Maid of Deception (42 page)

“But he allowed himself to be betrothed to you,” Anna protested. “Surely that is not the action of an idle flatterer!”

I sighed. They were right, and Alasdair had not been to blame here—I was. I owed them the explanation I could never share with him. “I pushed him too far,” I said hollowly. I could hear the sorrow in my own voice, but I continued. “I told him we did not suit. I told him I didn’t want to be his bride. I told him to go home, and that I—that I loved—” I broke off, the words turning to dust in my throat. I couldn’t, wouldn’t say it. Not ever again.

Jane filled in the words for me. “Lord Cavanaugh,” she said flatly. “You wanted Alasdair to break ties with you, before that filthy dog claimed you as his own.”

“Oh, Beatrice!” gasped Anna. “You lied to him!”

“I had to!” I burst out, and I angrily dashed my hands across my face, willing the hot, hated tears to stop falling. “Cavanaugh was going to ruin me, publicly and with great fervor. And Alasdair—” I drew in a ragged breath, my heart pounding in my ears. “Alasdair is a good man. He is strong and sturdy and so, so proud. He would have given me everything without a second thought! I couldn’t let— I wouldn’t— He did not deserve someone so low as me!”

That startled them all to silence, and I turned abruptly, my shoulders bowed, even as I watched my own tears drop onto my bed in a widening pool. No one spoke for a long moment. But, then, there was nothing to say. With wooden movements I began to take down the coverlets of my pallet, to prepare myself for sleep. I was surprised when I heard Sophia’s soft voice in the gloom.

“Would you like . . . Would you like me to see your future, Beatrice?” she asked, the words tentative and shy.

I closed my eyes against a fresh spate of tears. “Sophia, you have already done so much,” I said, shaking my head. “I have decided after all that I do not like knowing what’s going to happen to me. It’s hard enough living through it the one time.”

Sophia bit her lip and nodded. “I understand,” she said. “Of course I understand.”

“Well, I have no such concerns,” Anna piped up. “Sophia, if you’re looking for someone to try your gift on, I am more than happy to serve!”

And just like that, my pain lightened. I turned, eyes wide, as laughter rolled through the chamber and Anna fairly rushed to Sophia’s pallet, bouncing like a girl at her first country dance. But as Sophia picked up the obsidian stone, she gasped out a startled “Oh!” Even in the shadows I could feel the fear wash off her.

“What is it?” Anna asked, her body going rigid.

“Anna, you must have a care,” Sophia said, her voice strangely sibilant. “Do not go again to Mortlake and the library of my supposed uncle. You will be discovered—you could be killed for what you know!”

“No!” Anna breathed, then laughed nervously to cover her own shocked response. “Oh, pish, Sophia. Surely a few moldy books can’t hold such power as that.”

Sophia did not seem convinced. “I mean it, Anna. There is something very dark in that library. I cannot quite see what it is.”

“Then I will be very careful, and bring a strong torch,” Anna said staunchly. “I’m telling you, the world of letters and science is a civilized one. There certainly is no danger in a library. I’ve practically lived in them my whole life.” She patted Sophia’s hands, looking into the younger girl’s eyes. “Truly, Sophia,” she said. “Nothing and no one will keep me from learning. You must see the right of that.”

Sophia finally smiled, though it looked like the effort cost her. “Just be careful, Anna.”

“I am never anything but—to Beatrice’s everlasting dismay, I daresay.” There was laughter then, and more joking, and the spell of the obsidian stone was broken. We all turned back to our beds and made ready for a few hours’ rest. I found myself watching Sophia, though, well into the night.

She didn’t sleep, and neither did I.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

The next few days went quickly enough, filled with the usual round of errands and studies and tasks for the Queen. Walsingham and Cecil caught me just this afternoon and sent me on a task of some interest, bidding me to take Jane and Sophia into the town of Windsor. This was unusual in that Jane’s skills did not marry up well with mine. She was polished enough when she had to be, but the farther she found herself outside castle walls, the more she got a wild and distant look in her eye, like an animal who could scent its own freedom in the distance. I had to assume she was there just to make sure we didn’t get murdered on our way into town, but I didn’t begrudge her the assignment. She needed the escape as much as any of us.

