She planned to nurse the baby as soon as they arrived, then prepare extra milk for Alice to use, and finally crawl into bed and sleep, sleep, sleep the day away. Her feet hurt, and her breasts ached from a build-up of milk, plus she couldn’t stop worrying about Jonathan having to attend the queen on progress. Despite the fact she and Rose were also invited, the thought of living out of a suitcase and dragging her poor baby around for weeks on end wasn’t the least bit appealing.
They entered their room and, as if reading her troubled mind, Jon pulled Anne close and kissed her temple.
“I’ll sit with you whilst you nurse Rose. There are several things we need to discuss, and I didn’t want to talk about any of it in a crowd.”
Anne nodded, then gently lifted Rose out of her cradle and took her into their room. As she settled down to nurse, her husband drew up a chair.
“First, just in case it should ever come up, what was the story you gave the queen as to why I went off as I did?”
“Before we talk about that, how are you feeling?” Anne asked. “You seemed so freaked out about Dr. Dee.”
“I’m better.” He shrugged it off. “I had… What do you call that? An ear worm? I soldiered on and got through it. Now what about your story?”
“Well, I was thinking on the fly, and I said you lost a brother to a quack physician you’d nicknamed Dr. D, as in the letter D.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows rose and a smile crept across his lips. “I’m so sorry to hear of it. Did this brother have a name? Was he older or younger?”
“I didn’t get that specific. I’ve always heard, ‘the fewer the details the more believable the lie’.”
He chuckled. “In the event Her Majesty ever questions us further, perhaps we should call him Nigel and say he was older than me.”
“Sounds good. Easy to remember.”
“Rather,” he said. “The closer to the truth, the better. You did a bang-up job with all of this, Annie. I do believe the queen feels very badly for me.”
“You poor baby,” she said. “I hated to do it, but I didn’t have much of a choice, and besides, the words that spilled out weren’t exactly planned.” She grinned. “It was a doozy, for sure.”
“That it was. And I’ve a different sort of doozy for you. Elizabeth is pregnant.”
Anne sucked in a breath, eyes wide. “Oh my. That’s why she took you out of the room.”
Jon nodded. “Lord Robert is the father, of course. They’re over the moon.”
Anne recalled Elizabeth’s hedging at the picnic, and suddenly all of the pieces fell into place. “And that’s why she wants you to go on progress with her, to keep her well and to cover for her.”
Again, Jon nodded, his expression growing somber.
“Will she be all right?”
“Yes. There’s no reason she shouldn’t carry to term and deliver without complication,” he replied with a heavy sigh.
“Then why the long face?”
“I noted your reluctance when I said we were invited to go on the Royal Progress. I don’t want to leave you and Rose for so long. It would be terrible strain on both of us—and it would terrify me. I want to keep you close, make sure you’re safe. This would be a good way to accomplish that. Norfolk would not dare show up.”
“True.” Anne gazed into his eyes, loving this wonderful man more with every passing moment. “Even without that issue, I wouldn’t want to be away from you for that long, either. Not for any reason.”
“Jolly good,” he replied in relief. “I’m so glad it won’t be a problem. And I’ll suggest Dr. Burcot come along as well, since he already assisted me during the queen’s miscarriage and has shown himself loyal in keeping her secret. Additionally, I’ll be able to teach him some modern birthing practices—without giving away too much, as I must remember where we are.”
“When is more like it,” Anne said.
“Yes, of course,” Jon agreed. “Burcot will be a great help, and he’ll ensure I won’t be on call day in and day out.”
“Sounds great to me.”
He rose, then leaned over and planted a kiss on Anne’s forehead. “I’ll see if I can have a talk with Lord Robert right now. He may be the best one to approach with this, don’t you think?”
Anne shook her head with a grin and stood. “I think he’s already sound asleep, or maybe they’re together. Who knows? At any rate, you’d better hold off until everyone has had a good day’s sleep. Let me put Rose back in her cradle and then we can get to bed, as well.”
“Annie,” Jon said, his voice soft and warm. He kissed her neck and gently hugged them both. “Perhaps we might try making another little one. I think Rose would love to be a big sister.”
