“Then they did not know you as I do.” I allowed myself a smile, using my hand to settle Urian at my feet. “They do not understand that you never run from a fight.”
She went still, regarding me with that intensity that could make me feel like her most intimate companion or an enemy poised on the jagged edge of her worst reprove. “No,” she said at length. “I have never run. What would be the point? In the end, they always find you. It is not a matter of when but rather how, and who shall disarm whom first.”
I remained silent, watching her walk to a small cabinet, where a decanter, goblet, and stack of papers rested. Urian whimpered again. Unease went through me, reminding me of the impression I had yesterday that she was hiding something.
At the cabinet, she placed her hand on the papers. “You said you were entirely at my disposal. Is that true?” She glanced at me. “Be very sure of your answer. If someone says they are at my disposal, I take them at their word.”
I nodded, even as my heart quickened. She selected one of the papers. “I wish for you to undertake a special assignment for me.”
“Of course, anything your Grace requires.”
“Be careful with what you promise; times past, your labors on my behalf have often led you into danger.”
“Is this one of those times?” I asked warily.
“I sincerely hope not. But of all those who serve me, you are the only one I can trust with it.” She returned to me with the paper—a torn section of a letter, I thought—in her hand. “I need you to travel to Withernsea in Yorkshire as soon as possible.”
For a moment, I did not know how to react. “But that is—”
“About four days from London,” she said, “if you ride a fast horse.”
“Is there any indication the man we seek is there?”
She gave an impatient shake of her head. “This is a private matter.”
“Your Grace,” I said carefully, “I fear I do not understand. Yorkshire is far away and Cecil expects me to investigate the recent attempt against your person, as I witnessed the event and have in the past protected you from those who would do you harm.”
“He may expect it of you, but this is more important—to me.” Her voice trembled. She always kept close hold of herself but whatever was written in that fragment in her hand had perturbed her. “Are you aware that my Lady Parry went to visit her cousin at his manor?”
“Yes, I heard you mention it. I trust it’s not too serious?”
“It wasn’t at the time.” She paused. “I did not care to explain to Cecil and all those others who watch me like hawks that Blanche had received word that her nephew’s wife, Lady Vaughan, had taken with fever. Blanche requested leave to travel to Vaughan Hall near the village of Withernsea; the family has two young children, one of whom had also taken ill. Blanche was worried, so I told her of course she must go. At the time, my sister Mary’s health was failing, but we had no confirmation that her illness would be fatal. I did not want to refuse Blanche leave, given the circumstances.”
It sounded reasonable, if unorthodox, for one of Elizabeth’s favored attendants to have left her side because of a family ailment, but if so, then why the secrecy?
“Blanche must have arrived safely,” Elizabeth went on. “But then…” She went silent again, struggling to contain her emotion, the mysterious paper still clutched in her fingers. After a long moment, she said, “I did not hear from her after she left. I should have inquired; I know that now. But Mary’s health took a turn for the worse and at Hatfield, we were on tenterhooks waiting for her demise. It seemed as if the entire court had abandoned Whitehall to set up camp on my doorstep. When the news finally came of her death—you can imagine the furor: Cecil and his minions at me day and night, with mounds of papers to sign; Mary’s funeral to attend to; the new Council to oversee—it overwhelmed me. It was only after I’d contended with all of it that I belatedly sent word to Blanche that I needed her back at court as soon as possible.”
“Did she respond?” I asked.
“No. I sent my missive with an escort, so she could travel here by litter. I reasoned she must be weary after tending to a sick family and would prefer to be without the burden of riding on horseback. When my escort arrived, Lord Vaughan told them she had left four days prior, accompanied by the children’s tutor, who had some business in London. As soon as Lord Vaughan realized something must have happened, they went in search of her. They eventually discovered her horse, still saddled and wandering the road, but Lady Parry was nowhere to be found. No body; no sign of any struggle. She had vanished.”
Dread crept through me. “What about the tutor?”
