by Jane Feather
He looked across at Robin. “I doubt you would dispute that, would you?”
Robin said nothing, his lips set tight and thin in his taut face.
“That may be so,” Pippa returned, repeating flatly, “but I will take my chances with my brother.”
“You should hear him out.” Robin spoke with obvious difficulty, but there were facts he could not deny. It was clear as day that Lionel Ashton had skills he could not begin to match. A mole who could bury himself so deeply in enemy territory would have tricks way beyond Robin's experience.
He put a hand on his sister's arm. “There is so much at stake here, love. At least listen to him.”
Common sense told Pippa to take her brother's advice, but it was a bitter pill. Without a word or a gesture she turned back to the inn.
Robin regarded Lionel in bleak silence. Lionel inclined his head in acknowledgment of all that lay beneath the silence, and followed Pippa.
Twenty-one
Lionel followed Pippa upstairs. She didn't acknowledge him as she flung open the door of the bedchamber and entered the room, but she didn't slam the door in his face either.
Luisa gave a little gasp when she saw him and then faced him with the air of a hare at bay. “How did you know how to find me?” she demanded.
“'Tis unwise to underestimate Malcolm,” he said dryly. “I'll talk with you later but for the moment my business lies with Lady Nielson and her brother. Go downstairs and remain with Malcolm until I come to you.”
Luisa looked at Pippa in confusion. Instinctively she took a step closer to her.
Pippa touched her shoulder briefly. “'Tis a complicated situation, Luisa, but you need have no fear.”
She glanced towards the door where Robin now stood bristling like a terrier. She could hardly endure the prospect of being alone with Lionel, but she could endure even less the prospect of an audience to whatever was going to be said.
“Robin, will you take Luisa downstairs? See if we can get a fire in here and fresh rushes and some kind of supper.”
Robin frowned. “I think I need to hear what Ashton has to say. Do you not wish me to stay with you?”
Pippa shook her head. “No. This lies between him and me.”
Robin hesitated before saying reluctantly, “Very well. But I shall be just downstairs. You are to call if you need me.”
“I doubt Mr. Ashton means me any further harm.”
Lionel winced at the acid remark but he said nothing, merely stood waiting until Robin and Luisa with the intrigued Jem had left them alone.
“What a miserable pigsty,” he observed, glancing around the chamber.
“I don't imagine you're here to make small talk,” Pippa stated.
She clasped her hands tightly against her skirts, aware that her fingers were trembling a little. She told herself she had nothing more to fear from this man. He had done everything he could to her, but she was afraid that he would say or do something that would weaken her. He had always had such power to move her, to draw her to him. She needed to be armored against him.
“No,” he agreed. He looked at her. “I need to tell you something I have never revealed to another person. I tell it to you not as excuse for what I have done, I understand that for you there can be no excuse, but as a simple reason, a matter of fact. Will you hear me out?”
Pippa saw the pain in his steady gaze, heard the desperation beneath the calm tones. She knew she was going to hear something she didn't want to hear, that she was going to be touched with some other evil, and her spirit shrank from it.
“I will hear you.” She shivered in the cold dankness of the chamber and drew her cloak more tightly around her.
“I believe I told you that I had five sisters,” he began, looking straight at her, but she realized with an inner shudder that he wasn't seeing her, he was inhabiting some other place, some other time.
“Margaret was my twin. She married a Flemish merchant when she was fifteen. Her own choice of husband.”
“You lived in Flanders?” Pippa crossed her arms over her breast, hugging herself beneath the cloak. Simple factual questions would be her armor, they would keep all feeling at bay.
“Our father had a fleet of merchant ships that sailed out of the port of London. Pieter Verspoor was one of the traders in Ghent who did business with him. He came to stay one summer. We had a house on the river at Chiswick. He stayed for several months.”
The sentences came clipped and short. The tallow candle flickered on the shelf above the hearth and his face was in deep shadow.
“Margaret and Pieter fell in love. It was wonderful to see them together. My sister never did anything by halves. She saw the world in black and white and when she committed herself to something it was with all her heart and mind. She would entertain no criticism, no doubts, once she had given her loyalty to a person or to a cause. She and Pieter were married in Chiswick and sailed to Ghent on one of my father's ships the next day. It seemed their marriage was idyllic. There were two children in quick succession. Healthy children and uncomplicated births.”
He paused for a heartbeat and then said, “In the spring of 1549 they went to Geneva, where Pieter had some business, and there Margaret heard John Calvin preach.”
Lionel turned away from Pippa and she could only see his deeply shadowed profile. He didn't speak again for a long time and she didn't prompt him. The cold was now in her bones. And it had little to do with the ambient temperature in the chamber.
When he spoke again she started. His voice sounded hollow, as if it was coming from some deep pit.
“You know of course of the emperor's Edicts against the Reformation. You know how harshly they are administered in the Netherlands. You know that it is a crime punishable by death for a man to know of his neighbor's heretical beliefs and fail to report them to the authorities. You know of the Edict of Blood that makes it a capital crime for any layperson to discuss the Bible and for anyone who has not studied theology at a university even to read the Bible.”
