Chapter 26 #2
Getting to Sir Thomas’s was much less taxing than it had been the first time.
They managed to get Sir Richard inside the gate, then he carried him over to the stables.
They had approximately thirty seconds to change out of their gear, stuff it in rucksacks and be back in Elizabethan clothing before Derrick heard voices.
Peter was not exactly dressed for company under his cloak, but perhaps no one would notice.
“Hope you have a good story,” Oliver said grimly.
“Thinking of one right now,” Derrick promised him, then he took a deep breath before he staggered out of the stall and into the courtyard.
He leaned over with his hands on his thighs and pretended to suck in hearty breaths.
Honestly, at the moment, that wasn’t much of a stretch.
Mary and Thomas came to a skidding halt in front of him.
Mary should have been in the theater, that was all he could say about it. She had apparently dragged Sir Thomas out of bed because she’d been sure she’d heard a great commotion in the courtyard.
“Oh,” she said, putting her hand over her heart, “what have we here? Lord Derrick, and looking very out of breath indeed! What fresh hell has befallen us, good sir?”
Derrick heaved himself upright and looked at Sir Thomas. “A miracle.”
Thomas was apparently not much of a morning person. Then again, considering the lateness of the party the night before, the poor man was running on probably three hours’ sleep.
“A miracle?” he echoed, rubbing his eyes.
“Come and see,” Derrick said, gesturing toward the stables.
He let Mary lead the way and tagged along behind to keep Sir Thomas from escaping. Mary stopped at the open stall and looked inside, then gasped.
“’Tis Sir Richard Drummond!”
Thomas goggled. Derrick had never seen anyone do it with quite such commitment before. The man grasped for the door of the stall and continued to gape at the man lying there in the hay.
“But . . . how is this possible?”
“How is less important than why,” Mary said. “You must obviously see to this man’s needs.”
“But he’s a thief,” Thomas protested. “He was just in the Tower yesterday—”
“Shall you ruin the life of the greatest actor of all time?” Mary asked sternly.
“That’d be Burbage,” Sir Thomas said, looking slightly green.
“And this man has you to thank for everything he has,” Mary said firmly. “You must render aid.”
Derrick found himself the recipient of Sir Thomas’s interest. The man was looking at him as if he were directly responsible for his distress. Which he supposed he was.
“He was in the Tower,” Sir Thomas said in a low voice. “How did he come to be in your care?”
Derrick tried to look appropriately stunned. “My lads and I were off for a pleasant stroll,” he said, “when we suddenly found ourselves near the Tower.”
“You were lost, of course,” Mauntell said.
“But of course,” Derrick said smoothly. “And then, a miracle! This man fell into our arms, as if from heaven. Obviously, there are strange and mysterious forces at work here. Supernatural forces, no doubt.”
“No doubt,” Sir Thomas said weakly.
“We carried him here, of course, because what else would a gentleman do?”
“What indeed?”
“Imagine our surprise when we realized whom we had in our care.”
“I’m imagining,” Mauntell said. He took a deep breath, then nodded. “He’ll need proper care. Can your men carry him inside? The servants won’t be awake yet. We’ll nurse him back to health.”
“Ah, but look at him, Thomas,” Mary said gravely. “He looks as if they haven’t fed him in a fortnight.”
Derrick had a different opinion on Sir Richard’s meal schedule, but he supposed the current moment wasn’t the one in which to voice it.
He volunteered to carry Sir Richard inside not because he particularly wanted to but because he particularly wanted Oliver and Peter to make sure no one had dropped anything in their haste to change clothes.
Well, that and he thought Peter might want to get dressed.
He heaved Richard over his shoulder, exchanged a look with his lads, then turned and carried the man out of the stables and across the courtyard.
Getting him upstairs to a bedroom was a bit of a trick, but he managed it. He flopped him onto the bed, then stood back, his chest heaving. No more gym time that week, that was for certain. He turned and found his arms full of, well, wife.
Odd how lovely that sounded.
She hugged him quickly, then stepped back. He was the recipient of a look from Sir Thomas he couldn’t quite identify, but he imagined it had to do with how fortunate he was to have such a woman.
He stood to the side with Samantha as Sir Thomas and Mary had a look at the patient.
“He’s had quite a blow to the head,” Mary said with a frown.
“Shall I call for a surgeon?”
“Only if you intend to cut off his head, but then where would that leave you?” Mary said with a smile. “What he needs is rest. Probably several days here in one of your most lovely chambers, being waited on constantly by your prettiest maidservant.”
