‘None other, sire,’ said Kit, bowing deeply. The king, hardly an arbiter of elegance, was an ungainly, shambling man, with slack features and a head that seemed too large for his body, which nodded and lolled as he walked up and down the room in agitation.
‘So—you have the courage to show your face at Whitehall,’ said James, with a tongue too large for his mouth so that he had difficulty speaking clearly. But there was nothing wrong with his eyes, which were shrewd and expressive, settling on Kit with something akin to admiration. The suppliant was as splendid as he remembered, dressed in a dark blue satin doublet slashed with gold, its high-standing collar edged with small black pearls, his spun silk hose sculpturing the long, masculine legs. ‘You have returned of your own volition?’
‘Aye, Your Majesty. I’ve come to you to throw myself on your mercy. If you can show me none, then I must abide by the consequences,’ Kit said humbly.
James looked at him hard, wanting so very much to believe in the innocence of this man who had shown him so much loyalty in the past. ‘Did you behave treasonably against me, Kit?’
‘No, sire—only in the opinion of others. Nothing could draw me away from my loyal allegiance to you. But I hoped, after my own and my family’s long service and loyalty to Your Majesty, that it would count for something. I have willingly risked my life many times in service to you, sire, both in Scotland and in the Low Countries, so does that not attest to my devotion to you—and to the love and honour in which I hold you?’
‘Aye, Kit. You were always loyal. But it grieved and pained me deeply when it was brought to my notice that you were suspected of being one of those men who plotted against me—a treason most foul—and I thank God for my deliverance. How did it come about?’
‘Because of the prejudice of one Sir Thomas Blackwell.’
The king’s long tongue licked his slack lips. He ambled towards the window and stood looking out. The name of Blackwell had always perturbed him. He had the reputation of being a crackbrained hothead, and there was something about the man and the manner in which he fawned up to Salisbury that tweaked his annoyance. He neither liked nor trusted the man who had been too ready to accuse Kit of treason in a way that made him suspicious.
‘I was told you kept close company with the plotters, Kit, that you were one who plotted against me.’
‘Never, sire. The plotting was none of my doing. On reflection, I realise Catesby played me for a fool.’
James wagged his head and arched a satirical eyebrow. ‘Really! You surprise me, Kit. I always thought you were too clever to be taken advantage of.’
‘So did I, sire.’ Kit grinned roguishly. ‘But I now realise that Catesby sought my friendship—rather than I his—to serve his own ends and to cloak his infamous intentions. When I was arrested and managed to escape my captors, finding myself at a serious disadvantage I fled the realm, intending to return to try and clear my name—and to reaffirm my devotion to you, which has never wavered—when the stir died down.’
‘Nothing is that simple,’ the king declared. ‘When you were arrested you shouldn’t have flouted the guard. You should have come to London to take your place with the others to stand trial.’
‘And had my neck stretched in the process?’ growled Kit. ‘Forgive me, sire, for blunt speaking, but I had a great deal to lose.’
‘So had the others.’
‘They were guilty men. Your Majesty knows I am not of their faith and had no reason to conspire against you. You must believe that.’
James nodded slowly. ‘In my heart I always did.’
‘I swear to you, sire, I was not let into the secret and deny any complicity. Indeed, like Your Majesty, I, too, was the recipient of a plot. Most men pursue some quarry. With some it’s power, others wealth, some position. Blackwell pursues me. Our paths have crossed on several bitter and savage occasions during our time in the Low Countries, when circumstances set us firmly against each other.
‘Blackwell sought to avenge himself when he discovered I was the one responsible for registering complaints against his outrageous behaviour towards prisoners and his own men, and ultimately for having him recalled from his duties. When the Gunpowder Plot came to light it offered him the perfect opportunity to bring me down.’
James’s ungainly body shuddered suddenly, and his eyes clouded over. ‘I’m in awe of plots, Kit,’ he mumbled, stumbling over his words, saliva wetting his loose lips which he licked away uneasily, ‘of blood and cold steel. Monarchs are subject to more storms than ordinary mortals—and as you know, I’ve been subjected to more storms than other monarchs. No one knows it more than those who were with me through some of my darkest times in Scotland—you and Ludovick.’