“Hold that thought,” Anne murmured, her interest peaked now that her concerns had been addressed. She tenderly returned his kiss before leaving for the nursery.
* * *
Richmond Palace was filled with activity when Anne and Jon finally woke up. Everyone was preparing for the queen’s departure, and Jon was gone for over an hour on his quest to find Lord Robert and let him know his family would indeed be accompanying the progress. While he was out, Anne, Alice, and Mrs. Weigand oversaw the packing of their belongings.
By the time he returned, Anne had been notified Captain Machard was waiting for them at the dock.
“Did you find Lord Robert?” Anne asked.
“Yes, and it’s set,” Jon replied. “I thought we might send our luggage with the queen’s freight, return to Smithfield, get everything in order, and then meet up with them en route.”
So many things to arrange and absolutely no time to get it done. Anne shook her head. “Yes, that will have to work. Let’s get going.”
They hurried down to the docks and got on board, the return trip a blur of planning as they discussed how to get things ready for Jon’s absence at the hospital.
When Bob met them at the docks that evening, he was all smiles, until he was informed of the royal progress.
“But I can’t be without Alice for so long!” Bob moaned. “Allow me to come along, and I’ll keep meself useful doin’ whatever is needed. Please take me along.”
By the time they burst into St. Bart’s, Bob was signed on, and he gleefully got to work looking for a replacement to make sure the hospital grounds were kept safe and the gate locked and guarded.
Chapter Seven
London
Grumpy and stiff, Will Dawkins stretched and scratched at the back of his neck. He hadn’t realized the witch-woman Anne was headed up the river to Richmond until the morning she and her family left, and he couldn’t do anything but sit near the docks and watch for their return.
Three longs days of waiting, and so close to his beloved Stews. But he couldn’t leave his post, so despite the nearness of his favorite whorehouse, The Fighting Cock, it was yet too far to allow him even a small break to satisfy his needs.
When the Brandons returned, he was ready and followed them back to St. Bart’s. As always, he shimmied up the wall and climbed into his favorite tree, thick with foliage and the perfect hiding place.
He could hear excited chatter as the group was welcomed home and listened attentively for any tidbits that might be of use, always hopeful he’d hear something valuable—although the doctor and Anne, along with their householders, had been a very boring group of late. He felt a twinge of worry, knowing if he didn’t come up with some pertinent information soon, the duke of Norfolk would forget he’d ever been useful in the first place.
“…need someone to take my place…”
Will perked up. What was that? What did he say?
“Mary, we’ve a need t’ find someone who might guard the hospital whilst we’re gone on the queen’s progress.”
Will recognized the voice—it was Alice’s husband, Bob.
“I dinna know of a blessed soul, but I’ll ask at market first thing on the morrow.”
“And I’ll ask as well,” Bob said. “I know the doctor would rest eas
ier if he could meet the fellow and give him the once over, afore we go.”
There it was! Will grinned for the first time in days. It was just the information he needed. He scrambled out of the tree and set a brisk path toward the Stews.
* * *
The garden of Norfolk’s estate on the Strand abounded with butterflies and birds. The air held the fragrance of magnolia saplings in first bloom, recent arrivals from one of the wild isles of the West Indies. Several dozen small children raced around the trees with little nets, attempting to catch the butterflies.
With a grumble, Thomas Howard, the duke of Norfolk, watched his young son and heir bump along atop the pony he’d been given for his fourth birthday. He wondered if, as a boy of the same age, he had taken to the saddle any more readily than his son. He couldn’t remember, but suspected his own superior horsemanship had been apparent from the start.
Norfolk shook his head. Philip needed toughening. He spent too much time holding onto his stepmother’s skirts, coddled and playing with children of his own age. Older boys would form him. Skinned knees and a black eye or two would help him develop into a man to be reckoned with.
“He seems quite happy, my lord husband, dost thou not think so?” Margaret asked, looking both pleased and nervous. “So grown up.”
“He looks awkward and devoid of natural skill,” Norfolk replied sourly. “A tumble would teach him more than clinging to the mane, as he does.”
