The Scandalous Duchess

Chapter Five

‘Robert!’ I called out as I turned a corner in the early dusk. ‘Robert Rabbas! Where are you, in God’s name!’

It was cold enough to turn the Thames to ice.

Shivering, infuriated, fingers so frozen I could barely bend them, I held my hood close beneath my chin. Why was there neither sight nor sound of a squire or a page or even a household servant when one was most needed to carry out a burdensome task? And why had we been blighted by a basket of green wood which did nothing but smoulder and smoke and give out no heat, when the weather was at its bleakest, driven in by March winds from the north?

Our plans to transfer the whole household to Hertford had gone awry, when Henry, the Lancaster heir, was struck down with a fever. Cross and fractious, sometimes weeping with pains in his joints, his little body alternated between burning heat and intense cold. With concerns for the health of her unborn child—for might it not be the plague?— Duchess Constanza was not to be persuaded that this was a childish ailment and expressed the desire to leave London immediately for the Duke’s castle at Hertford. Within a day she was packed into a palanquin with her ladies and Philippa in attendance and they departed, the Duke accompanying her before returning to London to re-engage with the King and Prince Edward in planning for the campaign against the French for the New Year. It was expected that the Duke would lead the forces.

He had not sent for me. In the circumstances he might well leave England with nothing resolved between us.

Meanwhile we remained at The Savoy, the young people and their household, expecting the fever to run like wildfire through the rest of the children before it wore itself out. It was agreed that we would follow to Hertford when the danger was passed.

I was not sorry, as I sat and bathed Henry’s forehead and heated limbs with common henbane boiled in wine. The large furry leaves might look uninviting but they were of sound reputation in cooling inflammations, I consoled myself. I could hear Constanza’s voice raised in Castilian complaint even as the ducal party rode out of the gate, and silently wished my sister well as I decided that it would be a relief to be free of the Duke’s presence.

Yet living in such a milieu as The Savoy, in the world of the Duke’s own creation of art and wealth, it was hard not to sense his presence, even when he was miles away. At the turn of a stair, there he might be. Kneeling in the chapel, riding his bay stallion into the courtyard, sitting at supper in the Great Hall. Even though he did none of those things, it seemed that I might catch that glimpse of him if I looked carefully enough.

I would not give in to temptation. I would not look.

Better that he is not here! I reprimanded myself.

So now with hoar frost forming on the insides of the glazing and the fire making little impact, we had wrapped the children as warmly as we could in furs and bedcovers and sent for fuel two hours ago, until spurred by righteous anger I had volunteered to chase it up. Thomas Haselden, Controller of the Duke’s Household, was nowhere to be found. Sir Thomas Hungerford, our steward, had travelled with the Duke and Constanza to Hertford. Somehow the smooth running of the household had got out of kilter, and approaching the hour for supper as it was, the servants would be busy in the kitchens, but that was no good reason for us to freeze to death. Elizabeth had developed a cough, exacerbated by the acrid smoke, and I suspected Blanche would follow suit. Even Alyne, usually stalwart, had taken to her bed, feeling her age in her bones, she said. Lady Alice was considering the tenor of her complaint to the Duke when she next set eyes on him.

The shadows here in the inner courtyard were thick and deep in the corners, but as I strode on, there was a movement. Emerging from the side door in the far corner came a dark-clad figure with a bundle under his arm. He would do very well for my errand. I raised my hand to draw his attention. I also raised my voice again.

‘Robert, is it?’ The figure was tall enough to be the lanky page who had brought us the basket of unseasoned logs. ‘We have need of fuel in the schoolroom. Would you arrange it?’

He paused. Hesitated. Bowed.

‘I have already requested more wood. Four hours ago.’ A little exaggeration would not come amiss.

The figure remained motionless. I raised my voice a little more so that it echoed back at me off the dank stones.

‘Fetch some if you please. And don’t just pass the message to someone else and forget about it. It is too cold for the children. And not unseasoned wood either!’ I added, as he disappeared within.

I returned to the schoolroom.

