Betrayal (17 page)

             
“Always the right?”

             
“Yes.”

             
“Sleep on the left tonight.”

             
“On the left?” Lydia asked skeptically.

             
“Don’t ask, just do,” came the woman’s biting reply.  “You will be at this number tomorrow. Yes?”

             
Lydia felt this was less a question than a command and mumbled, “Yes.”

             
“Good, I call you.”

             
Before Lydia could speak the line went dead. Placing the receiver in its cradle Lydia shook her head, then picking up her pencil she began to work on the account book again.

             
Marjorie knocked lightly on the door and entered Lydia’s small office. “Excuse me, Lydia, but Dr. Stokes is still waiting.”

TWELVE

AUTUMN 1529

             
Elisabeth crossed to the Manor’s chapel. Entering the small room her eyes were drawn to a faded painting of the Virgin with Saint Anne over the altar. Genuflecting before the small stone altar she slid onto a bench behind the ladies Anne and Jane. Lady Anne turned to her.

             
“There are whispers of gypsies about, find out if they are true.”

             
Elisabeth smiled for she too had heard the rumors and indeed had sought out one of Lady Elinor’s maids for details.

             
“Aye, my lady, they say a woman of great age and wisdom leads them. Their camp lies beyond the forest in a grassy meadow. The scullery maid, Maude, says they come each year at harvest time.”  Elisabeth fell silent. Neither of the ladies spoke and Elisabeth held her peace. In the silence Elisabeth felt the peaceful ambience of the chapel slip away and she was anxious to leave. Finally, unable to contain her growing restlessness Elisabeth mumbled an apology and slipped quietly from the chapel.

             
She moved quickly through the Great Hall to the buttery screen. Elisabeth stopped abruptly at the sound of voices.

             
“No. It is not wise.  She must not come to the Manor whilst our unexpected guests remain.” The voice paused for effect.  “Better if they move on for a few days. Surely our guests will tire quickly of our humble abode. The Lady Rochford, for one appears most anxious to leave.”

             
“Of course, you are right, but I long to speak with my dear friend. I have need of her advice.”

             
“It would appear that in the Lady Anne your deliverer has been found. ‘Tis said she is the King’s favorite and may yet seat the throne for he plots to have the Queen put aside. He dotes upon the Lady Anne’s every whim. Surely a whisper at the right time from her lips and the young Master is restored to lands, wealth and perhaps a rich wife. Think of it, Elinor, a swift and complete return to the King’s Grace and all because his whore sheltered here for a few nights.”

             
Elisabeth flamed at the abhorrent description of her most chaste lady. She argued silently to crash in upon such traitorous slander, yet she held her peace biting her tongue to keep silent.

             
“Lottie, hold your tongue. You will not speak so against a guest in this house. Silence! I must think. Fetch me a cup of warmed mead. You have given me much to think about. I wish to be alone.”

             
“As you wish, my lady. Pardon my tongue, I spoke unbidden yet I seek only your welfare. I am a bit forward with my comments sometimes, I fear.”

             
“Indeed you are.  Now fetch my drink and my shawl too for I feel a chill.”

             
“Yes, my lady.”

             
Elisabeth stepped back from the carved oak screen. She spun around at the sound of her name.

             
“Elisabeth, the lady Anne requires you to attend her.”

             
Elisabeth dipped a deep bow to Lady Rochford. “Well, hurry girl. My sister awaits you in her chamber.”

             
Elisabeth reddened as she stumbled out of her curtsey. “Yes, Madam,” she mumbled as she brushed past the shrew-faced older woman. She raced up the broad stone steps anxious to escape Rochford’s hard stare.

             
“It is a wonder; my sweet lady’s brother, such a handsome and gay courtier, would choose such a shrew for a wife,” Elisabeth mumbled as she hiked her skirts higher on the stair.

             
She found the door to the Lady Anne’s chamber open and, catching sight of the lady gazing out the oriel window, Elisabeth paused. The fading afternoon sun cast an eerie glow upon Anne’s upturned face. Elisabeth gasped, as Anne’s head appeared to separate from her shoulders.

