After supper, Lady Dacre and the men played primero while Maddy embroidered in the dim light, straining her eyes to distinguish one color from another. At length, she tucked away her silks and canvas and fetched the volume Ryder had plucked from his bookshelf for her basket. Drawing a candle close, she opened the book. It was the poetry of Sir Thomas Wyatt.
Weary and hoping Lady Dacre would call an end to the evening soon, Maddy read only a few poems. They proved to be charming and whimsical, and best of all, made her chuckle. Did Ryder enjoy these poems, or did the volume belong to one of his parents? Or to Daniel’s mother, perhaps. It was difficult to imagine Ryder with a sense of humor, although she’d caught glimpses of it here and there. She envisioned him at his home in Brampton and wondered what he and Daniel were doing. Perhaps he was reading the boy a story. Settling him for the night.
So deeply absorbed was she, Lady Dacre apparently had to speak twice before Maddy heard her. “Madeleine! Attend!”
She jumped to her feet. “Pray forgive me, my lady. I was caught up in my reading.”
She glanced at the book. “What is it?”
“Sir Thomas Wyatt. I purchased it at the bookstall today. I’ve never read his poetry.”
“He’s reputed to be quite the wit. Will you assist me in my chamber? Edith suffers from a gastric complaint. I sent her to bed.”
“Of course.” Before they left the room, Maddy overheard Dacre and Musgrave making plans to meet by the stables in a few minutes. Thank heaven they would be gone when she attempted to place her message at the base of the cross.
After helping her mistress remove her bodice, slashed petticoat, and kirtle, Maddy bent down to unroll her hose. She turned back the bed clothing while the lady performed her ablutions, pushing a few stacks of documents aside first. Lady Dacre climbed the set of steps at the side of her bed and crawled under the covers. “Will you move the warming pan over, Madeleine?”
She slid the pan, heavy with hot coals, to one side. “May I do anything else for you, madam?”
“You must dine in your chamber tomorrow, Madeleine. The earl wishes to discuss a private matter with me and my son.”
Maddy prayed her voice would not give away her profound sense of relief. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll ask Mistress Derby for a tray.” A candle flickered next to the bed. The gold cross the lady always wore caught the light and reflected it back. Maybe someday she would explain why this particular piece was so dear to her.
“Sleep well, my lady,” Maddy said, closing the door.
She hurried to her chamber, a candle lighting the way. Once there, she gathered foolscap, quill, and ink jar and commenced her note to Ryder, keeping it short and concise:
8 March
Thomas Vine will be in Carlisle for a few days. Be on your guard.
She hesitated a moment before adding another line:
Sussex dines here tomorrow.
She did not sign it. In the time required to don her warm cloak, boots, and gloves, the ink had dried. Maddy folded the missive and tucked it into her sleeve, called to Useless, and cautiously proceeded down the stairs. The potboy and scullery maid had finished their work and, she hoped, had found their beds. All was quiet as she walked—without a candle this time—through the hall and out the door, the little dog padding along beside her.
In seconds, the cold air wrapped itself around her. The outline of the Lanercost Cross reared up into the night sky, and she made her way toward it, hindered by the snow. Comically, Useless kept sinking into the drifts beside the path. In the end, she picked her up and held her in her arms the rest of the way.
Maddy lowered the pup to the ground and began scooping snow away from the foot of the cross. Then she examined each stone until she finally located the loose one. But when she tried to lift it, it wouldn’t budge. Perhaps the bottom of it was frozen to the earth. She leaned back on her haunches in frustration, and that was when she heard something. The unmistakable sound of boots crunching through the snow and coming her way. Heart racing, she glanced around for Useless, afraid the dog would bark. She was nearby, and Maddy snatched her up and hurried toward the church, the only place to hide. There was no time to gain entrance; she would have to huddle in the shadowy recesses of one of the side doors. She hoped the huge bulk of the church would cast enough of a shadow that the visitor would not be able to discern either her or her footprints.
