Maid of Deception

by Jennifer McGowan

  Elizabeth, not being a fool, watched their reactions with unmasked interest, and then her eyes found mine. She knew I’d tricked them all—even she had faltered at the end. And she approved. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make my life a living—

  “I heartily approve!” she cried out, and that drove the courtiers’ reactions to an even higher pitch. “Let the play be enacted at the festival of Samhain!”

  A cheer rang out then, punctuated only by Cecil and Walsingham striding into the room, their faces a comical mask of confusion and forced jollity.

  “Your Grace!” Walsingham intoned, and the man so rarely spoke that everyone quieted immediately and turned, their eyes bright with what this new entertainment might provide. “We present you a final . . . distraction for your evening.” He gave a flourished bow, then gestured to the Great Hall. “Your people await you in the Presence Chamber.”

  “What now is this?” Elizabeth asked. She stood, and her hands went to her hair as her closest ladies-in-waiting fluttered around her, smoothing her from gown to crown. But her expression betrayed her delight. “What have you planned, Walsingham?”

  Cecil had commandeered the musicians and was already ushering them out of the room, while Walsingham smiled indulgently as the Queen made her way through the parting, whispering crowd. “Your people have missed you, my Queen, with your recent progress. They wish only to see you again.”

  With that, a lyrical cascade of music sounded from the Presence Chamber, and Walsingham produced a taper from his doublet and lit it in the nearest sconce. “Pray that you bring light to them all?” he asked, and he handed her the taper.

  She frowned at him, but I could tell she was intrigued. My heart was finally getting back to normal after my own series of lies, and the information about the Lords of the Congregation still burned inside me. But the Queen sailed away from me into the Presence Chamber, and four courtiers immediately greeted her, their tapers raised high. Obligingly she lit each of their candles with her own, and they turned in a rustle of capes. The Queen gasped at what happened next, and from my vantage point still atop her dais in the Privy Chamber, I marveled at it too.

  Walsingham and Cecil were geniuses.

  Within a few short minutes the entire Presence Chamber was filled with winking, blinking lights, each held by a courtier or lady that the advisors seemed to have produced out of thin air, in clothing fine enough to pass for ballroom attire. The music struck up, and a tall, well-dressed man—had to be Dudley, which just showed you how desperate they were to distract the Queen, that they’d enlist the help of a man they detested—escorted Elizabeth to the center of the floor. They began to dance, looking for all the world like a fairy Queen and her suitor. Even I was enchanted, and I had the least reason to be.

  I moved into the Presence Chamber as servants began to fan out through the crowd, replacing tapers with cups of ale or wine. The sconces around the hall were all lit, and the great fireplace was ablaze at the corner of the room, but without the large candelabra lit high above us, the room retained a romantic, warm glow.

  I caught sight of Meg, who gestured to me urgently. With one last furious glance at Walsingham, who returned my scowl with a smug smile of his own, I moved over to Meg, unsurprised to see her standing with Jane, Sophia, and Anna.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s another blasted dance, not a full day after we’ve arrived back in this godforsaken hulk of rock,” muttered Jane as she stood atop a short bench, giving her already impressive height the added advantage to see over the crowd. “That’s what it is.”

  “Cecil and Walsingham must have known you wanted a private audience with the Queen, and came up with this to distract her for a few more hours, at least.” Anna arched her brows. “But with a dance come dancers. And in the rush of rousting attendees to join in this ‘special surprise’ for the Queen, our favorite advisors gathered up both Brighton and Lady Ariane. If we have any luck at all—”

  “We do,” Jane said from her perch. “They are standing quite close together at the west wall, looking like they know they should separate but are not quite able to do so.”

  “Indeed.” I tilted my head and surveyed the gathered assembly. If I couldn’t get to the Queen immediately, at least I could do this while I waited. “I rather think it’s time for the dancing to begin, then, wouldn’t you say? Perhaps a Branle leading into a Gavotte?”