‘Any success?’ Lady Alice shivered in the draught with the opening of the door.

‘It has yet to be seen,’ I replied, thinking that the temperature was little different inside than out. The children looked pinched, and yes, Blanche was coughing, her eyes red-rimmed. Only Henry, newly recovering and already beginning to resent the curb on his freedom, looked full of energy. As I stooped to tuck a fur bedspread more firmly around Philippa, the door behind me was shouldered open.

‘Fuel, mistress,’

‘And about time too!’

‘I came as fast as I could, mistress.’

I swung round. There, placing a basket of logs beside the sulky fire, with an impressive flexing of arm and shoulder muscle, was the Duke. Swinging his short cloak back over one shoulder, he applied himself to brushing twigs and dust from his hands, beating the residue from his tunic.

‘My lord!’ We curtsied hurriedly. The children began to emerge from their wrappings like moths from a cocoon, lured by this timely distraction. I busied myself with some entirely unnecessary task, hiding my flushed cheeks, but not before I had registered the gleam in the ducal eye.

‘More’s on its way.’ He looked round, taking in our beleaguered state, frowning as he pulled his hat from his head and ruffled his hair. ‘Before God, it’s as cold as Hades in here.’

‘What are you doing, John?’ Alice asked, walking across to remove more pieces of debris from his sleeve. ‘Do we employ no servants?’

‘I expect we do.’ His eyes were wide and guileless when they slid in my direction. ‘But I was instructed to fetch this personally, and not pass the message onto another and then forget about it.’

I felt a flush of heat creep even deeper from chin to hairline.

Alice laughed. ‘When did you return?’

‘Just this moment, and not before time, it seems. I’m pleased to be of use.’

‘Forgive me, my lord,’ I said. I could not meet that apparently innocent stare. ‘I would not presume…’

He brushed it aside with a little gesture, much as he had brushed the twigs from the richly figured cloth. ‘I’m rarely mistaken for a servant, much less Robert. Some would say it was good for my soul and I should thank God that I am reminded of the humility of Christ.’ But there was laughter in his voice as he looked round, taking stock, graciously accepting a psalter from Henry, ruffling his son’s hair much as he had ruffled his own. ‘It’s too cold in here. They’ll all come down with the ague.’ With a grin he pulled his soft felt hat low onto his son’s head so that the fur brim covered the child’s eyes, making Henry chortle with delight. ‘Take them to my rooms, Alice, and make them comfortable. Lady Katherine and I will arrange to bring books and whatever else she considers we need…’

‘An excellent thought…’ Without fuss, Alice rounded up and ushered the little party of children and nursemaids out. Leaving me to face my nemesis. There he stood, between me and the door, hands loosely at his sides, his eyes watchful, expression unreadable. There was no escape and he would require an answer from me.

He must have seen me glance at the open door.

‘No…’ Within a breath, he had taken one stride and possessed himself of my hand, his frown deepening. ‘You are frozen.’

And without more ado he seized my other hand, pulled me down to the settle just vacated by his daughters, wrapped my hands in the fur-lined folds of his mantle and held them firmly against the breast of his tunic, tightening his grip when I struggled to release them. Since to continue would be fruitless, and undignified, I gave up the lost cause and simply sat. Beneath my palms I absorbed the beat of his heart, hard and steady, far steadier than mine. All my thoughts were dominated by the one: he was too close, too overpowering, and I did not know what to say to him.

‘I did not know that you were returned,’ I said, inwardly flinching at the banal comment.

‘I had to. I had to see you,’ he replied evenly.

His eyes were dark, their usual brilliance muted, the flat planes of his face still.

‘This is wrong,’ I remonstrated. ‘I must not be here with you like this.’

‘Do you deny me the right to comfort you?’

‘You have no right.’ Panic rose in me, because his touch made my blood beat in my ears.

‘I am Plantagenet.’

Delivered with a swagger that took my breath with its arrogance.

‘So I am yours to command?’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know what you want from me, sir.’

‘You. I want you.’

