Chapter Sixteen
"You are uncharacteristically quiet, my lady. Is there something troubling you?" Old Parson said as he poured the tea.
He was right, Catherine felt that she was floating in a kind of dazed dream. After Robin had uttered those ten terrifying, exhilarating words, she had tugged her hand easily out of his grasp and walked quickly away without a word, stopping next to an oak tree growing outside someone's garden to look back only once; he was still standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching her. She had turned her back on him and continued walking to the Parsonage.
"Not at all." Catherine smiled, trying to feign nonchalance.
Old Parson raised an eyebrow and fixed her with an expression which plainly said that he was not convinced.
Catherine sighed, she knew that she couldn't lie to a man of the Church, but she desperately wished to keep the situation with Robin de Noir a secret. Besides, how would she ever broach such a subject? "Well, you see, Parson, Robin de Noir - you know him, he's the only son and heir of the clan which is my family's sworn enemy - appears to have romantic intentions towards me and has just this morning admitted that he wishes to court me. And yes, I did kiss him of my own volition but in truth I was essentially tricked into it and I really don't think I can be blamed. So, how do you advise I proceed? Also, do you think my brother will kill me immediately or will he wait until after he has killed Robin de Noir?" Oh yes, that would work wonderfully.
Instead, she opted to merely tell a white lie, "I argued with my brother this morning."
"Ah. Would you like to talk about it?"
"Yes, please. You see, it's…I…" Catherine stammered for a moment before groaning and buying her face in her hands, "Everything's all wrong. And it's so hard to put into words." she sighed, her voice somewhat muffled.
"Take your time. I am not here to judge, merely to offer advice." the Parson said kindly, reaching across the table to pat her arm.
After taking a moment to collect herself, she lowered her hands and began to talk, "Ever since I arrived I have been trying so hard to talk to Benjamin, to be close with him once again. As children we were completely inseparable, he was my favourite brother and - I know I probably shouldn't say this - I loved him most of all. But now? It's like he's a completely different person. And every time I feel that I am gaining ground, that we are becoming close again, he pushes me away! He doesn't let me in, I barely know anything about him now. But on the other hand, he orders me around and tries to control everything I do. That's what we were arguing about, I wanted to walk here today but he was insisting that I take the carriage. I don't see why he should be allowed any say in my life when he does not allow me any say in his."
After confessing all of that, Catherine rather felt that she needed to catch her breath, but ultimately it did feel better to have gotten her feelings off her chest.
"I see. You mentioned that you feel like your brother is a different person? That's because he is a different person. It is only natural that we change as time passes. Can you honestly say that you are the same girl now as you were when you first returned to us, my lady?"
"I suppose not."
"And barely a month has passed! So imagine the changes ten years can do, and of course, if those years are spent apart then those changes appear all the more obvious and startling. As for feeling like Sir Benjamin is pushing you away and refusing to talk with you, I sympathise with you, my lady, I truly do. You have only recently lost your dear mother and have returned to a place which probably feels somewhat unfamiliar to you, so it is only natural that you wish for the support and kindness of your brother. And he should be there to give it to you, I do not deny that. But I will say that it would be worth considering that the years spent apart were not entirely free from loneliness and pain for your brother either. So perhaps bear in mind that there is a reason why he is reluctant to talk openly with you and maybe his over-protectiveness is his way of compensating for that. You are, after all, his only sister, and as your older brother he is duty bound to act as your guardian in place of your parents. Worry not though, I rather suspect that your brother feels a great deal of relief and gladness that you have been returned to him after so many years, he just has to figure out exactly how to show it." Old Parson finished with a conspiratorial wink.
While the old man's revelation that Benjamin truly did love and care for her brought her comfort, Catherine was quick to jump on a particular point he had made, "You mentioned that perhaps something ill had happened to my brother while I was at school. I confess, recently I have begun to suspect that myself. Please, sir, I would greatly appreciate anything you could tell me. It may help me to relate to my brother more if I understand what it is he is going through."
Old Parson put his teacup down upon its saucer with a sharp clink of crockery, "I will say no more on the matter." he declared sternly, "And you will ask this of no one else. This is your brother's private business and he will tell you himself when he is ready. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir." Catherine murmured, lowering her head to hide the embarrassed blush which painted her cheeks.
"Forgive me for scolding you, my lady. I understand that you only ask these questions out of love and concern for your brother." the Parson said gently, "But please heed my advice: by asking questions and trying to discover the information for yourself, you will only bring a world of trouble down upon yourself. Better to let nature take its course and respect Sir Merryweather's right to tell you in his own time."
"I understand, sir. And I promise you I shan't ask anyone anymore questions."
