A Perilous Alliance

by FIONA BUCKLEY

  ‘What do you mean?’ snapped Sybil. ‘What do you know? You can’t know anything!’

  ‘Just got a feeling,’ said Gladys, maddeningly.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Four Hundred Miles

  ‘Sit down,’ I said to them. They did so and we sat there, looking at each other.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Sybil at last, uncertainly. ‘Sorry to worry you so, Ursula. I know how tired you are. We all are! All we’ve been through … riding to Dover, being prisoners on that ship, trying to row back to safety … being frightened all the time … I’m as tired as anyone else. But Ambrosia …’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘I do know, believe me. When I thought I’d never see Harry again …’ The very memory brought the tears to my eyes. ‘But …’

  It was true that I was tired. More than anything, at that moment, I would have liked to retire to bed and go to sleep for ever and ever. But I couldn’t. I simply had too much to do, that must be done, as soon as possible. For Sybil’s benefit, I recited the list aloud.

  ‘We can’t leave for Edinburgh immediately,’ I said. ‘I have this report to prepare for Walsingham and Cecil, and a letter for my sister the queen. When Simon returns, he’ll have to go straight off again with those. Then Eddie and Joseph must go to Dover with a letter to Kate’s parents, and to fetch our horses. They’ll have to hire horses for the journey there – and how just two of them will manage to bring back the hirelings and our six, I haven’t yet worked out. I might send Billington with them; he’s got a pony. I can’t even think about going anywhere or doing anything else until all that’s settled. And do you really think, Sybil, that you can ride four hundred miles?’

  ‘No, I know I can’t, and nor can Dale,’ said Sybil, ‘but once the horses are back we could use our coach! Though if we’ve got to wait for them to come back … no, we need to start out now! If you can hire horses for the grooms who go to Dover, why can’t we use hired teams to get to Edinburgh? We did that to get here from Bristol! Can’t we use the same chain of stables again? Ursula, we need to act at once! We can’t afford delay!’

  ‘That chain of stables only exists in part of the south of England. We couldn’t use it to get to Scotland. Delay can’t be helped; I have all these other things to see to first. We can go, but not instantly. Surely you can understand …’

  ‘I see,’ said Sybil bitterly. ‘Once again, you have made it plain that you don’t want to bother about Ambrosia. Very well. Just as she set out alone to find me when she fled from her in-laws, then I will set out alone to rescue her from the Fergusons. I’ll hire a horse for myself and pack my saddlebags and just go! Well, not quite alone. I’ll need Kate with me; I’ll need her to find the Fergusons and …’

  ‘Sybil, you can’t! You know you can’t manage such a long ride, you’ve just said so yourself, and I certainly can’t allow Kate to go with you. No, don’t say anything, Kate. I am responsible for you until I can return you to your home and I must do that in person – I may be able to smooth your reunion with your father. I fear he’s likely to be angry. You are not going to rush off to Edinburgh with Sybil and that’s final. Look, Sybil, if we can just let things settle for a few days, and give ourselves some rest …’

  ‘No!’ Sybil shouted, and with that, fled the room.

  ‘Oh, dear God,’ I said feebly.

  ‘She is so anxious for Ambrosia,’ Kate said. ‘She does have to go to Scotland and I must go too, to find the house. And besides, we don’t know how they’ll receive us, so surely it would help if I were there, since I’m a Ferguson. Things might be very difficult. My father said he wanted Mistress Wilde kept in Scotland for good, by any method, however drastic. Though he was going to try for a pardon for Duncan as well. He was in a muddle,’ said Kate. ‘Frantic with worry. Mrs Wilde was so desperate, so furious – she wouldn’t stop crying and screaming and pounding things with her fists and shouting that she’d see Duncan hang for what he’d done; it was difficult to think, through all that uproar. My father was like someone trying to hold back a flood when a seawall’s collapsing – trying to stop a hundred leaks at once.’

  ‘I can imagine it,’ I said seriously. I added: ‘I suppose his Scottish relatives will heed his instructions? Yes, I can see that there could be great difficulties and I can see that you might act as a mediator. I know he sent a maid with Ambrosia and the maid had a letter for the Edinburgh Fergusons, explaining what he wanted.’

