Denoriel’s hand dropped to his sword hilt. “He? Who is this he?”
“Sir Robert Tyrwhitt. He came with Paulet and Denny. Sir Anthony asked me about what I knew of Tom’s doings since Catherine died and I told him everything, even about asking Tom about houses for my visit to Edward.” She sniffed and swallowed. “I thought that was the end of it, but then this Tyrwhitt came in and told me that Kat and Parry had been arrested and taken to the Tower. I begged him to let them go. I told him I would order them to tell him anything he wanted to know and that I would tell him anything he wanted to know …” She sobbed for a moment. “But he would not.”
He could be rid of Tyrwhitt in two minutes, Denoriel thought, his free hand tightening on the sword hilt while he held Elizabeth close with the other arm. Then he sighed. No he could not. Killing Tyrwhitt, who was questioning Elizabeth, would only fix an impression that her guilt was so deep that murder was necessary to hide it.
Rhoslyn’s warning had been all too true. The Council already had evidence enough to execute Seymour, but they did not want to use it. They wanted to find another cause … likely because some of them were involved in Seymour’s schemes. But it was also possible that Seymour was only an excuse to implicate Elizabeth in some crime large enough to remove her from the succession … or destroy her.
Denoriel pulled out the truckle bed that the maiden on duty slept on and seated himself and Elizabeth on it. It was low, and they could not be seen from the doorway. He hugged her hard, once, and kissed her hard on the lips, but did not let the kiss linger. Elizabeth sighed, and he felt her tension ease.
“Blanche says you cannot do anything for Kat and Parry,” she said softly, tears streaking her cheeks.
“I can see that they do not die,” Denoriel replied, “but that would be the end for all of us in the mortal world.” He forced a smile. “And it is a danger far away. There is no present threat to Kat’s life or Parry’s … unless they have done the unthinkable and conspired with Seymour to force you into marriage with him.”
“Of course they have not!” Elizabeth wiped away the tears and sat up straighter.
“Are you sure?” Elizabeth nodded and Denoriel said, “Then they are in no danger. They will eventually be released from imprisonment.”
Denoriel was not nearly as sure as he sounded, but he needed Elizabeth to be calm and able to think. She was in as much danger as her servants, but she could save herself and them as long as she did not panic and “confess” a willingness to marry Seymour.
First, Denoriel thought, he needed to be sure from where the threat came. If it was solely an attempt to hide the peculations of members of the Council, he could make sure that they were either dead or exposed and the attempt to involve Elizabeth would end. If the threat came from Vidal’s attempts to remove Elizabeth from the succession, he would need to identify Vidal’s agent and deal with him. For that he would need Elizabeth’s help.
Fortunately, although it was silly, Elizabeth was far less afraid of plots against her by the Unseleighe Sidhe than of threats from the mortal government. Perhaps, Denoriel thought, because she had triumphed over her Sidhe opponents whereas her mother and cousin had died. He was briefly reminded of the sorcerer with the caved-in chest, but pushed the memory away. It was far safer to remove the threat in the mortal world.
“No,” he said, “I cannot do anything for Mistress Ashley and Master Parry. I have no way to reach them.”
“You can make a Gate—”
“How could I know where to make one open? Neither of them has a token. And I dare not bribe my way in to visit them to provide a token. Think what could be assumed against you for me to pay a gaoler in the Tower to allow me to see either Parry or Mistress Ashley. Would it not be believed that there was some dangerous secret between you?”
Elizabeth swallowed. “I knew Blanche was right, but I … I cannot bear to think of them alone and afraid and perhaps cold and wet and starving in the dark.”
“Now, Elizabeth, do not be so foolish. No one likes to be a prisoner, but I assure you ladies and gentlemen like Mistress Ashley and Master Parry are housed in comfortable enough chambers with lights and fires. They have to pay for those, but Master Ashley can make sure of that and I can make sure no one is short of money.”
