by Mary Hooper
The flooring beneath my feet changed as I went further into the house, for it had been stamped-earth close to the kitchen, then it changed to herringbone brickwork, then to a fine mosaic patterned with stones which glittered in the candlelight. I went under an archway where the masonry was so badly cracked that shiny green ivy had crept through a gap and grown in a tangle across it, then through a hallway which was perhaps at the very front of the house, with an elaborate curving staircase leading upwards. After this came another passage, then a small and twisted staircase made of stone, then more doors. The house was such a size that our cottage in Hazelgrove would have fitted in thirty times over.
Reaching a dead end, I began to walk back, and just by the big, curved staircase noticed a large and important-looking door, enamelled black, with ornate fire torches to each side, both of these smoking as if they’d only recently been put out. After hesitating a moment, I put my ear to the door, but there was not a sound to be heard within. I cautiously pushed it open – I just could not help myself – and found the room beyond it in almost total darkness, with just one brand of wood glowing in the fireplace.
I stepped in and as my eyes got used to the dark saw that there were full heavy drapes at the windows and that the room was as big as a barn, so that the dim light thrown by my candle was not able to illuminate the far end. I could see across to the opposite wall, however, where there was a regular patterning which I took to be a wall painting, but on going closer found was shelves holding great numbers of books, huge numbers of books, more than I’d ever known or dreamed existed in the world, for we don’t possess one at home, and the only one I’d ever seen before had been the Bible in church.
An owl hooted from somewhere, making me start, and I stood still and listened in fear, for one hoot is a sure harbinger of death. I heard two more, however, and relieved, moved back from the books, marvelling, hardly able to believe their extent. I bumped into a round table and, casting candlelight upon it, recognised a chest there as being the one in the portrait. Behind this table was another, larger one bearing many strange things: an instrument having glass tubes coming from it, a small cauldron, some wood and pewter boxes, an array of strangely shaped roots and pearly shells, half of a very large eggshell, a timepiece, and other strange and mysterious objects which I had no names for.
The Devil’s work. These words came to my head, unbidden, and I couldn’t tell why, for I’d hardly thought of the Devil before, nor what his work might be. I didn’t like the room, though, for I was both apprehensive and fearful of the great numbers of books and all the words, knowledge and secrets these must contain. Secrets of which, being unable to read, I could know nothing.
The light from my candle suddenly caught something on the edge of the table, and looking closer I barely suppressed a scream, for it was a human skull, bone white and gleaming, its teeth bared in an idiot’s smile, its eye sockets dark and hollowed.
There’s something about the appearance of a human skull – perhaps knowing that it was once as alive as I am, but now is not – which drives fear into my heart, and I backed away from it in horror and left the room. Walking swiftly down the corridor towards the kitchen, I felt I had satisfied my curiosity quite enough for one night.
As I reached the ivy-clad archway, though, I heard a noise behind me, looked around and almost screamed to see the figure from the portrait standing there: the white-bearded man wearing a long cassock. He was not pursuing me, but staring after me with his candle aloft in one hand, as if he could not believe what he saw.
I began to murmur an apology for being about at that hour, but my candle guttered and went out, and I fled back to the kitchen as fast as I could, my smock and blanket billowing behind me.
I’d come face to face with Dr John Dee a little sooner than I’d expected, but was not going to stay and make my addresses to him.
I slept little after that for I could not help thinking about the man I’d seen and the skull on the table. Had Dr Dee killed a man, or was this an object he used for medical purposes? I told myself that it was more like to be the latter, for I well knew that moss scraped from a dead man’s skull could be used in a cordial to ward off the plague, and there had been a bad bout of that the previous year.
Yes, I would think that: that he restored people to health, for I didn’t wish to work for a murderer.
Chapter Five
‘Will you stay, Lucy?’ Beth asked, twining her small body around mine the following morning. ‘Will you stay here and take care of us?’
‘If your mama allows it,’ I said, for in the clear light of morning and after a breakfast of toasted bread and warm milk I’d almost forgotten the eerie, book-lined room and the strange encounter with my employer. I gave a shudder as the monkey leaped from her shoulders on to mine. ‘And if you promise to keep this little creature away from me as much as possible!’
‘Oh, don’t you like Tom-fool?’ Beth asked. ‘How can you not? He’s such a pretty thing.’
‘I don’t like him getting in my hair and tangling it,’ I said with a shiver, as the monkey nibbled around my ear lobe, ‘and I don’t like the little droppings he makes everywhere.’
‘Tom-fool is named after the queen’s jester,’ Beth said proudly, ‘for they both make me laugh immensely.’
I looked at her, thinking that she was spinning some tale of make-believe. ‘And when have you seen the queen’s jester?’
‘When Her Grace comes here with her courtiers.’
‘The queen doesn’t come here!’ I said, for of course I didn’t believe her. ‘Not to this house.’
Beth nodded. ‘She does. She comes to see Papa and consult with him about things. If we know she’s coming, Merryl and I have to wear our best clothes and practise curtseying all morning in case she should address us, but some other times she comes without telling anyone and then we can just be ordinary.’
