“So Ridolfi was the instigator?”
Gavin nodded and carried on. “Later, I learned some of those details from the missives I seized from the poor lad who died, Simon. He was the unfortunate boy Ridolfi paid to deliver ciphered messages to Lesley.”
“You told me of the messages, but not what they contained,” Isabel said. “Why the need to kill Simon? How did that help them?”
“They could no longer trust him as a messenger. Sending the lad’s body to me served as a warning to back down. Murdering Simon was a particularly nasty gambit.”
Ryder broke in. “Meanwhile, we have had men watching the ports, and we seized a packet of damning letters from Ridolfi to Lesley. It gave us enough to arrest both Lesley and Norfolk. But now we need to know how deeply Mary was involved in this.”
What they wanted was condemning evidence against the queen. Strictly speaking, the conversation Isabel had overheard between Mary and Lesley was not a confidence shared, and it would prove Mary’s reluctance to take part in any plot against Elizabeth. Isabel would need to tread carefully, however, and not divulge the specifics. Mary had expressed her reluctance to participate in the conspiracy; nonetheless, the conversation revealed she’d been fully aware of all but the minutest details.
“There is one thing,” Isabel said. Gavin blew out a breath, as if that statement lifted a weight from him. “But it is not much. After the move to Sheffield, I was setting out some of Mary’s personal items when I heard voices from behind the screen. It was the queen and John Lesley. He was speaking in a most demeaning way to her. I-I cannot tell you all of what was said, but Mary expressed a great reluctance to be involved in his scheme.”
“That is the extent of what you heard?” Gavin asked, his tone laced with skepticism.
“Lesley warned Mary against confiding in me, because I am ‘too close to Cade.’ That is how he put it.”
“It seems he had nothing to worry about there,” Gavin said, “since you guard her confidences as though they were the crown jewels.”
“Nothing more, then?” Ryder asked.
“That is all I can tell you. It sounded very much as if she were being forced to do something against her will.”
Ryder’s brow furrowed. “This is of very little use to us, mistress.”
Isabel rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them. “I fear it is the best I can do.”
Gavin threw his hands up, signaling his ire and frustration. “Mary is a traitor, her cohorts are traitors and murderers, and yet you will protect her. Why? Has she promised you something?”
That shocked Isabel to her core. “How can you accuse me thus? And what could Mary possibly have promised me?”
“To keep you in her retinue. You are loath to return to your home and family. It would be quite a boon if you could continue serving her. Or perhaps she offered coin.”
The thought of remaining with Mary had occurred to Isabel, if Gavin did not offer her marriage. A possibility which now seemed like a cruel joke. But Mary had made her no promises—they’d never discussed such a thing. At present, Isabel wanted nothing more than to be away from all this. Even going home would be preferable.
She shook her head in disbelief. “You think Mary promised me some sort of favor, or even money, in return for my silence. You think I can be bought?”
Thus far, Ryder had sat silent, observing. Now he rose and said, “I shall return shortly.” Saying nothing more, he exited, closing the door quietly.
“God’s breath, Isabel, I no longer know what to believe.” Gavin plunked down on Ryder’s empty chair, leaned back, and fixed his gaze on her. “Your loyalty to the queen is unfathomable to me. I’m grasping at straws to find an explanation.”
“You’ll find none other than what I’ve already said. May I return to my chamber now, pray?” Isabel felt all hope, all prospects, shriveling up inside her. Including the love she bore Gavin. Obviously, he’d never truly felt any for her.
“Oh, I do not think you will escape so easily. Ryder will have more to say to you. As for myself, I am through with you, Isabel. With us.”
Shaking inside, Isabel said, “Since you have never made any commitment to me, it is no more than what I expected from you.”
Angrily, he leaped from his chair and drew close to her. Then, hunkering down before her, he said, “Make no mistake, we are better off apart. In matters pertaining to the queen, we cannot agree. Your stubbornness regarding this, your intractability, tells me there would be many other problems that would drive us apart.”
