Chapter Fifteen #2
Her face darkened, and Dominic caught a glimpse of the hard, obsessive woman behind the practiced mask. She stood in one disdainful movement. “William will never harm me based solely on one man’s opinion. Not when evidence exists against the true culprits.”
“If you know of evidence, and you do not disclose it, you’ll be arrested as an accessory.”
She appeared to consider his words, then shrugged.
“To prove that I don’t hold a grudge, I’ll tell you this.
Did you know that yesterday afternoon Minuette had a private conversation with Lord Robert Dudley?
He sent me to fetch her to him and told me to make certain she was not followed.
Ask yourself why Robert Dudley would want her away from her rooms at that moment.
Very convenient timing for the poisoner.
And before you jump at the fact that I was the one to convey the message, and thus undoubtedly knew of the arrangement, remember whose son Robert Dudley is.
With one son in prison, the Duke of Northumberland is desperate to regain influence with the king.
He doesn’t want William wedding a French princess, but still less does he want the king tying himself to a silly girl of uncertain religious temperament.
And Black Jack Dudley has a history of getting what he wants. ”
25 August 1555
Hatfield
I have been asked over and over what I remember of the day I was poisoned. But only Dominic has asked me what I remember of the night itself.
I remember the paralyzing numbness that spread from my throat down my body.
I remember the terror of believing each breath might be my last. I remember my vision fading to a yellow-green haze.
I remember Carrie’s fierce face, determined to pull me through by sheer force of will; Elizabeth, calm and reassuring despite the tightness of her lips.
I remember wanting Dominic, and panicking because he was not there. I don’t ever want to feel that again.
5 September 1555
Hatfield
I lost my temper with Elizabeth today. She has been nothing but sweet and solicitous and I could not bear it a moment longer.
I’m not a child, I reminded her. I know what’s going on.
Someone—likely Eleanor Percy—wants me removed.
Permanently. I’ll agree not to make it easy for her, to leave court and allow William and Dominic to gather their evidence, to keep out of harm’s way until the threat is removed …
but I will do those things because they are logical, not because I am ordered to.
And if I am acting on logic, then I must admit that the poisoner may not be Eleanor after all. It may not be jealousy that prompted the attempt on my life, but fear. Because, whatever men might think, I am more than just a pretty face that a king desires.
I am Alyce de Clare’s friend, the only one who still wants to know who used her and discarded her when she was no longer convenient.
Perhaps I am drawing near to my answer—an answer someone would kill to keep.
When we left court for Hatfield, I gave Dominic the silver casket with Alyce’s concealed notes about her love affair. I also told him of my stepfather’s insinuations and the problem of a father and son being one another’s alibis for the period in which Alyce fell pregnant.
I have not told Elizabeth any of it, because of where the threads are leading me. Because of whom I may be closing in on. I have not forgotten that my pendant was left out on my dressing table during my private meeting with Robert Dudley.
If it is Northumberland who set up Norfolk last year, who arranged the charade of treason to bring down the Catholic powers, then Elizabeth is the last person I can tell.
Especially since we leave tomorrow for Dudley Castle.
Clearly, Elizabeth’s primary concerns on this journey were speed and stealth.
Minuette had to persuade her friend that she was capable of riding thirty miles a day in order not to be left behind.
There was no way she was letting Elizabeth go to Northumberland’s home without her, and so she didn’t blanch when she realized that they would travel in a small group of mounted knights and the two women only.
No maids, no carts except one to come along as fast as it could, and packhorses to carry the finery the women would need until the cart caught up to them.
This isn’t right, Minuette thought anxiously as they left Hatfield before dawn.
Clearly Elizabeth meant to get them to Dudley Castle before William could find out and intervene.
She had given orders to her household that, in her absence, no one was to leave Hatfield.
Minuette had expected as much, and she glanced ruefully at Carrie as they left.
She had told her maid to try to get word to Dominic at court, but the chances didn’t look good.
She didn’t even have Fidelis to keep her company; the wolfhound was still at Wynfield Mote.
But she said nothing, not even when her strength began to flag late on the second day.