"A wise decision, my lady. Now, if you'll forgive me for asking, have you any plans for this afternoon?"
"I have none, though I must be back at the Manor in time for dinner for Marmaduke Scarlet informs me he is cooking a very fine roast lamb with mint gravy!"
"That sounds delicious indeed!" the Parson chuckled, "Then allow me to invite you to spend the rest of the afternoon at the church with myself and the children of the village."
"It would be my pleasure, sir." Catherine smiled.
"Splendid! I can't even begin to prepare you for how delighted the children will be, ever since your return to the Valley they have been abuzz with questions about you. They're all very eager to make your acquaintance."
"And I am eager to make theirs!" Catherine responded, drinking the last of her tea.
"In that case, shall we make our way across to the church?" Old Parson said, rising from the table and offering Catherine his arm.
The Church of Mary the Virgin was truly the jewel in the crown that was the village of Silverydew. Several centuries old and made of pale grey stone, it stood tall and proud in the centre of the village, surrounded on all sides by apple trees currently in bloom, their frothy pink and white blossoms creating an almost ethereal halo around the building. As they walked the short distance from the Parsonage, across the churchyard with its lush green grass and verdant flowers, the Parson explained that the men and women of Silverydew are hardworking folk and so he always keeps the church open for the children to play in so as to keep them from underfoot. He also confessed that by some outside of the Valley he was considered as something of an oddity for such a bold move, but that he did not care what his detractors thought; little children are loved above all in the eyes of God, and as such the church belongs foremost to them.
When Old Parson opened the great church doors, Catherine was not expecting the great roar of approval which greeted her, nor was she expecting quite so many small bodies to come flocking around her, offering welcomes and grasping at her hands.
"As I said, the children have very much been looking forward to meeting you!" the Parson said, scarcely containing his grin, "Now, now, children! Let's not crowd the Lady Catherine! Have you forgotten what we rehearsed?"
Obediently, the excitable little children surrounding her dispersed, forming a neat group with the older children who had been hanging back, then all as one they proclaimed proudly, "We, the children of Silverydew, welcome Lady Catherine Merryweather!" then dipped into bows and curtsies.
Catherine clapped delightedly, "Thank you all so much! I am very happy to be here, and I can't wait to make friends with you all!"
The children responded with an approving cheer and once again descended upon her, ushering her deeper within the church. A tour was quickly organised, and Catherine found herself led around the church, a child holding each of her hands, while the children proudly showed her the alter and the pulpit, each of the colourful stained glass windows depicting scenes or important figures from the Bible, the statue of the Lady and her Baby, the old bell salvaged from the ruined monastery atop Paradise Hill, counted with her the soaring pillars as thick as tree trunks, pointed out the stairs leading up to the belfry where the bell ringers did their work and the entrance to the chantry where rested the "Sleeping Knight" as they called him.
When finally the initial excitement of her arrival and the ensuing tour died down, Catherine was finally permitted to sit down and get to know the children properly while she played with them.
"Your hair is so pretty!" a young girl of about ten years old said, gesturing to Catherine's thick dark curls, "I wish that mine was curly like yours. Sometimes my Mama makes it curly for me, by tying it up with pieces of fabric. But it isn't very comfortable to sleep in, the knots dig in my head!" A couple of other girls nodded in agreement, their own mothers sometimes knotted their hair that way.
"Yes, I imagine that isn't very comfortable!" Catherine smiled, "But you have very pretty hair of your own, so long and blonde! You know, I had a friend at school named Annabella Millais and she had hair exactly like yours. Sometimes she used to plait it all around her head and it looked like a golden crown. I was always so envious whenever she wore her hair that way!"
"That sounds so pretty! Could you do my hair like that? Please, Lady Catherine?" the girl begged.
"Of course! Come here and sit down in front of me." The little girl knelt down with her back to where Catherine sat on a pew, and Catherine began methodically separating her hair into sections and plaiting it around her head, while a group of other girls watched closely on.
"What's your name, lovely?" Catherine asked as she worked.
"I'm Cora Riddington, my lady." the girl at her feet responded.
"Riddington? Is your father the man named Lawson who keeps bees on his farm?"
"Yes, that's my Papa!" Cora said excitedly, "He learned to keep bees from his Papa and Grandfather. Now he's teaching my brothers and he'll teach me too when I'm a little older."
"I had some honey from your father's bees this morning, I brought a jar for Old Parson and we had it dribbled over bread. You can tell your father from me that it was the finest honey I've ever tasted."
"He'll be so pleased to hear that, my lady! And he'd want me to tell you that you're welcome to visit our farm to see our hives any time that you're passing."
"Thank you, Cora, I'll do that. There! I'm all finished!"