Isabel’s ire rose at his curt dismissal of what they had meant to each other. “I am an uncomplicated woman who got caught up in matters beyond my imagining. Beyond my control. I made a promise. A vow. Perhaps it was naive of me. That I did so with an agenda, with favors from Mary in mind, is the furthest thing from the truth.”
At that moment, a thought struck her, so onerous she could scarce say it out loud. “Now I would seek the truth from you, Gavin. Did you lead me on, indeed, make love to me, so that I would reveal Mary’s confidences to you?”
They were at eye level. Something flickered for the briefest moment in his eyes, and he rose. “I, that is…it is not what you imagine.”
Isabel had struggled to hold back the tears, but now she allowed them free rein. “You have used me in the basest way imaginable, and yet you accuse me of treachery. You are right—there is no future for us.” He was blocking her way. She pushed against him, and he yielded. Just then, the door opened and Ryder stood on the threshold.
“Will you pardon us a moment, Mistress Tait?” he asked, motioning to Gavin.
Isabel remained where she was, wondering how her world had collapsed about her so completely and thoroughly.
…
Ryder led the way toward an unoccupied chamber and pointed to a settle. When both men were seated, to Gavin’s surprise, he said, “I think we must leave it for now. Mistress Isabel may change her mind, and we should give her time to do so. She deserves a few days to mull over all we told her about Mary.”
When Gavin did not respond, Ryder continued. “I do not know what lies between you and Isabel Tait, but I sense there is much more going on here than meets the eye. My eye, in any case.”
Gavin looked away. He was torn up inside at the mess he’d made of things with Isabel. “Give me something to do. Send me on a mission, anywhere away from here. From Isabel. I’ll go mad if I remain.”
A servant passed, and Ryder summoned him, requesting hot spiced wine. “And inform Mistress Tait she may retire to her chamber. Wine for her as well, pray.”
While they waited for the wine, another servant came in and lit a fire. Warmed by both comforts, Gavin began to feel human again. Finally, he asked Ryder the question that had been plaguing him. “You said you would give Isabel time to think things over. In the hope, I assume, she’ll change her mind. But what if she does not? Something which would not surprise me in the least. When she believes she is in the right, she’s as stubborn a lass as I’ve ever known. What will become of her?”
“Are you asking if I’ll arrest her? Or worse?” Ryder place a hand over his mouth, ostensibly to clean off a dab of wine, but Gavin thought the true purpose was to hide a smile. “Nothing will happen to her. She’s a good woman, caught up in a plot she had no knowledge of. As she pointed out, she knew nothing about most of it. I’m beginning to believe that she has no information that will be of much help to us.”
“That may be. But the fact that what Isabel does know came directly from Mary could work against her.”
“True enough. But Elizabeth has shown great reluctance to deal harshly with the Scots queen, and I for one do not believe that will change soon.” He paused to swallow a draft from his goblet. “You implied that Isabel does not wish to return to her family. Has she anyplace else to go?”
“No. I could speak to Shrewsbury about putting her into Bess’s employ. But Isabel would not be welcomed back by the others, I fear. Will Queen Mary remain wh
ere she is?”
“At Sheffield? I think not. Cecil will want her returned to Tutbury as punishment for her sins.” Ryder leveled his green gaze on Gavin. “Why don’t you marry Isabel Tait? You are a widower whose mourning period is past, and you love the lass. Where there is love, things can always be worked out.”
“I imagine your path to true love with your wife wasn’t strewn with brambles, as ours seems to be.”
Ryder laughed, and Gavin looked at him in surprise. “What?”
“Let me sum it up briefly for you, Cade. My wife—Maddy is her name—was arrested for participating in a raid against the queen. I offered to save her from hanging if she agreed to spy for our side. I then placed her in a house full of traitors.” He paused, collecting his thoughts and now looking quite sober. “One of them nearly killed her. I used her, lied to her, yet I was falling in love with her the whole time. In the end, she forgave me. We are happy beyond reason.”
