The Betrayal

by Mary Hooper

  Sonny saw me, gave a shout, then jumped down and leapt around me, trying to knock my cap off.

  Mistress Midge called for him to behave himself. ‘Haven’t I got enough worry waiting around for Lucy to return, without you getting yourself into fights with other boys?’ I heard her say.

  ‘It is me, Mistress Midge!’ I said.

  I went closer and she first peered at me, then lifted off my cap. ‘Bless me, of course it is!’

  ‘What are you holding?’ I asked, although I could already see it was a letter with Dr Dee’s seal on the back.

  ‘An important document,’ she said, ‘and I was thinking that if you didn’t come back soon, I’d have to go to the scrivener and have it read to me.’

  As I took the letter I sent out a fervent prayer that it wasn’t going to say that the Dee family were just about to join us in London, for that would be an end to all my fun.

  It was not quite this bad. It said:

  A volume, Ancient Incantations, has been taken to London in error and must be returned. It is a book with a green leather cover embossed with a symbol of a black raven. Ensure that it is brought with all haste by Mistress Midge or the girl.

  Mistress Midge gave a snort of derision. ‘I knew he’d get muddled as to which book is where,’ she said. ‘You mark my words, those books of his will be going up and downriver faster than a fiddler’s elbow. That’s why they should have allowed us to have Sonny as a messenger.’

  ‘Ancient Incantations,’ I said. ‘I wonder what he needs that for …’

  ‘That’s for him to know and us to wonder.’

  ‘So will you or …?’

  ‘You’ll go, of course,’ she said, thus putting paid to my plans. ‘These bones of mine are too old to enjoy rattling about on a cart to Mortlake – and they won’t care for the damp of another river journey, neither.’

  So it was decided. She insisted that I set off straight away, so while I, feeling rather low-spirited, changed into my usual old workaday clothes and placed a few things in my cloth bag, she went through Dr Dee’s books to find the green volume inscribed with a raven.

  This, once discovered, was enormously heavy, with a wooden cover and sturdy brass hinges and fastenings, so Sonny (leaving off eating for a moment) fashioned a means whereby I could carry it by criss-crossing string around it several times and making a handle. We then had to decide by which route I should travel to Mortlake and came to the conclusion that I should go to Puddle Dock and see in which direction the tide was flowing. If it was going upriver, I might find a craft sailing towards Richmond that very evening. If not, I’d either try to hitch a lift on a wagon going that way or wait until the tide turned.

  I set off for the river, going on a circular walk which took me past the palace in the hopes that I might see Tomas and explain that I was going away. I did not catch sight of him, however, and so (for I caught the tide) had to endure a seemingly endless journey on a barge drawn by heavy horses, miserably imagining how Juliette would contrive to have Tomas for her valentine and what might happen later during the course of the dancing and pairing games that he’d spoken of.

  The barge arrived at Hammersmith Wharf in the coldest, darkest hours of the early morning, and here I found a corner and huddled into my cloak to wait for sunrise before I began walking the four or so miles along the towpath to Mortlake. As I did so I could not help but think about Tomas, for just a short time ago we’d ridden along this very path towards Putney, with me sitting at the front of his horse, his arms tight around me. There had been no sign of Mistress Juliette then; no worries that he might prefer another.

  I heard the watchman call eleven of the clock as I passed through Barnes, and, as I came round the river’s bend in Mortlake and approached the magician’s house, I felt a shiver, for it was as if my senses had played a trick and I was seeing it again for the first time. There it stood as it had long stood: dark, deeply thatched with tangled weeds up to the kitchen window – and in front of it, just as before, Beth and Merryl playing in the silt and mud on the riverbank like commoners’ children.

  I put Dr Dee’s precious book down on the grass and clapped my hands. ‘Beth! Merryl! What are you doing down there?’

  They started on hearing me, and, calling excitedly, scrambled up the bank and flung their arms around me. I was touched by this, but also conscious that I only had one kirtle to wear. I bade them stand back, therefore, and promised that there could be more hugs later, when their hands were clean.

