Kissed by Shadows

by Jane Feather

  She put the letter on the mantelpiece above the brightly burning fire. He would find it when he returned from wherever he was, to change his clothes for the day.

  She left, locked the door again, and rang for Martha.

  Nineteen

  “I think I would like to ride in the city this morning, Malcolm,” Luisa stated as she arranged her skirts in graceful folds across the saddle.

  “Not much chance for a gallop in the streets, m'lady,” Malcolm pointed out, mounting his own horse.

  “Maybe not, but I'm tired of the river and the park. I've seen little enough of the city and I would like to ride towards the city walls. Isn't there a place called Aldergate?”

  “Aldgate,” Malcolm corrected.

  “I understand it's very busy, with crowds of people, a lot to see,” Luisa said with an eager and disarming smile.

  “That's true enough. But it'll be noisy and dirty. Can't hear yourself think, like as not.”

  “Oh, I would like to hear some noise and see some dirt,” Luisa declared. “You cannot imagine how tame life is, Malcolm.”

  “Reckon I can at that,” Malcolm replied. “But Crema won't like it.”

  “Oh, she'll be good as gold.” Luisa leaned over and stroked the mare's neck. “It's good for her to learn to handle crowds.”

  “She'll handle them well enough,” Malcolm said. “But she won't like it, is what I said.”

  “Then perhaps I should use another horse. Don Ashton has others, surely one would suit me.”

  Malcolm shook his head. “Mr. Ashton doesn't keep ladies' horses in his stables . . . none but Crema.”

  “So what should we do?” She raised an inquiring eyebrow.

  “Reckon we'll take to the streets,” the groom said phlegmatically. He headed for the gate out of the yard and onto the street.

  Luisa smiled and followed, her heart skipping a little with excitement. It was a challenge, to see if she could outsmart the sharp Malcolm. It would only be a momentary triumph, but she needed something to keep her wits honed.

  Thanks to her excursions with Robin the street scenes were not as unfamiliar to her as she would have Malcolm believe. She averted her eyes from a bearbaiting, glanced with a shudder of sympathy at a vagrant whose ears had been pinned to the pillory, and guided with an expert hand Crema's delicate high-stepping across filthy cobbles and through the running sewage of the kennels.

  Malcolm kept his eye on her in his usual relaxed fashion. He had some sympathy for the lady's need for a change of scene. They left the Royal Exchange behind and rode along Lombard Street. Luisa could see the city walls up ahead. All around her the throng ebbed and flowed going into and out of London. Aldgate was very close now.

  Luisa drew rein suddenly. “Malcolm, I would like to look in that silversmith's shop.” She pointed with her whip to the dark interior of a shop whose wares were indicated by a silver hammer hung above the lintel. “'Tis Dona Bernardina's birthday next week and I had it in mind to buy her a silver thimble.”

  She gave him her smile again. “I cannot buy anything if I cannot visit the shops and markets.”

  That was certainly true, Malcolm reflected. He dismounted and went to help Luisa from her horse.

  “There's no need to accompany me,” she said, covering her face with her discreet black mantilla. “I would not wish to leave Crema in the hands of a street urchin.”

  Malcolm looked into the gloom of the silversmith's shop. He could see nothing out of the way there. There were no other customers, and the smith himself was polishing a pair of candlesticks.

  He took the reins of both horses. “Very well, m'lady. I'll wait here with the horses.”

  “Thank you, Malcolm.”

  Her smile was concealed beneath the silk of her mantilla but he could hear its warmth in her voice. He nodded with a half smile in return and turned to survey the street.

  Luisa stepped over the threshold of the shop. The silversmith came forward, rubbing his hands expectantly. “What can I show you, m'lady?”

  “Thimbles,” she said, her gaze darting around the dim, dusty room. She saw what she had hoped to see at the rear. “Could you assemble what wares you have and I will return in five minutes to make a selection.”

  The smith beamed his agreement and disappeared through an archway to the right of the table where he'd been working.