  ‘Yes, she’s my mother’s maid. She’ll come back when Mrs Wilde is settled,’ Kate said. ‘That’s why Mother isn’t replacing her and Amy’s had to look after me and Sheila and Mother. And why it was so easy for me to run away.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘And I do understand, even though Mistress Jester doesn’t realize it. But we just can’t set out for Scotland now because I can’t leave till I’ve settled all these other things, and you can’t go without me. And that’s that. Leave me, Kate. And you too, Gladys. I have to get this report written and that has got to come first.’

  They went, and I dipped my quill anew and set to work. It was hard to concentrate. From Sybil’s point of view, my report was meaningless. What were reports to the court compared to the plight of Ambrosia, cast away among strangers in the far north? In Sybil’s place I would have felt as she did.

  But I wasn’t in Sybil’s place and the report had to be written, and the letters to the queen and to Kate’s parents.

  I wrote them.

  Sybil kept her room all the rest of that day, and the next morning too. I tried to make my peace with her through the door but she would not answer me. Phoebe took trays to her. Heavy-hearted, I sent Brockley to Guildford, where there was a hiring stables, to arrange horses for Eddie and Joseph for their journey to Dover. Then I played with Harry until Tessie was ready to give him his nursery dinner and as the sun was out, I went into the garden.

  I was trying to think about Sybil. I felt weary and harassed beyond belief and the thought of a four-hundred-mile journey made me wilt, but I knew that somehow it would have to be endured, and Kate’s return to her home would have to be delayed, for it was true that we would need her in Scotland to guide us and act as a link between us and the Ferguson family. She was in my care so I must be one of the party. I groaned aloud, imagining it.

  Despite the sunshine, the bitter easterly that blows so often in March was finding its way through my cloak and making me shiver. I started back to the house. The moment I entered our courtyard, I saw Rusty tied out in the open while Eddie brushed him down, and knew that Simon was back. I also realized that once more we had uninvited visitors. Well, one, at least, for Rusty wasn’t the only horse out in the yard. A strange horse was there as well. Arthur Watts was picking out its hooves.

  ‘Whose is that?’ I asked, walking up to him. Arthur looked round with a grin.

  ‘Someone I think you’ll be pleased to see, mistress,’ he said.

  ‘Who might that be?’ I enquired.

  The horse snorted and Arthur patted him. ‘He rode in not half an hour ago. It’s Master Christopher Spelton.’

  ‘You got away!’ I said as we sat sipping wine in the little parlour. ‘You’re safe! We tried to come after you, to warn you that someone was following you and intending to tell the French court about your secret mission. But we couldn’t – we were prevented. I don’t know how much you know …’

  ‘Most of it,’ said Spelton, stretching his feet to my hearth. ‘I’ve been talking to Mistress Jester and that lass Katherine. Dear heaven, what a time you’ve had! It’s a miracle that you’re here, safe at home, and not halfway to Africa! My dear Mistress Stannard – what an escape! God was surely watching over you. I gather you’ll be sending a full account to Walsingham and Lord Burghley? I reported to them after I got back to England and heard that no one knew where you were and there was much anxiety about you. That’s why I’m here – I’ve been sent to see if there was news of you at Hawkswood. I’ve been told most of the background. I understand that word of some kind c
ame to Walsingham about Pierre Lestrange, Count Renard’s man. He’s been brought in under arrest and is in the Tower now. It’s known at court that you had set off to Dover in pursuit of Count Renard, and that he had been spying for France, but since then, there had been no word of you.’

  So Tom Sterling had delivered my letter and Lestrange had been duly collected. But in that case …

  ‘I hoped that Walsingham would send men after us,’ I said. ‘If he had, we might never have set foot on the Lucille.’

  ‘I can explain that. I’ve been well briefed,’ said Spelton. ‘There were diplomatic considerations. After all, England was sponsoring a match between the queen’s sister and the French king’s brother, the aim being to back up a treaty with France. Walsingham felt that to be obliged to arrest the count for spying would have been embarrassing.’