He drew nearer. Who could it be? As far as Maddy knew, Dacre and Musgrave were gone, and the laborers, such as the smith and stable lads, did not live on the property. She crushed Useless against her chest, and by some miracle, the creature made no sound. The footsteps stopped. Maddy could see the mysterious figure plainly, though it was too dark to identify him in his hooded cloak. He’d halted at the cross and hunkered down, and before long she heard the sound of stones scraping against each other. He grunted with the effort of lifting the loose one out of the way. This man must be Ryder’s go-between. Since he would not find her note, Ryder wouldn’t see it.
Should she step out and give him the missive? She couldn’t risk it. It could be Musgrave, it could be anyone. She simply could not take the chance. After a moment, the man replaced the stone. He got to his feet and hastened back the way he’d come.
Maddy debated what to do, at last deciding to place the note under the stone. Ryder would eventually receive the message and know that she’d at least tried to warn him. She was able to pry the stone up high enough to slip the note underneath without too much trouble, thanks to the efforts of the hooded stranger. Worried that someone might notice the exposed stones, she spread some of the snow she’d removed earlier back over them.
Maddy carried Useless back to her chamber, feeling all the while as though somebody were watching. She shivered, and not only from the cold.
Chapter Ten
In the morning, while they were embroidering, Lady Dacre informed Maddy that Sussex would be arriving at one o’clock. If she cared to meet him, she would be welcome to do so before the private meal.
“Thank you, my lady. It is kind of you to make the offer.” And indeed, it was. “But I think not.”
Lady Dacre smiled, cocking her head. “He does not bite, you know.”
Maddy laughed. “Of course not, but I’m quite certain he would care nothing for an introduction to someone of my status.”
“Let me have a look at your work,” she said. Maddy handed it over. “It’s quite lovely, if a bit…untamed. You have an eye for color and design.”
She passed it back and Maddy examined the big splashes of color on her canvas critically. “I see what you mean. When I’m working, I sometimes let whimsy carry me away. I will need more silks and wools soon. Does the market have a stall for such things?”
“Oh, yes. There is a mercer’s shop in Brampton, and the proprietor keeps a stall on market day. If you intend to go next time, I will ask you to purchase some supplies for me as well.”
“Certainly.”
When the church bell rang noon, Maddy commenced putting her silks and canvas into her basket. “Do you require my help in dressing for dinner?” she asked.
“Aye, if you don’t mind. Edith is still feeling ill.” She rose and Maddy accompanied her to her chamber. Edith had laid out clothing on the tester bed, more elegant attire than the lady usually wore. Maddy helped her disrobe down to her kirtle and smock, which she left on. Over those, she donned a skirt of soft wool, and then Maddy lifted the heavy gown—aubergine velvet with gold thread embroidery along the slashed front—over her head.
Maddy was beginning to worry about making her escape before Sussex’s arrival. “I had best be on my way.”
“By all means.”
“Do you have any work for me to do while you entertain your guest? I imagine the meal will go on longer than usual.”
“Nay, I’ve made no progress on sorting my papers. Read, write letters, get out of doors. Do what pleases you.”
“Thank you, my lady. Send for me after your guest departs, if you h
ave need of me.”
“I expect I’ll want to nap.”
Maddy nodded and left. Walking back to her chamber, it occurred to her that this might be an ideal time to search for the letter, while the Dacres were entertaining Sussex. Musgrave was gone to Carlisle. Edith was ill, and the other servants would most likely be busy helping Mistress Derby in the kitchen or serving the food and clearing plates. When would she have a better opportunity? The cook had left a tray in her chamber, and Maddy kept her door open as she ate. She was able to judge by the cook’s harried voice, and the subsequent silence, when the meal was being served. After readying herself, she’d got halfway down the stairs before it struck her that she’d better don boots and cloak. The excuse of a walk would seem suspicious if she were not wearing the appropriate attire.
Before leaving her chamber a second time, she spotted her dinner tray and decided to return it to the kitchen so as not to get in trouble with the irksome cook. To her dismay, Cook was standing at the wooden table, a trencher in front of her. “Can you not sit for your meal, Mistress Derby?” Maddy asked, setting the tray down.
