“Nay, she thinks the girl ran off with a man!”
“Truly, I pray she’s right about that, as long as it’s not Vine.”
Mistress Derby bobbed her head in agreement. “Can you eat on your own?”
“I devoured that bowl of custard, didn’t I?” The mere memory of it made her crave more. “What was the flavoring? I couldn’t identify it.”
“It is a cook’s right to keep her recipes secret. When you are betrothed, come to me, and I’ll tell you.”
Maddy ticked up a corner of her mouth. “That could be years.” Or never.
The cook laughed heartily. “I’d best finish my supper preparations.” She was at the door before Maddy could protest.
“Mistress, one more thing. I hate to trouble you, but after supper, could you ask one of your serving girls to bring up some hot water for me? I am greatly in need of a good wash.”
“’Tis no trouble. I’ll have her bring you a hot cross bun too, but don’t eat it all at once.”
Maddy stripped and bathed thoroughly, feeling as though she was ridding herself of the last vestiges of sickness. The room was warm. Alice, who had replaced Cath in the kitchen, had built up the fire after bringing the water. “Can’t have you taking a chill, now, mistress,” she said. Maddy wished she could wash her hair, but that would have to wait. She didn’t have the strength for it at present. Perhaps Alice would brush it for her.
Afterward, Maddy donned her smock and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Somebody had brought a settle to her room while she’d been sick and placed it before the hearth—probably part of the Naworth booty—and she sat down on it now. Staring at the flames flickering before her in varying shades of orange and cobalt, she thought about Nicholas—the first time since she’d been ill other than in her dreams. Would he renege on his promise to help find Cath, since they’d fallen out? Not simply a falling out. It had been more complicated than that.
Although aware he was angry, and maybe a little jealous, Maddy was glad she’d told him the truth, even if it meant he no longer trusted her. After he had time to think it over, maybe he would not judge her so harshly. Hadn’t he said she was important to him, and then stolen her breath with that intimate, sweetly tender kiss? A thrill surged through her, remembering the feel of his lips, the press of his body against hers. If she closed her eyes…
She must have dozed off. Sometime later, shouts and the pounding of horses’ hooves roused her from sleep. Hurrying to the window, she glimpsed torches illuminating the night, revealing men on horseback and dark figures running toward the farm. Her heart beat harder, drumming out an insistent warning.
Reivers. It was a raid. Blessed Virgin, protect us.
Having no time to waste, Maddy threw on a kirtle, wool bodice, and skirts, all the while casting about in her mind for a hiding place. Raiders often kidnapped women, held them for ransom. Or worse, raped them. She pulled on her stockings and tied them with garters she had to search for and shoved her feet into leather shoes. Before hastening to the door, she grabbed her shawl off the bed. She would proceed cautiously and see what she could see. Perhaps it was not a raid. Maybe there was something amiss at the farm, and the men had gone to investigate.
Down in the kitchen, she spotted Alice asleep on a pallet before the huge grate. Quickly she roused her and whispered, “Reivers.” The girl’s eyes widened with fear, and Maddy put a finger to her lips. When Alice started to look for her clothing, she stopped her. “You must come with me now. Just bring your shawl. Where is Mistress Derby?”
“She went to Brampton after supper.”
Taking Alice’s hand, Maddy guided her toward the door leading to the undercroft, the principle storage area for kitchen staples. The girl was trembling with fright. In contrast, Maddy felt the blood pumping through her body and with it, a surge of strength. “We’ll hide here, in one of the alcoves. We must lift a couple of bags of grain up and then crawl in behind. Can you help me with that, Alice?”
“Aye.” She was the one who knew where things were kept and led them to the bags. They hoisted two of them—the alcove was at shoulder level—both breathing hard when they’d finished. Maddy gave Alice a leg up and she tumbled over the bags. “How’re you going to get up here, mistress?”
Heavy footsteps and bellowing voices forced Maddy to a hasty decision. “I’ll hide down here, Alice. You must remain in the alcove until it’s safe, mayhap until morning. Don’t concern yourself about me. If they find me, do not give yourself away. Do you understand?”
