Is he indeed? Minuette thought. I think I shall have to simply barge in and introduce myself to Amy Dudley.
Because the maid’s phrase about Italian poetry was fluttering in her skull like a nervous butterfly.
It was easy enough to find the chamber Amy Dudley had been assigned to (and which, incidentally, it appeared she had slept in alone—there were no signs of a man’s presence), for there was a banging and general noise level that Minuette was long familiar with from serving the late Queen Anne. It meant the woman in question was out of temper and letting it show.
Minuette knocked on the frame of the half-open door. “May I be of some assistance?” she asked. Doing what, she wasn’t sure. Her talents ran more to flirting for information and writing flattering letters that appeared to promise without actually promising. She supposed she could pack dresses if forced to do so.
Amy whirled and eyed her carefully. “You’re with her, aren’t you? No one bothered to give me your name last night.”
“Genevieve Wyatt,” she supplied, ignoring Amy’s impertinent reference to Elizabeth. She is Robert’s wife, after all, Minuette reminded herself. And it must have taken all Amy Dudley’s nerve to walk into that room last night and face down the Tudor princess who had ensnared her husband’s heart. “I simply wished to introduce myself and ask if there was anything you needed.”
“Yes, there is something I need.” Amy snapped at the two maids packing, “You may go.” When they had gone, Amy shut the door behind them and said to Minuette, “I need to know how far things have gone between Robert and her.”
The way she avoided saying Elizabeth’s name reminded Minuette forcibly of Mary Tudor. She had spent some weeks with her last year and even after all these years Mary still referred to Anne Boleyn as “the person” or “the woman.”
“I assure you, your husband has not compromised your honour.” Which wasn’t precisely true. To be precisely true, Minuette would have had to answer, Robert hasn’t slept with Elizabeth and never will, because she is far too smart to allow that to happen. But no doubt he’s slept with any number of more willing women, and he would bed Elizabeth this very minute if she allowed it.
Sometimes it was best not to be precisely honest.
Amy’s lips tightened, as though she had heard every unspoken version of Minuette’s thoughts, and she sniffed. “He’ll never get out of this marriage. My family will see to it. My father is quite an important landowner.”
Minuette thought pityingly, And Elizabeth’s brother is the King of England. Care to wager who would win if they went against each other? But she let Amy rant, as surely the woman had come here to Dudley Castle to do. As she couldn’t do it to Elizabeth’s face, she might as well spill it all to Elizabeth’s dear friend.
“She thinks he’s so faithful, so undyingly loyal to the romance of loving a woman he cannot have. That’s how little she knows Robert. He could not be faithful if his life depended on it. He confined himself to my bed alone for no more than a month after our marriage before he required other women as well. Does she believe she is different?”
No, Minuette thought, but she manages not to think about that part. And Robert is careful not to flaunt his women before her. As apparently he has not been with you.
“They’re not all serving women, either,” Amy challenged. “There was a court woman, he was quite infatuated with her for a time. He even brought her into our home.”
Minuette startled, and Amy laughed bitterly. “No, he’s not quite that wretched, he didn’t know I would be there. I mostly live near my parents, so give him his due, when he came waltzing into Kenilworth with his court whore, he was quite as shocked to see me as I was to see them. Not that it prevented him from sending me away without even pretending to be kind. The servants say Robert kept this woman with him a whole month. I wonder what he told your mistress about where he was while he played house with a woman neither his wife nor his precious princess.”
The same butterflies that had alarmed at the phrase “Italian poetry” were winging madly now in Minuette’s skull. I don’t want to know this, she thought, but she also knew it was too late to back out now.
“Did you see this woman?” Minuette’s voice sounded distant and flat in her own ears.
“I saw her. Proud, she was, though dressed no better than me. Dark colours for a dark countenance, I remember that.”
“How old was she? What did she look like?”
Amy paused. “Don’t tell me you’re one of his conquests! If you’re the jealous type, then you should keep well away from Robert.”
