Against Joliffe was Frevisse's guess.
As the men had entered, she had faded aside, almost to a wall, and now slightly bowed her head and folded her hands out of sight into her opposite sleeves, making seeming of withdrawing from everything. Though Vaughn might believe that of her, she was certain neither Alice nor Joliffe would, but they were likely intent enough on each other to discount her for the while; and certainly Alice's first words to him were no mannerly inquiry about how he was this morning or a nonsense hope that he had slept well but the blunt question, "Why should I believe you when you say you serve the duke of York?"
As bluntly, Joliffe answered, "Because I'd be a great deal safer saying I served someone else."
"Why didn't you claim another lord then?"
"Because that would get us no further toward finding out who wants dead everyone who might betray what Suffolk and Somerset did in Normandy."
"You truly think that's the root of these deaths?"
"I do. Do you have a different thought about it, my lady? Or, come to it, how much about Normandy's loss could you betray if you chose?"
Maybe offended that someone as slight in the world as Joliffe dared question her in return but accepting that offense was an unuseful thing just now, she answered coldly, stiffly, "My lord husband never told me a single thing about it."
Frevisse doubted Joliffe missed the evasion in that answer of how she had known about it, then; but Alice took the talk back her own way with, "You claim order has been given to link York to these rebellions so he can be charged with treason. I gather you likewise think that is linked to the murders of my household men."
With a lightness that was surely feigned, Joliffe said, "I hope it is, because if there are several such plots going all at once ..." He made gesture as if casting something away.
"Nonetheless," Alice said, "there may be."
"There may be," Joliffe agreed. "But one or all, they're surely by men close around the king. They're the men with the power to order such things. Power they must be in fear of losing."
"Who gave the order against York?"
"It seems it was slipped sidewise and around the corner to at least the man who warned us of it. He gave no name with it."
"But you're willing to consider it could be the same person or persons who ordered these murders and maybe Bur-gate's disappearance."
"We have to consider something, and the simplest beginning is likely the best. But plot or plots, you'll have better thought than I can about who around the king it could be."
"My lord the duke of Somerset for one," Alice said without hesitance. "Except he might have found it hard to know enough and give the necessary orders. At least for Burgate being seized. For the others, who can say?"
"And now he's back from Normandy," Joliffe said. "He landed at Dover with his household over a week ago."
Surprise—and alarm?—widened Alice's eyes. Joliffe saw it as well as Frevisse, and he asked quickly, "You hadn't heard that, my lady?"
"No," Alice said sharply. "I've heard nothing that way." And plainly thought she should have. At Vaughn she demanded, "Have we heard anything from . . ." She seemed to think better of saying any names and said instead, ". . . anything from either of them?"
"The last word we had was just before St. Mary Magdalene day. When I came back from Wales and found out there had been nothing since then, I sent someone to find out why. There's not been time for his return."
So that was Vaughn's place in things, Frevisse thought— master of at least some of Alice's spies set to watch in other men's households. That distrust and the ambition that fed it were among the things she found hardest to accept about Alice's life. But Alice was saying, "Nor was there reason to worry we hadn't heard because we didn't know there was news we should have had." She looked to Joliffe again. "Since you know so much, do you know if the king has received Somerset or, better, ordered his arrest?"
"No," Joliffe said. "As I last heard it, Somerset was riding openly toward London, no let or hindrance offered him."
"Blessed St. Michael," Alice said. "What is King Henry thinking of? Every person dispossessed out of France, every man, woman, and child who's lost their home and everything they had in Normandy are going to want Somerset's head. He has to be at least brought to trial. King Henry has to at least arrest him."
Dryly bitter, Joliffe said, "Our King Henry is a merciful man."
"This isn't mercy," Alice snapped. "It's foolishness. I swear, he . . ." She broke off, again thinking better of her words, and sharply reverted to where they had been. "You say that someone is plotting to have York accused of treason. You say he's guilty of none. I'm the more ready to believe that because it begins to seem to me that someone may be plotting much the same against my son. Not to find him treasonous but to betray into the open the full extent of his father's treason and thereby have the dukedom from him."
Frevisse jerked up her head to stare openly at Alice-Vaughn made a sound that might have been a smothered oath. Joliffe, with a calmness that did not quite mask satisfaction, said, "Indeed, my lady?"
By the twist of Alice's mouth, she heard the satisfaction as clearly as Frevisse did; and she said, somewhat mockingly, "Indeed, Noreys. And, yes, to spare you pointing it out, we may therefore have more reason to work together than against each other. If my lord of York and I do truly have a common enemy, then we had better work together."
Joliffe bowed to her, respectfully agreeing, "My lady."
Vaughn stirred as if very badly wanting to say something.
Alice, keeping her gaze on Joliffe, said, "I know, Nicholas. This may not be wise, but I somewhat think I'd be a full fool not to attempt it. So, Master Noreys, where to begin? We agree it's possible that someone has ordered these murders to conceal Suffolk's and Somerset's treason. We presume this someone to be Somerset. Yes?"
