And I covered my face at the impossibility of it, so that when Owen moved to pull me to sit on the settle he startled me, but I did not refuse, neither did I rebuff him when Father Benedict rose, genuflected, and withdrew into the sanctuary, and Owen took a seat beside me.
‘Don’t weep,’ he said. ‘What I said to you was intolerable for a man of honour. But I claim provocation.’ His smile was wry. ‘Your tears are sufficient condemnation of my actions towards you. Doubtless I should be dismissed from your service for it. I would do nothing to hurt you, my lady.’
‘I’ll not dismiss you. Do you not understand?’ His return to formality overcame me, undermining all my intentions to remain aloof and distant, and the words poured as freely as my tears. ‘I was responsible. I was too impulsive. I am ashamed that I came to your room, willingly kissed you and accepted your kisses, and then my courage gave out at the last moment. I could see no happiness, no future, for either of us. Do you not see? I am not allowed to have what would make me happy. My life is dictated by Gloucester and the Council. Yes, I wanted you. I would have lain in your arms if I had not had a fit of remorse for beginning what could not be ended. For Gloucester’s anger at me would touch you also.’
He said nothing, merely leaned forward, forearms supported on his thighs, studying the tiles between his boots. I could not tell if he understood, or despised me as a weak woman who could not make up her own mind. I feared it might be the latter.
‘I wish I had never seen you swimming in the river,’ I sniffed.
He turned his head to look up at me. ‘Why?’
‘Because since then I am aware of you as I have been of no other man.’
‘I didn’t know you admired my prowess at swimming,’ he said.
‘I didn’t. I lusted after your body,’ I admitted.
He laughed softly, the sound not totally devoid of humour, as he returned my missal to me. ‘So why refuse me?’
‘Because I have to live as I am told to live, discreetly and circumspectly, to honour my son and the Crown.’
The dark brows drew together. ‘You are not a child, to follow orders.’
‘It is not as simple as that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I am alone. I have no one to encourage me, to give me strength. If I am to rebel against those who have power over me, I cannot do it alone. You were right. St Winifred had far more courage than I.’
‘To Hell with St Winifred. I would give you strength.’
‘But if we embarked on…that is to say…’
‘If you allowed me to become your lover.’
‘Yes. That is what I meant.’ I kept my gaze on my fingers, still clutching my ill-treated missal. ‘When it was discovered it would bring Gloucester’s wrath down on us. And that would mean dismissal for you, even punishment.’
‘To Hell with Gloucester too. Do you not rule your own household? I could give you happiness.’
‘And I could bring disaster down on your head.’
‘Do we deny each other because of what others want for us?’
It all seemed so simple when he spoke it. But it wasn’t simple at all. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘We must deny each other.’
His hand touched my arm. ‘I say no. Where is your spirit?’
‘I have none.’ Self-pity washed over me like a wave. ‘I don’t believe myself to be worthy of love.’
‘Look at me, Katherine.’
I did, wishing my face was not ravaged by tears, but still I looked, to discover all the anger and condemnation in his face had quite gone. I was caught up in such understanding, such compassion, such a tenderness of care that I could not look away.
‘Use my name,’ he said gently.
‘Owen,’ I said with a watery smile.
‘Good. You have given me a hard task, have you not? To prove to you that my love is sure? Now, listen to me. Here is how I see it,’ Owen stated solemnly. ‘I see a woman of extraordinary courage. You came to a strange country as a young girl, to make a new life alone since your husband left you for the demands of war. You bore the loss of widowhood, and you have stood by your young son. Do you think I have not seen how you behave? Never has there been a Queen Dowager as gracious as Katherine of France. You have escaped from the toils of Edmund Beaufort, God rot his soul. And not before time—he was not the man for you. I say that you are a woman of spirit. And I say that that you should not accept a life of solitude and loneliness because your brother-by-marriage thinks it would be good for the Crown. Do you not deserve a life of your own, on your own terms?’
There was a little silence.
‘Look at me, Katherine. Answer me.’
‘I…’
‘My lady?’
Father Benedict, who had approached, was looking from me to Owen in some perturbation. ‘Is there a difficulty?’ His eyes were fixed on my tear-stained cheeks.
‘No, Father.’
‘Are you troubled, my daughter?’ He was frowning.
‘No, Father. Unless it’s the troublesome matter of finance for St Winifred’s festival. Master Owen was reminding me.’
‘Money! Always a matter for discussion. Master Owen will solve it, I’m sure. He solves all our problems.’ Reassured, with a smile he made the sign of the cross and blessed us both before leaving us.