  ‘So he did nothing, and left me to … manage alone?’ I said indignantly.

  ‘It seems that he thought it best. If you caught up with the count, there was a chance that you might persuade him to turn back; also, you could pursue him into France more easily and safely than Walsingham’s men could. They might be viewed as a breach of French sovereignty, but you, the count’s prospective bride, Queen Elizabeth’s sister, and also a private person, would not. The French were most unlikely to harm you. They’d find that an embarrassment in the circumstances.’

  ‘This isn’t the first time I’ve felt like a pawn on a chessboard,’ I said. ‘It’s most unpleasant. In my letter to Walsingham, I spoke of my anxiety about you. Was he also relying on me to warn you, if the count couldn’t be dissuaded from his spying? Which I feel sure he couldn’t,’ I added. ‘He’d already broken off his betrothal to me.’

  ‘Probably. In a way. Walsingham,’ said Master Spelton drily, ‘does not approve of women being involved in such matters, but as a diplomatic bride, you were already involved and you have proved yourself resourceful in the past. As for me, well, if I couldn’t be warned after all, it would be unfortunate but secret agents are always expendable in the last resort. I believe Lord Burghley protested but he was overridden.’

  ‘I see,’ I said.

  I never did like Walsingham much.

  I didn’t ask whether the matter had been discussed in council, or whether the queen had known of Walsingham’s decision and if so what she thought about it. Spelton might know the answers but I didn’t wish to hear them. ‘It was a near thing,’ I said. ‘More than once, we didn’t think there ever would be word of any of us, ever again. But someone did warn you. How did that come about?’

  ‘I have friends and contacts among the Huguenots, and there are some at the edge of court circles, even in France. Count Renard’s chaplain made the count’s report for him, and some of my contacts got to hear of it. I’d spent a night with them when I first got to France and they knew my plans. They knew I didn’t mean to present myself at the court straightaway, because you asked me to make sure that this time, Matthew de la Roche really was dead. When I left my friends, I went to the chateau at Blanchepierre first. A messenger caught me up when I was there and then I made straight for Calais, believe me!’

  He paused, studying me with kindly brown eyes. Stocky Master Spelton, plainly dressed as before, with his weathered face and fringe of greying brown hair round his bald patch, was in no way a remarkable man to look at, but there really was something steady, reassuring, about him. ‘Matthew de la Roche is dead, Mistress Stannard. I have seen his grave and spoken to the lady who believes herself to be his widow, and is the mother of his youngest son. I mean really his youngest son – he’s younger than your Harry. He is gone, mistress. That, this time, is the truth. I hope you are not too much distressed.’

  I didn’t know whether I was or not. I thought I had put Matthew away in the past, but what had been between us had been too intense for that. When I was alone, perhaps I would weep for him. If I ever had time! To Spelton, I said: ‘In a way, it’s a relief. Something is over and done with that should have been finished long ago. Thank you for the trouble you have taken.’

  ‘It probably saved me from much unpleasantness,’ said Spelton. He added: ‘Walsingham will be sending out someone else to do my work for me. It will be someone apparently appointed to our ambassador’s suite. One of the secretaries there has been instructed to return to England on a plea of ill-health. His replacement will also be mine. I don’t know how Walsingham proposes to explain the count’s death to the French king, by the way. I fancy the truth will be imparted to him but secretly. It will be a buried truth.’

  ‘Literally. In the grounds of a Kentish house,’ I said. ‘Well, the French don’t wish for a quarrel with us, nor we with them.’

  ‘What’s this about Edinburgh?’ said Spelton.

  ‘How do you …?’

  ‘Mistress Jester is fretting badly. She told me. So did Mistress Katherine, who will have to go with her, I understand.’

  ‘Who coaxed Sybil out of her room to see you?’ I asked. ‘Though I’m thankful that she has come out. She and I have been at odds with each other.’

  ‘So Mistress Katherine said. It was she who talked Mistress Jester into coming out. When she did, she begged for my support. But I can see you have a problem.’