Kit knew this to be true. All his life James had been possessed of a horror of violence and a fear of assassination, believed to have been born in him when his mother’s secretary had met a savage death in her presence shortly before she was delivered of James. He had been kidnapped on one occasion, wretchedly humiliated, terrorised and threatened throughout his adolescence by those who wished him ill.
‘Blackwell is not generally trusted at court—and with good reason when one remembers his record for violence and his atrocities abroad,’ said the king. ‘He has gone to considerable pains to insinuate himself with Salisbury, carefully weaving his tale while Salisbury lent him an ear to accusation. Why he should believe such a renegade escapes me.’
Kit was cautious not to be drawn on Salisbury. Whatever his own opinions and suspicions regarding the king’s chief adviser, Kit was aware of Salisbury’s dislike for himself, and that he resented the fact that he was a much-valued part of James’s past. Little wonder he had lent an ear to Blackwell in an attempt to discredit him in the king’s eyes.
However, Kit had no intention of airing his opinions to His Majesty. But James was no fool and knew Salisbury for what he was. James also knew Salisbury to be a man of integrity and tireless industry, and would continue to keep him in office as his chief adviser.
‘I may look like a bumbling fool, Kit, but when the trials and executions were over and Blackwell persisted in pestering to have you hounded and brought back to stand trial, when I realised it was a personal vendetta, and that your life depended on the word of that slanderous rogue, I saw there was some skulduggery at play.
‘Perhaps I am too forgiving,’ James went on, suddenly thoughtful. ‘I will not pursue the charge of treason—but you do realise that if our friendship was not of long standing this would not be allowed to pass?’
‘I do, sire. I am in your debt.’
The king’s expression softened. ‘Nay, Kit. Let us speak plain. It is I who am in your debt, and we both know it. The devoted service and generous loans and funding of the royal coffers by your family over the years is not forgotten. I thank you for not referring to the debt—which cannot be said of others. I am not unaware that you could sue the Crown in the Scottish courts for repayment.’
‘I wouldn’t, sire. It was money gladly given,’ said Kit, having been tempted in the past to do this, but always shrinking from it. On his inheritance of Thurlow, he had decided to write off the debt, knowing there was little chance of the full amount being repaid if he sued the Crown and took the matter to the Scottish courts.
‘I shall begin by returning to you all your properties and titles that were confiscated. You will find Thurlow as you left it. I could not find it in me to put anyone else in there.’
Kit was overwhelmed by the king’s generosity. ‘Thank you, sire.’
‘Will you return to Thurlow, Kit? Or have you a hankering to live on your mother’s estates in the north?’
‘No, sire. I shall live at Thurlow—with my wife.’
An interested gleam lit up the king’s eye and his rubbery lips broke into a smile. ‘Who is the lady? Do I know her?’
Kit braced himself, ready for a tirade of anger. ‘Her name is Serena Carberry, sire, Sir Henry Carberry’s daughter, of Dunedin Hall in Warwickshire.’
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‘Carberry! Blackwell has done his best to malign him also, which, I think, may have something to do with him coveting Sir Henry’s property. I know the house suffered badly when a fire broke out there—after Sir Henry had escaped to the continent rather than stay and face arrest.’
‘I—had heard something to that effect myself, sire.’
The king eyed him shrewdly. ‘All sins do not go unpunished, Kit. By all accounts Blackwell is in ill health—which, I hear, you have something to answer for. But whatever occurred is between the two of you and I have no desire to be made privy to it. Lord knows I have enough to contend with without adding to my troubles. You may tell your wife that nothing has been proved against her father other than his selling of the horses to the conspirators. His estate was not forfeit since he has not been condemned for treason—and nor was anything disclosed by the main conspirators to incriminate him.
‘I realise it does not follow that all English Catholics are guilty of the same as Catesby and the others. Sir Henry Carberry, despite his record for being a malcontent during Queen Elizabeth’s time, was as seduced by Catesby as many more who were fooled by him. But should Sir Henry return to England he must stand trial.’ James’s eyes narrowed when something else was brought to mind. ‘The same applies to his son, who is a Jesuit priest currently serving at the Vatican in Rome, I believe.’