Sophia’s role was easier to discern. We were going to the herb mistress that Lady Catherine Meredith Anne Marie had consulted to give her a truth tonic for the unfortunate Niall Garrett. Niall was now hip-deep in marriage contracts with the love-struck Catherine and was quite unsure as to how he’d gotten himself into such a pickle. But the herb mistress
was of far more interest to us. Styling herself as “Mistress Maude,” she lived somewhere in the countryside but came to town during market day to sell her wares from a gaudy stall. She did not come up to the Lower Ward celebrations; so it was off to Windsor for us.

Sophia was quiet as usual, but Jane strode forward eagerly in her walking gown, exhaling a huge sigh of relief the moment we cleared the walls of the castle. “It’s a good day to be out,” she said, and I smiled to see her happy. I didn’t often see Jane openly enjoying anything that didn’t involve her roughing up some unfortunate guard. It made for a nice change.

I looked around the bustle of the small town, which was bristling now with country folk for market day. The houses and buildings were all hunched together over the cobbled streets, and we hadn’t had a decent rain in days, so the entire place was dusty rather than muddy—a small favor to us.

We reached the marketplace and paused a moment, taking in the sight. It was three times as large as the collection of stalls in the Lower Ward, and the prices, we could see immediately, were much lower—targeted to the commoner, not the courtier. Jane immediately bought and thrust a meat pie at Sophia, commanding her to eat, and even I tarried at the ribbon stall. On a lark, I purchased a small clutch of the brightly colored strands. Perhaps I would weave them together, as a reminder to take pleasure in the small joys in life.

“What ho! Fine ladies out to take their air? What a surprise is this!” We turned to the familiar voice, but with Sophia’s fingers full of meat pie and me with my handful of ribbons, it was left to Jane to greet Troupe Master James
McDonald properly. She bowed slightly, and I saw his gaze go to her collar, saw the glint of gold along the column of her neck. An unexpected rush of pleasure skittered through me at the sight. Though it was tucked away, almost out of sight, Jane was wearing the locket James had gifted her!

As if to put truth to my words, a sharp blush rose along Jane’s cheekbones, and I watched in utter fascination. True enough, James had paid undue attention to Jane when they’d met as part of the Golden Rose’s last command performance before the Queen. But was there truly to be something between the two of them? And would there be scars before it played out?

“Master James,” Jane said, her voice overloud. She made to draw away, then seemed baffled as he caught up her hand and placed a courtly kiss on what had to be fingers roughened by punching and brawling and knife throwing.

“Jane Morgan.” He smiled, and his eyes were lit with an intensity of their own. I continued to watch the exchange with keen interest, noting that Sophia appeared unusually focused on her pie.

“Ah! This is great timing,” I said brightly, ignoring the sudden unhappy mew of my own heart as their gazes met and held, before James finally turned to me. “You’ve received my message about the play for the Queen? I apologize for giving you so little notice.”

“I have, and it is no trouble at all,” he said amiably, letting go of Jane’s hand after another squeeze. Jane, for her part, snatched her fingers back as if she’d been burned. “I may have just the thing to serve the Queen’s needs,” James
continued, “and present the Golden Rose to great effect. Still a bit of planning to do, but rest assured,
The Play of Secrets
will be a theatrical event unlike any other Gloriana has ever seen.”

The Play of Secrets?
Oh, the Queen would like that. “Excellent,” I said. “We have much to discuss, then. But today Sophia and I have a purchase to make, and Jane has already expressed her extreme boredom with the proceedings. Could you possibly entertain her for just a few moments? I promise you, we will not be long.”