Elizabeth sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. “I am sorry I have been so silly. But it was such a shock to me that they should arrest Kat and Parry. I suppose I should not be surprised that some of the Council had their fingers dipped in Tom’s pie and now wish to hide that. But why use me to prove his guilt? I am second heir to the throne. Surely they should wish to shield me, not to smirch someone so close to the crown.”
“Yes. That is a most interesting question. There are those who do not like the reforms the Protector has made, who think you approve of those reforms and who secretly long for the old faith.” Denoriel stared at her purposefully for a while and then asked, “Have you felt anything strange about Tyrwhitt or those who came with him? You know what I mean.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, “but that doesn’t mean much. I haven’t seen anyone close except Sir Anthony, and he was just himself. Sir Robert?” She thought, then shook her head. “He is certainly just an ordinary man. Now that I bring my mind to it, perhaps there was a faint aura, like a smoke or mist around one of his hands … But it is as likely that I am now feeling that because of what you said more than because he did carry some amulet.”
“True enough, but watch keenly because Rhoslyn has passed a rumor likely from the duchess of Somerset that the attack is more at you than at Seymour. The Council will take Seymour down—after that attempt to seize the king they must—but it is you they want ruined more than him.”
“Rhoslyn!” Elizabeth repeated. She could say the name because it carried no implications concerning Underhill. Anyone might be named Rhoslyn. She sat up, her lips tight but her eyes bright. “So that is where the trouble falling upon me started.”
“I am beginning to think so, but I have no way to prove it and, worse, no way to stop it. Remember, your best defense is ignorance and a total submission to the king and Council regarding your marriage. Not that you should imply you will marry anyone they choose, but that you will never consider marriage to anyone without the express spoken, and written, consent of both the king and the Council.”
“No matter what they say or who says it—if Tyrwhitt is not successful with you they may send back Denny or Paulet—you cling to that line. No one without the consent of the Council, and Parry and Mistress Ashley counseled the same.”
Elizabeth found her next interview with Tyrwhitt easier. Partly that was because she and Denoriel took the chance of blocking the bedroom door and Denoriel spent the night. Since he had no way to twist time in the mortal world, Elizabeth was sadly short of sleep the following morning and her pale cheeks and blue-ringed eyes made Tyrwhitt confident.
She admitted that she had remembered certain matters she had forgotten to tell Sir Anthony. Sir Robert leaned forward eagerly and Elizabeth found her eyes drawn to the magnificent ruby ring he wore. She told him of two more letters she had written to Seymour … but both were about totally mundane things, such as soliciting his help to regain possession of Durham House.
She also confessed that Mistress Ashley had written to Seymour to advise him not to visit Elizabeth “for fear of suspicion.” Elizabeth snorted angrily. “Suspicion of what?” she hissed. “There was nothing of which to be suspicious. Oh, I was very cross with Kat for using such language, although I agreed that I did not want Sir Thomas visiting me.”
Tyrwhitt lectured her on the need to be more open lest there be peril that her honor be smirched. He offered her again the out that Denny had first suggested—that she was young, inexperienced, and innocent and that any agreement she had with the Lord Admiral could be ascribed to the bad advice of Kat and Parry. But she only opened her eyes as wide as they would go and said that there was never any agreement of any kind, not even to rent Seymour Pl
ace, with Sir Thomas.
The next day Tyrwhitt used what he called “gentle persuasion” and he progressed so far that Elizabeth admitted that Master Parry had once told her he believed the Admiral leaned toward marriage, which was why he wanted her to exchange her present properties for others in the west nearer his own. And Master Parry had asked how she would receive such an offer if the Council agreed to it.
“But it did not sit well with me,” Elizabeth said, with a superior wrinkling of her nose. “He had been married to my stepmother and it seemed close to incest. Still, I did not want to shame Master Parry so I only said that if the king and Council suggested such a marriage I would then do as God put into my mind.”
It began to dawn on Tyrwhitt that he was being outwitted by a very clever young woman. He changed his tune and changed it again, but Elizabeth—bolstered by most satisfying visits from her dearling Denno—remained impervious to threats, persuasion, blandishments, or any other device Tyrwhitt tried.