Kit glanced at him sharply. ‘You know that?’
James chuckled. ‘Nothing escapes Salisbury’s intelligence network. So, Kit, your wife is a Catholic.’
‘Like your own, sire,’ Kit answered pointedly.
‘A quiet one, I hope.’
Kit grinned. ‘So do I, sire.’
‘Tell me, Kit. Do you have good hunting at Thurlow?’
‘The best,’ he replied, aware of the king’s obsessive love of hunting, a sport in which he tried to elude the cares of state, while the wild deer tried to elude him. ‘It would honour me greatly if Your Majesty would partake of it some time.’ He bowed deeply, kissing the king’s hand when he indicated that the interview was at an end. ‘Thank you, sire.’
James sighed. ‘Go with my blessing, Kit.’
Serena was astonished when Dorothea drifted into the house in Chelsea, taking note of her cousin’s slightly thickening waistline. The two kissed each other fondly, and at any other time Serena would have been happy to see Dorothea, but she was too eaten up with worry about Kit to be overjoyed by her cousin’s untimely and unexpected visit.
‘Forgive me if I seem surprised, Dorothea. For obvious reasons Lord Brodie and I hoped to keep our presence secret for the time being.’
‘Thomas saw Lord Brodie alighting from a boat at the water gate at the Palace and asked the boatman where he had come from.’
Serena paled. ‘And the boatman told him?’
‘But of course,’ smiled Dorothea, having no knowledge of the large bribe her husband had passed to the boatman for that information.
‘I see. I—it is good to see you, Dorothea. You are well, I hope?’
‘Perfectly. It is good to see you again, too, Serena. But I really ought to be cross with you—running off with Lord Brodie of all people.’
‘Whom I have since married.’
Dorothea was both surprised and shocked to hear this. ‘No, Serena! But then…I don’t suppose you could have done anything else, under the circumstances—being alone with him for such a long time.’
‘Precisely,’ Serena replied stiffly.
‘Do—do you love him?’ Dorothea enquired tentatively.
‘Yes—deeply. He is the finest man I know.’
Dorothea studied her cousin calmly. ‘It’s good that he married you and not me. You are alike you two—the same fiery, wilful spirits. I think my father may have done you both a favour when he rejected his suit. He was furious when he discovered you had run away like that to Flanders.’
‘I didn’t go to Flanders. Kit and I went to Scotland, where his mother has land and properties.’
Dorothea was clearly surprised. ‘You were there all the time—when everyone thought you had gone to your father?’
‘Yes. We were married in Edinburgh.’
‘You—you know Dunedin Hall was almost destroyed by fire on the night you left—when Kit wounded Thomas in a fight?’
‘Yes—and despite what your husband may have told you, Dorothea, the fight was fair and of his instigation.’
‘But—but Thomas told me—’
‘What, Dorothea?’ asked Serena coolly. ‘What did he tell you about that night? Did he tell you that Kit attacked him?’
‘Why—yes. Thomas told me a light attracted him to the house, and when he went to investigate he encountered you. He said he was trying to persuade you to stay when Kit arrived, having followed him there, and attacked him. Apparently he’d escaped his captors and sought Thomas out because he believed he was the one responsible for his arrest.’
‘And naturally you believed him,’ retorted Serena drily. ‘Kit was unjustly accused by your husband for no other reason than to settle old scores. The accusations against Kit were based on Thomas’s testimony. He put evidence forward to incriminate Kit falsely. It was an act of personal revenge and nothing more. Your husband meant to ruin Kit—and if it meant seeing him hang for a crime he was innocent of, then so be it.’
Dorothea whitened significantly. ‘No, Serena. This cannot be true.’
‘On the night I left, when I went to Dunedin Hall to collect a few personal items, your husband arrived and viciously attacked me. If Kit had not arrived, I shudder to think what he would have done to me.’ Dorothea shook her head in disbelief. Serena looked at her levelly. ‘Have you ever known me to lie, Dorothea?’