Gavin stared at the other man. “I see.” Could it be, that after such turmoil, a couple could forgive each other?
Ryder set down his cup, and both men rose. Slapping Gavin lightly on the back, Ryder said, “Don’t give up, Cade, if you love her. If you must get away, go to London, to Cecil. I’ll have a report you can deliver, and you can answer his questions. Do not mention Mistress Isabel. If he should ask about the source I thought might provide proof against Mary, say I was mistaken in that belief.”
Gavin gave a curt nod. “What will you do?”
“Lady Anne said I may stay as long as I like. I’ve much work to do, and will wait here for your return. I’ll send some men with you—it’s not safe for you to travel alone.” Ryder turned and walked toward the door. Just before exiting, he said, “Perhaps the trip will allow you time to clarify your thoughts regarding Isabel.”
…
In her chamber, Isabel prowled about, restless and impatient. She had sat before the hearth and drunk the hot wine someone had ordered for her. Was she a prisoner? Could she leave? She wanted nothing more than to be outside, tramping about the grounds and breathing the fresh, crisp air. Perhaps that would revive her, body and mind.
Gavin believed she’d been bought, or bribed, by Mary. That he could believe such a thing was the final straw. According to him, Isabel would do anything to avoid returning to her childhood home, including covering up Mary’s perceived crimes and accepting bribes from her.
She was half rage, half anguish—one equally as fierce as the other.
A light rap sounded on her door. Still in motion, she paused long enough to say, “Enter.”
Gavin walked in. She hadn’t expected to see him, couldn’t fathom what else there was to say, for either of them. Gazing at him coldly, she waited for him to speak. If he dared take one step farther, she would stop him.
“I am leaving for London shortly. I’m aware you probably would wish me to hell, but I wanted you to know where I was actually going.”
Did he believe she would laugh at that feeble attempt at a jest? “Safe journey,” she said, and even that seemed false.
“I go to report to Cecil, on Ryder’s behalf.”
That was odd. “Why isn’t Ryder going himself?”
Gavin shrugged. “He has much reading to do, a great deal of evidence to sort through. Lady Anne said he might remain here if he needed to, and he decided to do so.”
“He and his wife have a new infant. He told me while we were waiting for you earlier. I find it surprising he would not wish to be at home with his family.”
Another shrug. “Ryder informed me that nothing…that there would be no consequences for your refusal to divulge Mary’s confidences. Thus, you need have no fears about that.”
Isabel smiled weakly at the irony. Ryder, who barely knew her, would accept her decision, but not Gavin, the man whom she had believed loved her. The man she had loved with all her heart. And her body. She walked over to the bedside table and picked up the velvet pouch.
Holding it out toward Gavin, she said, “This rightfully belongs to you. Perhaps you will wish to bestow it upon some other lady in the future.”
Instinctively, he accepted what she offered, before he even realized what it was. Then, “Nay, Isabel, I want you to keep this.”
She stepped back. “I no longer want it.”
He looked crestfallen. “But the jewel is yours. I had it made for you.” When she didn’t answer, he shoved the pouch into his pocket and said, “Will you be here when I return?”
She answered truthfully. “I don’t know where I will be.”
When he took a step toward her, she held up a restraining hand. “No, Gavin.”
He nodded. “God keep you, Isabel.”
And then he was gone.
…
Several days passed in a blur for Isabel. She kept busy helping Lady Anne put away Christmastide decorations, and when that task was completed, she assisted in the stillroom, working under the other woman’s supervision. At odd moments, she wondered where Mary and her entourage were at present. Sheffield? Or had they returned to Tutbury?
Ryder made himself scarce, though he joined them for dinner each evening.
One day while Isabel was reading in the lady’s withdrawing room, a servant told her Ryder wished to speak to her. She found him in the lord’s dayroom, where he sat at a large table, with numerous documents spread out before him.
“Pray, be seated, Mistress Isabel.”