  I looked them over. They seemed to be wearing a strange assortment of clothes and had nothing on their feet. ‘You have no stockings on! And where are your shoes?’

  ‘We took them off so they wouldn’t get muddy,’ Beth said.

  ‘Surely that was sensible?’ Merryl asked.

  ‘But your feet must be frozen. Come inside immediately to wash and put your slippers on.’

  They began to wipe their feet on the grass, squealing occasionally with excitement when they glanced at me and saying how happy they were that I’d come.

  ‘For we haven’t been doing at all well without you,’ Merryl said. She frowned. ‘Why is your hair so short?’

  ‘’Tis the fashion in London,’ I answered.

  ‘You look just like a boy!’ she said, and I smiled at this.

  ‘Oh, do come back here and look after us,’ Beth pleaded, ‘because Mistress Allen is perfectly hateful!’

  ‘She does nothing but complain to our mother about us,’ said her sister.

  ‘And Mama does nothing but cry,’ Beth added despairingly.

  ‘But who cooks for you? And who cleans the house? Who gets you up in the mornings and pins you into your clothes?’

  ‘Mistress Allen dresses us,’ Beth began.

  ‘And deliberately sticks pins in us whenever she can!’ continued Merryl. ‘There are two girls from the village who are supposed to cook and clean, but sometimes they just don’t arrive.’

  ‘If they do, they sit around giggling with each other.’

  ‘And they steal things! They go home with our sugar in their pockets.’

  ‘But what happens when they don’t turn up to work? How do you eat?’

  ‘We nearly starve …’ said Beth in a melancholy voice.

  ‘No, Father or someone else sends to the tavern for a pigeon pie,’ said the less dramatic Merryl.

  I picked up the precious book and the girls led the way through the back door into the big kitchen, which was chaotic – but not that much more chaotic than the way it had been when I’d first arrived at the house back in September. As then, what seemed like every bowl, pan, porringer and utensil in the house lay piled and scattered along the table and cupboards, and also, as then, the monkey was hiding inside a kettle and immediately flew at me, chattering like mad, running up over my head and pulling at my hair.

  Having short hair was an advantage with a monkey, and I carefully picked off his little hands and handed him to Merryl, bidding her to keep hold of him. I then reached for the kettle and, finding it empty, muttered under my breath about the worthlessness of the kitchen maids (for even the most slatternly girl knows that a kettle over a fire should always be full). Filling it from the bucket, I realised that the fire was about to go out and, finding no wood indoors, donned a long apron and went into the courtyard to search for sticks to build it up again.

  Coming back from the courtyard through the hallway with my apron full of wood, the library door opened and Dr Dee appeared. I curtseyed as well as I could, and wished him good-day.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked gruffly.

  ‘You sent for someone to bring you a book, Sir,’ I said.

  ‘Ah yes,’ he replied, though I believe his head was stuffed so full of mystic calculations that he must have forgotten.

  ‘That was two days ago,’ came Mr Kelly’s voice from within the library. ‘Couldn’t you have brought it any sooner?’

  ‘I got a space on a barge and came as quickly as I could.’ I added a
fraction later, ‘Sir.’

  ‘Well, girl, where is the book?’ Dr Dee asked.

  ‘I’ll fetch it directly,’ I said, and hurried into the kitchen, where I deposited half the wood on the fire, brushed down my apron and skirts and carried the book through to the library.

  Within the dimly lit library the air was thick with sulphur, enough to make me cough, and there was another smell which I believe was coming from a jar of silvery liquid bubbling on the alembic over a flame. Mr Kelly was seated at the table with a book open in front of him, his peevish face frowning.

  ‘If we’d had that book earlier we might have succeeded,’ he said to Dr Dee.

  ‘Ah. Even then I don’t know if all these efforts …’

  ‘We can try again, of course, and follow their precise instructions.’

  Dr Dee crossed to his desk and sat down, running his fingers absent-mindedly across the top of the skull that always stood there. ‘But we have no more tin to hand.’

  Tin, I thought, and knew from this that they were again attempting to make gold.

  ‘Just put the book down, girl!’ said Dr Dee.