             
Elisabeth shook her head to clear the vision, quickly making a sign to ward off evil as she entered the room. Stumbling over the threshold and falling flat on the sweetly scented rushes, she broke the spell of the late afternoon moment.

             
“You wanted me, my lady,” Elisabeth sputtered as she regained her feet.

“Yes, Elisabeth, I want you to dress my hair,” Anne said as she swept her skirts in a tight circle before sitting at the dressing table near the window. “Now, tell me your news and leave nothing out.”  Anne smiled as Elisabeth began to brush her long raven hair.

              Anne caught Elisabeth’s hesitation when she looked into the polished copper mirror. “Why so sad, Elisabeth? Surely a household such as this is rife with rumor. Tell me what you have learned of the Mistress and her son.”

             
“The servants are most loyal to their Mistress, but as is also true, like those in most houses, they like to talk.  But surely you would rather speak of the Court and His Grace.”

             
“No, Elisabeth. There is much sadness here and I would know the cause of it. Tell me that which you have heard.”

             
“Yes m’lady. The Lady Elinor is widow to Lord Colys Kenyrk, an accused supporter of King Richard. ” Elisabeth crossed herself and continued, “He was executed on the King’s most honorable Father’s command, though the charge was never proved. He was convicted on the evidence of a groom dismissed from service here. The Lady Elinor was heavy with child and was kept from her lord’s defense by illness. It appears, there were none to speak for him, for all feared for their own safety. Lord Kenyrk died a broken man in 1503 just weeks before his son’s birth. Her ladyship was left a widow at twenty-two. Lord Kenyrk was fifty at the time of his death. His lady was allowed to retain the manor with a small staff but all the lands were forfeited to the Crown and sold. Now, twenty-six, the young Colys Kenyrk is a rake; one without a future and little desire to rise above the taverns of London. The Lady Elinor bravely manages what little she has, in hopes he will return someday to take up administration of his small estate. The staff fears she labors in vain.”

“I know all this for the Lady has told me as much. What else have you learned? What of the lady’s son; has he a prospect for a wife?”

“Master Colys, the younger, for as such is he known, has no prospect of one, nor is he likely to get one. He haunts the stews of Southwark and comes to his home not at all, lest he have need of money. It is said the lady weeps each evening for him and prays for his redemption each morning.”

“What news of the gypsies?”

“Little, I am afraid. I fear the Lady Elinor holds them back lest they offend your ladyship. She favors the old woman of the gypsy camp, one Anya Marya Karoyan.”

“A foreign sounding name.”

“Aye, my lady, no English tinkers these, though of long residence in these isles, so it is said.”

“Who says so?”

“The servants, Madam, it would appear that the Romany frequent Sutton Forest and find this Manor welcoming. The Anya, that means Mother in their language, has three sons; two are married, one daughter and several grandchildren. They travel the countryside in three wagons wandering from place to place. The Anya is a most powerful sorceress or so I have heard.”

“I would meet this wonder.”

“That, you will not!” Elisabeth and Anne turned to find Lady Rochford standing in the doorway. “Are you a fool? Already they say you have bewitched the King, would you now prove them right by consorting with gypsies?  Have a care sister; your place is not yet secure.”  Jane stood with her hands clenched tight before her, nails biting deeply into the soft flesh of her hands, her face contorted with anger. “Leave us, Elisabeth!”

Elisabeth dipped an even bow and hurried from the room. As she climbed the stone stairs to her small room she heard raised voices from the chamber below. Only minutes had passed when Elisabeth heard her name shouted from below.

“Elisabeth! Elisabeth! Where are you girl? Elisabeth where are you? Go to the kitchen and get a cup of warmed mead. My sister has a headache,” the Lady Jane said from behind the closed door. “And be careful lest you spill any.”

“Jane, you are most cruel to the girl. She tries her best. She is not trained as a lady’s maid yet she makes every effort to please.”

“I only seek to perfect her skills. Though I fear this sow’s ear will never a silk purse be.”

Elisabeth flushed red with embarrassment and ran down the wide stone stairs. As she crossed the Great Hall to the buttery screen she heard a loud knocking at the manor’s front door.  Seeing no one about, she opened the door herself.