“Nay, my lord!” his wife exclaimed, her clumsy hands fluttering about her face in trepidation.
With her gaze wide in faint-hearted display, Norfolk stared at the only beautiful thing she possessed—her long-lashed, violet-blue eyes.
He sighed. Would that the rest of her were even half as lovely. In fact, Margaret was big-boned and oafish, and he wondered how he’d ever managed to father a child on her. God knows, it hadn’t been easy. He looked at her big belly. And now, at this late date in her pregnancy, not only was she bloated and unsightly, she smelt of spoilt fish. That, and her constant weeping, gave him the shudders.
But he needed a second child, for Philip was as slight and dainty as his mother, Norfolk’s first wife, Mary. In the likely event Philip died young like her, the family must have an heir-in-waiting.
He recalled the beautiful Mary, then gave a sigh. She of the green eyes and delicate smile. She was the only person he’d ever truly loved.
As it so often did, his mind veered to another green-eyed beauty, Anne Brandon, the time traveler. But his thoughts about her were the opposite of what he’d felt for Mary. Instead, he bore deep hatred for Anne’s audacity, deceit, and guile as she and her wretched husband dared to rise well above their stations at Court. But he knew Anne was the key to otherwise unobtainable knowledge, and he was, therefore, hell-bent on finding a way to learn her secrets. What did she know about the future? Would it help him oust Elizabeth from the throne? Would he then, as England’s only duke and the queen’s cousin, be able to step in and place the Crown upon his own head?
He glanced again at his wife. She was always dutiful, always compliant. How dreadfully boring. Anne would never be compliant, never boring. The idea of taming the brazen bitch excited him.
He felt a stirring of lust.
“Margaret, I have business that cannot be delayed. I doubt very much if I shalt be home afore the early hours of the morn. Do not await my return.”
He ignored his wife’s abject shock as he bowed curtly and left the birthday festivities. A visit to the Stews was in order.
“Percy, tell my guards we’re off to town,” he shouted to his steward as he headed inside for his cloak and hat.
When Norfolk arrived at The Fighting Cock an hour later, he tossed his steed’s reins to one of his men and then bounded up the steps.
Nell, the proprietress, greeted him at the door with a curtsey. “Willst thou be stayin’ the night, me lord?” she asked. “Dost thou have any special needs more than the usual?”
He smelled the air coming from inside: scents of ale and men’s sweat, mingled with a musky whiff of cunnie. He nodded to Nell. “I want a girl with russet hair, and I want her unspoilt and resistant. If I find I enjoy her well enough, I may stay.”
A servant came forward with a glass of his favorite claret. He swilled it down and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. No manners required here.
“Aye, sir,” Nell said. “Thou knowest well I keep the new girls apart for thee, and they are ever resistant when fresh. I’ve a lass just in from the country with the body of a goddess. Her hair be the color thou wishes, and it’s the color God gave her, not dyed, as I checked her quim as well.”
“Then she’ll do.”
“One more thing ’bout this one. She hath the look of Dr. Brandon’s wife.”
Norfolk felt his cock twitch. He cut Nell a sharp glance, but held his tongue and went inside.
“God blind me!” Will Dawkins almost ran straight into Norfolk. “Forgive me, sir.” He doffed his cap and gave an awkward bow.
With a scowl, Norfolk considered the little worm for a moment before responding. He was a lowly, albeit handy sort of fellow who’d done some unsavory work for him in the past, although he hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in weeks, if not months. Norfolk knew the Brandons’ allies were watching his London home and other holdings, so he’d told Dawkins only to contact him if it was a matter of great importance. The less his enemies knew about his own spies, the better.
“Why art thou loitering about the Stews? I pay thee to keep a watch on St. Bart’s.”
“As ever, sir, as ever,” he replied. “And there’s been some news today, as t’ that, and I hurried over to see if I might catch thee here, since thou ordered me to stay away from thy house unless ’twas somethin’ world shatterin’. It seems the lot of ’em, the doctor, the witch-woman, Alice the whore, and the bloke she married, the one who guards up there, are all goin’ on the queen’s progress. I’ll need extra coin t’ follow, if that’s what thou’d have me do.”
