it was a generous gesture to give such a valuable gift. Clearly her aunt expected her to make a good marriage and Catherine hoped she would not be too angry if her plans came to naught.
The scolding she had received after her coldness to Sir Nicholas had chastened her and she had found herself quite unable to put the incident from her mind. But now that they were in London, she imagined it would be easier for there was so much to see and do.
Lady Stamford had talked constantly of the silk merchants they would visit, and over the next several days Catherine was shown a dazzling display of wonderful silks and velvets. So many that she found it difficult to choose and spent an enormous amount of her father’s money.
‘My brother can well afford it,’ Lady Stamford told her when she wondered what he would say at their extravagance. ‘And you cannot go to court looking like a pauper.’
The merchants’ shops had signs hanging above them, often brightly painted and in many cases depicting the nature of their trade or guild; they swung backwards and forwards in the wind, making a creaking noise and adding to the general hubbub. The market stalls abounded everywhere, crowding the narrow streets; meat, fish and vegetables were open to the elements and flies in the heat of the day, and sometimes the smell was enough to make Catherine retch.
At home she would have ridden to a local market or fair, but in London they found it more convenient to summon a chair to carry them about the city. Walking was out of the question, because the gutters were choked with filth and one had to watch for housewives throwing the contents of their chamberpots from an upstairs window with only a brief warning, which caught many unawares. She had seen more than one fine gentleman raise his fist in anger when slops splashed his hose or trunks, as he was slow to dodge the deluge from above.
It was often almost impossible to pass through the narrow, congested streets, which quickly became choked with the press of traffic. Sitting behind an overturned wagon that had spilled its load on the ground did not find favour with Lady Stamford, and the best chairmen were adept at avoiding such disasters.
Catherine was in turn delighted and appalled by the sprawling city, which had spread out beyond its medieval walls, despoiling the countryside about it. The ditch outside those walls, which had once been a part of the city’s defences, had become a narrow, silted channel that stank in summer and had been built over in places. However, the curving banks of the Thames were still green and pleasant in many areas, gentle, spreading trees gracing them with their tranquil beauty, and flocks of swans frequenting the clear water. Within the city itself it was possible to come upon orchards secreted behind walls or pretty private gardens, and the houses of the rich were sometimes very grand, often situated close by the river with long sloping gardens to the rear. Catherine thought how pleasant it would be to walk there on a warm evening, and regretted that her aunt’s house had only a small walled courtyard.
The streets of the city were mostly dark at night, though lanterns hung outside the better houses and inns. It was, however, a risk to venture out late at night, despite the efforts of the watchmen.
‘We shall be well escorted if we go out in the evenings,’ Lady Stamford told her niece. ‘But we must wait until your father arrives before we go to court.’
In the meantime Catherine was content to be taken about the city, visiting the newly opened Royal Exchange, the beautiful parks, so many shops that her head went spinning at all the frills and trinkets she was shown. What she enjoyed most was being rowed down the river on a pleasant day to watch some sport or a play given in the courtyard of a superior inn.
Catherine was pleased to discover that the particular players she was taken to watch were under the protection of the Earl of Leicester, and vastly more talented than those she had seen on her way to London. While watching them she recalled the young Kit Marlowe, and thought he might have liked to be present for the performance. The behaviour of the audience, which was made up of richly dressed ladies and gentlemen, was better than that she had witnessed on the road, but there was still a rowdy element who called out occasionally, using the poor players as the butt of their wit.
‘It is always so at a public performance,’ Lady Stamford told her. ‘But you will see better manners at court.’
Catherine found herself looking about the audience. She scolded herself for her disappointment at not seeing the person she sought. How foolish she was! Sir Nicholas was undoubtedly still in the country with his sister. Besides, why should it matter to her? She would do best to put him from her mind!
It was as they were being rowed back up river that Catherine saw the heads on spikes outside Traitor’s Gate and shuddered. Public executions were not uncommon, and she had been forced to witness a hanging when on her way to a certain silk merchant Lady Stamford had praised for the quality of his wares, their chairmen having been unable to make a way through the press of the crowd. However, the sight of blackened heads left to rot and be pecked at by the crows was one she would rather not have seen.
‘You must accustom yourself to such things and learn to ignore them,’ her aunt told her with a frown when she spoke of the barbaric behaviour of some in the crowd at the hanging. ‘Those men were enemies of the state and must be punished. After the attempted uprising in ’sixty-nine Her Majesty’s advisers are determined that this latest plot shall come to nothing, and she must be protected from those who would harm her.’
Catherine nodded, knowing her aunt spoke the truth, but the sight had cast a shadow over the afternoon and she was conscious of coldness at the back of her neck. The unease between Catholic and Protestant was a source of constant tension in England, and seeing those blackened heads upon spikes she could not help but feel sorry for the men who had died such a cruel death and for their families, who would naturally suffer grief and deprivation.
It was at moments like this that she longed for the peace of the countryside and wished that she might be back at home with her father.
However, her mood was soon altered, for when they entered her aunt’s house it was to find a bustle and a stir that could mean only one thing.
‘My brother has arrived at last,’ Lady Stamford said with satisfaction. ‘That means we may attend the court tomorrow. Her Majesty is to give a masque at Hampden and we are bidden to attend…’
Catherine paid little heed to her aunt, giving a cry of delight as her father came into the hall and rushing to hug him. The shadows receded as he embraced her, then drew back to study her closely, taking in the richness and modish style of the gown she was wearing.
‘I see Sister Helen has been busy spending my money—and to good effect. You look beautiful, Catherine, though to my eyes you always have.’
‘Thank you, Father.’ She smiled at him as they went into the best parlour together. ‘Oh, I am so very glad that you are here…’
Chapter Three
‘S o you have come back to us, Nicholas.’ Lady Fineden looked at her son with approval. She was a woman long past the bloom of her youth, though still considered handsome. ‘I hope you found Sarah well?’
‘Blooming and as lovely as ever,’ Nick said, giving his mother a smile warm with affection. He kissed the hand she offered gallantly, saluting her as both mother and friend. Although into the autumn of her life, she was a healthy, energetic woman who had married again after his father’s death to a gentleman of the court. Sir John Fineden was one of Sir William Cecil’s staff and a very busy man who seldom had the leisure to entertain his wife, expecting her to make her own pleasures, which she was very able to do having a large circle of friends at court. ‘It is good to see you looking well, Mother.’
‘By that you mean stout,’ she replied, pulling a wry face. ‘But I feel well and I am always entertaining so must keep up a good table. Sir John has been away again, but I am expecting him home soon. He asked in his last