Fact: Katherine herself died a month after that, probably in childbirth.
The king died seven months after that in 1483 at the age of forty. He died suddenly and unexpectedly at Westminster. The death was considered suspicious by many and at that point all the accusations of witchcraft resurfaced and various people were accused of procuring his death. Amongst them was Margaret de Vere who was rearrested. Apparently she counter claimed against the king, blaming him for Katherine’s death. Why? My suspicion is that King Edward was the father of the child that killed her. I’m leaping to conclusions here, Joss, as you will immediately point out, and being shockingly unscientific and even romantic in my deductions, but perhaps some of this makes sense? What do you think? Could our ghost be King Edward – a tin man in armour?
Must go. Have got to teach lower fifth ladies about Disraeli and Gladstone, God help me. If I could talk about Dizzie’s racy novels and Glad’s girls they’d pay attention. To the Irish question – not a hope! See you all soon. Regards to Luke and Lyn.
D.
Slowly Joss refolded the sheets of paper and reinserted them into the envelope which she stuck into one of the pigeon holes of the desk. Then she had sat for a long time staring out of the window, lost in thought.
25
The barometer in the dining room was falling steadily.
As the winds increased the following day, rattling the windows and howling around the chimneys, the family congregated in the kitchen. By four o’clock Luke had sent Jimbo home and he too was sitting at the kitchen table, a dismantled carburettor spread out before him on a newspaper. He glanced up at Joss, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. ‘Was that a letter from David yesterday morning?’
Joss was cutting up pieces of fruit for Tom’s tea. She glanced up at him, knife raised. ‘It was. He sends you both his regards.’
‘And has he found out any more history about the house?’ He held the housing from one of the twin carbs of the SS up to his mouth and breathing on it heavily he rubbed the gleaming aluminium with a duster.
‘A bit. Apparently King Edward IV visited here on several occasions. David thinks he fancied one of the daughters of the house.’ She scooped pieces of chopped apple and banana onto a saucer and put it in front of Tom. There was no way they could see that she was holding her breath, straining her ears towards the hall, wondering if someone was there, listening, someone who might resent her light, almost flippant tone.
Lyn was studying a recipe book with a frown, pencil in hand as she noted down ingredients on her shopping list. ‘Of course, it would be a king,’ she observed quietly. ‘No lesser mortal would dare to chat up a Belheddonist.’
Luke raised an eyebrow. He caught Joss’s eye and grinned. ‘Not bad. A Belheddonist. I like that.’
Joss laughed uncomfortably. ‘Is that what we are too?’
‘Lotus eaters, one and all.’ He began stacking the pieces of metal back into an old cardboard box. Standing up he walked over to the sink to wash his hands under the tap. ‘So, shall I put on the kettle?’
Joss nodded. ‘Then I’d better get back to work. I don’t seem to be making much progress at the moment.’ Her deadline was not very far off and twice now she had had letters from Robert Cassie asking her if she thought she would complete the book on time. They had only added to her guilt.
It wasn’t until Joss had retreated to her study, cup of tea in hand, and Lyn had set Tom drawing pictures at the table with a box full of crayons that Lyn sat down opposite Luke. ‘What really happened yesterday?’
‘Yesterday?’
‘You know what I mean, Luke. The lake.’
‘I fell in.’
‘Fell?’
‘Yes, fell.’ He looked up and met her gaze. ‘Leave it, Lyn. I’ve told you before. This is between Joss and me.’
‘Is it? And is it between you and her when she hurts the children? You don’t think those bruises on Tom came from the fall, do you? There were finger marks, for God’s sake. And Ned. How many accidents has he had now? Little ones, admittedly. A knock here and there, a blanket over the face. What about the things we don’t know about? What is it going to take for you to pay attention, Luke?’ She stood up and paced up and down the floor a couple of times. ‘Can’t you see what’s under your nose? Joss can’t cope. She’s depressed. It’s all getting too much for her. I think she’s hurting them. She’s doing it. It’s a plea for help, Luke, but who knows how far it will go? You have to do something.’
‘Lyn, you don’t know what you’re saying!’ Angrily Luke thumped the table with his fist. ‘You’re her sister, for God’s sake – ’
‘No. No, Luke, I’m not her sister. Not any more. That’s been made perfectly clear. But I still love her like a sister.’ She pushed her hair out of her eyes angrily. ‘And I can see what’s happening. This house, the family, even these bloody ghosts she thinks are here – everything is combining to make her depressed. She’s not writing, you know. I’ve looked at that manuscript on her mother’s precious desk. She had got to page 147 three or four weeks ago and she’s written nothing since. She just sits there, brooding.’
‘Lyn, it may have escaped your notice but she’s trying to do a lot of the housework as well as feed Ned and write a book. And why is she doing housework? Because you feel you’re being asked to do too much! She’s tired, Lyn.’
‘Yes, she’s tired. I’m tired. We’re all tired. But we don’t go around hurting the children.’
She became aware suddenly that Tom had put down his crayons and was staring at her and Luke solemnly, eyes huge, thumb in mouth. ‘Oh, Tom, darling.’ She ran to him and picked him up, swinging him onto her hip. ‘Aunty Lyn is going to look after you, sweetheart, I promise.’