The Miracle at St. Bruno's

Kate was nearly eight years old when she came to us but she seemed more like eleven-so said Keziah; and there were some at eleven who knew a thing or two-Keziah herself, for instance. I was a little jealous of the effect she had on Keziah, although I was always her Little 'Un, her baby, and she always defended me, when defense was needed, against the dazzling Kate.

But after Kate came all the little pleasures seemed to be slightly less exciting.

Romping with dogs, feeding the peacocks, gathering wild flowers for my mother and seeing how many different kinds I could find and name-all that was childish. Kate liked dressing up, pretending she was someone else, climbing the trees in the nuttery, hiding there and throwing nuts down on people as they passed; she liked wrapping a sheet around her and frightening the maids. Once in the cellar she startled one of them so badly that the poor girl fell down the steps and sprained her ankle. She made me swear that I wouldn't tell she was the ghost and from then on the servants were convinced the cellar was haunted.

There was always drama around Kate; she would listen at keyholes to what people said and then she would tell her own highly colored version of it; she plagued our tutor and used to put her tongue out at him when his back was turned. "You're as wicked as I am, Damask," she would tell me, "because you laughed. If I go to hell, you will go too.”

It was a terrifying thought. But my father had taught me to be logical and I insisted that it wasn't so bad to laugh at something wicked as to do it. It was every bit as bad, Kate assured me. I would ask Father, I said; at which she told me that if I did she would invent such wickedness and swear that I was guilty of it that he would turn me out of the house.

"He never would," I said. "He gave up being a monk so that he could have me.”

She was scornful. "You wait till he hears.”

"But I have done nothing," I protested tearfully.

"I will tell it so that it will be just as though you had." "You'll go to hell for it.”

"I'm going there already-you said so. So what does a bit more wickedness matter?”

Usually she insisted that I obey her. The worst punishment she could inflict on me was to remove her exciting presence and this she quickly discovered. It delighted her that she was so important to me.

"Of course," she was fond of saying, "you are really only a baby.”

I wished that Rupert would have been with us more often, but we seemed so very young to him. He was kind to me always and very polite but he didn't want to be with me, of course. One of the occasions I remember most vividly of him was in the winter at the lambing time and how he went out into the snow and brought in a lamb and sat nursing it all the evening. He was very tender and I thought how kind he was and how I could love him if he would only let me.

Once my father took me down to the river's edge as he used to before my cousins came and he sat on the wall while I stood there with his arm supporting me as we watched the barges going by.

"It's a different house now, eh, Damask?" he said.

I knew what he meant and I nodded.

"And you're as happy as you used to be?”

I was unsure and he gave me a little squeeze.

"It's better for you," he said. "Children should not be brought up alone.”

I reminded him of the time we had seen the King and the Cardinal go by in the royal barge. "We never saw him again," I said.

"Nor ever shall," said my father.

"Kate saw him in his scarlet robes and fur tippet holding his orange in his hand.”

"The pomp and glory has passed away, poor man," said my father quietly.

"What are they?" I asked.

And my father replied, "What the Cardinal had to excess and has no longer. Poor sad man, his fall is imminent.”

I could not believe that the mighty Cardinal was a poor sad man. I was about to ask for explanations. But I didn't. Instead I would ask Kate. That was the difference in our household. Kate had become my instructress; I no longer asked my father to explain what I did not know.

My cousins had been with us two years when the Cardinal died and by that time it seemed to me that they had always been there. I was seven years old at that time and two years of Kate's tuition had matured me considerably. Kate at nine-grown a little plumper-seemed at least three years older, and at twelve girls began to be considered for marriage in their not very distant future.

I had worked hard in the schoolroom. My tutors told my father that I should be quite a scholar in a few years' time; he compared me with the daughters of my father's friend Sir Thomas More and they were notoriously clever. I needed the reassurance of being able to rise above Kate's ascendancy in some ways. She pooh-poohed Latin and Greek. "Are they going to make you a Duchess? All your little quips and tags!

What are they? Just repeating what someone has said before!”