  ‘She’s entitled to fret. She does have to go to Scotland and she will need Katherine with her, but I am responsible for Kate and if she goes to Scotland, I must go too. So I will, only we couldn’t start out yet and Sybil wouldn’t understand. It’s all so complicated. I have had a thousand things to do that couldn’t wait and on top of that …’

  I embarked on a confused, not to say incoherent explanation about having to hire a coach driver because Arthur Watts was past long journeys now and none of the other grooms could be spared so I’d have to take Brockley to drive, and I’d need Brockley anyway, but Dale, being his wife, hated him going off without her, only I didn’t think she could stand another long journey, and we were all so exhausted and most of my horses were still in Dover …

  At that point, I realized that my voice had risen and acquired an hysterical edge. I stopped.

  ‘Yes, I see the difficulty,’ said Master Spelton soothingly. ‘I saw your coach when I was here before. Surely you ladies can be comfortable in that?’ He hesitated and I said: ‘Yes?’

  ‘It is only a suggestion. But if your woman can’t face any more travelling, even by coach, leave her and her husband behind. You will have Mistress Jester and Katherine as female companions. I will come as your male escort. I am on leave from my court duties for the moment. I can drive a coach as well as any man.’

  ‘Master Spelton!’ It was as though a magical spell had been pronounced and a wand waved, and all my difficulties had vanished. ‘If only you would!’

  ‘But I have said that I will. And I can do more. I think I once told you that I am officially a Queen’s Messenger, so I can use the royal network of remounts. We can rely on good horses all the way, for harness as well as saddle. Changing teams will present no difficulty.’

  ‘How soon can we leave?’ I asked him.

  Sybil’s gratitude was tearful; Kate was a mixture of nervousness and excitement but she made her preparations with a will. Actually, it took three more days to conclude the arrangements, fetch a hired coach team from Guildford, send Eddie, Joseph and Billington off to Dover, despatch Simon to court with my letters, and make sure that the coach was in good order. The bitter wind had at least made the ground dry, which would mean better roads on the long journey north.

  When we set out, with Spelton holding the reins and the rest of us snugly settled inside the coach with hampers of belongings at our feet, Brockley and Dale stood in the courtyard to see us off, their faces sad and strained. It was so rare for me to go away without them. ‘Back soon!’ I called, leaning out of the coach window to wave.

  I hoped it really would be soon. Kate had told me that the Ferguson kinsfolk in Edinburgh were cousins of her father, and that she had once accompanied her parents on a visit to them, and
thought them very pleasant. But she had been the young daughter of visiting relatives, not a complete stranger foisted on them to protect a wild young man who had killed the man she hoped to marry.

  Ambrosia, grieving and furious, would arrive virtually under guard, with instructions that she was to be kept in Scotland, not allowed to communicate with England, married off if possible to another Ferguson relative and if not possible, then just kept. She was unlikely to be pleasant to them and they might not feel inclined to be pleasant to her.

  I didn’t say what I was thinking to the others. I just hoped we could get Ambrosia away from them even if it meant a midnight escape like my long-ago elopement with Gerald. We would have to be very careful over our initial approach. I did say that much. Kate would have to introduce us, after all.

  On the way, therefore, Kate and I rehearsed that introduction, with me taking the part of a very surprised Ferguson cousin, and reacting in various ways – puzzled, surprised, startled, indignant and get out of my house this instant! – so that Kate should be prepared for anything.

  For a coach journey, we travelled fast, but we were six days on the road, even though Spelton knew and was permitted to use every royal remount stable along the way. Two teams were trotters and I began to feel that Hugh’s dislike of them was not justified. They were all fine strong animals, capable of covering long distances at speed – and what speed! One team took us eight miles in half an hour.

  As you go further north, the inns become fewer and wayfarers have to ask for shelter at private homes. I expected this and so did Spelton. We had both been to this part of the world before and knew about its tradition of hospitality. Sybil hated it, because although we always found a welcome somewhere, we usually had makeshift beds with straw mattresses, uninteresting stew for supper and salted porridge for breakfast and there were difficulties about talking to our hosts, because their accents were so broad.