“Aye. But—”
If the girl finished her sentence, Maddy didn’t hear it. Feeling her way around, she located some butter-filled firkins and ducked behind them. Just in time. In seconds the door banged open and torchlight brightened the room. She hoped they would not bother trying to haul away the heavy barrels concealing her.
But it seemed she had nothing to worry about. One of them shouted, “Nobody in here. ’Tis a storage space.” The door banged shut again and they were gone, noisily climbing the stairs to the chambers above. What would they think when they found hers deserted? They would guess she was hiding somewhere and might return to conduct a more thorough search.
Maddy heard Alice call to her in a quavering voice. “Mistress?”
“Stay put, Alice. They may be back.” In a few moments she heard them pounding down the steps. From the sound of it, there were only a few men searching the buildings. They did not return to the undercroft.
Leaning back against one of the barrels, Maddy let her guard down a bit. Something was off. What were they looking for? And why hadn’t they ransacked this vast storage area, filled not only with kitchen staples, but goods from Naworth as well? By now, raiders should have been hauling at least some of it away.
It was unbearable, waiting like this. After what seemed a very long time, but was probably a quarter hour or less, she pushed to her feet and crept over to Alice’s hiding place. “I am going to investigate.”
Alice’s head popped up above the bags of cereal. “Nay, mistress. What if they find you? They might kill you, or worse.”
“I’ll be careful. But I want you to remain here.”
“Oh, I wish you would not leave me.”
“I know. But I must find out what is happening. Perhaps it is nothing, and I can come back and get you out of there.” When she said no more, Maddy began to make her way back toward the kitchen door, feeling a little ashamed about deserting the lass.
Chapter Sixteen
When Maddy reached the door, she paused and listened. She heard nothing, except for the rustling of busy mice feet skittering about the undercroft. The raiders might have left a man to stand guard, but she did not think they had. She unlatched the door and pushed it open. The kitchen lay in darkness, silent and empty. Tiptoeing all the way, Maddy headed toward the stairs and ascended as quickly as she was able in her weakened state. She had to retrieve her dirk, which she’d forgotten in her haste to dress.
Back downstairs, she debated whether to exit through the kitchen door leading outside and walk around to the vicarage, or go the usual way, through the long expanse of Dacre Hall. It was more likely that men would be posted outside, so she chose the usual route. Maddy was about halfway down the length of the hall when the door creaked open. A solitary figure carrying a candle was moving toward her, and it was too late to hide.
She would have to brazen it out, as she’d once done with Musgrave. She had her dirk for protection. Breathe, Maddy. Be calm.
“Madeleine, is that you? Oh, you gave me a fright, looming out of the dark like that! I’ve come to see if you were safe.”
Lady Dacre. She looked witchlike with the candle casting its eerie light under her chin.
“I-I heard noises, saw men running around with torches out my window. Is it a raid?”
“Yes, they’ve gotten away with some livestock. The men have ridden after them. You should not be out of your sickbed, my dear.”
The first thought that struck Maddy
was how calm the lady was. And the second: she was lying. Her purpose was to ensure Maddy remained in her chamber. The men who’d been searching must have told her she wasn’t in her bed. For now, she’d have to do as her mistress bade her.
“No, of course I should not, but I was frightened. I will return to my chamber then, unless—”
“I’ll accompany you to your room. You are still weak.” Lady Dacre gripped her arm.
“That’s not necessary, my lady. I am perfectly able—”
“Nonsense, I’ll see you safely back to your bed.”
Maddy decided not to protest, but to appear helpless and grateful for the assistance. “Thank you, madam. ’Tis true, I do not have my strength back yet.” Maddy entered the chamber first, hoping the scabbard strapped about her waist wasn’t noticeable in the near-dark. Useless emerged from behind the wardrobe, and while Lady Dacre fussed over the dog, Maddy removed the sheath and shoved it under the bed coverings.
The woman did not depart until she’d helped Maddy undress and tucked the coverlet under her chin. “Do you need anything before I leave you?”