Tears welled in her cousin’s eyes and she shook her head. ‘No. But why did he attack you? For what reason?’
‘He bore my father a grudge because he refused to sell land to his own father. I know he hopes to acquire Dunedin Hall now it has been confiscated by the Crown. He also attacked me because I am a Catholic. You must know he has an obsessive hatred for anyone of my faith.’
Dorothea nodded dumbly. ‘That I do know. Please forgive me, Serena—I didn’t know. You should have told me.’
‘I did try. But would it have made any difference?’
Dorothea shook her head. ‘No. I would still have married him. I—I love him, you see.’
Looking deep into her cousin’s eyes, Serena could see she had changed, and she had no doubt that marriage to Thomas Blackwell was responsible for that. Despite her avowed love for the man, there was a brittle hardness in her eyes and a steely set to her jaw. The innocence and vulnerability had been wiped clean away.
‘Why does he hate Kit so much—enough to want to ruin him?’
‘It goes back to when they were in the Low Countries,’ Serena answered, and went on to tell her cousin about Sir Thomas’s crimes and the part Kit had played in having his regiment recalled in disgrace. ‘It is something your husband will never forgive.’
Dorothea was clearly deeply ashamed of this part of her husband’s life which she knew nothing about. ‘When Sir Ludovick called at Carberry Hall to see you, I knew by what he said that Thomas may have had something to do with Kit’s downfall. I tried telling myself it was all in my imagination, but deep down the suspicion gnawed at me. I told Thomas of my unease, but he laughed and freely admitted that he was no saint. But he has never been cruel to me. In fact, he has always treated me with tenderness. Since the night he was wounded he has been very ill. The sword pierced his lung, you see.’
‘But knowing of his cruelty to others, how can you still love him?’
‘I don’t know. But I do. No matter what manner of man or devil I am married to, it will always be so.’
‘Then he does not deserve you, Dorothea.’
‘As you will have observed, I am to bear his child. Thomas needs and depends on me. He is often in great pain.’
‘Which is no better than he deserves,’ retorted Serena coldl
y, unable to feel any sympathy for the man who had tried so viciously to ruin both herself and Kit.
‘If you were to see him, you would see he is much changed.’
Serena withdrew from her as if she had been stung. ‘Never. Because of your husband’s thirst for revenge, at this very minute Kit is seeking an audience with the king to plead for his life—simply because he did what any self-respecting, honourable man would have done on seeing a monster persecuting innocent people. As far as I am concerned, your husband is beneath contempt and I never want to set eyes on him again.’
‘I am sorry to hear that,’ rasped a voice behind her.
For one heart-stopping moment Serena froze, but then, on a gasp, she spun round to see Thomas Blackwell standing in the open doorway. Hardened as she was towards him, she could not repress a feeling of horror. He was thin, his face gaunt, with a pinched and hollow look, but there was a brooding, moody look about him. That same arrogance which had led him through life was not diminished by his obvious ill health.
Quickly Serena looked at Dorothea accusingly, who was uneasy about her husband’s sudden appearance. ‘Dorothea! You should have told me he was here.’
‘Forgive me. I came alone and had no idea Thomas would follow.’
Thomas moved into the centre of the room with the aid of a walking cane. ‘Don’t you recognise me, Serena?’ he rasped.
His mocking tone reawakened all Serena’s anger and hatred. ‘I recognise a villain when I see one. Will you kindly leave?’ she demanded, trying to still her trembling limbs. ‘You were not invited into this house—and you would not be here were my husband at home.’
‘Husband, eh! So—the blackguard married you. Congratulations, Serena—although your marriage will be shortlived. No doubt he has already been arrested and is being escorted to the Tower as we speak.’
‘Then I must disappoint you,’ came a voice from the doorway.
A gasp of indescribable joy escaped Serena’s lips when Kit entered. Their eyes met and locked for a moment, each conveying a message of love and hope to the other, but then Kit’s gaze became focused on the man in the centre of the room, who swayed as if he had just been dealt a resounding blow. Kit’s eyes never wavered as he approached the most malignant of his enemies, his tread measured with a sinister steadiness.
Conspiracy of Hearts Page 26