  I did so. ‘Do you want me to return to London now, Sir, to carry on preparing the new house for your arrival?’ I asked, and then hesitated, for much as I longed to go back, I knew my first loyalties should be to my two little charges. ‘Or should I stay here for a day or so to help with the domestic arrangements?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes. Do that,’ he said, rather surprising me. ‘The mistress is unwell and Beth and Merryl are probably somewhat neglected, though I cannot spare the time to think on what they need.’ His face suddenly cleared. ‘But I have the very solution to this problem: you may return to London straight away – and take them with you! Yes, that is an excellent notion.’

  I nodded and said certainly I would, but as I did so my heart sank, for though I loved both girls dearly, once they were in London and in my charge, that would be an end to all my exploits with the acting company and the freedom to come and go on whatever missions Tomas asked of me.

  ‘Off you go, then, no shilly-shallying,’ Mr Kelly said, waving me off.

  Feeling rather gloomy, I went back to the kitchen ready to pack up the girls and their possessions and return to London at first tide.

  Chapter Twelve

  I tapped on the door of Mistress Dee’s bedchamber very gently. There being no reply, I put my ear to it, tapped again and waited.

  I heard nothing, and stood there in somewhat of a dilemma, for though (after eating a quick meal of stale bread and cheese; all there was in the pantry) I’d already given Beth and Merryl the task of selecting the things they wanted to take with them to London, I didn’t feel I could just leave the house without Mistress Dee being informed. I had no idea, however, how well that lady was or what state of mind she was in. I did not even know whether, as Mistress Midge had surmised, she had miscarried.

  On the third knock the door was answered by Mistress Allen. She was pale, frowning, and wearing her customary dun-coloured gown with loose jacket. Over her shoulder I could see into the darkened room, in the centre of which stood Mistress Dee’s silk-hung four-poster bed, its curtains closed.

  Mistress Allen looked me up and down in some surprise. ‘You’re back here?’ she said in a whisper. ‘Why is this?’

  I bobbed a curtsey. ‘I was asked to bring a book for Dr Dee. A volume that he’d sent to London by mistake.’

  ‘And now you’re returning there?’

  I nodded. ‘And Dr Dee has asked that I take Beth and Merryl with me.’

  I did not imagine the slight lightening of her expression. ‘An excellent idea. And the infernal monkey too, I hope.’

  I certainly didn’t want to take him, so didn’t commit myself to this. I said, ‘I thought it best that I should inform Mistress Dee before we set off.’

  Mistress Allen adjusted the net coif which covered her hair. ‘She’s not well enough to see you, but I shall tell her myself.’

  ‘Is she … did she lose a child?’

  She nodded briefly. ‘But with God’s help will recover from her ordeal soon.’

  ‘And then you will follow us to London. Will that be in a week or so, do you think?’ I asked, trying to gauge how much more time I had.

  Mistress Allen raised her eyebrows, as much as to say what business was it of mine. ‘In a week or a month, as long as it takes for Milady to be well enough to travel.’

  ‘I only ask because her well-being will be the first thing that Mistress Midge asks me about,’ I said smoothly. ‘And of course we need to ensure that all is in readiness for her coming.’

  Mistress Allen began to close the door. ‘I shall tell Milady straight away. You may bring Merryl and Beth before you go; she’ll want to see them to say goodbye.’

  She closed the door on my curtsey and I turned to go back along the corridor and down the stairs, passing all the doors and thinking about how, when I’d first arrived at the magician’s house straight from our tiny cottage in Hazelgrove, I’d thought that – with its two staircases, endless corridors and many, many rooms – this must surely be the biggest dwelling in the world. It was not, however. Not even nearly, for I’d seen many bigger and wealthier houses since then.

  I paused at the turn of the stairs to look out on the churchyard of St Mary’s, where once, in the dead of night, I’d seen Dr Dee and Mr Kelly endeavouring to raise the spirit of someone who’d been laid to rest. I smiled as I recalled this, for I’d been somewhat gullible then and imagined that such a thing were possible. Now I knew better than to believe in raising ghosts, for such a thing was – surely? – against Nature’s law and God’s word.

