"My lord? What must I do, for so large a price?"
He sat on the window seat and smiled. "I imagine it's sufficient to feed, clothe and house you for a month or more," he said, "and that's my principal interest. But," and he nodded towards the bed, "I invite you to a good night's rest, both to give comfort and receive it. Tomorrow I leave, and so will you, naturally free to go wherever you wish."
Fortune was breathing like a small child excited to receive an epiphany gift for the first time. She sank down on the bed, adoring the yielding softness of the mattress and covers. "But my clothes might - soil the eiderdown," she mumbled, staring down at the stains on her loose gown.
"Then I shall take them off you," Charles said, and strode over, holding her hands and lifting her to stand before him. He undressed her slowly, although she wore only a dirty and creased gown, its shape undefined, over a plain shift. She no longer wore stockings and her shoes were breaking away from their soles. "I can arrange for a hot bath, should you wish it," he said.
"Would, would you watch me?" she whispered.
"Naturally," he told her, "and would help you wash."
To be watched and washed by a man felt utterly humiliating to Fortune, but the temptation of a hot bath with actual soap was tantalising. She bit her lip and nodded. "I've tried to wash, my lord, where there was a well near the barn where I slept. But I had no soap, the water was cold, and now I sleep in the cathedral."
"Then we shall combine amusement with practicality," smiled her third customer, and called for the bathtub to be set up in the bedchamber, and the fire lit. As the flames crackled and danced, a bucket was set on a trivet over the fire, cold water carried up from the kitchens and set to boil. Slowly the barrel tub, sweating wood within its copper bands, filled and steam rose to the ceiling beams.
Charles regarded his trembling companion. "Come here," he said, voice soft.
She came, three tentative steps. And he reached forwards, his hands to her waist. She was attempting to hide herself, one arm across her breasts, the other to her groin, but Charles smiled, pulling her shivering arms away, placing them loosely at her sides. He swept her up, gathering her up into his arms, and tumbled her into the bathtub. She gasped, then settled quickly down below the water, hiding herself. The water soothed, but it was not the heat that turned her face deep pink.
Charles was surprised at the pleasure it had given him to see her naked. He breathed in the tilted lift of her breasts and the dark swell of her nipples. The slim softness of her waist slipped into the concave plain of her stomach which proclaimed its hunger, then rose where the silky dark curls at her groin pointed down like an arrow to her thighs. In his arms, she had been light, trembling, and seductive.
Now he knelt, leaning over the bath, took up the sponge and soap, and began to wash her. He smothered her body in the pale creamy foam and his palms pressed, rubbing where she was sometimes too shy to rub herself, and then his finger entered her briefly, so she gulped and closed her eyes. He enjoyed the feel of the skin beneath the soap, and the timidity of her reactions, but he did not take sufficient pity to hurry his explorations, washing her hair, massaging her scalp, washing between each toe and the roughened soles of her feet, slipping to the insides of her thighs where her body was velvet.
Bending over her, his mouth was next to her ear, and his voice and the warmth of his breath tickled. She wriggled down further into the water, where the scum had darkened it, making her less visible. But he brought her a refilled cup of Burgundy, and demanded that she sit up and drink.
"Do I hurt you?" She shook her head. "Do I frighten you?" Again she shook her head. "So sit straight and face me."
Appearing with caution from the water, Fortune sat high, accepted the cup of wine, and mumbled, "Thank you, but can I get into bed now? I feel terribly -"
"Wet?" She smiled. "Naked?" And she blushed. He hoisted her from the tub, and stood her in front of the fire. The flames, hissing when caught by the steam, flared up, tips scarlet over golden hearts. Fortune was dripping, curling her bare toes in the puddles falling from her own body.
Charles wrapped the towel around her, rubbing her dry, his hands forceful through the soft engulfing material. As he had washed, so now he dried, following the curves, tousling her hair, rough on her arms and feet, soft over her breasts and belly, buttocks and thighs.
Lifting her a third time, he took her to bed.
Waking several times in the night, Fortune relished the comfort he had promised, and was giving, with his arms warm around her and his breath even on the back of her neck. His hands clasped her breasts and his knees were tucked close behind her own, but he continued to sleep, enjoying her closeness as she enjoyed his.
She had never before thrilled to sexual intimacy, nor understood why others said they did. Only thankful that men were quick, business-like and soon over, Fortune at least remembered the warming reassurance of John's night-time embraces. Yet although a stranger, this man acted in ways so entirely different, that Fortune felt almost loved and never degraded. She discovered a pulse in her body, low down, which had never previously awakened but which now brought astonishing excitement and repeated delight. She even discovered the pleasure of bringing equal pleasure to the man beside her.
But when she finally awoke to the pastel dawn, Charles was up and dressing. He buckled on his sword, smiling down at her. Her overflowing purse lay untouched on the table, and her ragged clothes were laid over the back of the small chair. The fire had gone out and was simply a scatter of cold ashes across the hearth, and the bathtub, full of the water now turned to a damp chill beneath a soap scum surface, stood shadowed near the end of the bed. The bed covers were pulled to Fortune's chin, but without the man at her back, she felt strangely cold herself.