“Oh, no. Pray return to your own bed.”
Then she was gone. Maddy lay there, counting. When she reached two hundred, she deemed it safe to dress and set out for the vicarage once again. Earlier, a welcome surge of strength had possessed her. But now, bones aching, Maddy moved more slowly. She considered returning to her bed—she was not yet recovered from her bout of influenza, after all. But something about this raid smelled rotten, and she intended to find out what it was.
Maddy proceeded more cautiously this time, edging along the east side of the great hall, ready to duck under the enormous oak table if the door suddenly opened. At the far end she waited, straining to hear any sounds of men or horses. After a reasonable amount of time, she went to the door and peered through the window, to no effect. The dark of a moonless night blanketed everything.
No sooner had she pushed the door open and stepped out than a couple of men holding torches came striding her way. This was no raid; it was a gathering. The word tugged at her memory; she had heard it recently. Christopher Dacre had reminded his mother about a “party” gathering at Lanercost on Friday, tonight, but in her feverish state she’d not made the connection to the letter she read in his chamber. Now she remembered. “F, H, and B in attendance.” She had thought it strange to hold a festivity on Good Friday.
Maddy leaped back into the shadows. A tall man came into view behind the first two. He moved with purpose, his eyes riveted on the vicarage. She wondered which of the initials he was. One of the torchbearers unlatched the door for him, and he disappeared inside. Unfortunately, the other men did not.
“They’ll be a while,” one of them said. “Meantime, we can have our fill o’ the priory’s hospitality over at the stables.” He slapped the other man on the back and guffawed.
Had they seen her? She held still, praying they would turn and march back the way they’d come, from the gatehouse road. She flattened herself against the wall, knocking something free. A piece of stone, loosened over the centuries, had chosen that precise moment to give way, and it was enough to draw their attention. They swung around, and with the light cast from the torches, spotted Maddy right away.
Her skin prickled.
“What have we here?” the brawnier of the two asked. Not that he truly wanted an answer. Bullnecked, he was built like a stone fortress.
His compatriot, much slighter of figure and longer of leg, said, “Why, ’tis a fair lassie!” They both laughed and came closer, to better inspect her. At that moment, she wished she were covered with warts and had crossed eyes.
“Who are ye?” He swung his torch close, and Maddy recoiled, saying nothing.
They looked at each other. Bull Neck said, “Remember our orders? We’re meant to—”
“Nay, dinna say before the lass!”
Maybe she could make a run for the stables. It was plain they were both well into their cups. Bull Neck stuck his face close to hers, bolstering that impression with his spirit-laden breath. “Would ye like to take a ride wi’ us, lass?”
The other man shook his head. “Nay, we should not.”
“Why? We’re meant to be reivers, are we not? We should act the part.” He handed his torch to his friend, who placed both of them in holders by the door to the vicarage.
Maddy’s sense of self-preservation kicked in. Run. Now!
She spun, surprising them. Lifting her skirts, she dashed along the grassy area that ran beside the hall. She could get to the stables this way, and since they’d come the other way, perhaps it would disorient them.
Maddy heard Long Legs call to his friend. “Get the horses, man. I’ll catch her.”
She zigzagged, hoping to confuse him, and that ploy seemed to work for a while. His curses rang out. But luck was not on her side this night, and her strength was waning. Tripping over a low hedge, invisible in the dark, Maddy fell face-first onto the cold ground, air whooshing out of her. “Oof!”
The man giving chase hauled her up and did not let go. She was gasping, trying to catch her breath. All too soon, Bull Neck returned with the horses. He passed a wine skin to the other man, who drank a long draft before handing it back. Maddy tried to yank her arm from his grasp, but it was no use. He was too strong, and she, too weak.
“Lovely night for a ride, eh mistress?” he said, jerking her toward the horses.