Surprised, Norfolk considered this information. His wife routinely blathered about courtly gossip, which included the christening of the Brandons’ brat, but he’d heard no mention of their joining the progress. How perfect would it have been had he been invited, but he was still being kept at royal arm’s length because of that bitch, Anne. And besides, his wife was to begin her confinement to their home on the morrow, in anticipation of giving birth in a month’s time.
“Nay, no need to follow Anne,” Norfolk said.
“All right, then. I thought to get me some cunnie if I’ve free time this eve,” Will said, shuffling about nervously. “With thy permission, o’ course. I’ve been havin’ a fearful itch o’ late, an’ time passes slow up there at St. Bart’s.”
The visuals that sprang to mind made Norfolk want to retch, but it was good practice to keep his people committed to him, so he said, “Aye, I salute thy steadfastness. Allow me to pay for thine evening’s pleasure.”
Will gave him a lascivious grin, which Norfolk ignored.
“Thank thee kindly—oh! I almost forgot,” Will added, nearly jumping with excitement. “Their bodyguard is travelin’ with them, an’ I thought what if we find someone to take his place at St. Bart’s? Havin’ our own man on the inside would be a boon.”
Ah! A nugget of information worth its weight in gold. Pleased, Norfolk knew the plan had potential. “Good thinking, Dawkins. Dost thou know of anyone? What of the fellow with whom thou worked?”
“Ah, Jack, thou’ll be meaning. He were caught thievin’ by the sheriff, but afore he even spent a week in prison he got his throat cut.”
“A pity. Dost thou not have anyone else who would be willing, and trustworthy enough, to work with us?” Norfolk asked. “I require the utmost loyalty and discretion—on pain of death.”
Nodding vigorously, Will said, “T’ be sure, t’ be sure. I’ll see who might be willing. I’ll see it done afore morn.”
Satisfied, Norfolk turned on his heel and headed up the
stairs, delighted by the turn of events and looking forward to his evening.
* * *
Brandon needed to get away from the pandemonium around him. It was two days since they’d returned from Richmond Palace, and it seemed an outright melee had taken hold of St. Bart’s as his householders prepared for his family’s departure to join the queen’s progress.
To get some relief from the noise and stress, Brandon decided to conduct the employment interview in the hospital’s garden. Peace reigned here, melodious birdsong filtering down from the trees. This past spring, Anne planted several rows of lavender, and they now gave off a heady fragrance, which calmed him even more.
He smiled inwardly at Bob, who stood, arms crossed, and examined Hugh Wallace with a baleful eye. As tall as Bob, the man waited silently with his greasy, shapeless hat shoved under one arm. His dark, curly hair hung to his shoulders and his eyes, the few times Brandon managed to catch a glimpse of them, seemed to be pale blue or gray. Whether the man had all of his teeth or none, Brandon couldn’t say. This Hugh Wallace wasn’t much for smiling.
As Bob continued his silent assessment of the man, Brandon asked Hugh about his background, experience, family, and other jobs he’d held, but when he asked him how he’d come to hear of the job opening, he found the man’s response curious.
Hugh seemed to balk, then grapple with the answer. Finally, he blurted, “Cain’t say. Heard it, that’s all. People talk an’ I listen.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and looked surly. “But I can wield a pike better than most, an’ I’m handy wi’ a blade as well. I was with the English in Scotland last year, servin’ under Lord Grey, if ye know ’im.” He glanced from Brandon to Bob and then back again. “He’ll tell ye ’bout me service, as I saved his skin in battle against the scurvy Scots. Grey’ll remember me, he will.”
Interesting, that. Brandon threw a look at Bob, who gave him a barely perceptible shrug. Brandon doubted Hugh would risk lying about his service, since such details could be verified one way or the other. But there was still something about the man that raised Brandon’s hackles, and in less urgent circumstances, he would immediately send an inquiry to Lord Grey for his opinion before any hiring took place.
Ever Crave the Rose (The Elizabethan Time Travel Series Book 3) Page 6