By Slanderous Tongues

by Mercedes Lackey

  Elizabeth made an inarticulate sound. On the one hand she had a good deal of sympathy for Thomas, who was bursting with good health and good spirits, and had no one to whom to express them. He could no longer, as he had the previous year, roar jovially and suggest such games as hoodman-blind or snatch. Catherine could not now bear the noise or the violent activity.

  On the other hand, it was his child that was causing Catherine so much discomfort and Elizabeth knew Thomas should take his noisy high spirits elsewhere. The drawback to that was that Catherine missed him when he was gone. Suddenly Elizabeth remembered Denno sitting beside her, talking quietly, holding her hand, one month when her courses caused her a great deal of pain. Denno had not gone to seek someone else who would be merry with him when she could not be.

  Just on the moment, Thomas put out his hand and stroked her cheek. Fixed in her chair, Elizabeth could do no more than try to turn her face away. Thomas smiled broadly and Elizabeth realized that her gesture had been so restricted that he thought she was rubbing her cheek against his hand.

  “No,” she said, just as Frances returned to the room.

  Thomas took a step back and held out his hand to help her rise from her chair. He was still smiling, and Elizabeth sighed. Denno and Harry would be annoyed with her for not discouraging him but really, sometimes Catherine’s weakness tried Elizabeth’s spirits too. So Elizabeth took Thomas’ hand and let him lead her out into the parlor where Dunstan was drawing a chair and two stools up to a small round table.

  Elizabeth saw Thomas’ angry glance at the stool. She knew that Catherine permitted him to sit in a chair beside her when they were in private, but Catherine had been born a poor knight’s daughter and Elizabeth’s father had been a king. Still, she was tempted to appease him and ask Dunstan to bring a second chair, only Frances settled onto her stool and the door opened admitting a servant with a tray.

  “Oh, I am afraid I will not be able to break my fast with you after all,” Sir Thomas said, looking pointedly at the stool. “There is an errand I had forgotten.”

  Elizabeth did not show her impulse to laugh at him for his silly pride, which would not allow a servant and Frances Dodd to see him on a stool while Henry VIII’s daughter sat in a chair. Elizabeth guessed it was because she was so much younger than he; he was able to accept placement on a stool when the whole household was similarly placed in Queen Catherine’s presence. Let him go, Elizabeth thought, I do not need his self-importance or his suggestive gestures.

  “Very well, sir,” she said cheerfully. “Thank you for your greeting and may you have a good day.”

  His sour expression as he turned to leave made clear that he was not pleased with Elizabeth’s easy acceptance of the loss of his company. Nonetheless she held her giggle until the door had closed behind him. Frances looked rather disappointed, but on the whole Elizabeth was actually relieved. Perhaps her displayed indifference would annoy him enough to keep him away.

  That hope was not long sustained. Only two days later, Thomas appeared again at about the same time, as if to confirm whether his finding her dressed and at her studies was an accident or her usual practice. He did not come in that day, merely looked in, said a rather sour “Good morrow,” and went away. He also tried twice the following week to separate her from her ladies, once when he followed her down a path in the garden—Queen Catherine having stopped to rest on a bench—and a second time when she was hurrying to the stable. Lady Alana, bless her, Elizabeth thought, stuck like a burr both times, displaying a stupidity striking in its inability to take a hint to be gone.

  The setbacks seemed for a while to convince Thomas that Elizabeth could no longer be counted on as a playmate to fill his idle hours. She would have been happy enough with that conclusion if he had only ignored her, but it was clear Thomas was offended. Every time she caught him looking at her it was with a scowl that said he was not satisfied with the situation.

  Although Elizabeth knew she should mention his behavior to Denno, Thomas had become less and less important to her. Unless she actually saw him glowering at her, she kept forgetting about him in trying to keep straight the intricate double life she was living. In the daylight hours she was Ascham’s clever student and Queen Catherine’s devoted stepdaughter. At night she was whirled away Underhill into a richly satisfying love affair with Denno and a series of adventures and entertainments that boggled the mind.

