The abbess must have left the abbey as soon as she received William’s message telling her of Catherine’s return. She arrived just as they were sitting down to the midday meal.
“You are with child!” Abbess Talcott said as Catherine rose from the table to embrace her. “What a happy surprise. William did not tell me you were blessed.”
“He did not know of it,” Catherine said. “I discovered I was with child after my capture.”
William caught the unease in Catherine’s voice and wondered if she spoke the truth. Had she known she carried his child before she left and not told him?
The abbess sat next to Catherine and squeezed her hand. “It was a charity William did not know. The poor man would have only suffered more.”
“I see William has won you over as well,” Catherine teased. “Even Alys adores him now. I swear, the woman goes on about poor William turning away his favorite foods. Forget that I was in the wilds of Wales, sleeping on the hard ground and growing a babe on food prepared by a rebel who could not cook!”
Catherine meant to make a joke of it, but the abbess gripped Catherine’s hand and asked, “Was it as bad as that? We were so very worried about you.”
“Nay, ’twas not,” Catherine assured her friend. “The travel was a bit hard, for we covered long distances over rough roads. So long as I was with Glyndwr, though, I always slept in houses. It was only later, when I traveled alone with Maredudd Tudor, that we slept outside—and I had to eat his dreadful cooking!”
William listened intently; this was the first he had heard in detail of the rough travel his wife had endured. Her attempt to make light of it did not deceive him.
“Maredudd dragged me all over western Wales before taking me to his home,” she said with a slight smile and shook her head. “When we finally headed toward Anglesey, we traveled on back trails through the Snowdon Mountains.”
“Oh, dear,” the abbess said, patting her arm, “that must have been terrible.”
“Though I would have bargained with the devil for a bath and a clean gown,” Catherine said, her voice losing its light tone, “I never felt afraid with Maredudd.”
The pulse at William’s temples throbbed as the darkness of his guilt engulfed him. Somehow, he had never let himself think of her as being truly in fear of her captors.
Catherine had gone white. Belatedly, the abbess saw that her questions were causing Catherine distress and changed the subject.
“Now that you are safely back,” she said, “perhaps we can devote our attention to the question of Stephen’s betrothal.”
One look at Stephen’s scarlet face, and Catherine was on her feet. “Shall we go to the solar, Lady Abbess? It is pleasant there when the sun is out, as it is today.”
As the ladies left the room, the abbess’s voice carried back to the men at the table. “I’ve made a list of all the heiresses of an appropriate age in the Marches. I assume you do want him nearby.…”
Stephen sent William a terrified look.
“Don’t worry, little brother,” William said with more confidence than he felt. “I will have the final say.”
William was on edge. In spite of having every reason to be happy, things between him and Catherine had gone horribly wrong. Their time at Beaumaris had been everything he had hoped for. And more. Somehow, he lost it all with a single question.
Catherine did not even want to sleep with him on her first night at home. At least she did not kick him out when he slipped in beside her during the night. He wanted to believe it was a sign she was warming to him, but he suspected she had been just too tired to argue.
He hoped to talk with her after the abbess left, but there seemed no opportunity. The servants hung about, waiting on her hand and foot, and he could hardly send Stephen and Jamie away. He understood too well that they needed the reassurance of having her near.
Even if he got Catherine alone, what would he say to her?
As he went into supper that evening, Stephen sidled up to him. “What have you done?” Stephen hissed in his ear.
“Now that you are all of thirteen,” William said, “you believe you can counsel me?”
“No one has thrown a cup of mead in my face.”
If this young brother of his did not learn to watch his tongue, it would be the death of him.
“How did you hear of that?” he demanded.
Stephen shrugged. The boy seemed to hear everything, but he never revealed his sources.
“I would hate to have Lady Catherine cross with me,” Stephen said. “If I were you, I would do whatever she wants to make amends.”