The only time her sober self-control was broken was when Tyrwhitt told her rumors were abroad that said she was also in the Tower pregnant with Seymour’s child.
“These are shameful slanders!” Elizabeth cried, jumping up and smoothing her gown down around her body so that her slim figure showed. “You see me as I am. And I can prove that I have never laid eyes upon Sir Thomas since we parted in Chelsea in July. How then could he get me with child? Liar! You have spread these foul rumors! I will tell the world you have misspoken me.”
“Lady Elizabeth! I have done no such thing, I swear.”
Tyrwhitt was shocked and thoroughly dismayed also. Although he was completely convinced that she had agreed to marry Seymour and that Seymour had been her lover, it had become a growing possibility that he would get no confession from Elizabeth no matter what he did. Her reaction to the rumor he related was not shame and fear but rage. She did have supporters and should she somehow extricate herself from the situation, she could do him much harm.
“How not you?” she spat. “You are the one who sees me daily and knows I am as I am. If you did not say these shameful lies, who did?”
It was perhaps not the best time for it, but Tyrwhitt then produced a letter written about Elizabeth by Somerset. Tyrwhitt had hoped to give it to her when she was in a softened, melancholy mood, beaten down by the slanders on her, so that she would be overawed and respond to the Protector’s offers. Now, however, he hoped it would distract her from her rage or direct it where it belonged.
At first he thought that too had failed when she read the letter with a lip curled with scorn, but then she read it a second time and in a slightly more pleasant tone of voice agreed to reply to the suggestions in the letter. Tyrwhitt promptly offered to help her phrase her reply but she just looked at him, and he wrote to the Protector that she would in no wise follow his advice but writ her own fantasy.
That fantasy was to proclaim her innocence, to repeat that she had not laid eyes on the Admiral since she left Chelsea in July, and that she should be summoned to Court so all could see her as she was. The Protector ignored this plea and others in which she begged him to issue a proclamation that the rumors about her were slanders. He did not do that either … and Elizabeth did not forget.
The stalemate continued until the beginning of February when confessions concerning the antics at Chelsea were wrenched first from Parry and then from Kat. On the fifth of February the signed confessions were shown to Elizabeth. She was terrified beyond reason, convinced that being kissed by Tom would brand her as a whore, was tantamount to treason, and that she would die under the axe like her mother. Fortunately she was so frightened she was unable to catch her breath, so unable to speak that Tyrwhitt repeated his first error and left her to recover, commanding her to save herself by making a full confession of her own.
Blanche was almost as terrified as her mistress. Their combined distress alarmed the air spirit, which fled, gabbling of treason, first Underhill and then to the house on Bucklersbury. It was never possible to get too much sense from an air spirit, but the word treason frightened Denoriel. He knew nothing of English law on the level of treason but the heir to King Henry VIII had been drilled in every aspect of that crime. Denoriel arrived Underhill to disperse an army of air spirits to find Harry.
Thus, not only Denoriel but Harry came through the Gate in response to the air spirit’s frantic message. And amidst all the terror and the great regret that Elizabeth would not be able to bring in the age of glory that the Bright Court so desired, Denoriel’s heart leapt with joy because it was into his arms rather than her Da’s that she flung herself.
Denoriel asked no questions. He took Elizabeth into his embrace and assured her over and over that no one would hurt her, that she would be safe with him. And then he said she need not worry. He would just go and rid the mortal world of Tyrwhitt as he did not think the loss would be noticed.
“No,” Harry said. “If this is a case of treason, killing the inquisitor would convince the whole Council that there was treason. Elizabeth, in the name of God, what did you do?”
Elizabeth was still crying too hard to make sense, and she showed Harry the depositions that Tyrwhitt had left with her. He read the confessions of Parry and Kat. Then he read them again. And then a third time, studying each word.
“Bess,” he said, reaching across Denoriel’s arm to shake her shoulder. “What has happened to your head? There is no treason here. Neither yours, nor theirs, nor even that jackass Seymour’s. This all happened before Queen Catherine died.”