Pippa managed a half nod of comprehension. Her tongue was thick in her throat. She knew of these things in the abstract. Everyone did. But she had never had to confront their reality. The armor was being stripped from her shred by shred as the horror that would end Lionel's story began to take life and form.
“Margaret became a passionate Calvinist. Pieter pleaded with her for the sake of her children to keep her beliefs to herself. We all pleaded with her.” His voice dropped as if he were talking to himself.
“I still don't understand why she wouldn't listen to reason. Why she refused to keep her religious beliefs within the walls of her own house. But Margaret displayed her Calvinism to the world. She would not stoop to clandestine hedge preaching. She preached it in the marketplace. There was no need for a neighbor's tale-telling, although there were many who did. She spoke for all to hear.
“She was three months pregnant with her third child when she was arrested. Because her husband was a respected and powerful citizen, she was treated with consideration, allowed to receive visitors, housed in some degree of comfort. Until Philip arrived in Ghent, sent by his father to sharpen the teeth of the Edicts. The emperor Charles had heard that too many heretics were escaping the stake.”
Lionel turned back to Pippa. His expression in the gloom was as twisted and bitter as his voice. “Philip visited my sister in jail. Margaret was a very beautiful woman. She had a fire in her eyes that could inflame a man. Philip offered to overlook her heresy if she would become his mistress. Margaret laughed in his face.
“He took my sister's case under his own personal judgment. She was delivered to the Inquisition in Brussels, who for the remaining months of her pregnancy strove for her immortal soul.”
His face twisted with pain and contempt. “They allowed us to see her after five months. They offered us the chance to plead with her to recant. According to the Edicts if she recanted they would bury her alive. If she refused she would be burned. The child was still
alive in her womb, God alone knows how. Margaret was unrecognizable, an old and broken woman, but they would not send her to the death she chose until after the birth.”
Pippa felt that she had supped full of horror that day. Horrors that all began and ended with Philip of Spain. She kept her eyes on Lionel and despite everything her heart went out to him. She had tried to shield herself from emotion but there was no shield or buckler proof against the anguish she saw in his eyes.
He continued, his voice now without expression, his face closed. “She would not recant. They racked her during her labor and she still managed to deliver a healthy girl child. They took the child and burned Margaret the next day in the public square. They used green wood. I could do nothing to help her. I had to stand and watch my twin sister, half dead already after months of torture, die a slow and agonizing death.
“I could do nothing!”
It was a dreadful low cry wrenched from the depths of his soul. Pippa was aware that she was weeping soundless tears and she made no attempt to stop their fall. She could not drag her eyes from his tortured countenance. Sick and weak, she sat abruptly on the bed.
When he spoke again, the desperation had left his voice but it was infused with passion of another kind. His gray eyes glittered like liquid mercury.
“I swore then, in the moment of her death, that I would be avenged upon Philip, upon his father, upon Catholicism. I would find ways to frustrate Spanish interests wherever they lay. To do that I had to work from within. I had to get close to the man, become an intimate in his retinue. And I had to lose all emotion, all moral scruple, and pursue just one goal.”
He looked at Pippa and for the first time since this had begun she thought that he was really seeing her again, that he had returned to this chill and shadowed chamber. “I do not expect you to forgive me, or even to understand.”
He opened his palms in an unconscious gesture of futility. “I did not know you. I could not stop what happened to you, but I could stop their plan from coming to fruition. To do that I had to be a part of it. I intended to take you to safety just before the birth.”
He shook his head and turned away from her again as if he could not bear to look at her any longer.
“I did not know you,” he repeated softly, “but I realized after that first dreadful night that I had not succeeded in quelling all emotion. I could not distance myself from you as a person, as a woman. I found myself needing to get close to you, to help you somehow. When you came to me after you'd discovered your husband's secret, I could not hold back. I gave you what I felt you needed and in the giving received in return a gift more precious than any I could ever have imagined.”
He turned slowly back to her. “Since that moment I have been true to you, and to that gift. And now you must let me get you to safety. My plans are laid, although I had not expected to implement them so soon. I have revealed my hand to Philip and am no further use to the people I work for, indeed my life like yours is in danger. So you must bear my company until we reach France. I will not intrude upon you, I swear it, and once you are safe you need never lay eyes upon me again.”
Pippa took a deep, shuddering breath. She could find no words. He had drawn her to him with the tale of his agony, just as she had feared, but he was still the man who had taken part in her violation. She told herself this fiercely as if it would thus tear apart the connection he had spun between them. But there was another fact that held tight the silken thread. He was still the man she had loved.
Had? Or did?
The hurt was still too great for her to see the answer clearly, but she would have to discover it. Just as she would have to discover if she could forgive.
“What happened to Margaret's child?” Once again she sought distance in facts.
“Judith was given to her father. She's now three years old.”
Silence fell between them. Lionel had bared his soul. He could do nothing now but await Pippa's judgment. He stood unmoving, watching her as she remained sitting on the bed, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes on the floor.
Feet on the stairs, a sharp rapping on the door broke their mutual reverie.
