The Virgin's Spy (Tudor Legacy #2)(48)
Do?a Catalina waved a long-fingered, gnarled hand, and Pippa perched on a priceless-looking chair embroidered with gold thread. Then the do?a stared at her for a long time without speaking. Pippa did not move nor make any attempt to break the silence, and Kit tried to follow her example. Being still did not come naturally to him.
“Do you know what Madalena wrote to me of you?” Do?a Catalina finally asked.
“I do not,” Pippa replied smoothly.
“And yet you know so many things, that some would consider…unusual.”
“Madalena said that you have some experience in unusual knowledge.”
“And is that why you have come to see me, young Philippa? An interesting name for an English girl born in the time of an unwelcome Spanish consort in your country.”
“I was not named for King Philip, but for my grandmother. She died shortly before my birth.”
Do?a Catalina tipped her head, a youthful gesture that called to Kit’s mind the image of her elegant granddaughter. “A woman of troubled mind, was she not? Is that the fear that stalks you? For fear I see, like a stain on your soul. Do you fear the loss of your mind?”
“I do not. I am not my grandmother.”
With a smile that could only be called cynical, Do?a Catalina said, “So proud to announce your independence…so it is fate that you fear. I cannot help you with that.”
Kit felt Pippa’s instinctive resistance to being handled. “That is not why I came.”
“So you did come for reasons other than politeness.”
Had she? If Pippa wanted something from this woman, she hadn’t said as much to him. Intrigued, and a little annoyed, Kit sharpened his focus. Since they were little, he could access his twin’s emotions and thoughts if he tried hard to shut out everything else.
Letting his awareness of the physical surroundings fade, Kit narrowed in on the intangible thread that bound him to his sister. It was as delicate as silk and as durable as diamonds, the finest, brightest part of him. Through it now, his senses were doubled and he felt Pippa’s inner trembling inside his own skin.
If Do?a Catalina could sense it, she gave no quarter. “Give me your hand, child,” she commanded.
Kit raised his eyebrows as he felt Pippa’s shock magnify his own. Chiromancy, the art of palmistry, had been classified by the Roman Catholic Church as one of the seven forbidden arts of magic. Do?a Catalina, who must always be viewed with some suspicion because of her converso status, could easily attract the unwelcome attention of the Inquisition for practicing chiromancy.
She did not seem bothered by the possibility. Pippa extended her right hand, but Do?a Catalina waved it away. “The left, if you please. It is your unrealized life that troubles you.”
Kit clenched his own left hand as he fleetingly wondered if his palm would yield the same information as his twin’s.
“A woman so severely in control of herself often runs riot in her own heart,” Do?a Catalina said, running her fingertips across the lines on Pippa’s palm, and Kit felt a shiver of that touch himself. “Passion you have, no surprise for one young and lovely, but you submerge your own passions in serving others. Such service, though admirable, cannot compensate for your own desires. What is it you wish, Do?a Philippa? Your body knows, for our bodies cannot lie as our thoughts can.”
Kit felt on the edge of some revelation and then, suddenly, Pippa pushed back against their bond. Whatever had risen instinctively in her mind, she did not want Kit to know.
“Child,” Do?a Catalina continued, “you have been seeking an answer you already possess. Simply because you do not like the answer does not mean you can force someone to give you another. Your life is your life. Each hour given to you by God is to be lived as you yourself choose. Do not look to others—not even the stars—to make those choices for you.”
“What if I choose wrong? What if my choices lead others to suffer?”
With an impatient shake of her head, Do?a Catalina answered, “You think too much, child. And you take too much on yourself. You will light the beacon, but your princess will command the flames. Those you love are stronger than you give them credit for. You must stop feeling superior.”
“I don’t feel superior!” Pippa pulled her hand away, and behind her Kit felt the sting of the insult.
But Do?a Catalina gave her the sort of look that Carrie might give, when the children had been caught in an egregious act of mischief. “The first step to knowing yourself is knowing your faults. And that, child, is the best advice an old woman can give you. You may go now. Thank Madalena for sending you to me.”
The do?a looked across the length of the chamber to Kit. “As for you, Lord Christopher, pay attention to that princess of yours. You may not know her mind as well as you think you do. And royalty with minds of their own are unpredictable.”
—
Anabel spent early summer at Syon House, the former abbey turned into a gracious home by the late Duke of Northumberland. The gardens were the specialty of Syon House, and June sent them into spectacular bloom. From the upper floor windows, one could admire the intricacies of the parterres and knot gardens below. Lavender softened the outer brick walls and within the small square beds bloomed daisies and hollyhocks and herbs such as marjoram and mint.
The interior of the house, left mostly untouched since the 1550s, was slowly being modernized, and Anabel enjoyed making design decisions, from fabric for the windows to which royal tapestries to borrow from her mother’s collection. Her grandfather, Henry VIII, had possessed perhaps the largest collection of tapestries in Europe during his day and there was no shortage of themes or styles to choose from.