When she was comfortable, he said, “How would you like to return to Tutbury and help with the questioning of Mary? I do not expect her to make any great revelations. If you were the one taking her testimony, it may go easier for her.”
Before refusing outright, Isabel needed to know more. “Indeed, sir, given my feelings on the matter, this seems like an odd request.”
“Perhaps. But the political landscape has changed. Norfolk and Lesley are both imprisoned. Now it is simply a matter of wrapping things up. As I said, I do not expect Mary to confess her part in the plot. Nonetheless, we must have an official accounting from her about the conspiracy.”
Two thoughts occurred to Isabel. What if by undertaking this task, she could somehow prove Mary’s innocence? And the second: what else was there for her? She could not remain at Skipton indefinitely, imposing on Lady Anne’s hospitality. And at present, she had nowhere else to go. At least, nowhere she would be welcome. “I’ll do it,” she blurted out.
Ryder smiled. “Excellent. We’ll leave on the morrow. Lady Anne has offered to give me the use of her carriage.”
Isabel cocked her head at him. “You were that sure I would agree?”
Smiling enigmatically, he said nothing.
Back in her chamber, Isabel wondered what Ryder’s ends really were. It felt as though he was manipulating her. Even so, she was galvanized by the opportunity to have some purpose once again. She summoned Dorcas, and together they packed Isabel’s travel bag.
In the morning, she thanked Lady Anne for her warm welcome and generosity and bade her farewell. Isabel had grown quite fond of the older woman, who had treated her with care, respect, and kindness. Then Ryder helped her into the carriage and they set off for Staffordshire.
Chapter Twenty-Five
A lower echelon official led Gavin through the dark recesses of Whitehall to William Cecil’s office. A good thing—he’d never have found the way on his own. Ushered into a spacious office, Gavin took the opportunity to study the great statesman before he glanced up from the document he was examining. A peaked cap covered part of his high forehead, his beard overlapping a starched ruff. Cecil’s doublet looked to be of the finest velvet, a deep burgundy in color. With an abrupt wave of the hand, Cecil directed Gavin to a chair. He sat, and the other man finally raised his head.
“Forgive me. I did not wish to lose my concentration.” He smiled wryly before going on. “You are Cade?”
Gavin nodded. “Aye. Lately arrived from Skipton. I bring you missives from Nicholas Ryder.”
Cecil reached
out, and Gavin handed them over. After perusing the documents, Cecil sighed and looked at Gavin. “The young lady could not help us learn more about Mary’s involvement in the affair.”
“No.” Gavin remained impassive, not wishing to encourage any questions regarding Isabel.
Cecil went on. “So Ryder is taking Mistress Tait back to Tutbury with him to interrogate Mary? He thinks perhaps the queen will be more cooperative with someone she trusts. Do you agree?”
Gavin’s jaw dropped. What?
He must have misunderstood. Rather than answering, he stared at the older man.
“Well?” Cecil finally said.
Feeling like a fool, Gavin pondered how to respond to something he’d had no prior knowledge of. He thought it best to be truthful. “Ryder told me nothing of this. He may be right. Mary is to be returned to Tutbury?”
“Aye. They should be there by now. The whole lot of them. Mary, Shrewsbury and his wife, and the queen’s attendants. I must remind Ryder to be on the alert. Someone from within Mary’s circle was working closely with Lesley and may still pose a threat. But I’ll warrant you already knew that.”
Gavin felt as if he’d been hit with a cast-iron cannon ball. Of course he knew it, but the events of the past several weeks had taken center stage. The attempt on his life. Simon’s murder. Isabel’s fall, and their escape. He’d been so consumed with Lesley as the chief villain, he’d given no more thought to who was aiding him. If given a choice, however, Gavin would prefer not to appear the fool before Cecil.
“After the attack by the river, I assumed as much. Somebody had to have given the word on where we would be that day. Shrewsbury and I believe the entire event was staged as a cover for Norfolk’s visit. We questioned every member of Mary’s circle, with no success.” He paused, considering. “Has Lesley revealed the identity of the informant?”
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