"They will bring me up a breakfast of sorts," he told her. "Eat it yourself, for I shall be gone. When you leave the inn, they will not question you, for the tally will be paid. I thank you for a night of sweet pleasure, and hope you find a better life for yourself."
He nodded, smiled again, left the room and softly closed the door behind him.
She did not know his name.
Chapter Seven
Charles rode home through a sprinkling of drizzle, arriving just past midday. The manor house was noisy with bustle, the household preparing for their master's return. Once it had been alive with a thriving family, friends and more distant relations. Now he lived alone, for the people he had loved had been taken by the crown. However, the estate preserved its grandeur with chandeliers aflame with perfumed beeswax, fires roaring even out of season, and the great table, large enough to seat twenty, spread with fine embroidered linen, pewter and silver, delicate earthenware, and more flickering candles. The house was alight, but Charles sighed and saw shadows.
As he called for a groom to take his mare, he marched to the front door which was immediately opened by the steward. But as he flung off his cape and riding gloves, he was met by a quiet group of men in royal livery, who had evidently been waiting for him.
He had been pleased enough to arrive home, where he accepted the comforts of his choice. And for once, sweet memories lay in floating layers at the back of his mind. The night had been the sweetest he had passed for more than a year. Now he sighed once more.
"A royal summons, I presume?"
The steward hovered at his back, but the three liveried men stepped forwards. Their leader, muscled and bearded, bowed. "My lord, forgive the inconvenience. This is no warrant nor arrest, but her majesty the queen requests your company at Westminster. She desires to speak with you."
"I was in London just days ago." Charles' eyes narrowed, shaded by frown. "Now I have only this moment returned to my own home. Will her majesty wait?"
Naturally not. "No, my lord."
"No warrant then, but still a summons of some urgency, and doubtless to my detriment?"
The liveried guard bowed once more. "I have no knowledge of her majesty's requirements, my lord. I was simply info
rmed that her majesty requires your presence at the earliest convenience.""
"I need to eat, change, bathe and rest, sir." Charles strode to the grand doors leading to the main solar, looking back over his shoulder for the final words. "Please inform her majesty that I shall set out tomorrow morning, and will wait on her immediately on my arrival at the palace."
August had ebbed and September glowered from a cloud-thick sky. Charles awoke, flung himself from the dishevelled bed, and remembered the more pleasant experience of two nights previously. He called for his valet and stomped downstairs for breakfast. It might, he decided, be his last, so he indulged in a meal far more lavish than usual at that hour.
Roast beef, best bread, cheese from the Cheddar farms, smoked bacon and ale were spread out in jugs and platters across the table, and Charles called for more cheese, bread and bacon also to be wrapped in his saddle bags. But this time he did not ride alone, and was accompanied by a small entourage including his valet, two armed guards, and Clovis, his elderly secretary's young apprentice. They rode out on the narrow country lanes, and headed for Canterbury. Without the slightest desire to hurry his journey, Charles stayed there overnight at the Harlequin, and occupied the same top floor chamber that he had stayed in previously.
For some time he stood before the empty hearth, his hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at nothing. The bathtub had, of course, been removed and the shutters were up across the casement window. Then Charles took a deep breath and walked from the room, down the stairs, outto the cobbled roadway, and wandered the short distance to the cathedral.
The girl, whose name he had forgotten, if he had ever known it, was asleep on the back pew, cuddled up beneath a woollen shawl which had recently been bought, Charles presumed, with his own money. He sat beside her, startling her and she woke with a gulp.
"I have an offer," he said softly, "which may, or may not, interest you. I have unexpectedly been summoned to Westminster, and will stay at my own property in London. A young woman, who is no relation to me, occupies the house, and may need a personal maid. Would you be interested in such a position?" He smiled, adding, "I should explain that this would be a position of the utmost respectability. It would not involve my bed, nor that of any other man, and nor would I expect you to inform the Lady Katherine of your recent past."
Fortune nearly fell to her knees, and clasped her hands together in amazed delight. "Oh, my lord, yes indeed. I would, my lord. I will. How kind. I should be exceptionally grateful."
"In that case," Charles murmured, "you had better come back to the Harlequin with me now. My bed at the inn is considerably more comfortable, but it will be the last time and this night there will be no bath, and we will rise and ride out early in the morning. You may join my entourage. Can you ride a sumpter?"
"I can. John and I used to own a horse and cart for visiting folk in the parish."
Charles did not ask about John, nor anything else. He simply nodded, saying, "Then come with me now," and they returned together to the inn.
Two days later Charles, Earl of Chilham, arrived back at his old family home near Cripplegate in the most unfashionable Muggle Road, and stabled his horse as the small entourage helped unload the saddle bags. Striding to the main doors, he called for Samson, and was amused to see the Lady Katherine make one mad dash to the stairs.
"No need to hide, my lady," he told her, laughing as she stopped half way up the staircase. "I'm obliged to return here, having been summoned to the palace. No doubt this is the last you'll see of me."
Katherine descended, staying expressionless. "It makes no difference to me whatsoever, my lord. The property is your own. I am simply grateful to be offered a home." Expression crept in. "But you said you never came back here."