"Yes."
"My suspicion follows that, seeking to protect himself, he wants to break any link between him and Suffolk in the matter, because to satisfy all the angers at Normandy's loss, someone is going to have to pay the price of it. My lord husband is already well-hated and well-dead. Let a charge of treason be brought against him now and what defense is likely to be any good? And if he is found guilty of treason, then his title, properties, and all will be forfeited to the crown. My son will be left with nothing. Neither title nor inheritance nor future."
Frevisse forebore to point out that the considerable inheritance that Alice had had from her father would not be forfeit for Suffolk's treason. Young John would be left with far more than "nothing." He would have wealth and his life and not the burden of the dukedom. But for Alice the loss of the latter seemed to be the heavy weight in the balance. Or maybe it was from the taint to his blood and name she wanted to save her son, and with no answer to make to that, Frevisse protested instead, "How can Somerset hope to separate himself that far from it? People have to see they were hand-in-glove together in everything."
Joliffe drew himself very straight, threw out his chest, changed something in how he stood, and suddenly seemed a much larger man, full of lordly authority as he declaimed, hands spread in entreaty for other men to see reason, "I sent to my lord of Suffolk for aid. I begged him to send men, to send anything but paper answers. My pleas, my lords, went unanswered. What little came, came too late. I swear I did what I could with what nothing Suffolk saw fit to give me ..."
"Yes, yes," Frevisse broke in. "I can see Somerset would play it that way. But would men be fool enough to believe it?"
"The better question," Alice said, "is would anyone be fool enough not to at least pretend to believe it, if Somerset comes back into the king's favor? Once Somerset has the king's favor, who's to move against him? Not his fellow lords. They've all failed to take full hold over King Henry while Somerset is gone. They won't take it once Somerset is fully back. Nor is there much likelihood of a Parliament being called any time soon, for the Commons to set on Somerset the way they did on Suffolk, not while there's this o
ngoing seethe of rebellions to distract them. Once Somerset is firmly back into the royal household, there's no one going to have power enough to challenge him."
"There's my lord of York," Joliffe said.
"Who is in Ireland and not likely allowed to return any time soon," Alice said. "Especially if Somerset takes Suffolk's place with the king."
Joliffe started to answer that, but Vaughn said first, "My lady, are you seriously thinking to ally with York? If he brings down Somerset for this treason, whatever he uses to do it could be used against young John as well, as Suffolk's heir. Unless we know for certain he's our enemy, we may do better to hope Somerset stays untouched."
"We could hope that," Alice granted. "But unless we find some other reason than Normandy why someone has killed Hampden and Squyers and, yes, Matthew Gough— and find out that someone is other than Somerset, then it's against Somerset I want to be protected. Besides that," she said and sounded suddenly very like her father the times Frevisse had seen him set himself against something that could mean deep trouble, "Somerset should be stopped for more reasons than my own. He's as corrupt and ill-able to govern as my lord husband was. They should neither of them have ever been let near power. So, Master Noreys, if we work together in this matter of murders and all, destroying Somerset and maybe even setting York into the place he should have near the king, will my help suffice to earn York's help in keeping my son's inheritance safe from any attainder for treason against his father?"
Joliffe hesitated before saying carefully, "I cannot give my lord of York's word for anything. You know that. But I will swear that I believe whole-heartedly he'll play you fair in this as far as lies within his power."
"More than that would be unfair to ask of you," Alice said. "Especially when, from all I know, I would trust York to do right long before I'd ever trust Somerset."
"Towards that trust, my lady, have you considered the use of an alliance of marriage between your son and one of York's daughters?"
"You're a marriage broker as well as a spy, Master Noreys?" Alice snapped.
"Rather than either, my lady, a purveyor of facts and pointer-out of possibilities. Among the nobility, York is isolated save for a few relatives-by-marriage. An alliance with you would lessen that isolation. He's of royal blood. Your grandchildren by one of his daughters would have that same royal blood, and who knows what might come of that. There would be benefits on both sides."
"You're right," Alice said, "that such a marriage would indeed sweeten our—alliance, if it comes to that. And after all, with God all things are possible."
That had been her father's way of ending talk when he wanted to be done with something, and Joliffe took it as such, saying with a slight bow, "My lady."
"The more immediate question," she went on, "is What is to be done with you while I consider all of this? Because my mind is not yet made up."
Joliffe bowed low with a courtier's excessive flourish. "All that I ask is that you let me live, that I may serve you, most gracious lady."
"We had already determined on leaving you your life, Master Noreys," she said so haughtily that both Frevisse and Joliffe had to look at her to see by her slight smile that she was deliberately matching his courtier's flowered words with her own. "I mean what's to be done with you for the present. We need to determine what to do next and I can't talk with you more just now, nor do I think it wise to have you become widely known in my household. Neither do I want to lock you away again. It would seem . . ." The slight smile returned. "... discourteous."