  To add to Elizabeth’s confusion, there was some crossover between life in the mortal world and Underhill. Denno had found several Sidhe who had actually lived when Athens was queen in the world of Greek drama and they were happy to tell Elizabeth of the great dramatic festivals, the Dionysias, they had attended. The tales, combined with the Sidhe ability to create moving images of what they had seen, gave such life to Elizabeth’s lessons with Master Ascham that he was nearly stunned by her brilliance and understanding.

  More and more Thomas was a vague irritation in the background rather than an active danger. Totally absorbed in her own busy and satisfying life, Elizabeth was not wise enough to cover her indifference with flattery. She was polite but aloof. Naturally with Thomas’ conviction that he should be the central figure around which the world revolved, the less attention Elizabeth paid to him, the more annoyed with her and indignant over her pride Thomas became. And the ruby Master Otstargi had given him flashed brighter when he thought about how Elizabeth deserved a firm humbling.

  A week passed in which Thomas patted and pinched the giggling maids of honor—all except Lady Alana, who regarded him with cold, unfriendly eyes and clung even closer to Elizabeth. It would be better, Thomas thought, if Lady Alana were absent—plain-faced bitch she was too. If not for her clothes … He looked at his wife just rising with slow effort from her chair. Poor Catherine could certainly use some attractive clothes that would hide her bulging belly.

  The week during which Thomas virtually ignored her had made Elizabeth less wary so when he left the dining parlor immediately behind Catherine, he was gone from Elizabeth’s mind. Half turned just past the doorway to speak to Kat, who was rising from her seat at the table, Elizabeth did not notice that Thomas had stopped in the corridor. Elizabeth’s foot caught briefly on the door sill, and Thomas caught the hand she extended to steady herself and pulled her into his arms for a kiss.

  Elizabeth was too surprised to fend him off. She just stood, wide-eyed. Kat Ashley had reached the door of the dining chamber at that moment and was horrified. She pulled Elizabeth away and hurried after the queen, who was just entering her parlor. So impetuous was Kat’s motion that Thomas, who had a glib explanation on his lips, had no chance to give it.

  “Kissed her. Right on the mouth. Right in the corridor where the servants could see.” Kat was so astonished and angry that she was almost stuttering.

  “It was only a joke,” Thomas said, coming into the room.

  Kat pulled Elizabeth away from him so that she was between Thomas and the girl.

  “Oh, Tom,” the queen sighed, sinking into her chair.

  “Getting stiff as a poker,” Thomas growled. “Used to be a bit of fun, but I swear she’s forgot how to smile. Only meant to surprise an expression onto her face,” he added. “No harm done, right out in the open with her governess there.”

  Catherine shook her head but she spoke gently to her husband, agreeing that he meant no harm and in general his teasing would be taken as a jest. But then she mentioned Elizabeth’s special circumstances, that Elizabeth was not any girl but the king’s daughter and in line for the throne. Extra care must be taken to avoid any unpleasant rumor, specially now that she was past fourteen.

  Thomas was furious. The more he thought about Elizabeth being in line for the throne, the angrier he became and the brighter the ruby on his finger glowed. He was making no headway in getting Edward to demand him as his Governor, and it seemed only right that Elizabeth, who had been so long his playmate, should look to him for advice and protection. Her pride needed to be broken.

 
Thus, two days later while the sky was barely lighting with early dawn, he crept up to Elizabeth’s bedchamber. He intended to catch her asleep and with only one sleeping attendant. He would dump her naked from her bed to the floor by pulling away the bedclothes. What he would do after that, he had not quite decided. Something within urged him to throw himself atop her, steal some kisses, perhaps press himself between her legs before her sleepy maid of honor could interfere. No, that might be too much; even Catherine might not overlook that.

  To be sure he would catch Elizabeth asleep, he moved with careful stealth to where he could peer in the bedchamber door. He could see the truckle bed and the dark head of Margaret Dudley soundly asleep in it, but he could not see beyond the curtains of Elizabeth’s great bed. Silently he crept closer, around the truckle bed, and peered in through a gap in the curtains. For a moment he was so shocked, he stood transfixed. The bed held no sleeping body. The rich counterpane was smooth, the pillows plump and settled in their places.

