“In my day we promised to be bonny and buxom in bed and at the board,” she whispered loudly, “and I’ll wager that is what your lad is thinking of at this moment.”

I winced at the words and the sharp point of the elbow. I was sure Dame Alice was right, but she had been overheard by some of Robert’s cousins who, already deep in their cups, found her outspokenness hilarious. The sniggers threatened to drown out the service.

I preferred to draw more spiritual comfort from the fact that the little church had stood on the village green from time immemorial and seen many changes. Although the marriage service was impeccably Protestant, which felt quite wrong to me, I knew that God was timeless and that he understood the words of faith no matter how they were expressed. I knew that this was the best thing for Robert, to carve a life for himself away from the religious trials and torments of both conscience and purse that had dogged previous generations of our family. He was now the son-in-law of the rich and influential Sir Thomas Leigh, with a beautiful wife and a bright future ahead of him. He could cast off the taint of recusancy and bask in the approval of a Protestant society.

When I stepped forward to congratulate the happy couple and to kiss Catherine’s cheek, she caught my hands in hers and held them tight.

“Dear Lady Catesby,” she said, “you have welcomed me into your family like a true daughter. I will always feel blessed to have you as a second mother.”

Pretty words; her eyes were gleaming with tears and I judged her to be sincere. Catherine, I had already learned, had a soft heart and a sentimental nature, which only caused Robert to adore her more.

“My dear,” I said truthfully, “I could not be happier for you or for my son. I wish you great joy.”

Catherine smiled demurely and slid her hand through Robert’s arm, tripping off down the path in a flurry of spring blossoms. Behind her walked her bridesmaid, her younger sister Anne, a very different young woman indeed, all dark eyes and bold gazes. Anne Leigh reminded me of myself in her self-possession and determination. Contrarily, I did not like her, thinking such forwardness was unbecoming at such a young age.

“Today has set Robert on a very different course to the one I might have imagined for him after his education at Douai.” A voice spoke in my ear. I turned to find my brother-in-law, Thomas Tresham, at my shoulder.

“I hope so,” I agreed pleasantly. “We all want the best for our children, do we not, Thomas? It is a natural instinct.”

Thomas shook his head as though he were disappointed in me. This was no surprise. William and I had wanted to invite as few of our Catholic relatives as possible to the wedding but Thomas Tresham was difficult to ignore. Not only was he married to my sister Muriel, but he had grown up within my family at Coughton Court, educated alongside my brothers, after his own father had died young. Thomas was a man with a substantial reputation, a scholar and a philosopher, architect and builder. He stood out, like Robert, because he had both charm and an air of command. His ideas set fires in men’s minds and because of that they would follow him to the ends of the earth; he was ardent and impassioned, especially about his Catholic faith, hence his disapproval that we had married Robert off to a Protestant wife.