Cora's new hairstyle was met with murmurs of admiration and two more girls requested that Catherine style their hair the same way. And so she found herself chatting first with Rebecca Chaucer, whose mother was the village dressmaker and seamstress while her father worked during the week in London as an accountant, and then to Violet Albany whose father was Silverydew's blacksmith.
"You know, if you want to wear your hair like this for special occasions, you could weave ribbons amongst it or place tiny little flowers between the plaits!" Catherine explained.
"That sounds so pretty! The next special occasion is the Midsummer festival, maybe we should all wear our hair like this with ribbons and flowers!" Violet suggested. The surrounding girls agreed enthusiastically, by now most of them had grasped how to execute the hairstyle and were kneeling down practising on one another.
"Will you come to the Midsummer festival this year, Lady Catherine?" Rebecca asked, she stood close next to Catherine's shoulder, watching intensely as she finished plating Violet's hair, "It's so much fun! Every year a big fair is set up in the town of Bartleby – the biggest fair you've ever seen! Practically everyone in the county attends! And then everyone in Silverydew returns home and we all have a big party with lots of food and drink. And there's also music and dancing and games! It goes on long into the night, that's why we all like it, because it means we can stay up late!"
"Well when you make it sound so fun how can I not attend!" said Catherine, "My birthday usually falls the same week as Midsummer – occasionally on the same day!"
Once she had completed the girls' hair, Catherine was press ganged by a group of impatient little boys into helping them gather flowers in the churchyard for the tomb of the Sleeping Knight. Their names were Nicholas Tudor, Leon Norton (grandson of the innkeeper Roger Norton), twin boys Julian and Edmund Prewitt, and Joseph Albany (younger brother of Violet), and while they ran with Catherine about the churchyard, picking only the finest blooms, they taught her a delightful song named the "Bell Song" which they told her all the children loved to sing.
After having gathered a good armful of wildflowers, their colours riotous, the boys led Catherine back into the church, stopping briefly to lay a posy for the Lady in the niche which contained her statue, and then onwards into the chantry where the Sleeping Knight lay. Upon entering the candlelit stone chamber with its low ceiling, Catherine was surprised to discover that there was already someone within.
Standing over the tomb, carefully cleaning the life-size effigy of the knight with a scrubbing-brush, was Evie Fletcher, whom she had spoken with several days before in Mr. Hadaway's offices.
"Oh! Lady Catherine!" the young woman gasped, quite taken by surprise. She dropped the scrubbing brush into the bucket of soapy water which stood at her feet and straightened up, brushing away some imaginary dirt from the front of her skirt which curved over her swelling pregnant belly.
"Mrs. Fletcher, good afternoon! I'm so pleased to meet you again!" Catherine greeted her warmly.
"Oh, please, my lady, Evie is fine."
"Very well, but only if you promise to call me Catherine in return."
For a moment Evie Fletcher merely gaped in undisguised astonishment, but then she blushed prettily and shyly returned Catherine's conspiratorial smile.
"We've brought flowers to decorate the Knight's tomb!" Leon Norton declared, brandishing a handful of cornflowers.
"Oh, they are pretty! You certainly have gathered some fine blooms! Well, have at it, lads, I'm all finished scrubbing!" Evie said kindly, gesturing the boys toward the tomb.
Catherine helped them for a while, arranging the flowers in attractive little bouquets around the reclining form of the Knight, then she left the boys to it and went to join Evie, who had lowered herself to sit upon a stone ledge which ran the perimeter of the room.
"I come here almost every day to clean Sir Wrolf's tomb."
"Sir Wrolf...Merryweather?"
"Sir Wrolf Merryweather, your ancestor." Evie confirmed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"Then I thank you for your upkeep of my ancestor's resting place." Catherine said sincerely.
The boys, having suitably arranged the flowers to their liking, informed the two young women that they were going back out to pick more and promptly sped from the chantry.
"Being here alone, in the candlelight and the quiet..." Evie began hesitantly.
"Yes?" Catherine prompted.
"It's a relief of sorts." Evie blurted, her voice thickening with tears, "To not have people looking at me with pity in their eyes. To hear them whispering about me, "There goes poor Evie Fletcher, she'll have her babies soon and they'll have to grow up without a father. However shall she manage?""
"I'm sure it's very difficult for you." Catherine said gently, reaching across to clasp Evie's hands in hers.
"And I know they all think me a fool for still having hope that my Freddie is alive and will come back to us. Do you think me foolish?"
"Hope is never foolish."
"Oh, my lady!" Evie gasped, breaking down into full body-wracking sobs.
Catherine slid closer and pulled the weeping girl to her, wrapping her in her arms and murmuring soothingly to her.
"You're not foolish for thinking he's still alive. I believe you. I believe that you'd know for certain, your heart would tell you."