  “A Gavotte!” Anna’s eyes were bright. “But not everyone might know that dance as yet. It’s only just come up from France, and there’s the—there’s the— Oh.” Even in the warm light of candles, I could see her blush. She’d just remembered the precise dance step required at the end of the Gavotte—one that would serve our needs ably, as it happened.

  Meg frowned at Anna, then at me. “The Gavotte?” she asked, deadpan. “Please tell me I do not need to learn another dance.”

  “You would like it, Meg. It would allow you to divest your partner of every piece of coin he carries.”

  “What is this of Meg and dancing?” The rich Spanish baritone of Rafe Luis Medina flowed over us, and Meg turned a bit too quickly for propriety, but not so much for sin. Rafe bowed to her elegantly. “I should be honored to escort you, sweet Meg.”

  “And I shall be honored to step on your feet,” Meg answered, but she beamed nevertheless, and I felt an odd pang in my chest as the music shifted and flowed around us. Had I ever looked like that with Lord Cavanaugh? Open, and happy, and brimming with love?

  I put that thought right out of my head as Meg put her hands out to Rafe. “Do you know the Branle and the Gavotte?”

  Rafe quirked a brow as he bowed over Meg’s fingers. “I do indeed, but I suspect not all of the worthy courtiers here this night will fare so well.”

  “It’s dark,” I replied. “They’ll manage. Jane, can you let the musicians know? They never turn you down.”

  Jane’s smile was inscrutable as she stepped off her bench. “They learned quickly.”

  “Meg, Anna, and yes, even you, Sophia—you need to get dancers. Make it seem natural, like you’re just pairing off lords and ladies standing near each other—”

  “Oh!” Sophia nodded. “Yes, that should do nicely.” We all turned to go, but I held out a staying hand to Jane, keeping her a moment more.

  “Ah, Jane . . . ,” I began, ruing the speed with which I had to do this. There was still something of great import for us to discuss, and I had not the time to do it justice!

  She frowned at me, suddenly tense. “What is it, Beatrice? What’s wrong?”

  I fished in the pouch at my skirt and drew out the thin chain of gold with its lovely locket. “Nothing’s wrong,” I said. “Here—this is for you.”

  She frowned, taking the delicate strand from me as if it might bite her. “You’re giving me a necklace?”

  “Not I,” I said, watching her closely. “James McDonald bade me give it to you. As a gift to make you more comfortable in your home of courts and kings.”

  Jane blinked at me, stunned, and in that moment I was glad I hadn’t found a way to taunt the girl. I don’t think I could have surprised her more if I’d gifted her with an elephant. Closing her hand over the slender necklace, I gave her fingers a light squeeze. “It’s true,” I said. “It’s yours.”

  Another several seconds passed. Then suddenly, as if realizing anew where she was, Jane straightened, scowling as she thrust the necklace into her bodice without taking the time to clasp it around her neck. “James McDonald is ridiculous,” she said, but there was no denying her heightened color, no mistaking the brightness of her eyes. “And we have no time for this. I’m going to go badger the musicians now.”

  Just that quickly we were off. True to her word, Jane pounced on the musicians, but I had no concerns there. They of all people would know the latest music, and would be desperate to try it. Out of the first few dozen couples I approached, more than half expressed delight that they knew the dance—and the rest, frustration tha
t they didn’t. This would be a small court coup for those who could take part in it.

  And then I was on Lord Brighton, who appeared to be trying very hard not to stand so close to Lady Ariane but was failing miserably. “Lord Brighton, Lady Ariane,” I said, curtsying before them, although I did not by rights need to do so. “We are assembling a dance to please the Queen. Do say you know the Branle?”

  This was a coy beginning, but I could not afford a no. Everyone knew the Branle.

  “Oh, yes—I mean—I—” Lady Ariane blushed furiously, her gaze fluttering to Lord Brighton and then away, as if she were a girl of sixteen and not a woman aged thirty years. I found I liked her immediately. Her first husband, I had learned, had been a boor and a drunk, and had left her widowed after an especially unfortunate combination of wine and horse-riding. He’d also left her rich, but too old for many of the men of court to consider as a bride.

