Checkmate - Dorothy Dunnett [198]
‘It is a principle of Archidamidas,’ Lymond said, ‘that he that knows how to speak, knows also when to speak. You know, I think, who and what I am. I have the word of the King that on the day after the Dauphin’s wedding I shall receive the final annulment of my present marriage. When I have my release, may I hope that you will become my wife?’
She had studied her mirror. She knew how the candlelight enhanced the excellent line of her throat, the shape of her cheekbones, the balance and mould of her body. She said, ‘It seems a poor way, Mr Crawford, to ask for a lady’s hand in marriage. Can you not manage a quote or two from the poets? A note of devotion? A fleeting salute on the cheek?’
‘A masquerade?’ he said lightly. ‘Would you think any better of me?’ But his hands were still and he was looking at her.
‘Is happiness a masquerade?’ said Catherine d’Albon. ‘Or do we not speak of it? I am sure my mother did not.’
‘We shall speak of it,’ he said. ‘I trust I may be able to give it to you. Aside from that, I make few demands on those close to me. I shall not encroach on you.’
She said, ‘You are telling me, I think, that you mean to lead your own life.’
‘I hope you will lead yours,’ Lymond said. ‘And that mine, where it touches us both, will not be displeasing to you. But if you hold me in horror, there is no reason why this contract need be completed. And if I have offended you, forgive me.’
There was a little silence. Then, ‘You make no pretence,’ she said quietly; and saw him recognize and accept the bitterness she could not quite keep out of her voice.
Then he said, ‘No. Pretence makes a poor foundation when you are hoping to build.’
‘Do we have anything to build with?’ said Catherine d’Albon.
‘Yes,’ said Lymond. ‘There are my good intentions. And there is your wit, and your kindness, and your beauty.’
‘What do you know of them, Mr Crawford?’ said Catherine d’Albon.
For the first time in an interview which had fallen out not at all as he expected, Francis Crawford hesitated. Then walking towards her he raised her hand, and kissed it, and leading her back to her chair, seated her, and placed himself thoughtfully on the little rug at her feet. He said, ‘If you wish pretty phrases, and true ones, I should say that your beauty I can see and your wit I am coming to know in this meeting. Your kindness, clearly, I do not yet qualify for. But I should be honoured if you would allow me to try.’
‘As you say,’ she said, ‘you are able to make polite speeches when brought to it. Why are you divorcing Mistress Philippa?’
His eyes were blue: a dense and brilliant cornflower, and his hair was leaf-gold under the flattering light. He said, ‘Doesn’t she want to marry the worthy youth Allendale? I don’t know her plans, but I rather thought that was her intention. I am divorcing her, lady, because our marriage has never been more than a formal one. I don’t bed with children.’
‘Rumour says,’ said Catherine d’Albon, ‘that you did. Or are the Knights of St John all mistaken?’
‘You know too much,’ said Francis Crawford slowly. ‘Shall I amend it? I don’t bed with young girls who are virgins, unless they ask me, and unless I am married to them.’
‘I see,’ said Catherine d’Albon. ‘You must be asked?’
‘And married,’ said Francis Crawford.
‘That is easy,’ she said; and for the first time he saw her lips tilt in a smile which recalled nothing at all of her mother. ‘If you ask me, I expect I shall marry you. But as for what comes after that, who can forecast?’
‘Nostradamus,’ said Lymond. ‘And I myself for that matter. In fact, I would be willing to take a small wager.’ He looked at her, the levity fading. ‘If you have doubts, Catherine, there is no need to go on with it all.’
‘I have doubts,’ said Catherine d’Albon. ‘But they appertain to myself, not to you, No. It is a match. How could I fare better?’
She felt his recoil as if it were physical. Then he said, with a kind of suppressed anger, ‘I know it should be different. It will be, if you will give me time. I promised