Elizabeth lifted a ravaged face from Denoriel’s breast. “Yes,” she whispered, then sniffed. “I never saw Tom again after Catherine’s death.”
Harry made a disgusted noise. “Well, then no matter whether he kissed you or fondled you—and really, Bess, that was stupid and in the worst taste! I am ashamed of you.”
“I knew it was wrong,” Elizabeth sobbed, “but Catherine was there and I was afraid if I pushed him away that she would be offended.”
“Catherine was there,” Harry echoed, looked down at the papers he held, and shook his head. “Yes, I see that it says Queen Catherine was there! Silly goose. You cannot agree to marry a man whose wife is standing in the room with you. And the only act of treason you could have performed with Thomas Seymour is to agree to marry him. Even bedding him would not be treason if his wife was there.”
“Is that true, Harry?” Denoriel asked.
“Oh, well, there are a mort of ways to commit treason, and Seymour seems to have tried all of them. However, there is only one way—at least in the situation in which she is—that Elizabeth could have committed treason and that is to have married or to have agreed to marry Seymour without the consent of king or Council.”
There was a silence into which came the sound of Blanche Parry’s heartfelt sigh of relief. Elizabeth freed herself from Denoriel’s embrace and turned to face Harry, sniffing and wiping her eyes.
“Then I can admit this is true without danger?” she said.
Harry frowned, wearing an expression of distaste. “Yes, without danger, but I hope with appropriate blushes. How could you so demean yourself, Bess?”
“For the Mother’s sweet sake, Harry,” Denoriel put in, hugging Elizabeth, who had hidden her face in his breast again, “she was fifteen years old. Her stepmother was taking part in the ‘games.’ What did you want her to do?”
“Well, it wasn’t very clever,” Elizabeth admitted with a sigh, “but I can’t make too much of a pother about my age because it will make Kat look even more careless than she is. What am I to tell that toad Tyrwhitt?”
“Exactly what I told you,” Harry said. “That you should have known better, but that while Catherine was there, you were not committing treason. In fact, if anyone committed a crime it was Catherine, who should surely have stopped her husband from behaving in such a way.”
“She loved him so much,” Elizabeth murmured. “She could deny him nothing. Now, looking back, I think her laughte
r at his antics covered much hurt. But I did not know it then. I wish—”
The latch clicked and then there was a mild thud as someone applied pressure to the door. Denoriel whispered, “Tonight,” as the outer wall yawned blackly and he and Harry disappeared. Elizabeth saw him gesture as the Gate closed, and the door burst open.
“Why was the door locked?” Tyrwhitt snarled.
Elizabeth blinked. “It was not locked, Sir Robert. If it had been and I had unlocked it, the door would have struck me when you opened it. I suppose it stuck.”
“The latch would not move,” Tyrwhitt insisted.
Elizabeth shrugged but said nothing. She had contributed all that was safe to the accusation. If she said more, she might slip in some way.
“To whom were you talking?” Tyrwhitt asked next, looking around suspiciously.
“To Blanche.” Elizabeth blinked again.
“I hope she advised you to confess all! All!”
“Blanche is my servant, the maid who cares for my jewels and my clothing. I trust her with such things. I do not seek advice from a maid, though I have been told that you have sought information from her.”
Although the truth was that Elizabeth did frequently ask Blanche for advice, she was sure that Tyrwhitt would try to remove the maid if he thought she was important. Thus, there was a wealth of scorn in Elizabeth’s voice when she spoke, and Tyrwhitt looked embarrassed for a moment. He reminded himself that it was his duty to seek information and he frowned awfully at Elizabeth.
“So then, what were you saying to your maid?”
Elizabeth managed not to grin as she said, “I had not finished my remark. But I intended to say that I wished that you would go away and leave me in peace.”
“That would be easily obtained if you would only tell the truth about what passed between you and Seymour.”
By Slanderous Tongues Page 54