Summoning up her most imperious tone, Minuette said, “I am not jealous, and I have never looked twice at your husband in that manner. But it is of great importance that you tell me details of this woman’s appearance.”
Cowed, Amy muttered, “She was younger than me. Eighteen or nineteen, maybe? Dark, like I said. Not as dark as Robert, but nothing like the princess either. Brown eyes, she had, and straight brown hair to her waist. Shorter than you, and more generous in her figure.”
Minuette longed to close her eyes and curse, but she had one more question. “When did Robert spend that month with her at Kenilworth?”
“Late winter two years ago. Almost spring—March, I think it was.”
She did close her eyes then, though she kept her swearing silent. Alyce de Clare had spent four weeks away from court in March of 1553—Alyce, with brown eyes and brown hair to her waist—and less than four months later she had been with child at the time of her sudden death.
Robert was the man she’d been searching for. The man who’d gotten Alyce with child. The man who’d used her to spy on Queen Anne—using a cipher contained in an Italian poetry book. The man—the link—to the fraudulent Penitent’s Confession and the subsequent downfall of the late Duke of Norfolk.
Robert was the traitor.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“SHE’S SAFELY in the Tower?” William asked his uncle. Rochford had just returned from arresting Eleanor on undefined charges. It would, in fact, be a tricky business charging her, as William did not want to make widely known the attack on Minuette. Probably Eleanor would end up being charged with treason. If she was connected to Northumberland in any way, that charge would stick.
“She’s there,” Rochford answered. “Did not take it well.”
William snorted. “She wouldn’t. Eleanor is the original example of an utterly selfish point of view. She sees things only as they affect her.”
“Rather like a king, in fact.” Rochford spoke so drily that William had to puzzle out whether it was a jest. His uncle didn’t often joke, but this time he quirked his lips in a grin.
“Unless Eleanor has a government and an army to back up her wishes, then her wishes will never reign supreme.” William paced the length of the privy chamber and back again. “No word from Dominic yet?”
“He only left yesterday, Your Majesty. Even riding hard, he won’t reach Dudley Castle until sometime tomorrow.”
“I know. I just hate sitting here while others do my work for me.”
“No one can do your work for you—that’s rather the point of being king. But I know it can be chafing to feel as though others are running around and you are sitting still. Believe me, sitting still can often be the hardest work of all. It all depends on the men you have doing the running around.”
What William really wanted to do was ride to Hatfield—ostensibly to tell Elizabeth in person about the Dudleys’ perfidy, actually to put his arms around Minuette and assure her that she was safe now. But he knew that would have to wait until Dominic had the Dudley men safely under arrest. William could not risk Elizabeth doing something rash and finding a way to warn Robert of what was coming.
Could it be that he didn’t trust his own sister?
Not where her heart was concerned, he realized uneasily. Elizabeth might convince herself that she knew better than the evidence, and then heaven only knew what action she would take to prove it.
>
The door was flung wide and Rochford exclaimed, “What are you doing!” before even William could protest. His guards had their weapons drawn in an instant but William recognized the man, breathing heavily as he bowed behind them.
“Let him through,” he commanded, wondering what on earth had brought John Dee to court in this state.
“Your Majesty.” Dee bowed. “I’ve come straight from Dudley Castle and there’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
Dee was blunt. “Princess Elizabeth arrived at Dudley Castle four days ago with her friend, Mistress Wyatt. I do not think it wise for them to remain there.”
Caught completely off guard, William couldn’t decide whether to laugh in disbelief or swear. “Then why in heaven’s name did you leave them there and come away yourself, Doctor?”
“Have you ever tried to persuade Her Highness to a course she did not wish? Princess Elizabeth declined to leave at my suggestion, and I could hardly force her to do so. But when I realized that you did not know of her visit to Dudley Castle, I thought it prudent to alert you as quickly as possible.”