“He had disappeared, as well; not even his horse was found. Lord Vaughan assured my escort that he had engaged the man from London to educate their children. He must have been trustworthy, if Blanche went with him. Then, this note was found under her saddle.”
With a visible quiver of her hand, she finally extended the paper to me. It was rain-streaked, its ink smeared, but the boldly written words were clear:
You must pay for the sin.
I looked up. “Do you know what it means?”
“No, but it must be a threat.” She could not hide her fear anymore—a faltering of her self-control that I had rarely seen her display, not even when her dying spaniel thrashed at her feet. She reached abruptly for my hand, another rarity for her. Her fingers were icy. “You must find her. Blanche is my most cherished companion. She has been far more than my chief gentlewoman these past years, for she attended my birth and cared for me when I was but a child, the daughter of a queen everyone wanted to forget. If she had not been there to fight for me, to defend me even against the will of my father, I might not have lived to see this day. She is like the mother I never knew. I cannot abandon her to whatever fate has befallen her.”
I went quiet, restraining my rush of questions.
“Will you help?” she asked.
Even if I had wanted to, I could not refuse. I had sworn to serve her, though I had the disquieting impression there was more here, a tangled skein buried under the surface. Here was another message, albeit not in cipher, coupled with the unexplained disappearance of a woman Elizabeth valued above all others. I had to broach the obvious, and she knew it.
“Do you think the poison attempt is related to Lady Parry?”
“I don’t know. I do not care to contemplate it, but yes, I suppose it is entirely possible.”
I considered. “Cecil will not like it,” I said at length. “You do not wish this matter made public but how can I explain my leaving to him in a way that will not rouse his suspicions?”
“You can leave the explanations to me.” She withdrew her hand, her features hardening into that inscrutable royal guise. “I will tell Cecil I decided to send you elsewhere and he must abide by it, for I shall not be questioned. Besides”—she managed a tremulous smile—“I assume he can manage without you. He has Walsingham now, who seems to me quite determined.”
“Oh, yes,” I said. “Like a hound after the fox, I can assure you of that.”
“Then we must place our trust in him. Robert took that message yesterday to Dr. Dee’s home in Mortlake; if anyone can decipher it, Dee will. You must leave at once. You will need a map, my letter of introduction, and funds.” She turned back to her cabinet and yanked open a drawer to pull out a small leather folder, rolled into a cylinder and fastened with a cord, as well as a pouch. She was prepared; she had been biding her time, but this was indeed the reason she had called for me. “Here is the map. The funds in the pouch should be sufficient. However, should you need more, you must send to Thomas Parry, who manages my personal accounts. Write by courier to Hatfield; Ashcat is there, tending to the manor. Whatever you do, do not write to me at court. As matters have shown, anything here can be tampered with, so whatever I wish kept private must go through other means.”
“Is that why Mistress Ashley is still at Hatfield? I had wondered at her absence.”
“She knows where I am best served” was Elizabeth’s reply. “Like Blanche Parry, like you and Kate, she obeys my command.” She thrust the purse into my hand. “Go now, before my women arrive. I don’t want them to know you were here.”
Tucking the pouch and folder into my doublet, where it made a noticeable bulk, I met her gaze. Implicit understanding passed between us. I had no idea what perils awaited me on this new errand, but her trust in me cemented my resolve. We had been through worse, and I had found a way through it. I would find a way now. Urian came to his feet. Elizabeth patted her thigh, bringing him back to her side.
“You must take care while I am gone,” I told her. “Promise me. If anything else should occur, if there is even the hint of another threat, you must heed Cecil and depart London at once. The kingdom cannot survive if you are not here to rule it.”
She nodded, impatient. “Yes, yes. I promise. Now, go.”
As I stepped to the door, she suddenly said, “Brendan,” and I stopped. “I never thought I would come to rely on you as much as I have, but I need you now more than ever. You must find Blanche before it is too late. Bring her home to me and I shall grant anything you ask. No recompense will be too great for her safe return.”