Joliffe silently bowed his appreciation of that.
She looked at Vaughn. "Nicholas, could you keep him company through the day in the upper parlor? No one should come that way if I don't."
Vaughn bowed. "My lady."
"Share what you both know about this business. See what happens when you think together on it."
Joliffe and Vaughn both bowed to that, but Frevisse saw them afterward trade mutually wary glances that made her want to say, "And play nice together." But she did not, and Alice dismissed them with a small gesture, and with another slight bow they both withdrew by the small chamber's rear door, the way they had come.
With them gone, Alice ceased to stand so straightly, went toward the window as if suddenly needing to sit but saying as she went, "The upper parlor is where I would withdraw when the house was too full of Suffolk's business and too many people. There's a back way to the kitchen yard from there, for Nicholas to fetch them food and drink. They'll do well enough."
"If they don't let their dislike of each other take over," Frevisse said, following her.
"Nicholas won't. He knows his duty."
And Frevisse would have to trust Joliffe knew and would hold to his own. It was what his duty was that worried her, because it surely had not started out to be making alliance between Alice and York, and she asked, "Will you truly consider a marriage between John and one of York's daughters?"
Lowering herself to one of the cushioned seats as if far older than she was, Alice said, "It would be good sense." She folded her hands into her lap. "Save that John is already married to Margaret Beaufort. The duke of Somerset's niece."
Frevisse felt her mouth fall open and only with difficulty closed it again, too taken aback for words. Beyond doubt reading her startled face aright, Alice went on, "The girl came into Suffolk's ward after her father's death. Somerset grabbed the title that should have come with her, but she has properties enough to make her worthwhile."
"Properties and royal blood," Frevisse said, sitting down across from her.
"And most especially her royal blood. Suffolk never lost sight of that for a moment." Because just as York was, the duke of Somerset was cousin to the king. The difference was Somerset's royal blood came from the adulterous coupling of the duke of Lancaster—a younger son of King Edward HI—and his mistress several generations back. Lancaster had eventually married the woman and had their offspring legitimated, and through the years they and their children had risen to dukedoms and a bishopric and places very near the king—and none nearer than Somerset.
"Suffolk had the marriage done very quietly last winter," Alice said, as if glad to say it aloud. "Secretly. On the chance things might go to the bad. Which they did."
"John is too young to have made the marriage completely sure," Frevisse said. Far too young to have consummated it.
"So is she. Nor are they ever likely to. I suspect that Somerset will do what he can to have the marriage annulled and get her into his own hands, to his own use. After all, the king has two half-brothers available for marriage."
Frevisse startled. She knew those two children. Edmund and Jasper. Or had known them when they were small boys. But, yes, they were young men by now and, yes, she could see how Somerset would like to place himself more closely to the king by marrying his niece to one of them.
"Not that I much mind the thought of having her off my hands," Alice said. "I like young Meg Beaufort very little."
"Alice!"
"Well, I don't. It's why I left her at Ewelme. She's lovely to the eye, is little Meg—she hates being called Meg, so I'm afraid I do it. She's all large eyes and sweet-shaped face, but even at seven years old she's pie-faced with piety. Walks around with her prayer book clasped to her breast and her eyes raised to heaven." Alice mimicked a child's voice simpering, " 'I'd be Christ's bride if I could, but God has willed otherwise for me.'" Alice returned to her own voice to say disgustedly, "When she says 'Christ's bride', what she sees is herself sitting in glory on a throne beside him, draped in cloth of gold. She wouldn't last a month in nunnery life. I do not like her, nor do I like Somerset, or his wife, or his miserable sons. He's welcome to her! I just want to be left alone for awhile!"
She made a small, angry, almost flailing movement with both hands, then clamped them together, shoved them down onto her lap, and said, looking straight at Frevisse, "There's something else."
Frevisse's momentary urge to comfort her was instantly quelled.
Warily she asked, "What?"
"Remember I told you I was afraid of something else but wouldn't say more?"
"I remember."
"Through the last weeks before Suffolk left, he was in a seethe of anger. He kept saying he'd been betrayed. That he'd been betrayed and someone would pay along with him if things went any worse for him."
"He had to mean the duke of Somerset," Frevisse said.
"How had Somerset betrayed him? Everything in Normandy was going and has gone as they planned."
"So far as we know," Frevisse said quickly. "You and I, we truly know very little." And that little had come only by chance.
"But what if there were others in it with them? We don't know for certain there weren't. And if there were others, what do they know? What if they have proofs they could use against John, to his loss?"
Strongly, to convince herself as well as Alice, Frevisse said, "If there is someone else, they can do nothing without betraying themselves. Alice, Suffolk was likely talking out of his fear and anger, and there's no one."
The Traitor's Tale Page 13