James’s sudden grin and Jane’s wide eyes pleased me more than they should have. In truth, though, this subterfuge served two purposes. One, it would tie up Jane for long enough to allow Sophia and me to meet the herb mistress, who might take exception to being descended upon by three women of the court. Two, it would tie up James, who appeared to have nothing much else to do and would likely have invited himself along on our journey. Jane’s startled, unhappy glance tweaked my conscience, but James made the decision for all of us.

“I would be delighted.” He folded Jane’s hand into his arm, the movement clearly awkward for her. She looked puzzled, and James patted her hand as if she were a startled colt. “I promise to return her unharmed.”

“I canna say the same for him,” Jane muttered, but they were already turning away, and Sophia was looking around for a place to discard the rest of her pie. She tossed it to a roaming dog, and we hurried on, eager to complete our mission.

“I don’t know that I trust Master James,” Sophia said as we turned the corner to the second line of stalls. Mistress Maude’s wagon was exactly where Lady Catherine had told us it would be, and the plump woman herself stood in front of it, laughing at some great joke she shared with the stall master to her left.

“We don’t need to trust him,” I said. “We just need him to occupy Jane for a bit.”

“That, we should have no fear of.” She sighed, but I didn’t have time for her gloomy portents. We approached Mistress Maude and made a great show of looking at her wares. For this playacting, I was to be the love-struck girl, and I wished again that I had Meg’s acting skills.

“How can I serve two such sweet young women, eh?” Maude said, sizing us up for paying customers immediately. “You there, I bet it’s a love potion what might catch your interest? Or perhaps some pretty perfume?”

“Well, love is all to the good, but I would rather know the truth of my lover’s thoughts.” I giggled, and Sophia rounded her eyes at me. I don’t think the girl had ever seen me attempt to giggle. “Though, in truth, I know you cannot ensure its success.”

“What ho, you say?” Maude made a show of looking around as if to verify our secrecy. “I tell you plain, dear. What Maude gives you will work, for the good of all concerned. It’s just a bunch of herbs mixed with love, nothing dangerous about it. And truth tonics, well, they are my specialty. Though I am sad to say, I’ve none of that particular brew here.”

“Oh, how disappointing.” From what I could see, in fact, Maude’s wares included nothing more dastardly than “sweetheart tea” and “headache brew,” and I suspected each was as weak as a baby’s cry. But this truth tonic seemed promising. “Perhaps you have a shop in town?” I asked, reaching for my money pouch.

“Och, no, dear,” Maude said, her eyes never leaving the pouch. “I brew my herbs at home and prepare them for sale, and take care of my husband and his mum besides. ’Tis a full day’s work, I will tell you that.”

More subterfuge, but a good covering story. Women labeled as witches were generally loners, without family, and certainly without mothers-in-law. Maude was being very careful. I drew out a few coins. “Then I guess the love tea will have to do,” I said regretfully.

“I tell you what,” Maude said, picking up the bottle and hefting its weight. “Come back to me the morrow after the next new moon, and I will have what you need. The price is steep, but in exchange I will give this to you free. As a promise.”

“Free!” I rounded my eyes and took the bottle. “But I couldn’t possibly!”

“Free,” Maude said. “An’ with five shillings when you return, I’ll give you a truth tonic like none other. Mark my words, because Maude never lies.”

Well, five shillings for any sort of “tonic” was highway robbery, but I nodded anyway and thanked her over and again, and shortly after I was the proud owner of a stoppered bottle of “love tea.”

“It smells like wet chickens,” I observed of the tea after we’d walked some distance from Maude’s cart. “Could you see anything about her while we were there?”

“I could,” Sophia said, glancing up to me and smiling in delighted surprise. I noticed that she held her hands tightly closed now around the lovely obsidian stone. “She’s a murderess!”

I forestalled my shocked reaction as Jane and James swung into view, the former looking rather desperate. “Beatrice!” she shouted, and hauled James over to us. “Your shopping is complete? You know the Queen is expecting us back.”

I gave a labored sigh. “I suppose,” I said. “If we must go, we must.”