Winter Blockbuster 2012

by Trish Morey

  ‘It is Thomas Sheldon you want in this plot.’

  ‘So you and Lord Edward say—and so say the documents you kindly sent via my daughter. But we must find his conduit in Lord Henshaw’s Men before we can move. Mistress Barrett can surely help us with more information concerning that.’

  ‘So you do have her,’ Rob said, cold fury pounding at his heart as he thought of her locked in a dungeon like this one. His sweet, fair Anna. Surely she was in fear and pain because of what he had done.

  ‘She is in a comfortable place, never fear. We seek only to speak with her. Often people know more than they realise they do.’

  And torture was used to help them ‘remember.’ ‘I wish to see her.’

  ‘Of course you do. But I don’t see how you can help us in these circumstances, Master Alden. You are much too—engaged. Perhaps closer to the scheme than you should be?’

  Rob froze. Walsingham’s calm words were filled with menace. Was this the end, then? How could he save Anna if he was dead? ‘Am I accused of treason?’

  Walsingham studied him closely for a long, silent moment, his thin face giving away not a flicker of his thoughts. ‘We have been speaking to someone else inside Lord Henshaw’s Men. He makes certain claims, but I do have my suspicions of him. He is not entirely what he claims, and he is much too emotional—like all you actors.’

  ‘If this man accuses me, I have the right to refute him, surely?’ Rob demanded.

  ‘You have only the rights the Queen chooses to bestow upon you,’ Walsingham said. He waved his stick around the cell. ‘And you should think of yourself now. Will you help me bring this to a conclusion? To save yourself and Mistress Barrett—if you are not lying to me?’

  Rob crossed his arms over his chest. He felt a faint glow of hope, which he pressed down under cold calculation. ‘You know that I will.’

  Walsingham seemed to consider this. Finally, he nodded. ‘You have served us well in the past. And I am in need of a fresh scheme to close in on our quarry. Very well. The young man who has been speaking to us of you and Mistress Barrett and her father is an actor by the name of Henry Ennis. I am sure you know him.’

  ‘Ennis,’ Rob muttered. It would be him—he followed Anna about like a besotted puppy, and picked quarrels with Rob in the middle of the White Heron when he only saw Anna smile at Rob. Rob remembered the burning hatred in Ennis’s eyes as he had swung his sword at Rob’s head.

  ‘Yes. You do know him, then? He certainly seems to have taken against you,’ Walsingham said.

  ‘I believe he is in love with Mistress Barrett and she spurned him,’ Rob said slowly.

  Walsingham’s eyes widened with interest. ‘Is he, indeed? Men are so foolish in love. That is certainly a bit of information we can use to our greater advantage …’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  ANNA reached up as high as she could and tried to grab the ledge of the window with her fingertips. She had pushed the table up against the wall and climbed atop it in the hope she could peer outside. Maybe if she could see what lay outside Walsingham’s house she could plan some sort of escape.

  But that was a vain hope. The tiny window was too far above her head, and she could hear almost nothing beyond her room. She wasn’t even sure how much time had passed since she had been carried here. Was it another day now?

  ‘Z’wounds,’ she cursed. ‘Robert, where are you?’

  She scrambled down from the table and sat back on the chair to stare into the empty fireplace. She reached for the book again and held it tightly in her hands, as if it was a talisman against fear.

  She couldn’t afford fear. Not now.

  Suddenly the silence was shattered by the faint click of the key at the door. Anna jumped to her feet, the book held before her like a shield against whatever was coming.

  The entrance slid open, creaking on its heavy hinges. Anna blinked at the sudden rush of torchlight, dazzling after the dimness of the room. When the glare cleared, she looked again—and beheld the most welcome of sights.

  It was Robert who stood before her, alive and whole. He braced his hands on the doorframe, studying her in turn just as greedily as she watched him.

  ‘Are you real?’ she whispered. ‘Or am I merely dreaming?’

  ‘If you are, I hope it is a dream from which we never wake,’ he answered hoarsely. He rushed across the room to snatch her into his arms and pull her close, his arms around her.