“Pippa!” It was Robin's voice, loud, imperative, infused with anxiety.
Pippa was aware only of relief. “Come in, Robin.” She turned her head to the door as it opened.
Robin stood in the doorway suddenly awkward. He didn't know what he'd expected to find, but when at last he couldn't endure the waiting he had raced upstairs in a fever of concern and a sweeping resurgence of his deep anger and distrust of Lionel Ashton. He couldn't understand how he had agreed to leave Ashton alone with the woman whom he had so devastatingly betrayed.
What he found was Pippa sitting quietly on the bed, Ashton standing by the window, and an atmosphere so heavy and portentous that Robin felt that he had intruded upon something that was absolutely none of his business.
“Jem is bringing up hot coals to make a fire and the goodwife is sending a girl to clean the floor and lay fresh rushes,” he said as if this was his excuse for intruding. “There's a decent fire in the taproom, we can sit in there until this chamber is prepared.”
Pippa felt his discomfort as if it were her own. “Did you contrive supper?” she asked, managing a reassuring smile with difficulty, trying to return some normality, some ordinariness to their situation. “I am famished.”
“Oxtail soup,” Robin said, a little comforted by the smile. His eyes darted to Ashton by the window. “Are you intending to stay under this roof tonight?”
Lionel said quietly, “That is up to your sister.”
Robin looked at Pippa. She rose from the bed. There was no real decision to be made. She could not fall again into Philip's hands, and her best chance of escape lay with Lionel. What lay between them must be ignored.
If it could be. But that rider she firmly put from her.
“I'm willing to take your advice, Robin. It seems Lionel made plans for my escape long ago.”
She came up to him, putting a hand on his arm. “You should not compromise your own position further, love. If you return to London no one will suspect you had anything to do with my disappearance.”
“No,” he said flatly. “That I will not do. I'm willing to leave the management of this to Ashton, but I am staying with you, Pippa.”
“And I'm staying with you too.” They had not noticed Luisa, who had followed Robin up the stairs with a much quieter tread and now stood behind him in the doorway.
“You will return to Dona Bernardina with Malcolm first thing in the morning,” Lionel declared.
“Forgive me, Don Ashton, but I think Lady Nielson needs a woman at her side.” Luisa stepped past Robin to confront her guardian.
“I do not know what is going on, or why you have to escape, or even where you are all going, but I am going to stay with Pippa. She is with child and it will be most uncomfortable for her to make this journey with only men.” She gave Lionel a little nod that was both defiant and confident.
“You would wish me to be with you, Pippa, wouldn't you?”
Pippa could almost find it in her to laugh. Lionel looked astounded; Robin looked as if he didn't know whether to embrace the prospect of Luisa's company or to run from it in terror.
It was clear to Pippa, at least, that Luisa, whether she had acknowledged it or not, had made her choice of husband and was not going to give up without a fight. It was high time Robin found himself a wife, and Luisa, for all her youth, would do very well, she now decided. She had a strong spirit and an unconventional view of the world that would appeal to Guinevere and her daughters. Luisa would feel right at home in Robin's family. Maybe something good would come out of this horror. Maybe she could play matchmaker. It would be a welcome diversion.
“I'll be glad of your companionship,” she said. “I can't see how there could be any objections, since I would be your chaperone and you would be traveling with your guardian's escort.”
Luisa's answering smile was grate
ful but the look she gave Robin was triumphant.
Lionel frowned. He didn't need another distraction on this journey but he did need Malcolm to ride ahead to Southampton to organize the ship to take them to France. He had been trying to think of an alternative since Malcolm would have to take charge of Luisa, but if the girl came with them then he could revert to the original plan. It would save precious time. And a pursuit would not be looking for a party of four.
He looked thoughtfully at Robin and wondered if he realized that Dona Luisa de los Velez of the house of Mendoza had elected him her life's companion. As soon as he could, Lionel decided, he would get out of Luisa exactly what she'd been up to with Lord Robin of Beaucaire under her duenna's nose. In the meantime her intended could take charge of her. He seemed more than capable of doing so, and if wedding bells rang when this nightmare was over, so much the better. It would be the only way to mollify Bernardina.
Dona Bernardina. She would be out of her mind with worry. But he could not reassure her until they reached Southampton.
“Don't make me regret it,” he said curtly to Luisa, who gave him a radiant smile that he had difficulty resisting.
He changed the subject. “We must make all speed. The carriage is too slow. Malcolm will ride ahead at dawn to organize the ship. Beaucaire, I trust you can spare your page to take the carriage back to London. We must cover our tracks.”
Robin's nod was terse.
“And if you will take Luisa on your pillion, I will take Lady Nielson.”
Again Robin nodded.
“I will ride alone,” Pippa said. She detested pillion-riding and she did not relish the prospect of clinging to Lionel's belt for long hours.
“No, you must ride with me. We cannot buy horses and thus leave a trail,” Lionel pointed out. All diffidence had left him; he held the authority here now and the decisions were his to make. “If there is any pursuit, and I don't expect any, then we will split up and go our separate ways to Southampton.”