I inclined my head. “I will do all I can.”
As I turned away, it did not escape me that she had failed to mention what my punishment might be if I failed.
* * *
I hurried back to my room, avoiding the courtiers already gathering in the gallery for their daily vigil outside Elizabeth’s doors. Cecil’s grim words came back to me; Elizabeth had become the focus of incessant scrutiny. I wondered how she would contend with it, after having spent most of her life in country manors, left to her own devices save for the occasional foray to court. Already I had sampled a taste of what her new life entailed, the lengths she must go to preserve her privacy. It would not be easy, that much I knew. Much as Elizabeth reveled in attention—she was a Tudor, above all else—she always relished her freedom to seek refuge. She had escaped countless dangers simply because she knew when to retreat.
Now, she had no retreat. There were only sets of doors between her and the exigencies of the world—doors and the service of those trusted few on whom she could rely, which included Blanche Parry. I had witnessed how much Elizabeth depended on Lady Parry during our ill-fated sojourn at Queen Mary’s court and knew Lady Parry for a sensible, middle-aged woman whose devotion to her mistress was unquestioned. She would not have willingly abandoned her duty. Whatever had befallen her had happened against her will, and Elizabeth was no doubt correct in assuming it was she, not Lady Parry, who was the ultimate target. Indeed, the more I dwelled on it, the more it seemed the poisoning incident and Lady Parry’s disappearance must be linked.
The question was: How?
Turning these ruminations over in my mind like a puzzle without a key, I failed to notice the door to my room stood ajar. When I did, I slid to a precipitous halt, unsheathing my poniard. Had I failed to latch it in my haste to follow Cecil? Reaching out, I eased the door open, braced for an attack. It had happened before. I peered inside to find a well-dressed woman with her back to me, waiting.
My heart leapt in my throat, my grip on my dagger tightening convulsively. She wore a coif with a long veil, her shoulders rigid. Shelton’s voice tumbled in my head—You cannot chase a shade—and I found myself whispering under my breath like an incantation, “It cannot be, it cannot be,” even as I took a step forward, ready to plunge my blade into her heart.
The echo of my words or clack of my heel on the threshold caused her to turn around. I heaved relief as her hand came up, lifting her veil. It was Kate, only she wore an unfamiliar elaborate gown, its heavy fur-lined sleeves and pearled hem marking her as one of the royal attendants. Like everyone else who shared Elizabeth’s inner sanctum, she looked in dire need of rest, her gaze embedded in pockets of shadow as she said, “Brendan! You startled me.”
“As you did me.” I sheathed my blade, tasting bile. “I could have knifed you.”
“Yes, I … I did not think to warn you. I heard you were with the queen and did not want to intrude. It seemed … important.”
“It was.” I tried to keep my anger from my voice as I shut the door. I wanted to berate her for lurking in my lodgings like this, risking a blade in her back before I realized my mistake, and yet simultaneously welcomed the very sight of her. She was here. It must mean she had not intended what she said in the stables, or, if she intended it, she had found cause to regret it, which only told me she had indeed done it solely at Cecil’s behest.
Her next words were not about us, however. “She is sending you away, isn’t she, to find out what happened to Lady Parry?”
I went still. “How … how do you know? Were her ladies eavesdropping?”
She flinched. “Only me. She had me bring Urian from the kennels and wait for her in her chamber. I have served her long enough to know when she is worried about something, and Lady Parry had been absent longer than expected. It did not require much to deduce that something may have happened to her. Then, you returned to court.”
“I see.” I swallowed, softening my tone. “I cannot tell you anything, Kate. I gave her my word. Besides, I don’t know anything yet.”
“But you know enough to assume it could be dangerous.” She remained rooted to her spot. “And if so, then you mustn’t go about it alone.”
