The Phantom Tree

by Nicola Cornick

  She stopped, waiting, and realising as she did so that she had expected Diana to come up with the solutions. Diana always helped her; it was what she did. In this case she had come to Diana expecting answers, which had been rather naive of her. That was not Diana’s job.

  ‘Have you told Adam that you think it’s a riddle?’ Diana asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Alison said. ‘I’ve told him I’m on a bit of a quest as part of my family history research.’

  ‘So you’ve lied to him.’ Diana’s tone was unrevealing.

  ‘Well, yes…’ Alison floundered a little. ‘I mean, I had to tell him something. But obviously that couldn’t be the truth.’

  She stopped. This felt like every other conversation she had had with Diana about Adam over the years. ‘Nothing’s changed,’ she said, spreading her hands wide in a gesture of appeal. ‘I still can’t tell him who I am, can I? He’d never believe it.’

  ‘I believe it,’ Diana said reasonably. ‘Why shouldn’t Adam?’

  ‘Other people are not like you,’ Alison protested. ‘Adam thinks of time as a linear thing. Most normal people do.’

  ‘How do you know?’ Diana said. ‘You’ve never asked him.’

  Alison rubbed her forehead. ‘Because I knew that if I did he would think I was certifiable and would walk away!’

  ‘Does that matter now?’

  There was a small, sharp silence. ‘Yes,’ Alison said. ‘It always mattered.’

  ‘So you walked first,’ Diana said precisely. ‘And you’ll do it again. You’ll do it because you think there is no alternative and that Arthur has to come first.’

  ‘I… Yes.’ Alison laughed reluctantly. ‘You’re just too good at this, you know? I thought I was asking for help about the contents of the box but you guessed about me and Adam.’

  Diana smiled serenely at her. ‘Perhaps you wanted to talk about both,’ she said. ‘And for what it’s worth, I think I can help you. The holly for the chess piece represents hope. Holly is the queen of the white wood in Celtic mythology. She governs the dark part of the year just as the oak governs the light. In the darkest hours, holly shines bright to give you hope.’

  Alison was horrified to find the tears stinging her eyes. Hope…

  ‘I think Mary wanted to sustain you and give you encouragement,’ Diana said. She shifted in the chair as though she were in pain. ‘It’s an educated guess. Of course, it may have another meaning as well.’ She gestured towards the pile of magazines and papers at her elbow. ‘I do a lot of cryptic crosswords. It passes the time and keeps my mind active.’ She smiled. ‘If I come up with any suggestions for the other clues I’ll let you know. The ring on the falcon could be a clue to a surname. Falcons were ringed to denote ownership, if my memory serves me right. And the catgut… An instrument, perhaps? A violin?’

  ‘With a green thread,’ Alison said. ‘Fiddler’s Green? Is that a place?’

  ‘It could well be,’ Diana said. Her blue eyes were still vivid and bright but Alison realised suddenly how pale and drawn the rest of her face was, lined and tight with pain. She got up.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve exhausted you.’

  ‘It’s no problem,’ Diana said. She got to her feet too. ‘I won’t see you again,’ she said, taking both Alison’s hands in her own. Hers felt warm and surprisingly strong. ‘Take care, my dear. And always think twice about what it is that you truly want.’

  For a moment, Alison clung to her. She did not want to cut the mooring to her past life. Yet it was inexorable, as though Diana was slipping from her even as she stood there, and a moment later she found herself out on the path, and the door was shut, and Hector was weaving about her ankles. He followed her out to the car.

  ‘Shoo,’ Alison said. ‘Don’t wander about on the road. Go home.’

  She opened the driver’s door. Hector leaped gracefully into the passenger seat. ‘No,’ Alison said. She went round to the other side, opened the door and tried to pick him up. Hector dug his claws into the seat. An undignified tussle ensued, which Alison lost. She stood there, scratched and undecided. She could go back and tell Diana that her cat was trying to run away but she doubted Diana was strong enough to come and move Hector herself. Perhaps if she walked back towards the cottage, Hector would follow her…

  She was halfway along the path and Hector was still curled up in a tight, disdainful ball on the passenger seat of the car, when her mobile rang.