  Luisa darted towards the door she'd seen at the rear of the shop. If it did what she expected of it after her excursions with Robin, it would open onto a back alley. The back alleys were all connected, a whole warren of lanes that snaked through the city keeping vaguely to parallel paths with the main thoroughfares.

  She stepped out into sunshine. It was close to noon. A couple of very small half-naked children toddled out of a noxious courtyard into the lane. Luisa hurried past them. She knew where Aldgate was from Lombard Street, all she had to do was follow the same basic direction along the backways. No more than three or four minutes.

  She half ran, her skirts held high to protect them as much as possible from the muddy, unpaved ground. To her surprise she felt no fear. It was reckless even at high noon for a woman dressed as she was to go alone through these parts of the city and yet she felt ridiculously invulnerable. And maybe she gave off some aura of invincibility because apart from a few curious glances no one made any attempt to impede her progress.

  The lane twisted and turned and debouched into Aldgate at the very top of Lombard Street. Luisa stopped to catch her breath. She wondered how she would see Robin in this throng. He would be heading for the gate, of course.

  She pushed her way towards the gate, where a constant shoving, shouting procession pressed in both directions. Watchmen stood idly by. Outside curfew the gate was open to all unless they received orders to close the city. Luisa found a spot against the wall, close to the gate, and waited, searching the throng, her heart beating fast. If Robin didn't appear soon, she would have to go back to Malcolm.

  And then she saw him. He was riding beside a closed carriage and his expression made her stare. Her excitement vanished like a flame under a bucket of sand. She had never seen him look so bleak, so angry, and yet so cold. She was used to his laughter, his teasing, his light flirtation, and sometimes to an intensity in his gaze that made her heart sing. But this was not a man she knew.

  She stepped out almost without thinking, right into his path. “Robin?”

  He looked down at her, so astonished that for a moment it was as if he didn't recognize her. “Luisa?”

  The carriage had halted and a lad of about thirteen jumped down. “Are we to go through, sir?” He stared at the veiled woman in frank curiosity.

  “Just a minute, Jem.” Robin dismounted. “What on earth are you doing here, Luisa?”

  “It was a little adventure. I wanted to see if I could slip away from . . . Oh, never mind that! What is the matter, Robin? What has happened?” She laid a hand on his arm, her voice a thrum of anxiety and sympathy.

  The carriage door opened and Pippa stepped down. “Why have we stopped?”

  “'Tis just me,” Luisa said, tossing back her veil. “I was having a little fun but I see that I have been foolish.” She came to Pippa, reaching a hand for hers. “You look so dreadful. Both of you. Please tell me what has happened. How can I help you?”

  Pippa's first reaction was impatient annoyance. They had no time to stand in the street having a pointless discussion with an importunate girl who didn't understand anything of reality.

  “You cannot, Luisa,” she said with a dismissive gesture, turning back to the carriage. And then came a sudden overwhelming desire for the company of another woman, for the familiar comforts female companionship would offer after the dreadful betrayals of men.

  But she needed her mother or sister, not Luisa. Luisa was too sweet and too young to understand life's evils. And she should be sheltered from them.

  She said peremptorily over her shoulder as she climbed into the carriage, “Come, Robin, we have no time to
waste.”

  Before she could close the door, however, Luisa scrambled in after her. “You may think I can be of no help, Lady Nielson, but I think I can,” she said with a stubborn twist to her mouth. “I intended to turn back as soon as I had met with Robin, but now I know that that is not what I am supposed to do.”

  Robin's head appeared in the doorway. “God's blood, Luisa, get out! What are you doing here alone?”

  “Never mind,” she said. “I'm going with you. Lady Nielson is my chaperone, so there will be no damage to my reputation, and I can see that she needs my help.”

  They had no time for this, Pippa thought. But she felt a certain admiration for Luisa's persistence, and a sympathy with her relish for adventure. Both traits she recognized in herself. She wondered fleetingly if she still possessed them. Or had they been stamped out of her by the heavy boots of horror?