She had thought herself recovered from the effects of the poison, but clearly she had been more weakened than she knew.
She gritted her teeth and rode on. At their pace, they would reach Northumberland’s home sometime on the fourth day.
On the morning of day four they left the small inn where Minuette and Elizabeth had shared a room (the innkeepers had been shocked nearly senseless at the appearance of two women dressed as they were, even though Elizabeth had instructed the men to call her only “milady”), and had ridden just two miles when a party of horsemen appeared coming toward them.
Minuette recognized the green and gold colours of Northumberland’s badge, and Elizabeth said softly, “Robert.”
Sure enough, Robert led the horsemen, looking as smoothly elegant as ever as he swung off his mount and knelt in the road at the side of Elizabeth’s horse. “Your Highness. Our family could have no greater honour than your presence in our home.”
“Then best lead the way, Lord Robert,” Elizabeth replied tartly, “so that I might reach your home. It has been a dusty journey.”
He grinned and swung back onto his horse. Minuette rode behind them, watching thoughtfully the two heads—bright and dark—close together as they laughed and teased and entertained each other.
She had never so hoped that she was wrong in her suspicions.
It was early afternoon when Dudley Castle came into view. The twelfth-century keep towered high on an ancient earthen motte, surveying the lush countryside around it. As they approached the perimeter wall near the base of the hill, they passed a succession of deserted buildings.
“St. James Priory,” one of the Dudley guards answered, when she asked about it. “Clunaic monks until the late king brought down their wickedness.” He spat in satisfaction.
She must remember that she was in the heart of Protestant country here—it made her nearly as uncomfortable as when she’d been in Lady Mary’s Catholic household last year. Fanaticism of all kinds unnerved her.
The moat had been filled in, and they rode up to an intriguing triple-arch entry.
She heard Robert describing it to Elizabeth as her horse drew nearer.
“The Triple Gate,” he said. “The Suttons added the extra gatehouse two hundred years ago. About the same time as the chapel and undercroft. But don’t worry, we live much more modern.
Wait until you see the work my father had done ten years ago.
He brought in Sharrington to construct an entire wing of domestic quarters. You’ll be quite comfortable.”
The guards fell back as Robert, Elizabeth, and Minuette rode through the Triple Gate and passed into the open space atop the motte.
The high earthwork mound on which Dudley Castle stood was flat at the top and quite spacious.
She studied the Sharrington range—it really was beautiful, all pale stone and pointed rooflines and narrow windows—while Robert helped Elizabeth dismount.
Then he was at Minuette’s horse, and she let him help her down.
She stumbled, her body all at once feeling the fatigue of this rapid journey.
“Are you all right, Mistress Wyatt?” Robert asked.
She responded with the same distant politeness. “Perfectly all right.”
His eyes narrowed and she thought he might press her, but then Elizabeth said sharply, “Robert? Why is there a royal messenger here?”
He swung round and both he and Minuette caught sight of the royal colours on another horse. She blinked. Had William really caught his sister this fast?
“Out of sight,” Robert whispered, and whisked both women into the nearest doorway, which was at the base of the old keep. “Stay here, and I’ll see what’s going on.”
This is ridiculous, Minuette thought, and opened her mouth to say so. Elizabeth did not lurk in secret. She was a princess of England and she was not afraid of her brother.
But Elizabeth held her hand up in warning and Minuette subsided. She might be here to protect Elizabeth from her worst instincts, but Minuette was still in her service.
Robert returned in minutes. “The rider has gone,” he reported, “and it had nothing to do with you.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked. Robert’s face had changed, the mischief subdued beneath worry.
“He brought word that Margaret Clifford has been safely delivered of a son.”
Minuette drew in breath. Oh dear. William must be angry.
But Robert had further news. “Guildford and Margaret’s marriage has been annulled. And my brother has been charged with treason.”
For a second Minuette hoped that Elizabeth would see reason and leave at once.
How could she stay when her brother was going to try Robert’s brother for treason?
But Robert anticipated her. “Please, Elizabeth, we need you now more than ever. It may not be the most festive reception, but please stay.”