And I struggled even more to find a reply. ‘Your loyalty is to your wife, my lord.’

Beneath my palms I felt him inhale, and tensed for a blast of Plantagenet irritation. Though his response was lightly made, it was unnerving in that he picked up our conversation as if there had not been a strained hiatus of six weeks.

‘You know what I want, Katherine. In God’s name, I made myself plain enough. Too plain. I think if I recall correctly I showed a lamentable lack of finesse—but I had hoped you would reconsider. It’s been too long. How long is it since you came to me and I offered you my service and bed?’

The simplicity of that statement made my own heart bound. ‘Six weeks, my lord.’ I knew exactly.

He laughed, making me feel foolish. ‘So you have been counting too.’

And suddenly I cast off any thoughts of the difference in our status. We were no longer royal duke and loyal dependent, simply a man and a woman encountering a choice that was no choice, and never could be.

‘My answer is no different now,’ I said.

‘Nor is my desire to have you with me. Are we at stale-mate? I wanted you then. I want you now.’ His words were low and urgent, forcing me to listen and consider rather than wilfully reject. ‘I cannot accept that you are indifferent to me. I can feel the blood raging through my body as I hold you, just as I can feel the beat of yours throbbing in your wrists.’

How horribly true. How could I deny what he could sense through the simple fact of our proximity? My throat was dry, my heart furiously beating against my ribs, as his heart did too with increased vehemence against my palms. I would be a fool to claim indifference when my cheeks were flushed with sudden warmth and my whole body trembled.

‘If I kissed you now, this very moment,’ the Duke surmised, eyes as keen as one of his goshawks in the mews, ‘I wager your lips would be warm and welcoming.’

So did I. I knew they would. Close enough that I could see my own reflection in his eyes, it was impossible to hide the turbulence of my thoughts. Helplessly, I turned my face away.

‘If I kissed you, how could you deny the attraction that draws us together?’ Lifting our joined hands, he turned my face to his. ‘Do you fear me? I don’t think you do—and I’ll not kiss you without your permission.’ And with a smile that hacked at the base of all my convictions: ‘Will you be my love, Katherine?’

But I was not so lost to good sense. ‘I can’t!’ Why could he not see? ‘It was wrong then and it is wrong now.’

‘That’s what you said last time.’

‘And I say it again. You should not ask it of me.’

Formality had fallen away from both of us. His eyes moved over my face, as if absorbing every feature. At first their hard brightness had returned, full of what I could only interpret as displeasure that I refused him. But then they softened, perhaps with regret. ‘It is not my intention to distress you.’ It had the sound of a benediction as his grip loosened a little. And then, when I had thought he might actually accept my denial of him and leave me, his gaze sharpened as it flicked over my person.

‘Why are you not wearing my rosary?’ So he had noticed the simple length of wooden beads at my waist, replacing the coral.

‘Because it is an unsuitable gift from you to your wife’s damsel.’

‘Unsuitable? What is unsuitable for the Duke of Lancaster to do?’ Arrested, he lifted his chin. ‘I thought it most suitable. I thought you would like it, and would find more use for it than a hanap.’

‘I do. Of course I do. It is magnificent.’ I felt an urge to shake him, as a woman might shake any obtuse man who could not follow her line of reasoning. ‘To give me such a gift—a gift of such portent—and then ask me to become your mistress, when I am part of your new wife’s establishment…it is too much.’

His brows, previously amused or lightly assured, drew into a flat line. ‘A sin, in effect.’

‘Yes.’ My mouth was dry, my heart as cold as stone, but it must be said. ‘It is immoral,’ I whispered. ‘It goes against all I learned as a child, in my upbringing at your mother’s hand. And in your careful raising too, I imagine.’

Nostrils flaring, the royal blood had never been so obvious. ‘If a man had said that to me, I would have cleaved his head with my sword. So you accuse me of immorality, Lady de Swynford?’

‘Yes. No…’ I had, hadn’t I? I felt my face flush again as I stumbled over my muddled response.

‘Well, that’s clear enough.’