  I carried on going down and had almost reached the kitchen when I heard, from upstairs, a loud scream. And then another and another.

  I turned and ran back up again, then hesitated outside the mistress’s door, for even in what seemed like an urgent matter I did not dare to rush in.

  ‘You shall not take them away! My girls … my babies! They are my only consolation!’ I heard Mistress Dee call hysterically.

  And then came the voice of her companion, placating and reassuring. ‘Not if you don’t want them to go, of course not! ’Tis a foolish plan and I will speak to Dr Dee about it. Rest easy in your mind, Madam!’

  I tapped at the door and after a moment Mistress Allen, pink in the cheeks and with her head covering askew, answered it.

  ‘I beg your pardon, but can I get you anything to soothe the mistress?’ I asked. ‘A chamomile drink, perhaps.’

  ‘No,’ she said in a harsh whisper, ‘but you can take a message to Dr Dee!’

  ‘Beth! Merryl!’ I heard the mistress’s voice call from within the silk coverings. ‘My precious darlings.’

  ‘The mistress has been much disturbed at the notion that her daughters are being taken from her. Tell Dr Dee that, if you will. Tell him that she says they cannot go, for then she will lose two more children!’

  ‘Certainly, Madam,’ I said, thinking that I would not and that she could do her own dirty work.

  I ran down the stairs and tapped on the library door. A bad-tempered grumble came from within and I pushed open the door and looked through the smoke at Dr Dee. ‘Mistress Allen’s compliments, Sir, and would you please go upstairs, where she wishes to speak to you.’

  As I said this another scream was heard and Dr Dee wearily got to his feet. ‘Whatever is it?’ I heard him mutter. ‘What’s happening now?’

  Mr Kelly sighed heavily. ‘Surely someone of your calibre and learning, Dee, should not be subject to petty domestic concerns?’

  I said nothing, but went back into the kitchen, where I told the children that, unfortunately, they would not be coming back to London with me as their mother didn’t wish to part with them. I tried to sound regretful about this.

  I washed their hands and faces and sent them to their mother with the message that I would leave alone the following day, and also asked for money to buy provisions, the girls from
the village still having not arrived. Once Beth and Merryl had been reconciled, blessed and cried over by their mother, the three of us set off for the market.

  Walking through the familiar lanes to the village square I reflected that, in the same way that Dr Dee’s house had at first impressed and overawed me, so had busy Mortlake when contrasted to my home village of Hazelgrove. Now, however, I compared Mortlake to London’s tumultuous, noisy and smelly streets and reflected that here you could buy your provisions in a considered way, weighing up each purchase and deciding which of three stalls was the best for each vegetable. In London, however, you were hassled, jostled and beleaguered to buy on every side and felt lucky if you got home with your basket intact and your purse uncut. Still, I knew where I’d rather be.

  One of the reasons I’d wanted to go to market was that I hoped to see Isabelle, and sure enough she was there in her usual spot, with some tied posies of herbs on a wooden crate, exchanging gossip with the woman sitting beside her. She jumped up on seeing me and gave a mighty shout.

  ‘You’re back so soon!’ she said, flinging her arms around me.

  ‘I am, but not for long,’ I said, returning her hug. ‘I came on an errand for Dr Dee and have to return tomorrow.’

  ‘But what is London like?’

  ‘Beyond exciting! I’ve much to tell you.’

  ‘And have you seen your sweetheart there?’

  Because of the proximity of the girls I put on a mystified look at this. Isabelle, not realising, said, ‘Lucy! Your sweetheart – the queen’s fool.’

  ‘Tom-fool? ’ Merryl, who’d been looking about the market for a stall with singing birds, suddenly turned and gazed at me with surprise. ‘Your sweetheart is Tom-fool?’

  ‘There!’ Beth said. ‘No one told us!’

  ‘Shush!’ I made a face of protest at Isabelle. ‘He’s not really my sweetheart …’

  She winked at me. ‘Oh no, he is not. Not at all.’