  Anna held on to him desperately, as if she would never let him go, never let him be snatched from her again. She felt the heat of his skin, the pounding of his heart, and sighed a deep prayer of thanksgiving that he was alive—here, now, with her. Even if they were prisoners together, she could fear nothing with him.

  ‘You are alive,’ she whispered. ‘But what happened there on the road? Are you Walsingham’s prisoner, as well?’

  ‘So many questions, fairest Anna,’ he said, pressing a kiss to her hair. ‘I would have thought you would be waiting here to kill me yourself for getting you into this.’

  ‘Were you the one who landed us here in this gaol?’ she asked. ‘It seems strange you would contrive to have yourself locked up thus. Unless …’

  She drew back to look up at him. She had thought him unable to hurt her, but she wanted to see the truth of that in his eyes. ‘Unless this is some sort of twisted scheme to coax confessions out of me? Is my father here?’

  ‘Oh, Anna. You do have every right to distrust me,’ he said sadly, wearily. He held tight to her hands, not letting her pull away from him. She didn’t want to leave him, though; she wanted only to know the truth. ‘But I fear I am bound here as you are, and I need your help now to discover the truth.’

  Anna shook her head in confusion. ‘What truth do you seek? I know my father is on your list, but I also know he can be no traitor.’

  ‘And I know that, as well. But someone in Lord Henshaw’s Men has been taking Spanish coin, and we must find out who and for what purpose. Then we will be truly free.’

  Her head spun and she struggled to bring her thoughts together. ‘There are so many people around the theatre, and as you said yourself they are all constantly low on funds. And there are so many grudges and quarrels—it could be any one of the actors. They are as adept at hiding their true selves as …’

  His hands held even closer to hers. ‘As I am?’ he hinted, a tiny flicker of emotion finally there, deep in his voice.

  ‘Aye, Robert, as you are. At Hart Castle I thought I could see you at last, but now I fear I know so little.’

  ‘You do know me, Anna, and I swear to you now I want only to help you.’ He raised her hands to his lips for a kiss, and inhaled deeply of the soft turning of her wrist, as if he tried to memorise her, savour her and this moment together no matter how fraught it was with fear and uncertainty.

  Anna swayed towards him, a heavy longing for so many things sweeping over her. She wanted to believe him, to be close to him, to have all this vanish and life be as it was in those too-brief moments at Hart Castle. But she couldn’t let herself fall. Too much depended on it.

  ‘Let me show you,’ he said urgently. ‘Give me a chance to set all this right before you refuse me.’

  ‘Refuse you what?’

  He shook his head with a frown, as if he felt confused and desperate, just as she did. But that couldn’t be—not for Robert Alden. ‘The chance to see you. To touch you as I do now. To be near you.’

  ‘How?’ she demanded. ‘How will this be set right? How can we be free?’

  ‘I have a suspicion who our villain is—or at least who is in the pay of the villain,’ Rob said. ‘Come, sit, and I will tell you of my scheme. I fear it is a wild one, but for all that I think we can succeed.’

  Anna let him lead her back to her chair and help her to sit. As he knelt beside her, he glimpsed the book where she had dropped it at the sight of him.

  ‘You were reading Demetrius and Diana,’ he said.

  ‘Aye,’ she answered softly. ‘It has
kept me from going mad today, I confess.’

  ‘Then I am glad I could help you in some way.’ His tone said clearly he could help her in no other way.

  ‘I think you can help me in other ways, as well,’ she said. ‘Tell me your suspicions.’

  Rob pressed the book into her hand and closed her fingers around it. ‘You know Edward and I have been working to trap Thomas Sheldon in one of his schemes? We have known for some time that he is in the pay of the Spanish, and possibly of the French, as well—he is in very deep debt and has made many errors. He grows desperate and careless now. And he uses equally desperate men to help him.’

  ‘Actors?’ she cried, her heart freezing. It was someone near to them who had betrayed them?

  ‘One in particular, who passes messages between Sheldon and his contacts in verses and takes their coin, while also claiming to inform on others to Walsingham. He is a double agent, but his desperation makes him a good one no longer.’