  ‘Miss Bannister?’ She did not recognise the number or the male voice. ‘I’m so glad I caught you. This is Hugo Green, Diana’s nephew.’

  Alison stopped with one hand on the picket gate. She looked at Diana’s cottage. The mullioned windows winked back at her. Nothing moved behind them.

  ‘I wanted to be there to meet you today,’ Hugo was saying. ‘I saw that you had an appointment with my aunt—it was in her diary. The thing is…’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Bannister, but Diana died last night. I’ve just been over to sort out a few things and I popped out to talk to the vicar and was longer than I expected…’ He paused. ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes,’ Alison said. Her legs felt shaky. She tightened her grip on the gate. ‘I’m outside the cottage, as it happens. But I don’t understand.’

  ‘It wasn’t unexpected of course,’ Hugo said, ‘but it was quick at the end.’

  ‘Yes,’ Alison said faintly. Her head was buzzing.

  Other people are not like you. Most normal people see time as linear…

  Had she really spoken words to that effect to Diana less than half an hour ago, when Diana was supposed already to have passed away?

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, realising that she hadn’t uttered the conventional words. ‘I’m shocked.’

  ‘Of course.’ Hugo sounded heartily comforting. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get hold of you sooner to let you know.’

  ‘No, please don’t apologise.’ Alison made an effort to pull herself together. ‘Diana’s cat’s here,’ she said, a little at random. ‘He’s in my car.’

  ‘Ah, yes, Hector.’ Hugo said. ‘That’s fine. Diana left a note. She said you would take Hector to his new home. It sounds as though he’s already settling in.’

  Chapter 21

  Mary, 1566

  We were all walking on eggshells that week. I did not see Will for two days and when he did emerge from his study he had a grey pallor and bloodshot eyes and stank of the bottle. He swore he was ill but he was only sick with the drink and it served him right. He was also morose and in an evil temper. Those servants unlucky enough to take him his food would be fortunate to get away with only having a flagon thrown at their heads.

  Meanwhile, I tried to find out all I could about Thomas Fenner from Eleanor. It proved to be precious little.

  ‘How would I know where to find him?’ Eleanor asked, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder to make sure that her mother was not listening. ‘I know nothing of him.’

  And that was that. Thomas had told me we would meet again and soon. All I had to do was wait yet I chafed at the delay. Besides, if he were like his brother, soon probably mean never.

  Eleanor was in a miserable mood, for Lady Fenner had told her she was to be married. The chosen suitor was Egremond Ratcliffe, son of the Earl of Sussex. It was a great match for Eleanor, for which she had the influence of her mother’s family to thank, but she did not appear thankful for her good fortune, if that was what it was.

  ‘He is a violent brute,’ she sniffed into her lace handkerchief. ‘Will likes him and that is no good recommendation. He says he is a doughty fighter.’

  ‘Why not wait until you meet him and draw your conclusions for yourself?’ I asked, but it did not pacify her.

  ‘It will be too late by then,’ she wailed. ‘I will have to run away.’

  It seemed unlikely to me that Eleanor would prosper if she chose that course of action. She had absolutely no resources for survival. She was the opposite of Alison, whom I thought abou
t often, wondering what had become of her and whether I would ever hear from her again. I did not know that Alison had survived, of course, but I had a stubborn feeling that she had. I also had not forgotten my pledge to her, but had no notion how I might accomplish it. I never went anywhere or saw anyone new. I had no letters from the Seymours, no news from court, no prospect of ever discovering what had become of her child. Yet I felt the promise weigh heavy on me.

  I am not sure what imp of mischief it was in me that prompted me to seek out Lady Fenner and ask her about the plans for my future. Perhaps it was because I was nineteen now and, as Eleanor was to wed, I was fearful that the Seymours and Fenners would seek to marry me off too. Or perhaps I was equally afraid that they would not, and I would be left with Lady Fenner, an ageing spinster. I had no illusions any more that Will wished to marry me, still less any desire for him to do so. I felt embarrassed at how foolish and naive I had been. Mostly I felt determined to take back what I saw as mine; my father’s estates that Will and his mother had discussed on the occasion I eavesdropped on them.