  Since his plan was already ruined, Thomas muttered an obscenity under his breath and turned about, expecting to see Elizabeth at her writing desk laughing at him. But Elizabeth was not where he expected to see her, preparing for her coming lesson; she was not in the room at all. He looked around wildly and to his intense shock saw, through the window of the gallery, Elizabeth wrapped in the arms of a tall man … kissing him avidly.

  A cry of pure rage and amazement erupted out of Thomas and he charged forward. But when he leapt through the gallery door, Elizabeth alone turned to confront him.

  “What do you want?” she cried. “What are you doing here?”

  “Who was that man?” Thomas countered.

  “What man? Are you mad?”

  “I saw you! I saw you kissing a man!”

  “What man?” Elizabeth repeated. She felt the feather-light touch on her arm as Denno passed her and she knew he would take the sleep spell off Margaret, so she shrieked, “Margaret! Margaret! Come here to me.”

  Gasping and stumbling, wrapped in her bedclothes, Margaret Dudley appeared in the doorway.

  Flattened against the wall, shaking with rage and offense, Elizabeth cried, “Sir Thomas says he saw me with a man. Do you see any man on this gallery, aside from Sir Thomas himself? Is there anywhere except the bedchamber a man could have gone?”

  Margaret looked around wildly, the whites showing all around the pupils of her bulging eyes. “No, my lady. This is the only door from your bedchamber to the gallery.”

  Thomas too stared around the gallery. There was no man there and nowhere for a man to hide. Nonetheless, he was sure of what he had seen. True, the man was in shadow and Elizabeth’s arms around his neck had obscured most of his face and hair, but there had been a man. Only Thomas could not imagine where Elizabeth’s lover could have gone. No one had rushed by him as he ran in the door.

  Elizabeth’s maid of honor was staring at him and her expression was not laughing and indulgent as it had been last year when he surprised Elizabeth in bed. And Elizabeth … her eyes were no soft brown but glittering like gold coins and her thin lips had all but disappeared, her mouth was set so hard. But there had been a man in her arms! Thomas did not know what trick she had played, but she would not get away with it. Still to accuse her would accomplish nothing, not the way her jaw was set. He must try to win her confidence, get her to confess.

  “I beg your pardon, Lady Elizabeth,” Thomas said, sorry now he had accused her of kissing the man he saw. “I thought I saw you struggling with a man. I was afraid some intruder had tried to seize you. Perhaps … perhaps it was some kind of strange reflection in the window.”

  Elizabeth put a hand to her throat. “You frightened me half out of my wits, Sir Thomas. And I seem to have done the same to you. Perhaps there was a strange reflection in the window. I am newly risen from my bed and I may have been stretching.” Her voice was cold, her eyes glowing with fury. “But I think you had better leave now so that poor Margaret can dress.”

  Chapter 29

  For a time Thomas’ accusation that there had been a man embracing Elizabeth put an end to Thomas’ expeditions into Elizabeth’s apartment. Margaret whispered of what had happened to the other maidens; the whisper came to Catherine’s ears. She taxed Thomas with it and he told her that he was just passing and had seen Elizabeth being embraced by a man through a window of the gallery so he had rushed in to drive the intruder out.

  Catherine could not believe there had been any intruder, but for some reason Thomas’ accusation made her very angry and she called Mistress Ashley to her and asked for the truth of the matter.

  Kat was appalled. “Truth? There is not a word of truth! Margaret Dudley, cousin to the Protector, was in the truckle bed beside Elizabeth’s bed. How could any man come into Lady Elizabeth’s apartment at that hour of the morning, pass Margaret, go right through the room and out onto the gallery? No man comes to her rooms alone except for her tutor, Master Ascham, and he not to her bedchamber but to her parlor.”

  Catherine knew there was nothing of that sort between Elizabeth and Master Ascham. She had watched them carefully because sometimes young maidens did develop an unhealthy attachment for their teachers. There was liking and respect, and some lively differences of opinion, but no spark.

  If Catherine had ever suspected a spark of that kind in Elizabeth, it had been for Lord Denno. Sometimes they had exchanged a glance that was … different. She had been almost relieved when Tom told her to forbid Denno’s visits. No. Nonsense. Surely Lord Denno was too old, and he could not be the man in the gallery. Her servants would not admit Denno; he was not on the visitor’s list for any of her houses since the day Thomas had forbidden her to invite him.