  Anna closed the clasp on the book as if it was this double agent’s neck. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘You know him well, I think. And now he tries to turn on me, since fighting me did not work. It is Henry Ennis.’

  ‘Henry!’ Anna cried, shocked. Henry Ennis? Who had declared his love for her? Who tried to kiss her in her father’s garden? Could it be true? She had seen there was something obsessive and strange in him, but being so hopelessly passionate and unrealistic was often a stock in trade for actors. It shouldn’t make a man turn to treason.

  She looked deeply into Rob’s eyes and studied the steady glow of truth she found there. Any person was capable of anything when pushed far enough. She saw that around her all the time. If Henry Ennis had been insulted by her refusal and was jealous of Robert—if he needed money or revenge—aye, it could be him. It could be anyone.

  And she needed to know. She needed to reclaim her life and move forward once again, to examine her feelings for Rob and discover the truth of his for her. But before she could do that she had one single imperative—to save all their lives.

  ‘Tell me how I can help you,’ she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  ANNA took a deep breath and carefully folded her hands in her lap. The soft silence around her made the waiting feel interminable, and she had to press down the urge to cry out and run about in futile circles.

  Could this scheme of Robert’s and Walsingham’s work? She wasn’t sure her meagre acting skills were up to the task. But it had to be worth a try. She had to do what she could, before Walsingham and his men resorted to Tower torture threats. If Henry Ennis had truly joined forces with Sheldon in treasonous schemes, he had to be brought to justice and her father cleared.

  Anna sat back in her chair and listened carefully for any approach that signalled her waiting was over. She had been moved from her small, cold gaol to this sitting room, where there was a fire in the grate and fine tapestries on the walls. Refreshments had been laid out, but she couldn’t eat or drink. She couldn’t do anything but think.

  She refused to consider what would happen if this scheme failed and the villains escaped. But what would happen after, when Sheldon and Henry and their cohorts were gone and she was back home with her father? Would Rob vanish and she would never see him again? Would she have only the memories of those days at Hart Castle to remind her of him and what they had been to each other?

  And yet—could she forget all the danger and the lies?

  Anna shook her head. Her feelings for Rob Alden could not be fathomed now. They were all too tied up in emotion, in hope and fear all tangled together. She had to concentrate first on this one task.

  At last she heard footsteps outside her room, and jumped to her feet as the door opened. A tall, thin man clad in the black they all wore in that house appeared there, and gave her a short bow.

  ‘Secretary Walsingham is ready to see you, mistress. If you will follow me?’ he said.

  Anna nodded and followed him along the corridor and down a flight of stone steps that led back to the damp lower floors where she had been kept before. There was a row of stout closed doors and all was quiet behind them, but a cluster of men waited at the far end.

  It is just a play, she told herself as she followed her escort. Imagine it is the stage at the White Heron.

  But the solemn cluster of men who watched her approach seemed all too real.

  Two of them bore swords, and Anna’s escort said quietly, ‘Those men will act as your guards. The ones who are being questioned have been searched for weapons, of course, but it would be best if you stayed close to the guards.’

  Anna nodded, and as he opened the door the guards stepped in behind her. They walked in together—a small, curious procession. Anna clasped her hands before her to keep them from trembling.

  To her surprise, it was not a dark, cramped cell, but a large, panelled room lit by several lamps and torches that showed every detail of the careful stage set. Walsingham and two other men sat at a long table at the far end of the room, papers scattered before them. Henry Ennis sat to one side, slumped on a stool, his fine clothes torn and dishevelled, his handsome face sunken and grey. He looked up as she entered the room.

  And stared at her as if a ghost had just glided into his presence. His skin turned pale, his eyes growing wide. One hand lifted as if he would reach out for her, but then it dropped back to his side.

  Anna’s guard pushed her down into a chair, and she noticed a small gap in the dark panelling behind Walsingham. She glimpsed a flash of white cloth, and realised that was Rob’s hiding place. He was with her in this strange playacting.

  She stiffened her back and looked straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge Henry even as he couldn’t cease staring at her.