  Lady Fenner greeted me civilly enough and bade me sit. She had a private parlour on the south side of the house where the afternoon sun slid through the windows and warmed the room. Even so there was an icy chill about her that defied closeness. She watched me carefully with her unreadable black gaze.

  ‘What may I do for you, Lady Mary?’

  ‘I have come to ask about my future, madam.’ I sounded as bold as brass despite the quaking of my heart. ‘I have trespassed on your hospitality a good while now and I wondered whether my cousin, Lord Seymour, had indicated how long I might continue to stay with you?’

  Her finely plucked eyebrows arched. ‘What makes you think that his lordship would concern himself over such a matter?’

  It was a thrust straight to the heart, as was her wont. There was no kindness in Lady Fenner. If I were to fight her I had to show her I was her equal.

  ‘Because we are first cousins,’ I said politely, ‘and I am both a Seymour and a Parr, and Edward has always shown himself solicitous for my care.’

  Even though this was a lie, Lady Fenner’s eyes narrowed at this reminder that I was better born than she and more closely related to the Seymours.

  ‘Are you unhappy then, here at Middlecote?’ she asked silkily.

  ‘Not in the least, madam,’ I lied again. ‘But I would not wish to be a burden upon your household for any length of time.’

  ‘How very thoughtful of you, my dear,’ she said. She flicked an imaginary piece of thread from her elegant skirts. ‘I hate to disabuse you of your fine ideas, but I doubt that your cousin Edward has any plans for your removal from Middlecote any time soon. You are without looks or fortune—’ her tone was bored ‘—and your noble relatives have no interest in you at all.’

  ‘And yet all my relatives seem to take an interest in my father’s estates,’ I said sweetly. ‘Including William. He contemplates marrying me, does he not?’

  Lady Fenner stiffened. I could sense her discomfort and feel the lightning quick calculation of her thoughts.

  ‘He may have toyed with the idea.’ She had clearly discarded the option of denying it outright in case Will had told me himself. ‘However, I am sure you are aware, my dear, that Will is not a man that Lord Hertford would approve of as a husband for you. He is far too wild.’

  ‘I did not say that I wished to wed him,’ I said, ‘only that I knew he wished to marry me and so I must have something to recommend me. The estate at Ramsbury, perhaps?’ I added. ‘I hear it is a rich one.’

  My barb hit home. Lady Fenner drew back from me like a snake preparing to strike.

  ‘Your father forfeited that manor along with all his others,’ she said. ‘The Queen holds it now and is unlikely to give it up.’

  ‘She might be persuaded to grant it to me,’ I said. ‘If I asked her nicely.’

  Lady Fenner was not the sort of woman to display agitation but the tap of her fingers on the arm of her chair betrayed her.

  ‘Understand this, Lady Mary,’ she said, ‘you are nothing and no one. The Queen will not concern herself with your small matters. Nor will my son. You possess nothing but a misplaced pride and your father’s feckless temperament.’

  That very feckless temperament she referred to caught fire and burned. ‘At least I am not a gambler, a lecher or a drunkard, madam,’ I said, ‘unlike your precious son, who is still so tied to your apron strings that he runs to his mama at every turn.’

  ‘No, but you are an ingrate.’ A spot of colour came into each of Lady Fenner’s cheeks. ‘You have been our pensioner here for six years with barely a penny from the Seymours to keep you. The Parrs cut you off long ago. If it were not for us, you would have starved in the street—or burned as a witch.’

  The word cut through my fury and killed it stone dead. Never had Lady Fenner referred to the monstrous rumours that had driven me from Wolf Hall. I had not even been aware she knew of the reason for my banishment. Cousin Edward must have betrayed my situation to her when first he had sent me. After all, she had known of Alison’s besmirched reputation. It seems she had also known of mine.

  I stood up. The sheer frustration of my situation, my powerlessness, burned in me. What was it that Alison had said?

  ‘I want to be like a man and determine my own fate.’

  Women could be powerful too, I thought, widows like Lady Fenner who had status and fortune and ruled her son’s lands because he was too lazy and feckless to do so himself. But they were few and far between. Most women were like Eleanor, who expected little and yet were still disappointed. Eleanor would marry Egremond Ratcliffe. Of that I had no doubt.