  A not completely new but very unwelcome thought passed through Catherine’s mind as she dismissed Mistress Ashley. What had Thomas been doing “passing” Elizabeth’s apartments at that hour of the morning? Her expression must have been forbidding. Mistress Ashley looked quite shaken as she again assured Catherine that there could not have been any man in Elizabeth’s gallery and bowed herself out.

  Kat took the queen’s warning to heart. She questioned Elizabeth sharply and got wide-eyed and furious denials. Blanche, who claimed to have helped Elizabeth dress—although actually Denoriel had spelled her clothes on as soon as they came through the Gate; he had no intention of allowing her to be caught in a nightdress by Seymour—assured Kat there had been no man. So did Margaret Dudley. The latter’s word was reassuring; Kat knew nothing of sleep spells and could not imagine that Margaret would sleep through a man’s arrival, whereas she was sure Blanche would tell any lie Elizabeth wanted her to tell.

  It was, however, Elizabeth’s soft murmur in her ear that provided an explanation for Thomas’ accusation which Kat could believe. “Sir Thomas is used to getting his own way. He was angry because I refused to play with him. Perhaps he saw his own reflection in the window and it gave him an idea of how to shame me.”

  That was real enough, and dangerous enough in Kat’s opinion, to bring her into Elizabeth’s chamber at the crack of dawn. She now breakfasted with her charge and the two times Thomas came up and looked into the parlor, he found all the ladies fully dressed and at table. He did not come in.

  Despite all the trouble he had caused, Kat could not find it in her heart to blame Thomas. He was certainly overindulged, especially by his wife, and she, sick as she was, could not amuse him. Kat sighed. Catherine should have checked his behavior with Elizabeth, not encouraged it by so soft a reproof. But Kat could not be totally unsympathetic to the queen’s indulgence of her husband. Kat herself found Thomas’ loud good humor almost irresistible, and could not believe he meant any harm. Thus, Kat advised Elizabeth to give him her best smiles and show that all was forgiven.

  Elizabeth was not too happy with the solution Kat suggested, but Queen Catherine was still sick and miserable and Elizabeth could not bear to add to her troubles by being openly at odds with Thomas. She suspected, too, that Catherine was n
ow less happy about her growing unwieldiness and feared it was making her less attractive to her husband. Twice in the week after Thomas’s ill-judged invasion of her rooms, the queen had summoned Lady Alana to her, and Lady Alana’s great art was dress.

  It was then no great surprise to Elizabeth when, having beckoned her to a stool beside her chair, Catherine asked to “borrow” Lady Alana, whom she wished to send to London to buy gowns that would enhance her appearance.

  “Of course, I am delighted to be host to my little knave, but Lady Alana says there are ways to make the change in my figure a charming reminder of the babe to come.”

  “I am sure there are,” Elizabeth said, smiling, “and I am just as sure that Lady Alana will know. She does have almost a magical ability with a gown. Of course you may borrow her. And, you know, she is some kind of cousin to Lord Denno, so she has choice of anything in his warehouses.”

  “Lord Denno,” Catherine repeated, a slight frown creasing her brow. “I hope I have not ended your long acquaintance by forbidding him to visit.”

  “No, of course not,” Elizabeth said, smiling again. “He dandled me on his knee when I was a babe, and we have been friends since I could speak. Perhaps you do not know, but Lord Denno was very close to my D—my half brother, His Grace of Richmond, and he took me on as a legacy. When we are here at Chelsea, I ride with him two or three times a week.”

  Elizabeth was glad of a chance to confess what, she had a growing fear, would reach the queen’s ears as a nasty rumor. Before the fiasco when Thomas caught her kissing Denno goodbye, she would not have cared if someone reported seeing her riding with him; now that Thomas had accused her of embracing a man, she wanted no suspicion that the man was Denno raised in the queen’s mind.

  “You ride with Lord Denno?” Catherine sounded shocked. “You never told me.”

  She had been right to confess, Elizabeth thought. If Catherine had heard this from some other source, she would have been very angry. As it was she was more surprised than offended. Elizabeth blinked, widening her eyes innocently.