“No time to get too comfortable. How was your meal?” She eyed her cynically, since it had consisted of bread and cheese, and a single sweet.
“Thank you for the piece of marchpane. I have a fondness for sweets.”
To Maddy’s surprise, she laughed. “Never know it to look at you. I do too, but that can be easily guessed by my size.”
Maddy turned to leave, but the cook stopped her. “If you’ve no duties right now, I could use your help. A bit shorthanded, we are. Cath is down with the same thing Edith’s got.”
Maddy hesitated briefly. She hadn’t the time for this. It was urgent that she search for the letter while the Dacres and their guests were eating. But she could not refuse without seeming churlish. This was her chance to get back in the woman’s good graces. Who knew when she might need her? “I would be happy to help, although I warn you, I haven’t much experience in the kitchen.”
“Oh, ’tis a simple task.” She directed Maddy to the far end of the long table, where a wheel of cheese, a bowl of apples, and a large pewter serving platter rested. “Slice the cheese and apples and arrange them on this.” She gestured to the platter. “Can you do that?”
Maddy nodded and removed her cloak. “Seems simple enough, even for me.” She began slicing and arranging, concentrating so hard on her task, time slipped away. Suddenly, at least half an hour had flown by, probably longer. Hurriedly, she placed the last of the apple slices and called to Mistress Derby. “All done!”
The cook walked over with a cloth bag in her hand. “Put these figs around the edges before you go.”
Maddy dredged up a smile, hiding her impatience. When she’d finished, she wiped her hands on a cloth and said, “I’ll be off now.”
Cook was putting finishing touches on the sweets. “Thank you for your help, mistress.”
Maddy nodded and hurried out the door before Mistress Derby could think of anything else that wanted doing. At least she’d thanked her.
The temptation to hover outside the door of the dining chamber was strong, but Maddy knew it was too great a risk. And it was doubtful she’d be able to hear their voices through the heavy oak door. Instead, she made her way to the passage comprising the family chambers, and after rapping lightly on the door to be certain she wasn’t inside, entered Lady Dacre’s bedchamber.
Maddy went directly to the stack of papers where she had originally found the letter from the Duke of Norfolk. To her dismay, the document she sought was not there; nothing in the pile was marked with blue thread. She racked her brain trying to recall what Lady Dacre had done when she’d caught her with the letter. Maddy had dropped the document back on the stack, and her mistress had ordered her from the room. She had done nothing with it in Maddy’s presence. Discouraged, she glanced hastily through the myriad other piles of papers, but they all seemed related to the lawsuit or household matters. This could mean only one thing. Lady Dacre had secreted the letter in the coffer.
Perhaps she had forgotten to lock it. Maddy didn’t know where she kept it and hurriedly made a pass about the room to see if she could spot it. No luck there. At last she ventured behind the privacy screen, assuming she’d find only her mistress’s clothing, chamber pot, and washbasin. Those things were indeed there, but it was a prie-dieu and a tapestry depicting the crucifixion that drew Maddy’s eye and caused her to gasp in surprise.
Was Lady Dacre a secret Catholic? Is that why she never removed the cross from about her neck?
If she was, what did that mean? And did Ryder know? But she had no time to speculate further. Hurrying back to the main part of the chamber, she walked the perimeter more slowly. Near the door stood a cupboard she’d overlooked the first time because a cloak was draped over it. Crouching down, Maddy opened the door and found the object of her frantic search. She pulled out the coffer, but before attempting to open it, she cracked the door of the chamber a fraction and listened. Nothing. No voices or footsteps coming this way.
God be praised, the coffer wasn’t locked. But the letter was not there, at least not that she could see. Jesu. She would have to look through the entire stack. She lifted out the documents, remembering that the letter from Norfolk was marked with blue thread. Unfortunately, so were most of the papers in this stack. A shame she did not have time to study each of them. Any one of them might prove useful to Ryder.