  Lord Brighton was of sterner stuff, and he eyed me with concern. “I should mayhap dance with my betrothed, Lady Beatrice,” he said quietly, his words low enough to evade Lady Ariane’s ears.

  “Oh, pish,” I protested. “ ’Tis a dance, nothing more. Please do say you’ll join it? Both of you?”

  Lord Brighton looked over at Lady Ariane then, and I felt the tremor of their attraction shudder through me like fire. So he did love her as well. Then this was even more to the good.

  “I daresay one dance would not be seen as amiss,” he ventured.

  “Oh, Lord Brighton, I would not want you to do anything that makes you—” Lady Ariane began.

  “It’s decided, then,” I said crisply. “The music will start shortly, into a traditional round of Branles. I must gather additional dancers.” Boldly I reached out, took their hands, and joined them together. I wished I had Sophia’s gift for secreting out truths, but even I could feel the heat of their joined hands, the quickening of their pulses. “Thank you ever so—” I pulled away then, tossing my last words over my shoulder. “And oh, yes—it ends in a Gavotte.”

  “A what?” Lady Ariane called out, but I was already into the crowd, whisking away. The music started a bare few moments later, and I saw Anna’s bent head next to the Queen’s, sharing with her this newest excitement for her pleasure. Anna also adroitly moved Elizabeth and Dudley into the circle now occupied by Lord Brighton and Lady Ariane. The Queen seemed well-pleased, and I hid myself against a column. A quick search of the room revealed that apparently the Scots had not been included in the roistering of nobles that had filled the Presence Chamber; Alasdair was not among us. To my everlasting relief Lord Cavanaugh had also chosen to ignore the advisors’ summons; he was nowhere in evidence. Thus freed from distractions both enjoyable and loathsome, I could pay careful attention to the action unfolding before me.

  The measures of the Branle started easily enough, the dancers moving in long circles. First they stepped a few light hops to the right, and then they moved back to the left, all the while holding hands. When the music changed to announce the Branle Charlotte, the dancers easily adapted to include the short pointed-toe kicks along with their steps. Then the Branle des Lavandières was signaled, and there was great laughing and cheers as partners broke apart and acted like washerwomen scolding each other, then clapped and hopped in a circle, all in time to the music. Every time the couples returned their hands to a clasp, I noted the slight change in both Lord Brighton and Lady Ariane. They glanced at each other, they smiled, and there seemed to be a quickening in the air around them.

  Then the music changed to a Gavotte. Great laughter rose up from the assembled crowd as the dancers quickly tried to move their feet to the hopping, skipping, twirling steps of the new dance. I wasn’t so much concerned with their skill as with their enjoyment, and the Queen, who loved nothing more than a challenge, was of course the most extraordinary dancer of all. She fairly sparkled as the music wound toward its inexorable close, the point at which the dancers broke line again and returned to their partners, leaning in for the most chaste of kisses.

  Except for Lord Brighton and Lady Ariane.

  In that precious, perfect moment the Queen broke away from Robert Dudley and swept her gaze right. She saw Sophia’s betrothed lift his lips from Lady Ariane’s, saw the flash of ardor between the them, the pure, spontaneous desire. I marked Elizabeth’s immediate understanding of the unplanned intimacy of that kiss, and the calculation in her eyes.

  As a single, moneyed, and lovely female of the court, Lady Ariane was a greater problem than Sophia. Elizabeth needed her married off. And Sophia, well—she was a spy coming into a very intriguing and potentially valuable skill. At first her betrothal had probably seemed like a good idea to the Queen, as a means to secure Lord Brighton’s money and take a potentially troublesome girl off her hands, should Sophia’s gifts not manifest. Now, however, with the benefit of time and consideration, I suspected that perhaps such a betrothal was no longer as desirable.

  And I had just given Elizabeth the ability to solve two problems at once, with her none the wiser to the real reasons behind my scheme.

  Or so I hoped.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The music moved on to another dance, and the moment passed with only the most discerning members of the court understanding what had just transpired. Fortunately, Lord Brighton and Lady Ariane didn’t realize they had been discovered, both of them removing themselves from the dance floor and returning to stand at the edge of the crowd, now slightly farther apart than before. I narrowed my eyes in the shadows. It would do them no good.