‘Oh!’ I said. ‘Truly?’
‘Oh!’ the monkey imitated me and gave a high shriek of laughter in my ear.
I gazed at Beth. I could scarce believe it, but as Dr Dee was the queen’s magician it might possibly be true. If it was, I fervently hoped that Her Grace wouldn’t come a-visiting until I’d obtained clean clothes and didn’t feel so frowsy as I did just then, for looking at my skirts in the morning light I could see I’d not been able to remove much mud, but instead had just spread it over a greater area. There were half-moons of mud lodged under my fingernails, my pins had gone astray, leaving my hair all over my shoulders like a night-walker’s, and my shoes were in tatters. I was in no way fit for a queen to set eyes upon.
Suddenly, Merryl burst into the kitchen, followed by Mistress Midge. ‘Mama wants to see you!’ she cried before she was halfway through the door.
The cook nodded. ‘She does. I’ve told her all about you, and how you saved the children an’ all, and she wants to thank you herself and look you over.’ She winked at me. ‘I think you’ll do all right.’ She bustled to the fire, poked at it, then put some milk on to heat. ‘Madam should be taking the infant off to its wet nurse today, but now says she doesn’t want to part with him. Him nine days old, too, and the nurse as clean and healthy a woman as ever drew breath!’ She looked at me and rolled her eyes. ‘The longer he stays means more work for me: napkins and swaddling to be washed, fresh milk from the ass four times a day, wine and little delicacies for the goodwives attending on Madam – and if the child doesn’t go off to the wet nurse, Lordy, when will I see an end to it?’
I had no answer to this, and besides, Merryl and Beth were pulling at my hands and pleading that I should go and see their mother straightaway and secure my employment. This, of course, was pleasing to me and I was touched to find myself wanted by these little girls – so much so that any lingering doubts I’d had about working at the magician’s house disappeared. I must keep myself to myself, that was all, and not go a-creeping round the house at night and taking fright at things.
‘Wait,’ I said to the girls. ‘I m
ust look respectable before I go and see your mother. First you must remove this little beastie, and then I must try to put myself to rights.’
The animal being removed (causing some pain as its fingers were prised from my scalp) I scrubbed my hands, smoothed my hair and tied it back tightly with a length of cord, then asked Mistress Midge to make sure that my face was free of smuts and crumbs. Finally, I brushed down my skirts as best I could and covered them with a heavy linen apron.
The children led me down the corridor, through a thick blanket hung against the draughts and up a narrow staircase I hadn’t noticed before. We then went down a long passageway, while I marvelled anew at the size of the house and tried to judge the number of rooms it contained. At length I was led into a fair-sized bedchamber which had clean rush mats on the floor and silk hangings on the walls. It contained a four-poster bed with embroidered drapes and, in view of the prevailing cleanliness, it was immediately clear to me that Mistress Midge’s housekeeping duties didn’t extend to this part of the house.
A woman lay prone within the bed with her eyes closed, while another stood to one side of it, rocking a carved wooden cradle.
‘Here’s Mama!’ Merryl said, running over and flinging herself on to the bed, which was dressed very beautifully with a pale blue silk bed covering to match the drapes.
I curtseyed low before Mistress Dee, and then, on rising, looked at her with some surprise, for I was rather expecting that the mistress of this big house would be haughty and elegant; perhaps similar to Lady Ashe. Mistress Dee was not a bit elegant, however, and was not finely dressed at all, but wearing a creased nightgown (though ’twas frilled at the neck with old and expensive lace), with a faded dressing jacket about her shoulders. Her hair was caught back in a net and her face was thin and pale, her manner fretful.
‘Lucy, is it not?’ she asked.
‘It is, if it please you,’ I said, curtseying again, a little overawed in spite of how ordinary she seemed, for I’d not had an employer before and was not sure how to speak to one.
‘It is I who should be greeting you with such civility, for I understand you saved my children yesterday.’
‘Just Merryl,’ I said. ‘She got into some difficulties in the river mud.’
‘I’m most grateful. But I understand you lost your clothes because of it?’
‘I did. They were in a basket, which I put down for a moment and then forgot about, and that accounts for the sorry state of my appearance today, for which I’m heartily sorry.’
‘Well, then. I shall ask my husband to scry for your clothes.’
I looked at her, mystified, for I had no idea what she meant.
‘My husband can seek out lost things,’ said Mistress Dee weakly, but with some pride to her voice. ‘He’s found a chest of treasure and several items of silver plate for neighbours, and he’s also divined the whereabouts of a bag of coins that was lost.’
I gazed at her in wonder. He was a true magician, then. And if he could do those things, what other marvels could he perform?
‘But until he finds your clothes you’ll oblige me by taking one or two of my old gowns. I’ve asked Mistress Allen here –’ she indicated the woman in dark blue – ‘to seek you out something which fits.’
Mistress Allen looked me up and down for size. ‘Why, she’s as skinny as a pike staff,’ she said rather sourly, and I got the impression that it was she who was normally the recipient of her mistress’s old clothes and therefore didn’t appreciate having to give them to me.