‘It’s not clear at all!’ His fingers tightened around the soft wrappings as I tried to pull away again. ‘It weights on my conscience.’

‘So you reject me because of conscience.’

‘Yes. But not only that.’ I determined to explain. ‘I would never become the mistress of a man who did not respect me, or whom I could not respect to the same degree.’ So I asked him. A question I had never asked any man, certainly not a question I could ever envisage presenting to the Duke of Lancaster. ‘Can you respect a woman who agreed to give herself, in carnal sin, into a relationship with a man without the blessing of the Church?’

There was no hesitation: ‘Yes, I can, if you are that woman. Since I have made my desire for you more than plain, how can you ask it? I am the man who will cherish you, with or without the Church’s blessing, and I will stand protection for you against the accusatory world.’

A fine promise that touched my emotions. So he might be that man, but was I the woman to give myself over to that sin? Could I live a life founded on lust, on unholy, unsanctified, physical desire, which would call ignominy down on my head? It would take a strong will to face family and friends as the acknowledged mistress of the Duke of Lancaster and accept their judgement.

‘Do you deny my power to accomplish it?’ the Duke demanded. ‘I will make you my mistress, and as the woman who is chosen by a prince of the Plantagenet line, you will be answerable to no man.’

But I would be answerable to my own conscience and to God. All I could do was retreat to a dilemma that he must understand.

‘I cannot. I am too far below you, my lord, a mere daughter of a royal official, a widow of a minor knight. But nor am I a court whore, willing to please any man in exchange for nightly gratification and a handful of jewels, as he sees fit. I know what is due to me, just as I know my place in the ordering of worldly affairs, and that place is not in your bed. I cannot accept your invitation simply because…because…’

‘Because I have an itch that is in need of scratching. Is that what you wished to say?’

‘Yes.’

My cheeks were on fire from the deliberate crudity, but the Duke laughed.

‘Your scruples, madam, are magnificent.’

‘I know that you value my service,’ I tried to explain despite the sharp irony, for was he not still smiling at me? ‘I know that you have a kindness for me and my children. I will serve the house of Lancaster in heartfelt gratitude for all you have done for us. But how do you desire me? You loved Blanche to the depths of your soul. Your love for her shone as a bright halo around you, around the pair of you. I know the pain of your grief when she died.’ I held his whole attention now. ‘You have a new and beautiful high-born wife who is carrying your child. She brings you a kingdom, a valuable alliance. She is young and vulnerable and would appeal to your chivalry. Would you not love her too? I know you have a care for her—you treat her as if she is made of fine glass. Why would you not adore her?’

Why did I have a need to say all this? It was fruitless, painting a picture that was far more familiar to him than it was to me. But still I would speak out. I took a breath, flattening my hands, still warmly enwrapped, against his chest.

‘I will not be the mistress of any man who simply wants me for a casual hour of dalliance and a fast satisfaction between the bedsheets,’ I declared, as outspoken as he.

‘And a handful of jewels. So you said.’ The Duke tilted his chin as his eyes gleamed with something like appreciation. I thought I had surprised him after all. ‘That was quite a speech. I knew there was a reason I appointed you as the Duchess’s damsel. I am mightily impressed. Have you finished dissecting my morals and my character?’ he asked. ‘In my own defence then, I worshipped Blanche. Her death near broke my heart. But she is dead three years now, and a flame does not remain alight for ever.’

I thought about this, accepted it. ‘Yet now there is Constanza, my lord.’ The Queen of Castile stood between us, as formidably as if she had stepped into the room.

‘Do you think I dishonour her?’ he asked, his brows angling. ‘Constanza does not love me, nor I her, if that concerns you. It is a political marriage, to our mutual benefit, and one that could bring me great power. I am a man with ambitions that I will not see fulfilled as my father’s third-born son, and so I value Constanza for what she can bring me. I will never show her less than respect. I will do nothing to harm her or cause her distress. I will never hold her up to ridicule or slights in public, but will treat her with every courtesy.’