“I would see Lady Elinor,” said the handsome man who stood alone on the porch. “Who are you? I am sure she didn’t mention getting a new maid. Still, you are comely enough to look upon. Tell my aunt I am here.”

             
Elisabeth dipped a confused curtsey. “And who are you, Sir?’

             
“Why, yes, I suppose you wouldn’t know. Not from around here are you? Tell my Aunt that Master Francis Weston has come to call.”

             
“Yes, Sir, right away.”

             
Elisabeth was returning from her errand when she heard her name called. Climbing the stairs to her lady’s chamber, Elisabeth wondered about the young man now being greeted by the lady of the house. ‘Was he truly the lady’s nephew?’ On entering the chamber she found the Lady Jane alone.

             
“The child,” Lady Jane began.

             
“Sarah,” Elisabeth said.

             
“Yes, the child is to be returned to London forthwith.”

             
“Am I to return to York Place with her, my lady?”

             
“You? Why should you return to London? No, she will return in the company of one of Lady Elinor’s servants.”

             
“Why is she being sent away? Has she misbehaved?”

             
“Do you question your better?” Rochford snarled, turning her back on Elisabeth. “The child leaves within the hour.” And then more to herself than to Elisabeth she continued, “Never wanted the brat to come in the first place. Such folly and falderal, a mason’s child is poor company for a future Queen.” The heavy oak door slammed shut inches from Elisabeth’s grief-stricken face.

***

             
Tears traced channels down Elisabeth’s ashen face as she slid to her knees before the chamber door. She hadn’t thought she would be separated from Sarah so soon. She knew the day would come, but not so soon. The King and his Lady were delighted by Sarah’s antics but not so the Lady Jane Rochford. In her Elisabeth had sensed an enemy since their first meeting.  But to be separated from Sarah, how could this be? What reason could there be for such a hurried dismissal?  Elisabeth’s mind raced with memories of Sarah’s last encounter with the ladies Anne and Jane. It had been peaceful enough and rather pleasant, Elisabeth thought. Screwing up the courage to question the Lady Jane, Elisabeth knocked on the heavy oak door. She pushed it open to find the woman standing in the last rays of the day’s dying sun. “Pardon my lady, but may I not know what the child has done to displease you so?”

             
“A man on horseback has arrived. Go and see if he be the Lady Kenyrk’s son.”

             
“But, my lady, what has Sarah done?”

             
“Be still girl. The child is a delight. There is fever in our company and I would not put her at risk,” the Lady Anne said from the shadows. “The gentleman who just arrived, I would know his name.  I have seen him before, of that I am sure. Go, please, Elisabeth, and find out his name.”

             
“I know it, my lady.  He is Master Weston. He comes to call on his lady Aunt.”             

“See if he will dine with us. I would know him better.”

              “He is a favorite of the King’s, Sir Richard Weston’s son, no doubt. Best you keep your distance just now, my sister,” the Lady Jane counseled.

             
“If he be Henry’s favorite then he must become mine as well. Go, Elisabeth, ask the gentleman. And then prepare the child for her travels.”

             
“Yes, my lady,” Elisabeth said quickly, leaving the chamber, pulling the heavy door closed behind her. As she descended the narrow stair to the Manor’s warm kitchen Elisabeth heard muffled shouts of anger from the chamber above. ‘I fear the Lady Rochford is a woman who will not be denied,’ she thought as she came to the kitchen door. Tears stung her eyes. Thoughts of the coming separation tumbled in her mind as she pushed open the heavy door to find the little girl scrubbing vegetables for the evening meal. “There you are, Sarah. Thank Cook for tending you.”

             
“Thank you, Cook,” the child said, exacting a deep curtsey.

             
“No need for thanks, ‘tis a pleasure to share your sweet company. Now, Elisabeth, sit you down and have something warm to chase the chill from your bones,” the corpulent Bessie said as her heavy hand patted a stool before the blazing hearth. “Why are you crying girl? Come now it can’t be as bad as all that. Sit you down and tell me; what is the matter?”