Hastily, she thumbed through the documents, eliminating those that were not letters, ears pricked for any sounds from the passage. She scanned the end of each one, looking for Norfolk’s signature. And finally, there it was, near the bottom of the pile. After replacing the coffer, she rolled up the letter and tucked it into her sleeve. Then she hastened down the passage and the stairs and entered the relative safety of Dacre Hall. She traversed the great hall as though being chased by the hounds of hell, but jerked to a stop when she neared the kitchen. Maddy did not want Mistress Derby to see her. She paused a long while, waiting to hear any signs of the cook working near the doorway. Hearing nothing, she dodged past the long table and up the stairs, her heart thudding all the way.
Useless wandered out from behind the wardrobe to greet her, and Maddy patted her head. “I’ll take you outside as soon as I copy this letter, wee friend.” Maddy’s breathing had finally slowed. After situating herself at the small table that served as a desk, she dipped her quill in the ink jar and copied as rapidly as she could. Her hand was trembling and she struggled to make the words legible. She did not stop to decipher the meaning, which was not immediately clear. There was no time for that if she wanted to replace the letter before Lady Dacre sought her bed. When she was done, Maddy spent a few precious minutes locking up the copy she had made, then tucked the key into her pocket.
Snapping her fingers at Useless, who toddled along behind her, she began to retrace her steps toward Lady Dacre’s chamber. When she opened the vicarage door, however, she heard voices, most likely coming from the drawing room. Male laughter, and the soft voice of her mistress. Maddy could not be certain, but it sounded as though they were bidding adieu to each other. Jesu. She’d not be able to replace the letter! She could only hope the lady had imbibed too much wine to attempt any work and would nap, as she had indicated she would. Had Maddy left everything in the chamber in its place? When the voices drew closer to the staircase, she grabbed Useless and walked east, away from the stables, but not before glimpsing the earl’s horse being led toward the vicarage by one of the lads. It appeared she had gotten away in the nick of time.
Later, she locked Norfolk’s letter inside her own coffer, on top of the copy she’d made. She would wait until tomorrow to study it, when the Dacres, mother and stepson, would be preoccupied with their visit to Naworth Castle.
In the morning, Lady Dacre made no mention of yesterday’s visit with the Earl of Sussex, and it would have been impertinent for Maddy to inquire about it. They sewed and read but ended early because
the Dacres were making the trip to Naworth. Edith had recovered from her illness, and Maddy’s services were not required.
She returned to her chamber and let Useless out. At first, Maddy had been afraid the dog would not return if sent out alone, but she always did. Seeing her sitting by the door waiting for her always warmed Maddy’s heart. Now, while everybody was busy, it would be a good opportunity to read Norfolk’s letter. After making certain there was no one about, she closed her door, unlocked the coffer, and withdrew the document.
1 March 1570
Greetings to my friends in the North.
You may know that I currently reside in the Tower.
My northern affairs were found to be unacceptable to the queen and her secretary, and the gipsy, who had pledged his faithfulness to my cause, quickly capitulated. However, I am confident that my imprisonment nears its end. Our sovereign, wise in all things, will soon set me free so that I may once again provide for and protect those who depend upon me.
The rising in the north was a bad business and has caused the queen to further mistrust the northern citizenry. For the sake of peace and stability, I pray there will be no more challenges to the queen’s authority and that nothing will occur to turn her attention to the region.
When I am a free man, I intend to travel north to Carlisle. I yearn to see the thistles bloom in the late spring. Mayhap I will bring my Dacre children with me. They are eager to see their relations and most especially wish to make the acquaintance of the infant.
Anything you can do to accommodate this visit will not be forgotten. I will need your assistance and counsel while I am in the region.
Yrs,
Thomas Howard, Fourth Duke of Norfolk
Maddy could make head nor tail of it. What were his northern affairs? Who was the gipsy? Obviously, he wanted the queen to turn her attention to other concerns and hoped the north would settle itself. But did he truly long to see the thistles bloom? And what infant did he refer to? She was certain this was a cipher, and no doubt Nicholas Ryder would know exactly what it all meant.
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