I said quietly, “I can fend for myself,” and she stepped so close that the very scent of her—of clean soap, for Elizabeth deplored cloying perfumes—overwhelmed me. I could not speak, could barely breathe, as she said, “For all your skill, you are still a fool. Like most men, you think when a woman is angry she loses her reason. This isn’t about my doubting you. She is the one I doubt.”
I lifted my gaze. She must have read my intent, for she drew back abruptly, as if in belated cognizance of our proximity, her skirts brushing against my legs, her breath quickening visibly, swelling her breast against her tight-laced bodice.
I said quietly, “You should not say such things about her,” and I too stepped away, the erratic beat of my heart loud in my ears. The moment between us was extinguished, like a candle guttering in its own wax.
“I do not ask you to confide in me,” she said. “Only, that you confide in someone.”
“Such as…?” I already knew what she would reply.
“Cecil. You cannot depart court without advising him. He has placed his entire trust in you. He thinks of you as his own—”
“Slave,” I cut in. “He thinks of me as his vassal, beholden to him in all things. Is that why you are here? Did he send you after me to do his bidding, like he sent you yesterday to the stables?”
To her credit, she did not try to deny it. “He did ask me to listen in on your talk with her. I have not told him anything. I came to you first because you are blind where she is concerned, though her business is always more complicated than it seems. She never tells the entire truth if she can avoid it, and what she does not tell often ends up costing someone their life. First it was her brother, Edward; then poor Peregrine—”
“Don’t.” I thrust up my hand. “Elizabeth … she had nothing to do with his death.”
“Yes, she did.” Kate’s voice was unflinching. “She may not have known what would befall him but she never told you or Cecil everything you needed to know about her dealings. He sent you to court to safeguard her, not knowing she was neck-deep in intrigue.” She searched my eyes. “How long will you continue to do whatever she asks, without paying the consequences? How long before you give your own life to save hers?”
Her stark honesty took me aback, though it should not have. Kate knew Elizabeth’s ways; when we had first met, she had been the spy, ferreting out secrets for the embattled princess. She only spoke the truth as she saw it. Elizabeth indeed thrived on evasion, but never without some risk to her own person. And while I would not admit it to Kate, something ominous did hover over Lad
y Parry’s disappearance, though I was confident that no matter what she may have withheld, Elizabeth’s distress in this case was genuine.
“I appreciate the concern.” I turned deliberately to fling open the lid of the clothes chest. “And if I need Cecil’s help, I’ll ask for it.” I did not look up as I spoke, yanking out my belongings and strewing them on the cot, the knot in my throat threatening to choke me. It seemed impossible we could have reached this impasse: locked in confrontation after all the passionate hopes we had shared. “You must not tell him what you know, either,” I added, though it was unjust, insulting, to suggest she might. “You too swore an oath of loyalty to your queen.”
“My God. Do you think so little of me?” she said, and I heard her step to the door. “I will tell him nothing. But you are still mistaken to think he is your enemy.”
I clenched a fistful of folded hose. “How can you say that to me, after everything he has done?”
“Because no matter what he may have done, he did not do this to us.”
I went still. Paralyzing fear swept through me. Did she know? I made myself focus on her expression. She had gone imperturbable, as if a stony mask had slipped over her features. I could not tell if she had somehow sensed the betrayal lurking behind our estrangement, though I had not told anyone of the terrible night when, crushed by my grief, I surrendered to Sybilla’s seduction. I had buried it under a morass of guilt, distanced myself from it with the adage that it would serve nothing to confess now, that what I had done must go with me to my grave. The pain of it now made me want to roar like a caged beast that Cecil was indeed my enemy. He had put me in the position of having to forfeit any right I had to Kate’s heart, to lay claim to her and dream of an ordinary life; and he had profited by it. It suited him to see me unencumbered, to sever any ties I had outside his interests so he could tighten the tether, as he might on a falcon he had trained to kill. I had become another weapon for him to exploit.
“If you believe that,” I told her, “it is you who makes the mistake. He has only one goal: to see Elizabeth on her throne, regardless of the cost.”
The Tudor Vendetta Page 9