William looked at his uncle, who seemed—for once—utterly at a loss for words. “Lord Rochford, we shall have to send an army after Dominic. Raise five thousand men as quickly as you can and send them after me.”
“Where are you going?”
“To Dudley Castle.” William turned back to John Dee. “You did well, Doctor. Perhaps now would be a good time for you to terminate your connection to the Dudley family and come to my court instead.”
“Perhaps it would. But the first matter is retrieving your women.” Dee said it as though he knew that William’s urgency concerned Minuette even more than his sister.
Not that he wouldn’t make Northumberland pay for his insolence with Elizabeth. No one touched a Tudor and lived to tell about it.
Dominic pressed hard on the ride from London and made Dudley Castle late on the third day. Reining up outside the village, he studied the castle looming on its medieval motte above, the fading daylight and damp mist lending it a desolate air. The castle had a perimeter wall, quite low, and the moat had been filled in, but this was no longer a defensible structure so much as it was a family home. Why was he thinking such things anyway? He had only five men in his immediate party, including Harrington, and though he expected anger at his news, he certainly did not anticipate violence.
Still, he kept a wary eye out as they rode up the motte. Men bearing the Northumberland badge with its azure lion greeted them a fair distance before the entrance. They spoke politely, no doubt recognizing Dominic’s standard—gold with lions similar to Northumberland, and also the crimson discs distinctive to the Courtenays—but recognition did not buy them easy entrance.
“We have orders,” the spokesman told Dominic. “You are welcome, my lord duke, but the others will have to wait here.”
Dominic shrugged and dismounted. “Fair enough.”
Before Harrington could protest—whatever that might look like in a man so taciturn—Dominic added, “But my own man, at least, comes with me.”
The guard, relieved not to have had more of an argument, readily acquiesced. Harrington strode a pace behind, his eyes roaming constantly. Something was definitely odd in the Dudley household. Dominic wasn’t surprised that the duke knew he was coming—he hadn’t traveled in secrecy and had ridden straight through the heart of Northumberland’s power base—but he was troubled at Northumberland’s attempts to control the number of men coming into his home.
Still, he was allowed to retain his sword and dagger, and Harrington’s size alone made him a formidable weapon in his own right. And Northumberland was not so stupid as to offer real harm to the king’s closest friend.
The duke himself met them in the inner courtyard. Dominic could see the powerful figure waiting for them as they crossed beneath the Triple Gate. Even from a distance Northumberland radiated tension. He stood alone—no wife or family to soften his greeting. I don’t think I’ll be asked to stay, Dominic thought wryly.
“Exeter,” Northumberland said gruffly when they were in speaking distance. Dominic stopped a good ten feet away from the duke, and inclined his head in greeting. “What news do you bring?”
“Would you prefer to withdraw somewhere more private?” Dominic asked. Though there was no family about, the courtyard held plenty of servants and more than a handful of armed men bearing Dudley badges.
“I would prefer to hear your news on my feet and at this moment.”
Dominic delivered his news, more or less truthfully. “Guildford has been found guilty of felonious treason against the king’s own body. He has been sentenced to death.”
Actually, Guildford was already dead. Dominic had attended his execution the day before he left London. In his memory he held a picture of Guildford’s body, being borne away with his severed head. But William and Rochford had decided it would be wiser that Northumberland not know of his son’s execution just yet, in order to reduce the likelihood of his resistance to arrest. Assuming one of the duke’s own sources in London hadn’t already brought the news.
A muscle along his jawline twitched, but Northumberland did not move otherwise. “I suppose the king wants me to beg before he’ll commute the sentence.”
“The king will not commute the sentence, Your Grace. I’m here to take you to London to answer charges laid against you personally.”
“You plan to take me with half a dozen men?” Northumberland huffed a bitter laugh. “You’ve grown as arrogant as the boy king, Exeter, if you think you can bring me in on your own.”
“I have a half a dozen men outside your gates—but another half a hundred two miles off. Surely you know that.”