The events of the evening were beginning to take their toll. Since Maddy had fallen, her head was spinning, and she feared she might faint if forced to sit a horse. Her cheek was stinging—when she touched it, her fingers came away bloody. No doubt she’d landed on something sharp when she hit the ground. Maybe if they knew she was sick… “Pray sir, allow me to return to my chamber. I have been ill with influenza these past few days. I have no strength for riding.”
They glanced at each other. “The lassie found her voice. Dinna ye worry, because ye’ll no’ be doin’ anything but hangin’ on,” Long Legs said.
“But—” It was useless to argue. They weren’t listening. Long Legs mounted and his friend tossed Maddy up behind him. She refused to put her arms about his waist but clung to his doublet instead. It hung loose, because, unlike Bull Neck, he had no fat on him to speak of.
Once through the gatehouse and on the road, they whipped their horses into a gallop, slowing only when they crossed the bridge. She squeezed her eyes shut. It was dangerous to ride at this speed on such a black night, for both horse and rider. A loud buzzing in her ears made her dizzy, so she rested her head against Long Legs’s back. After a time, he called out to Bull Neck, and their pace slowed. They must be halfway to Brampton by now. Lulled by the motion, Maddy fell into a stupor, and for a time, was blessedly unaware of her predicament.
Eventually their voices roused her. The horses had slowed to a walk. “What’re we to do wi’ her?”
“Ferniehurst said we’re no’ to harm anybody. From the look and sound o’ her, she’s gentlefolk.”
“Aye.”
“Here’s as good a place as any to dump her,” Long Legs said, right before he shoved her off the horse. Another ignominious fall to the earth. Though it jarred her, the ground was yet soft and still covered with last autumn’s leaves. Maddy lay there, too exhausted to even cry out. Though she hated showing such weakness, it might be wiser to let them think she had passed out.
“She’s no’ dead, is she?” Bull Neck asked. That was the last thing she heard before they galloped off, back toward Lanercost.
Not dead, but Maddy felt as if she might be dying. If she stayed where she was, the first traveler on the road tomorrow might find her cold, lifeless body. She had to be close to Brampton, and if she could summon the energy to walk the rest of the way, she could find Ryder’s house. He would take her in. Even if he was still angry with her, even if he did not trust her, he would take her in.
…
In the middle of the night, a pounding on the front door awok
e Nicholas. Since his father was in York, he’d best see who it was. Wearing only his nightshirt, he rushed downstairs. When he approached the door, he saw that a servant had already flung it open. He heard a pathetically weak voice—a familiar one—cry out. “Help me.” And then, “Pray, let me in!” Nicholas pushed the servant aside, and his worst fears were confirmed.
“Maddy! God’s wounds, what’s happened to you?”
She was shivering so hard her teeth were clacking together. Without another word, he picked her up and carried her up the stairs, giving orders all the way. “Wake Margery and bid her come to the blue chamber. Bring hot water and clean cloths. Extra blankets, too.” Maddy was so light as to seem boneless.
Nicholas laid her down on the big tester bed and unfastened her cloak. “Are you hurt, sweeting? Jesu, whoever did this to you will answer to me.” Her face was scratched and bleeding in a few places, but not enough to account for her extreme weakness.
“Cold.” That was the only sound she uttered, other than feeble moans every so often.
Nicholas began piling blankets over her. “We must get you warm. You will be warm,” he said. In a few moments, Margery entered with a basin of water, linen cloths draped over one arm.
“I’ll take that,” Nicholas said. “Leave us, pray. Wait outside the door.”
He wet a cloth and wrung it out, then sat on the edge of the bed. “You are covered with grime, Maddy. Let me wash your face.”
She nodded. For the first time, her eyes focused and she appeared to know where she was. Who he was. Gently, he stroked the warm, wet cloth over her face. She moaned, and he ceased immediately, afraid he’d hurt her. But she said, “Don’t stop. Are you an angel? Nay, perhaps the devil.”
That made him smile, but it did not diminish his rage. “Only a man, Maddy. Can you tell me what befell you? How did you get this cut on your cheek?” Nicholas tried to keep his voice soothing, even though he wanted to kill whoever had done this to her.
Mistress Spy Page 16