  I wanted more than that and yet I felt boxed in at every turn. Lady Fenner knew it too. There was spite and triumph in her eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Cause me a moment’s trouble, Mary Seymour, and I will not hesitate to use your scandals against you.’

  For a long moment we stood there, our gazes locked, and it felt as though our wills battled it out in silent fury. She held all the cards and yet I was stubborn and angry.

  ‘You should have a care, madam,’ I said, as steadily as I could. ‘Fortunes can turn. You will not always hold the power.’

  With that I swept from the room, only slightly denting the drama of my departure when my skirts caught in the door and I had to wrench them free.

  That night I sat down at the desk in my chamber and wrote to the Queen, addressing the letter to Liz Aiglonby, whom I hoped might make my case to Her Majesty.

  Once again, I was foolish. I should have waited and allowed my fury to cool, taken a little time to allay Lady Fenner’s suspicions of me. Yet I was too fired up with indignation and anger to wait. I was also unpractised in deception and so I entrusted my letter to the hall boy to take to Hungerford. I did not know it at the time but he pocketed the bribe I gave him and took the letter straight to Lady Fenner. Thus it was that only a day after I had last crossed swords with her, I did so again.

  She confronted me in her parlour. Will was there too, lounging in an armchair, looking dishevelled and bad-tempered like a schoolboy who has been summoned by the headmaster but would far rather be elsewhere.

  ‘You write a fair hand,’ Lady Fenner said, waving the letter at me. ‘I am glad that your education was not entirely wasted.’ She thrust the parchment into the fire and I stood there, watching it burn to ashes. I waited for her wrath to fall on my head but when she turned to me it was with a cold smile and words of great prevision.

  ‘Sir William is to write to the Queen on your behalf,’ she said. ‘It is appropriate that the letter should come from him, not from you.’

  I was astonished; then I was suspicious.

  ‘Sir William will write on his own behalf, not on mine,’ I said. ‘Do you think I do not know that? Those estates are my inheritance. Who has a better right to petition Her Majesty?’

  ‘It is not seemly for you to do so,’ Lady Fenner retorted. ‘You, a
woman—’

  ‘To write to another woman,’ I said.

  Will started to laugh. ‘I told you, Mama,’ he said. ‘The Lady Mary is a Seymour through and through.’

  ‘Foolish, reckless and ignorant,’ Lady Fenner said coldly. She turned on me like a hissing snake. ‘You stupid girl! Your cousin Lord Hertford still languishes in the Tower of London for marrying against the Queen’s wishes. Your name is not in good odour at court.’

  Will stirred. ‘Enough, madam. The Lady Mary has learned her lesson. Have you not, Mary? She will leave the matter with me.’ He smiled at me, patronising, like an adult to a wayward child. ‘Run along now,’ he said. ‘Run along and sew, or whatever it is you do all day.’

  I went up to my room, threw myself on the bed and indulged in a most childish tantrum. It was sheer frustration; I was thwarted, trapped, imprisoned in what felt like an empty future. My sheer misery must have communicated itself to Darrell because when my sobs had diminished I felt his presence slide into my mind like it had done when we were children. No words, only comfort and warmth, no demand, only giving. Naturally, his gentleness made me feel much worse. I had treated him dreadfully and I did not want him to pity me. Nor in my vanity did I want to have to admit my folly. But there was no escape.

  ‘I am sorry.’

  ‘Cat.’

  ‘I’ve been so stupid.’

  I felt his smile. It was wonderfully comforting.

  ‘Yes, you have.’

  There was love, and teasing and all the reassurance I remembered. It made me want to cry all over again.

  ‘I do not deserve your friendship.’

  ‘No you do not.’ Still teasing, but then I felt him hesitate. The thought patterns, the sensations, changed. My heart started to thud.

  ‘Cat, you have my love. You always did.’

  Now I felt afraid. I had spurned his love before, thinking that whilst I cared for him I could never love him in the sense that I thought I had loved Will. But both Will and my feelings had proved quite illusory. There had been no depth to them and no worthiness in Will. I had been infatuated, in love with the excitement and glamour. As for Thomas, I did not know how I felt about him. I had sensed in him a kindred spirit and the potential for love but what did I know? I was confused and inexperienced and had made too many mistakes of which I was ashamed.