= = =

Prologue the Fourth

Hawkeforte, England, 31 December 1975

= = =

Kate hated the winter holidays.

Ah, well, perhaps not *all* of the holidays, she thought as she idly swirled the wine around in the faceted crystal glass. It was certainly true that she and her roommate Liz had spent weeks laughing and decorating the rooms they shared at Oxford, and after hearing her belt out carols on the way home from the pub no one doubted her enthusiasm for the season. She also loved the wonder of Christmas, the way things seemed to glisten and sparkle and twinkle against a snowy backdrop. And unlike so many others she even loved shopping for gifts.

No, what she hated were holidays spent at Hawkeforte.

And even that wasn't quite right, although she did find the ancient Hall a bit drafty and the mix of medieval splendor and Tudor elegance not quite to her taste. While she preferred the Georgian symmetry of Hawthorn House, where she had spent her childhood (and to which she was eager to return after the wedding), her father, uncle and brother lived here and she saw so little of them that any opportunity to visit was always taken up despite any misgivings. Even when that misgiving was the reason she rarely returned to Hawkeforte.

No, what Kate hated about holidays at Hawkeforte was her grandmother.

"Kate?"

She turned to find her fiancé slipping through the door with a grimace on his face. The sounds of the New Year's fete drifted to her ears before being muffled once again by the closed door, and she sighed as she leaned into the comfort of his embrace. "What took you so long?"

"It's a crush in there," he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. "As if that's ever stopped you … "

"True," he admitted. "Actually, love, I was avoiding your grandmother. She's been glaring daggers at me since we arrived and if looks could kill … "

Kate tensed in his arms before releasing a shuddering breath. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Say such things," she whispered.

He cradled her face between his palms. "Oh, Kate … I didn't … I know she's not fond of your choice but there's nothing she can do, not really."

"Of course there is."

It was barely a whisper on the icy wind and for a moment he thought he'd imagined it, but Henry knew his fiancée too well to think such things. "Sweet Kate," he whispered. "What haven't you told me? What is it that scares you so? Why does your grandmother -- who is, admittedly, a cold bitch -- inspire such loathing and fear?"

Kate sighed and walked down the stone stairs toward the immaculately landscaped gardens. "Walk with me?"

Henry followed her down the stairs and wrapped an arm around her middle as they strolled through the silent, ice covered paths toward the frozen fountain at the center of the labyrinth. It was only as they passed into the high hedges that she began to speak. "I've told you about my childhood," she started. "So you know the basics -- that my father wed a woman his mother believed unsuitable and that he broke tradition by living with her at Hawthorn House because she loathed my grandmother as equally as she was hated."

"Yes," he said softly. "Though how anyone could have hated Isabelle Videaux … "

"Mum was wonderful," Kate sighed. "Robert was born in '48 and I followed two years later, but it was five years after that before Caroline entered the world."

Henry was startled; she rarely mentioned her sister.

"That's when the trouble started."

He looked askance at her.

Kate frowned. "My grandmother began making remarks about how we should be living at Hawkeforte and other such drivel, but it was clear she wanted us there and that only reinforced my mother's desire to stay away. Things continued on as they had; eventually Rob went off to Eton and two years later I left for school as well, so it was just Mum, Dad and Caroline. I guess she really must have upped the pressure then because Dad started making noises about spending part of the year here since Rob and I were away … "

"But that didn't happen, right?"

She shook her head. "Mum dug her heels in and said no."

Henry prodded her arm a bit after she fell silent for a long moment and when she came out of the mental fog she shook her head ruefully. "Sorry, it's just … Rob and I, we never knew until afterwards how tense those years were for Mum and Dad and we never knew because we were both away when the tension broke. The summer before my sixth year Caroline received an invitation to a school in France, the one Mum attended before the war, and before anyone could say anything she was packed and off to Beaux … beaux something.

"And my grandmother was livid, though I didn't discover *that* until later. Livid and ecstatic, though no one ever told us why," she finished, her brow furrowed as she thought.

They passed under an arch and into the center of the maze, both stopping to stare at the frozen fountain that was still a thing of beauty even covered with ice. Kate trailed her fingers along the marble edges and brushed the snow away and took a seat on the wide ledge, patting the spot next to her and indicating he should sit as well. "Sit down," she instructed softly.

"All right," he complied as he took the indicated seat. "Kate … what happened? I know *what* happened, but … ?"

"Rob was starting at Oxford and I was in my sixth year," she told him softly. "Mum wrote and told me how happy Caroline was at school and I never found it strange that Caro never wrote to me herself -- I assumed she was too happy, too busy, and I was probably right. Still, I was looking forward to seeing her that summer; I'd spent the previous summer abroad with friends and she stayed in France that Christmas, so I'd not seen her since winter hols in my fifth year."

"You couldn't have known," Henry gently chided. "Accidents happen, love, you know that."

A tear slid down Kate's face as she closed her eyes and leaned against him. "But what if it wasn't."

Henry frowned. "Wasn't what?"

"An accident."

Incredulity spread over his face as he stared down at the woman he loved. How could she … *why* would she think that?

"It sounds mad," she acknowledged. "But most people agree she killed her husband and … "

"What, beloved," he whispered. "What?"

"I *heard* her," Kate hissed, her voice low. "Afterwards, I mean. She kept muttering under her breath about success and failure in one swoop and kept berating herself, complained she was losing her touch. Dad and Rob were in shock and never noticed, but I did, especially after Dad closed Hawthorn House and moved us to Hawkeforte. I had to endure her mutterings and her more public vocalizations about which 'young gentlemen I should be considering.' Never was I so glad to return to school and my impending A-levels … "

"And afterwards?"

Kate lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "You know most of the rest. Oxford during term time, holidays with Liz in Wales or in London with Uncle Peter before he moved back here … and you."

As the snow swirled around them Henry gazed into the soft green eyes of his beloved and felt his heart pound in a mixture of love, lust, fear and understanding. He wasn't quite sure he understood everything about her or her family but it had stopped mattering to him years ago, something that never ceased to amaze the normally details oriented young doctor. "I believe you," he whispered as he lowered his mouth to hers, somehow unsurprised to find he spoke the truth. "And I love you, Katherine Hawkeforte, my beautiful lady."

She smile tremulously she brushed her lips across his. "I love you, too, Henry Granger."

And as two heads bent together in silent adoration the peel of bells rang out in the silence, heralding the start of a new year.