Evie's sobs gradually abated to the occasional sniffle and finally she lifted her face, her cheeks wet with tears, "Thank you, my lady." she whispered gratefully.
"Ah, none of that "my lady" nonsense! It's Catherine, remember?"
That got a laugh from the other girl and Catherine felt some relief, she really did have a lovely smile, it was such a shame that she had little occasion to do so these days. Offering her handkerchief, which Evie gratefully accepted, Catherine swore to herself that she would become fast friends with this lovely young woman, and do everything in her power to make her smile often again.
Once Evie had composed herself and dried her tears, Catherine encouraged her to come out and join her and the children in the church proper, where the children were only too eager to agree with Catherine's suggestion that they sing the Bell Song which they were so fond of. In fact, they sang it twice, with Catherine and Evie joining in the second time.
"High in the tall church tower,
Signed with the mystic sign,
Theirs since the days of the chrism,
The oil and salt and wine,
The great bells wait in silence
Through the long death of night,
For resurrection triumph
And resurrection light.
When the dawn comes out of darkness,
Victory out of pain.
Then music shakes the belfry,
And spring is born again..."
Afterwards it was time for Catherine to leave if she was to return to Moonacre in time for dinner as she had promised Marmaduke Scarlet. The children protested initially, but after bestowing each and every one with a kiss and a promise to all that she would return someday soon, they finally allowed her to depart.
As she walked back to Moonacre through the country lanes Catherine felt as though she was overflowing with happiness. That is, until once again she spotted Robin de Noir waiting for her up ahead on the road, then the feeling was replaced, not with her usual anger upon encountering him, but with uncertainty.
He kept his distance and remained quiet, lingering beneath a tree and waiting for her to approach him. If Catherine didn't know any better, she'd have said that he was a little unsure himself, certainly his usual swagger and arrogance were gone.
"I'm not going to hurt you." he said finally when she was within speaking distance.
Although Catherine didn't respond...she believed him. She couldn't begin to fathom why, but she did.
"And I'm not going to trick you either." he continued, seemingly realising that she was prepared to at least listen for the moment, "You have every reason not to trust me, I understand that. I'm certainly not denying it. But I promise, you're safe with me."
He began to walk alongside her and for once, Catherine did not object.
They walked in somewhat awkward silence for a while until he spoke again, "Have you...Have you given any thought to what I said this morning?" he asked hesitantly.
"How could I not? It was very sudden and perplexing."
"Completely out of the blue." he agreed.
Catherine tried to hide her smile, but Robin noticed and this made him smile. Which he then tried to hide also.
"Look here, you must realise how ridiculous all this is-"
"Given all that's happened." he finished for her.
"Yes. And given who you are and who I am."
"No. It's got nothing to do with you and I, the fault lies with our families. You said yourself that you don't believe the legend of the pearls. Neither do I."
"Very well, I'll agree with you there." Catherine conceded, "But our families are an important part of us and a huge influence on our lives, so I really don't know how you can even consider courting me, let alone imagine any sort of future for us. And I wish to make it clear that I'm speaking hypothetically, before you get your hopes up."
"Understood." Robin chuckled, "Look, if the idea of courting is disagreeable then that's fine, I won't push you. I can be patient and wait. Or if you prefer, we don't have to talk about it ever again. But I would like to talk to you again. If you'll permit it."
"I..." Catherine shook her head in frustration, "I still don't understand. Why the sudden change of heart?"
They were nearing the gates to the Merryweather estate so Robin stopped, taking his hat off and running his hand through his brown curls with a sigh, "One day it's just going to be you and me left. Have you thought about that?"
Catherine shrugged.
"It's true. It may take a long time, but one day we'll be the heads of our families." Robin stepped in closer, he stared straight into her eyes and said in a voice which was completely serious, "I don't want to be an old man who spends his life hating a thing he's never known, just because the people who came before him told him to."
This statement struck Catherine, made her shiver. She didn't quite know how to respond, but in that moment she agreed with Robin de Noir completely.
Incensed, Robin continued speaking, "We could do it, you know. We could be the ones to end this stupid feud. You and I."
"You really think so? It has gone on for centuries, after all."
"Ah, but remember: when we're old and in charge, our families will have to listen to us." he grinned.
Catherine actually laughed at this, "I think you're an optimist. Or mad. Or both! A mad optimist!"
Robin wasn't at all offended, "A mad optimist." he agreed, nodding sagely, "Would you like to be a mad optimist with me?"
Catherine smiled but did not respond, walking instead to the gate and inserting the key.
"May I at least speak with you again, Lady Merryweather?" he called after her.
After a moment of thought, she turned the key and glanced back, "You may, Mister de Noir."