‘I’m much obliged to you, Ma’am,’ I said, bobbing another curtsey to Mistress Dee, then, to be on the safe side, one to Mistress Allen as well.
‘And I’ll be much obliged to you if you’d consider staying with us and looking after the children, Lucy, for Mistress Midge says you have a way with them.’
I nodded, smiling. ‘Certainly I will, Ma’am.’
‘My newborn, here, will go to his wet nurse soon, but Beth and Merryl need constant watching to prevent them getting into mischief.’
Both little girls fell to denying this, but their mother insisted it was true. ‘They have been somewhat neglected of late. At one time my husband had a tutor engaged to school them, but he hasn’t been here for a twelvemonth or so. We’ll have them tutored again sometime soon, and if you will be their nursemaid until then …’
I said I would and gladly. She said she had no idea of what wages I should receive, but would suggest to her husband that I got the same rate as Jane, the nursery maid who’d eloped, and I nodded eagerly at this.
She squeezed my hand warmly as she dismissed me, and the children then led me back to the kitchen, where Mistress Midge and I supped a small beer each and drank to my continued employment at the house.
I was given a room of my own – just a small space, hardly more than a cupboard – off the nursery, and told that I was expected to work under Mistress Midge and to care for the welfare of Beth and Merryl at all times. This sounded no great hardship to me, for I was out of range of my father and ’twould be very much nicer than sewing leather gloves every day till my eyes ached and my fingers bled. Besides, at home I’d only had a curtained space in my parents’ chamber, so it was most pleasing for me to have my own room, which had a window made of real glass which overlooked St Mary’s Church. It also had a bedstead with a straw mattress, some hanging pegs and two stools, one which held a ewer and basin, only very slightly chipped.
Later that day I stood in the kitchen watching the children play under the willow tree on the riverside while Mistress Midge prepared dinner. I was dressed by then in a dark brown bodice and skirt which had been presented to me by Mistress Allen and which fitted well enough, but which was very plain and sober without the least amount of tucking or embroidery. The other outfit was in dark grey and similarly sober. Mistress Midge said that the garments had probably been chosen on purpose, so that I shouldn’t have anything too fine, for it wasn’t seemly for a housemaid to wear bright colours, to have a large ruff at her neck or much in the way of fancy trimmings.
Now I knew that I was staying at the house I had many questions to ask of Mistress Midge and could not have had a better person to interrogate, for her tongue ran on wheels and the only difficulty was in getting her back to whatever subject one wanted information upon.
‘Does the queen really come to visit here?’ was my first eager query.
‘She does indeed,’ she answered, ‘and she doesn’t come alone, but sometimes brings her favourites from court. My, the Earl of Leicester is a comely man with a fine leg!’ she added warmly.
‘And who else comes with her?’ I asked, but although she readily delivered a list of names and descriptions – some of the queen’s ladies-in-waiting, the Earl of Somewhere, the Duke of This and the Countesses of That – I hadn’t heard of any of them.
‘Sir Francis Walsingham is a neighbour and sometime visitor here, and his wife is godmother to Beth and Merryl,’ she said. ‘Lady Walsingham – oh, a fairer woman I have scarce seen in forty years or more! And her dresses and jewellery almost outdo the queen’s. Indeed, once Her Majesty told Lady Walsingham not to wear purple silk to court, for that was her prerogative alone.’
‘And what is her husband?’
‘Lord! Do you not even know that?’ she said. ‘Why, Sir Francis Walsingham is the queen’s spymaster.’
I frowned at this, not knowing what a spymaster might be.
‘Her Grace is beset with enemies,’ Mistress Midge explained, seeing my puzzled face. ‘That is, she has foes in France and Spain – the Catholic countries – where there are many who believe that she shouldn’t hold the throne.’
I nodded, for of course I’d heard of this treacherous notion.
‘So good Sir Francis has placed spies around the country in order to catch the plotters who would remove her from power, to endeavour to seize them before they can act.’
‘He’s very powerful, then?’
‘Lordy, yes,’ said Mistress Midge. She
glared at me. ‘To think they seek to replace Her Grace with the Queen of Scotland!’ she went on, and I shook my head disbelievingly, for it seemed very strange and alarming to me that anyone should interfere with kings and queens. I’d always been taught that they were chosen by God, He alone, and men were not to meddle in such matters.
Dismissing these weighty thoughts, for I was hungry, I looked into the pot simmering over the fire. Not seeing a rabbit or any meat there, however, and the liquid being strangely pale, I asked Mistress Midge what she was cooking.
She sniffed. ‘We are reduced to vegetables for dinner,’ she said, ‘for the household is very needy. Why, Dr Dee has not paid his butcher in three months.’
I gazed around me in surprise. ‘This house is so well stocked with costly things, though – with paintings and hangings and tapestries,’ I said. ‘Can’t some of them be sold?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s not the way the nobility conduct themselves,’ she said. ‘There’s no food because Dr Dee spends most of his money on books. He has more books than almost anyone in the world!’