  ‘Thanks to your excellent work, Master Ennis, we have been collecting Her Majesty’s enemies in this case,’ Walsingham said, calmly sorting through the papers before him, as if bringing down traitors were an everyday chore in his life—too close to the truth for Anna’s liking. ‘We have already been questioning Sir Thomas Sheldon, and now Lord Henshaw’s Men are being cleaned out. Mistress Barrett here and her father have much to answer for.’

  ‘Nay, she is not involved in this matter!’ Henry cried, his face growing even whiter.

  ‘But we have evidence of her father’s schemes, thanks to you,’ Walsingham said coolly. ‘And we know Mistress Barrett keeps her father’s business ledgers and runs most of his concerns. She is the one able to send information to any foreign contacts. Is that not so, Mistress Barrett?’

  Anna kept staring straight ahead. Despite the fact that this was all meant to be a play, she couldn’t help shivering. No wonder Walsingham had captured so many over the years—the very calm ordinariness of his demeanour was chilling. ‘I have nothing to reply to that. I have declared my innocence.’

  ‘So you have. But we all know the truth, do we not, Mistress Barrett?’ Walsingham queried grimly. ‘As does Master Ennis, who has been of such help in this matter. Perhaps Lord Henshaw should make you a sharer in his company now, Master Ennis? He will be in need of them once we are finished here.’

  ‘I told you—Robert Alden is the traitor in the company,’ Henry cried. ‘I was wrong before. Mistress Barrett has nothing to do with it.’

  ‘Ah, but Mistress Barrett is Master Alden’s lover,’ Walsingham said. ‘Surely she has some interesting information to share.’ He studied Anna and added, ‘Is that not so, Mistress Barrett?’

  ‘A woman can take a lover as she chooses,’ Anna answered. ‘It does not make her a criminal.’

  ‘It depends on who that lover might be,’ one of Walsingham’s men said with a coarse laugh.

  Henry’s face shaded from white to deep red as he stared at Anna. ‘So it is true?’ he whispered. ‘You are with him?’

  Anna looked to him, careful to keep her expression smooth and cool. ‘Is what true, Master Ennis?’

  ‘You spurned my honourable offer to whore for him,’ Henry said. ‘I suspected, but I never
…’

  ‘Why should I not choose him?’ said Anna. ‘He is handsome and dashing. He is a skilful lover. And he is not the one whose accusations have led me to this place. I could never have been your wife, Henry. Or even your whore.’

  ‘I would have given you everything! A respectable life, my name, my love.’ His voice grew hotter and wilder as he spoke.

  ‘Love?’ Anna rose to her feet and stalked towards him, a wave of disgust washing over her as she looked at his face. He was a weak man, acting like a cruel, spoiled child denied the toy he desired. He had tried to destroy her father with these lies and secrets, and thus destroy her.

  ‘Love would never have brought me here,’ she said. ‘You wanted to possess me, or at least the woman you thought I was. You did not even know me, and when I refused you I was arrested as a traitor.’

  She stopped mere inches from him and stared up at him steadily. ‘As I die on the scaffold, Henry Ennis, brought low by your revenge, I will curse your name to eternal damnation. And I will take my love for Robert Alden with me into eternity. Nothing you have done can erase that. He is a hundred times the man you could ever be.’

  She started to turn away, but Henry suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her back to him, nearly pulling her arm from its socket. His clasp was bruisingly painful, and Anna cried out.

  ‘I loved you—I worshipped you as a gentle goddess,’ Henry shouted, as if years of frustration and anger were falling out. ‘And all along you were another one of Alden’s bawds, wallowing in the dirt.’

  ‘Let go of me!’ Anna demanded, a bolt of fear running through her as she remembered her husband’s beatings.

  The other men clambered to their feet, her guards drawing their swords, but Henry’s blind fury made him faster than them. He wrapped his arm around Anna’s waist and dragged her against him, her back to his chest, and snatched a sharp letter opener from the table. It was a small but lethal-looking object, and he held it right at the pulse pounding in her neck.