  And then she thought that maybe Luisa could help her to find that part of her old resilient self that would enable her to lift her head above the mud. At the very least her bubbling companionship would be a diversion.

  She threw scruple to the devil. If the girl wanted to find herself hip deep in this mire, then so be it. “Let her come, Robin.”

  Robin shook his head. “For God's sake, Luisa, Dona Bernardina . . . your guardian . . . they will be frantic with worry.”

  “I will find a way to send them a message.” She threw a shrewd glance between the two of them. “When it is safe to do so.”

  No fool, this Dona Luisa, Pippa thought. She said with something approaching a smile, “Robin, if you are not prepared to wrestle Luisa from this carriage, I think she must accompany us. Indeed, I would think it discourteous of you to send her home alone through the city streets and you know that we dare not tarry another minute.”

  Robin realized he could dispute neither of these statements. Luisa had settled herself firmly on the seat opposite Pippa and it would take more than a mere man to wrestle her down. He threw up his hands, slammed the carriage door, and remounted.

  Lionel barely heard the conversation around Philip's council table. His fingers stroked the narrow stem of his wine goblet, his gaze rested unseeing on a patch of sunlight on the oak surface of the table.

  “Don Ashton, how did it happen that Lady Nielson flouted the king's edict this morning?” Gomez leaned across the table towards him.

  Lionel forced his attention back to the chamber. “That was my error. Last even I had given her permission to ride this morning and told her to depart from the smiths' court. When His Majesty decided to visit the court himself I did not think that Lady Nielson would have ventured forth so early in the morning.”

  He shrugged and drank from his goblet. “It was barely past dawn. Ladies of the court are not in general early risers.”

  “Unless, of course, they are attendant upon the queen,” Renard declared piously. “Her Majesty is at her prayers well before dawn and dealing with matters of state soon after.”

  Lionel made no response to this admiring observation. He drank again and leaned back as a page hastily refilled his goblet. The wine seemed to be having little effect on him although he was drinking more deeply than was his habit.

  “You appear distracted, Don Ashton,” Philip remarked, leaning one elbow on the wide carved arm of his chair, reflectively rubbing his chin with his forefinger.

  “No, sire. I am not in the least distracted.” Lionel set down his goblet.

  “I am considering whether it would not be better for all concerned if Lady Nielson were to be removed to my house. My ward and her duenna are already in residence, so there would be no hint of impropriety. It will be much easier to control her movements there. 'Tis impossible in the palace unless she is kept under lock and key and I don't think that would be wise. We don't wish to draw yet more attention to the situation. Her obvious imprisonment in the palace would stir up anger and resentment from Elizabeth's supporters and we need to keep them quiescent.”

  “And what of her husband?”

  “Lord Nielson, I am certain, will offer no objections. He can be told to explain that since he's so busy himself he cannot care adequately for his wife, and she would benefit from close female companionship since her own family are absent from court.”

  “Nielson will do as he's told after last night's little incident with his lover,” Renard said, his thin mouth tight. “My men tell me it went off very well.”

  “Well, I think you should do as you think fit, Don Ashton,” Philip stated. “The queen and I have no wish to think of the matter again.”

  Unless it becomes necessary. It was the unspoken thought of every man at the table, but no one would venture to cast doubts on the successful conclusion of the queen's pregnancy.

  Lionel pushed back his chair. “I will put this matter in train immediately.”

  He bowed to the table and left the chamber.

  Removing Pippa from the palace was essential to securing her safety. He had had this suggestion in mind for several weeks, guessing that it would be well received, particularly by Pippa, but that had been before this morning's dreadful revelation. Now he had to coerce her cooperation. His shame and remorse were so powerful he could not imagine how he was to face her, how to talk to her. But it had to be done.

  He rapped sharply on her chamber door. Silence answered his knock. He rapped again. Usually her maid was with her. Still silence. He tried to lift the latch but it was locked. He hesitated for a minute, then strode to the door of the adjoining apartment.

