Free The Heretic’s Wife by Brenda Rickman Vantrease

perception of her father’s greatness. Mistress William Roper
née
More could not let that go unanswered—both for love and argument’s sake.
    She was standing at the door, her back to Kate, fingering the door latch. “What are the charges against your brother?” She turned around to face Kate.
    “There are no charges. He was arrested under suspicion of disseminating Lutheran materials.”
    “Does he disseminate Lutheran materials?”
    “They found no evidence either on his person or in this shop to support such a charge. None gave witness against him. He made no confession even under torture. He is being held without due process in the Liberty of the Fleet where his wife and I battle poverty to ensure he has a minimum of creature comforts.”
    “Does he have Lutheran sympathies?”
    Mistress Roper was not a lawyer’s daughter for naught. Kate paused, weighing her answers carefully.
    “My lady, no person can know another’s heart. His testimony is a matter of public record.”
    “I see. And what of you? Do you have Lutheran sympathies?”
    Kate hesitated and looked her interrogator directly in the eyes, so there could be no mistaking her answer. “I have promised my brother we will never sell Lutheran materials in this shop. Whatever my opinions are regarding reform or any other matter are mine alone, and I choose to keep them to myself.”
    Lady Margaret smiled faintly. “A politic answer and one my own father would admire. I do understand the lure of such sentiments. They have infected our own household. My own dear husband has been seduced by the Lutheran zeal for reform.”
    “And yet he remains a free man.”
    Lady Margaret nodded as if to say, I take your point. “I will speak to my father and see what benefit to you and your brother may be gleaned. What is your brother’s name again?”
    “Gough. John.”
    “And your name?”
    Kate hesitated just a fraction of a second, a hesitation that she was sure did not go unmarked by Lady Margaret. But what choice did she have? And there was compassion in the woman’s demeanor. She could hardly be faulted for loving her father. Perhaps she could use her influence to make her point whilst at the same time doing “a good work.”
    “Kate Gough,” she said, curtsying lightly. “My lady, we will be forever grateful for your kindness.”
    “I will do that which I can do, Kate Gough,” she said, “and I shall pray that both you and your brother find your way back to the bosom of the one, true Church.”
    The next day Kate returned from visiting her brother to find the latch bent, the front door to the bookshop open, and the printing press smashed.
    Three days later John came home.

    Kate was disappointed when John did not come back to the shop immediately but stayed at home with his wife and child. He just needs a few days to rest, she told herself. But when she told him about the destruction of the press, his reaction was not what she’d expected. He’d seemed numb to any emotion, even anger.
    “It is a warning,” he said. “We shall heed it.”
    “But how shall we print without a press? And since you burned all our inventory, what shall we sell?”
    “Nothing for a while, I think. It is not a good time to be a printer in England. We can print nothing that is not licensed by the king, and he will never grant a license to the kind of books that have been our stock-in-trade.”
    They were sitting in John and Mary’s daub-and-wattle cottage, sparsely furnished now, with little more than a bed and a table. They had sold the cupboard and most of the plate, even sold the wall hanging that had been a wedding gift from Mary’s parents—sold it all to keep John in the Liberty. The rent on the roof over their heads was due and they could not pay.
    “How shall we live, John, without the press? Shall we sell Pipkin’s cradle next? Are the four of us to live crammed into my tiny room above the shop? Of course, without a press, I suppose we could set up a bed