"I don't, by choice. This is not my choice."
"And for how long, my lord, although I have no right to ask?"
Charles wandered into the solar, and collapsed in the chair he preferred. "I have not the slightest idea, madam." He looked up at her. "But have brought some of my household staff, in case this visit needs to be extended. The entourage includes a young woman, beggared by political events, as you have been, my lady, although not to the same extent. I am not, I assure you, wishing to impress anyone with my acts of charity, but this is a respectable woman who was starving on the streets. No doubt you need a maid?"
"Not in the least, my lord."
"Good," smiled Charles. "I have already informed the steward to take the woman into service. I do not know her name, but no doubt someone will ask it eventually."
"Supper, my lord, will be served within the hour." Samson's interruption was convenient.
Charles rose, stretched, and added, "Riding all day is a tedious business, madam, and I intend to rest before supper. He nodded and wandered up to his bedchamber. He wondered what Katherine would have done if he had offered her a bath, insisted on washing her, and then tumbled her into bed. He was still laughing as he fell asleep.
Her majesty, Queen Mary was sitting behind a long table where neat piles of papers were stacked, bowls of ink and several quills sitting at her elbow. A candelabra of six long beeswax candles sat to her other side, and lit her in regal flame. She wore midnight blue, heavily decorated in white lace, pearls and silver embroidery. Her hair was pinned back from her face, covered by a gossamer headdress and more pearls. She looked tired, bitter, and angry. Six armed guards and two personal servants were standing silently behind her, but it was an elderly man unknown to Charles, who addressed him.
"My Lord Chilham, you have taken considerably more time to arrive than was expected. This is a matter of some urgency."
"Your majesty, my apologies." He replied directly to the queen but offered no excuse and remained, one knee to the tapestried rug, head bowed.
The elderly man, dressed in plain black resembling a monk's habit, his hands tucked in the loose cuffs of the opposite sleeves, spoke quietly. "My lord, your mother, was accused of treason more than a year ago," he said. "At the time, the same accusation levelled at her, also included your secret intentions, my lord. But on investigation, no proof was found against you. Thus her majesty was magnanimous and declined to order your arrest."
Queen Mary leaned across the table, her hands clenched on the large pile of papers before her. "Your mother declined to implicate you, my lord. But suspicion remains."
"I am amazed if you imply that proof of treason was discovered against my mother, majesty," Charles risked, "since I know her to have been entirely innocent."
Once more, the man standing behind the queen proceeded to speak. "Your lady mother, Countess of Chilham, supported the Dudley conspiracy, sir, as it is assumed your lordship well knows." The man paused.
The queen stood abruptly, clasping her hands as though agitated, and marched the length of the room behind the table. "But that is not why I called you here," She was, Charles noticed, once more heavily pregnant, and the swell of her stomach distorted the rich silken swirl of her skirts. "Now, sir, there are sinister implications of another conspiracy in which you are no doubt heavily involved. My Lord Chancellor's honourable assistant, Master James Willis, has recently been discovered shamefully murdered on your premises. This appalling travesty has shocked me beyond words, and the manner of his death is distressful and utterly disgraceful."
For once genuinely shocked, Charles blinked twice. "The identification is without doubt, your majesty?" he asked. "How - unexpected. I do not know the man, nor was he easily - recognisable."
The elderly man spoke again without raising his voice nor moving although her majesty continued to march, swirling and turning, as though irate and confused. "The Bishop of Canterbury wishes to question you, my lord, concerning this appalling event," said the man, "as does the Lord Chancellor, Bishop of Winchester."
Once again her majesty interrupted. "You will answer all questions, sir, or you will be housed in the Tower until this situation is resolved. Whether you return to the Tower to await trial, or return h
ome to confess your sins in private, is entirely up to you, my lord."
Charles had expected the Tower, but he had not expected the reason for it.
The queen suddenly grasped the high back of the chair where she had previously been sitting, steadying herself. Immediately the dark man who had been speaking on her behalf, pulled out the chair, and her majesty collapsed, as though ill or exhausted. Breathing heavily, she looked up at Charles.
"You will be taken to the Lord Chancellor's offices within the palace," she told him, her voice fading. "And you will assist with these enquiries, or you will follow your mother to the block, sir."
Charles bowed. "Since I know myself to be innocent, majesty, I will gladly answer all questions."
The elderly man bowed to his queen and nodded to Charles to follow him. The shadows once again closed in.
Chapter Eight
The Lady Katherine regarded the young woman standing before her. She had suspected this would be Charles' mistress, but the creature standing there was undoubtedly a beggar and no courtesan. Thankfully she seemed clean enough but her clothes were virtual rags, her face was woebegone and almost haggard, there were bruises beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and food, and she was painfully thin.
Having changed her mind about what she intended to say, Katherine smiled. "Are you hungry, my dear? And what exactly is your name?"
"Fortune Mereworth, my lady." She lowered her eyes politely. "And yes indeed, forgive me, but I am excessively hungry. I have eaten during our journey, but before that I barely ate for two months, and it has left me with a desire for food that doesn't seem to go away."
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