‘I think you might be hypocritical if you invite me to be your mistress within a six-month of your bridal vows, my lord. And no, I was not dissecting your character,’ I continued, my words carrying an unmistakable burden of acidity. ‘I’ll not be any man’s mistress, to be enjoyed for a few passing weeks of pleasure when the desire runs strong, only to be cast aside when the appetite palls.’

The Duke grinned. ‘I see that you don’t think much of my staying power. I think the pleasure we would find together would be of longer duration than that. Do you think I’d cast you adrift after only a few weeks?’

‘I don’t know.’ And to my dismay I felt the sting of tears. I swallowed hard. ‘I think you do not understand my dilemma. I have a conscience,’ I repeated, feeling that I was fighting a losing battle against his obstinacy.

‘And you think I do not, it seems. What a very low opinion you have of me.’ He shook his head in mock reproof. ‘You have given me a hard task, have you not? I must find a way to prove it to you that an hour or two of dalliance would be most enjoyable.’

‘I defy you to try, my lord. I’ll not be persuaded.’

The Duke stood, pulling me with him, drawing me into his arms when I tried to step back. So we stood, unmoving, breast to breast, thigh to thigh. I thought for a moment, in which I stopped breathing, that it was in his mind to kiss me. Then footsteps sounded in the distance, approaching briskly, and he raised his head.

‘I vow I will do it. Stay in the chapel after Compline.’

‘I’ll not change my mind.’

‘I command you, Katherine. And it will give you time to think. I can feel your body shivering with the beat of your heart. I swear you feel this strange appeal between us just as strongly as I, and it’s in my mind to make you abandon your so carefully constructed arguments and admit it.’

He addressed me with such a note of intractability, forcing me to acknowledge just how ruthless John of Lancaster could be. It chilled me to the bone, if it had not been for the little leap of fire in my heart. He unwrapped his cloak from around my hands, releasing me at last.

‘At least I’ve made your hands warm. Now it is my holy grail to make you smile again. And I will do it.’

He said no more for the footsteps materialised into the form of the absent Robert, but I felt the weight of the Duke’s obstinacy, as he ordered the servant to collect up an abandoned lute and drum, pushed books into my hands, tucking others under his arm. I followed him to his rooms where, surrounded by childish voices and blessed warmth, some form of normality returned.

As he opened the door for me he stood for a moment, holding me back.

‘I’ll woo you and win you, lady. I’ll give battle to your conscience and defeat it. I give you fair warning.’

‘I will not be won over.’

‘Do you say?’ His lips were against my ear as he whispered: ‘I’ll have you yet.’

In a spirit of defiance I knelt for Compline with the household. I would be honest and firm. I would restore myself to God’s good grace. I would not be swayed by either specious argument or base desire.

I would refuse the Duke of Lancaster.

As the priest made the sign of the benediction and the service ended, the chapel emptied, but, because I had been so commanded, I remained on my knees, with a brief smile for Lady Alice who presumed that I had a final personal petition to make. Immediately I heard the door close behind me, and there was the Duke moving softly to stand at my side.

Not daring to look at him in all his magnificent smooth elegance, his tunic and jewels gleaming, I fixed my eye on the figure of the suffering Christ on the altar’s gold crucifix. This should be a very brief confrontation.

‘My answer is still no, my lord.’ I could not make it plainer.

Which the Duke ignored.

‘You have returned to your doleful black,’ he remarked, surveying my widow’s weeds from head to foot. There was laughter in his voice.

‘Yes, my lord. I have.’

‘You have also, it seems, reverted to stiff formality.’

‘Yes, my lord. It is for the best.’

‘For whom? Don’t answer that.’ As I opened my mouth to do just that.

‘There is nothing more to say between us, my lord,’ I said instead.

Which deterred him not at all, offering his hand, persisting when I was slow to take it. ‘Perhaps we should discuss my proposal further, and I would rather you were not on your knees, my lady. Did I not vow to persuade you of the rightness of our being together? I will do it, but I would rather contemplate your lovely face than that unflattering veil.’