  His knock there was also received in silence but he could hear someone moving around and without hesitation he opened the door.

  Stuart whirled from the fireplace, a letter in his hand. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, white-faced.

  “I was in search of your wife,” Lionel said calmly. “Her door is locked and there is no answer to my knock.”

  “Perhaps she's asleep,” Stuart said. His hand trembled and he let it drop to his side, concealing the parchment in the folds of the cloak he still wore. He had found Pippa's letter as soon as he'd entered his chamber.

  Lionel frowned. He went to the connecting door and tried it. It was locked. “You have a key presumably.”

  “Yes . . . uh . . . no,” Stuart stammered. He had had no time to absorb the shock of Pippa's letter, of the realization that she now knew every horror that was to be known, before Ashton had burst in upon him. And even in the best of circumstances the other man somehow managed to reduce him to a cowardly stumbling idiot.

  “Yes? Or no?” Lionel inquired in the same detached tone that Stuart hated. The man was a cipher, his remote air masking his thoughts and feelings.

  “No.” He shook his head vigorously.

  “Come now, man. I find it impossible to believe that you have no key to your wife's chamber.” Lionel held out his hand. “Give it to me.”

  How had Pippa imagined he could keep her disappearance a secret for two days from the man who was charged with watching over her? Stuart thought desperately. A stronger man than he was could not withstand Ashton's hard-eyed stare, the imperatively extended hand.

  His gaze darted involuntarily towards the chest by the window. Lionel followed his eyes and quietly crossed the chamber and picked up the brass key that lay openly on the chest.

  He inserted it in the lock and opened the door to Pippa's empty chamber.

  “Do you know where she is?” he asked, his voice unchanging.

  “No.” That much was true.

  Lionel turned back to Stuart. “I think you had better let me see that letter.” He gestured to the hand that Stuart still held at his side.

  Helplessly and in silence Stuart handed it to him.

  Lionel read the letter, crumpled it in his hand, and threw it into the fire. “Do you have any idea how much danger she's in?” he demanded, and the anger now was clear in his voice.

  It stung Stuart. “Of course I do! And do you think I don't know why Gabriel was attacked last night? I am many things, Asht
on, but I'm not a blind fool.”

  For this moment Lionel could find none of his usual disdain for Stuart Nielson, he himself was tarred too thickly with the same brush. “I would imagine Pippa's with her brother. There's no one else she would turn to, is there?”

  “Not that I'm aware of.”

  “Very well. As it happens, we can keep her disappearance a secret for a while. I have the king's permission to remove her to my roof, where she will have the companionship of my ward and her duenna. They will assume that that's where she is.”

  “And you will go in search of her?”

  “Of course.” The affirmative was sharp. “If she's not with her brother then I'm certain he will know how to find her. I'll find him through the French ambassador.”

  “How did she discover this?” Stuart's question was both bewildered and resentful. “How could she have found out?”

  Lionel hesitated, then said, “She discovered your secret by accident. She's known about it for some weeks. For the rest . . .” He shook his head. “It seems that she retained some confused memory of what happened to her on those nights with Philip. She insisted on knowing the truth.”

  “And you simply told her?” Stuart was aghast.

  “She deserved the truth,” Lionel said curtly. “It was the least she deserved after what had been done to her.”

  “Then why not let her go with her brother . . . now that she knows everything?” Stuart spoke with surprising power and determination.

  “And you really imagine Philip and his cohorts will shrug their shoulders and wish her well?” Lionel demanded impatiently. “If I don't find her before they do, her life will not be worth a sou. You know that as well as I do. And you know damn well that only I can protect her.”

  Stuart's complexion grew even paler. He turned aside from the other man's hard and angry stare. “I have had enough, Ashton. I will not play this part any longer. I will not be blackmailed any longer.”

  “And how do you intend to stop it?” Sarcasm edged his voice. He no longer felt pity for Stuart. His own actions were despicable, but he had not known Pippa, he had owed her no loyalty, he had betrayed no trust.