“I know it.”
“Your Grace, if you will submit yourself and your son Robert to my custody, the king will be inclined to deal generously with the rest of your family.”
“Robert?” Northumberland’s brow creased. “What has he to do with this?”
“I have a warrant for Robert as well as for you. The charges will be explained in London.”
The duke snorted. “Too bad for you that Robert isn’t here. My son rode off to Kenilworth ten days ago. Afraid you’ve missed him.”
Damn it. “Not for long. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. You have no position from which to bargain, Your Grace. We have hard evidence. You must come to London and answer it.”
“I don’t know what evidence you think you have, you jumped-up son of a traitor, but you are dead wrong when you claim that I have no bargaining position.” Northumberland no longer bothered to pretend politeness. “I really thought you must have known, I thought even that arrogant young brat of a king couldn’t be so careless as to mislay something precious to him. But neither of you have any idea, do you?”
“No idea of what?” Dominic’s tension increased. He did not like surprises.
Northumberland barked an order at a guard. “Fetch the younger one.”
Dominic’s training as a soldier stood him in good stead, allowing him to control his tumultuous thoughts by focusing on the physical details of the courtyard. As though taking notes of enemy positions, he assessed the layout of the domestic wings and outbuildings. His uneasiness increased as he realized that, just as the family were not to be seen, neither were any female servants. Only men were visible, many with the hard faces and powerful figures of fighting men.
First thing he’d do when he got back to his camp was send out scouts to discover if Northumberland had troops within twenty miles of here. Fifty royal guards would not be enough to bring in the duke if he were prepared to resist in battle.
Dominic tried not to let curiosity about what—or who—the young one might be, but he recognized that his body was taut with uncertainty. He was a soldier first, and he couldn’t fight what he didn’t understand. Still, he had come here to arrest Northumberland, and he wouldn’t leave until he’d done so.
That surety sustained
him right up to the moment when the guard reappeared escorting the person he’d been sent to fetch. Young. Golden-haired. Female.
Minuette.
Dominic only realized he’d stopped breathing when his chest began to hurt. He took a series of quick sharp breaths—as much to control his fury as to fill his lungs—and said, “What do you think you are doing?” He wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Northumberland or Minuette herself. How the hell had she gotten from Hatfield to Dudley Castle?
“What do you think she’s doing here?” Northumberland jeered, jerking his head to the guard, who brought Minuette to stand next to the duke. “This girl goes nowhere alone.”
God and all the angels in heaven … “You are holding Princess Elizabeth hostage?” Dominic asked in disbelief. How had Northumberland tricked the princess here from Hatfield? What was Minuette thinking, riding across country after nearly dying from poison? Dominic didn’t know if he wanted to hug her or shake her. He would have done either gladly so long as he could reach her.
But though no weapons had been drawn, they didn’t need to be. Northumberland had made his stand. Misguided, impulsive, rashly hotheaded, and ultimately suicidal, but a stand nonetheless.
“The princess came willingly at my request. Well, let’s not mince words, she came for Robert and to spite her brother. Elizabeth’s got Henry’s stubbornness and Anne’s willfulness, and she wanted to show that she is her own mistress. And now she is my bargaining point.”
“You’ll die for this, Dudley. And threatening the king’s sister will only ensure that you take your family down with you.”
“I won’t bargain with you.” Northumberland was dismissive. “Go back to your half a hundred men and don’t return without the king. I will deal only with William.”
Dominic flicked his eyes over Minuette in assessment. She appeared unharmed and not at all frightened—more irritated than anything. She nodded at his unspoken query and said, “Elizabeth is perfectly well. You needn’t worry about us. Except for the inconvenience of not being allowed to leave, we have been treated with the utmost courtesy.” Her words were laden with sarcasm, and Dominic almost smiled. He could imagine Elizabeth’s temper. He hoped she was taking her fury out on everyone inside.
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