Thomas blew out his breath. “He’s insufferable.”
“But continually nipping at Burbage’s heels,” Mary pointed out. “And insufferable as he might be, he acknowledges your patronage every chance he has.”
“That’s because I keep paying off his bloody gambling debts,” Thomas said, then he clamped his lips shut. “My apologies, Lady Mary.”
She waved aside his words. “Not to worry, my friend. You are too kind to him, but that is known generally as well. There is the problem of this coming afternoon, though.”
Thomas looked at her in alarm. “What is to be done?”
“Something,” Mary said firmly. “His career will be over if he doesn’t appear on stage.”
“But he’s been in the Tower—”
“On false charges,” Mary finished for him. “Come, Thomas, and be reasonable. You know he hasn’t the wit or the stomach to steal Cooke’s treasure. He has ample for his needs, especially since his greatest need is the adulation of his audience.”
“There is that,” Thomas agreed slowly.
“Do you truly believe he would trade that for a paltry handful of gems?” She laughed softly.
“No, my friend, you know him too well for that. He was delivered into your hands by a power we likely couldn’t begin to understand and surely shouldn’t question.
Take the gift, nurse him to health, and be prepared to be showered with purchases of your goods by grateful lovers of his work. ”
“That still doesn’t solve the problem of this afternoon.”
Derrick cleared his throat. “What’s this afternoon?”
They turned and looked at him as one. Mary tilted her head to the side and considered. Thomas stroked his chin, then looked at her.
“There’s a resemblance,” he noted.
“They could be brothers,” Mary agreed.
“Indistinguishable, truly.”
Derrick felt his mouth fall open. “What,” he managed, “are you suggesting?”
“Hamlet,” Mary said crisply. “Sir Richard is starring, but he obviously won’t be there today. You must, Lord Derrick, take his place and save his reputation.”
“But . . . but . . .”
The other two simply watched him in silence.
Something rushed through him. He wasn’t quite sure if it was terror or adrenaline.
To play Hamlet at the Globe?
Mary waved him away. “Go clear your head, good sir,” she said, shooting him a look that brooked no disagreement. “I’ll arrange the rest. Sir Thomas, if I might ask a favor of you. There is someone I think needs to be sent for as quickly as possible.”
Derrick felt himself being pulled from the room and realized it was Samantha doing the pulling.
She continued to pull until she’d gotten him outside in the courtyard.
To his surprise, the sky was lightening, though he certainly couldn’t remember that much time having passed. He looked at her in surprise.
“Am I in shock?”
“Probably.” She took his hand she’d been holding and kept it in both her own. “How are you?”
He dragged his free hand through his hair. “I’m not sure.”
“Really?”
He looked at her helplessly. “Common sense dictates that we pack up and leave immediately, whilst there’s still time and the cover of darkness. Or what’s left of the darkness.”
“But?”
“But if we go and your ancestor doesn’t perform, who knows what repercussions there might be?”
She blinked, then she laughed softly. “Someone wants to tread some boards, methinks.”
He pursed his lips. “You are a cynic.”
She put her arms around him, then smiled up at him. “I don’t think you have any choice,” she said. “Like Granny said, his career will be ruined if he’s not on stage this afternoon. By the way, how did it go in the Tower?”
“Too easy,” he admitted. “But we found Francis Cooke waiting for us in Sir Richard’s cell. He knows about the time gate and was the one to slip the gems in your bag.”
“Where is he now?”
“Tied up with a note pinned to his shirt.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Really? What if he blabs?”
Derrick took a deep breath. “He knows my name, but hopefully there’s not another Derrick Cameron lingering in London at present. As for anything else?” He shrugged. “No one will believe him. They’ll probably lock him up in Bedlam.”
“Do they have it now?”
“I imagine Francis will find out. He might find out other things when it’s discovered that he was stealing from his father.”
She nodded, then rested her head against his shoulder. “It’s very pretty out here this time of the morning.”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
She sighed and tightened her arms around him. “You going to be okay?”
“Do you really want the answer?”
She lifted her head to look at him, then froze. “Company at twelve o’clock.”
He looked over toward the house, then pulled Samantha behind him. He supposed that was overkill, but it had been that sort of day so far already.
Sir Thomas stopped a handful of paces away, Lord Walter Cooke in tow. Thomas cleared his throat.
“Lady Mary asked me to send for him,” Thomas said.
“And I came quickly,” Lord Walter said, looking as if he didn’t dare hope for anything. “Do you have tidings?”