  “A dance, my lady? Since that seems aught you Englishers are capable of doing to spend your time?”

  I forced myself to stay still for just a moment more before turning to smile up at Alasdair MacLeod. He seemed . . . larger, somehow. More real than the men of the court whom I’d just so skillfully arranged on the dance floor like pawns upon a chessboard. And he stared down at me as if daring me to say no.

  I found I did not want to say no. I gazed at him with equal challenge. “You are dismayed by the fact that we are far more civilized than you?”

  Alasdair rolled his eyes. “Your country would be better served by having its men on the battleground, not walking around in circles.”

  “Ah, but don’t you realize?” I said as I crossed in front of him. “More political decisions are made on the dancing floor than could ever be reached in battle.” Like the decision I just orchestrated, in fact. I took his proffered arm. “See? Even you deign to engage me here, while on the battleground we would be direst enemies.”

  “Never that, my lady,” he said gruffly as he led me to the floor. The music settled into a sedate Pavane, and I welcomed the slow pace that allowed for conversation but not too much intimacy. Even having Alasdair’s hands hold me at arm’s length was disconcerting, but this was the man who’d lied about his actions in my own home. I had no qualms about presenting him a face that betrayed not one of my emotions. His next words, however, caught me off guard.

  “So what game was this that you just enacted, showing Sophia’s betrothed in such a poor light?”

  “Pray, what?” I arched a brow at him as we turned. “I surely don’t—”

  “You cannot hide from me, my lady Beatrice,” Alasdair murmured, his quiet words effectively cutting me off. We were walking forward now, the measured steps taking us slowly around the floor. “I saw you huddled with your fellow maids, then the five of you spinning out like a scatter of birds. I tracked you through the crowd as you turned heads and hands to the floor, and then I saw you pause overlong with a most unusual couple.”

  “Unusual?” I asked. “I should say they are well matched.”

  “Well matched, aye, but for the fact that one of them is betrothed. And not to the other.”

  I shrugged. “It was but a dance.”

  “It was not ‘but a dance.’ ” We circled forward then. “You directed them like a general commanding troops into battle. They listened to you, even though you’re a mere wisp of
a girl.”

  “I beg your pardon—”

  “And then you whisked away to watch the drama unfold, safe in the shadows. I knew exactly when you had achieved your goal.”

  “I think you go too far,” I said, sharpness honing my words. How much did Alasdair know about me? There was clearly more to him than I had suspected if he had a hand in the secret meetings of the Lords of the Congregation. But how deep did his duplicity go? Was he merely being a flirtatious cad, or was he some cutthroat spy for Scotland? I had to be more careful!

  “And I think you are running out of lies, my lady,” Alasdair said lightly. The music stopped, but he did not loose my hand. “Pray walk with me awhile,” he said.

  “I would rather dance.”

  “And I would rather you walk, especially as, if I am not mistaken, your Queen is watching you with interest. She seems well pleased that you are following her directives to play up to the roguish emissary from the north, and she is wondering what you are learning from him. Do you not wish to curry her favor?”

  I’d held my body quite still as he’d spoken, my feet moving only with the force of his stride. I would not look over to see if the Queen was staring at me, as he’d implied. She likely was. The Queen considered me first and foremost a tool to do her bidding, and she knew well how much I’d originally despised Alasdair MacLeod. Had that really been only a few short weeks ago, on the day I’d walked down the aisle of Saint George’s Chapel?

  “Very well, then,” I said rigidly. “I could use some fresh air.”

  “I believe it. This court reeks of English sweat and stale beer.”

  “How pretty your phrasing,” I said through my teeth.

  “And how honest,” Alasdair gibed back. But he was guiding me out of the Presence Chamber and down the long corridors, holding me close on his arm as if he were afraid I would bolt away like a startled deer. He didn’t slow until we’d crossed out onto the North Terrace, and the sudden icy breeze that sprang up to greet us took my breath away.