The Fugitive Queen (31 page)

We didn't ford it, but instead, waded our mounts along it farther to the left. After going for some way upstream, with the current foaming round the horses' knees, we left the water on the same side as we had entered it. It had evidently occurred to Mary's rescuers that they might be followed by our scent. I dedicated more of my small store of pebbles to mark the place where we emerged from the water again, and hoped to heaven that Sir Francis's men would make the dogs cast far enough along the bank and in the right direction.

A few more minutes brought us once more over a hump of moorland, and back onto a track that presently forked. We swung to the left. I dropped some more pebbles. I had started the third bag by now. The change of direction gave me a chance to turn my head and look about me in a natural manner, as though simply glancing at the landscape.

I could see quite a long way. There was no mist tonight. The moon was high and clear, whitening the world around us. Dawn could not be far off. I could make out, far away, the thin white scar of the track we had ridden on before we turned off to ride
over the heath, and I could see the long shoulder of moorland that we had now crossed twice. Nothing stirred anywhere. There were no tiny, moving dots in the distance, no friendly glint of moonlight on pikes far away but following. The silvered world was empty of life.

My guardians might still be behind me. They might be out of sight behind the moorland, casting along the river. They might . . .

I do not know quite why I was so sickeningly sure that they were not, but I did know it. I felt as though I were reaching out with my mind, trying to make contact with them, and failing. They were not there. They had lost me. I was on my own, and I was finally about to run out of pebbles.

We were nearing the end of the journey. We had settled into a purposeful canter and I heard someone murmur
Come on now, your stable's not far away,
to his horse. I wondered frantically what I should do when we arrived. Tobias would recognize me as soon as he got a good look at me. So, very likely, would the Grimsdales. In any case, they'd know at once that I wasn't Mary Stuart. If only Knollys's men had been where they should be, which was hard behind me. As things were . . .

It was just barely possible that if I could get out of their sight quickly enough, I might keep up the deception with someone who had never seen either Ursula Stannard or Mary Stuart. I was a woman. Could I use that? If there was a woman to greet us, perhaps I could whisper to her,
Madam, forgive me, but I have such need of the necessary house . . .

She would show me the way and I would be separated at once from my male escort. After that, I must snatch whatever opportunities arose. If I could get back to the horses and seize one . . .

Pen would suffer. But I could not save her now that I had mislaid the men who were to have rescued us both. I had made a complete pig's ear of this. God alone knew what would happen to us now.

I had wanted to retrieve Pen before she had to endure a
honeymoon with Andrew Thwaite. Sir Francis had not understood what it would mean for her. I
must
escape from my escort if I could. Suppose I were to veer off now, immediately, and ride headlong? But even if I did, I thought, falling back into despondency, I had no idea where I was or which way to gallop. I had long since lost my sense of direction. I would find myself hopelessly lost on the moors.

I peered about me, seeking for a helpful landmark. A clump of trees and a rocky outcrop did have a vague familiarity. How far had we come from Tyesdale? We had taken a circuitous route, but I didn't think that as the crow flew, we had traveled a great distance. Looking at the moon, I tried to estimate our direction. Northeast, I thought. I ran feverishly over the position of the main houses in the district. Surely . . .

Oh no. Oh
no,
please,
no.
Because if we were going where I suddenly feared we were going, I would have no chance of pretending to the lady of the house, no chance at all of escape. She would know me at once, just as Tobias would. She . . .

A black and white timbered gatehouse loomed up on our right, appearing as suddenly as if it had been conjured by enchantment. I looked at it in despair, recognizing it instantly. I had been right. Lapwings. Oh, dear God,
Lapwings.
Whose late master, Thomas Holme, had been on Mary Stuart's list of English supporters. His wife must be keeping up the tradition after all.

We were expected and the gate was set wide. We were through it and in the courtyard. An elderly man with a dark gown flapping around his ankles scurried down the steps from the main door to greet us, holding up a flaring torch. Behind him were candlelit windows. Before we had drawn rein, grooms had come to take the bridles and the Holme daughters were coming down the steps as well, also bearing torches.

At least I now knew where I was. I must swing my horse around and charge for the gatehouse. I gathered my reins.

Too late. A groom had my horse's bridle and the gate was being shut behind me. The dark-clad man was extending a hand to help me down. The torchlight showed me gentle blue eyes and a priest's tonsure, gray with years. Helplessly, I dismounted.
He bowed. He took my arm and led me to the house, up the steps and into the vestibule, brightly lit by torches in wall sconces and half a dozen branched candelabra standing about on tables.

And there, awaiting me in the middle of the black-and-white-tiled floor, which I remembered all too well, was the hostess, whom I also remembered all too well.

“Mistress Holme,” said the priest gravely, “may I present Her Majesty, Queen Mary of Scotland.”

“Your Majesty,” said Mistress Adeliza Holme, stepping forward and sinking before me into a deeply respectful curtsy.

From which lowly position, she looked up, no doubt expecting me to offer her my hand to kiss, and looked straight into my face. I saw her mouth drop open.

My escorts were hanging back a little, allowing Mistress Holme to greet me without interference. I made one last effort. Leaning down, I took her hands and raised her and whispered: “If you value your life, keep up the pretense.”

It was no use. She tore her hands away from me. “This isn't Queen Mary! Tobias—Father Robinson—we're betrayed!” It came out in a shriek and I did the only thing remaining that offered me the faintest hope, the faintest chance of rescuing Pen, or the faintest chance even of retaining any dignity myself.

I threw back my hood, tore off my scarf, shook my dark hair loose, looked Mistress Holme in the eyes and declared: “Mary Stuart is still at Tyesdale. I am Ursula Stannard, Lady of Queen Elizabeth's Presence Chamber and the guardian of Mistress Penelope Mason. I have come to fetch her home.”

 • • • 

There was a horrified silence. I was encircled by staring eyes. For the first time I saw my escort clearly. Judging from the soot engrained in their faces, the three I did not know were probably miners. One, the eldest, had a marked resemblance to Grimsdale and I remembered the farmer saying that he had an uncle who was a miner.

The elderly priest—this must be the one who tutored the Holme girls—stepped away from me, his face blanching. The
Holme girls retreated too, in a bunch, as though I had suddenly sprouted horns or plague spots. Tobias seized my elbow, swung me around, and stared into my eyes.
“You!”
he said.
“You!”

Then he hit me. I went reeling and collided with the elder Grimsdale, who grabbed my upper arms, peered into my face in turn, and shouted: “God's teeth, it's true! Saw thee when thee stayed at t'farm not long back! What t'hell's thee about, playing at queens? Where's t'Queen of Scotland? Well?” He shook me. “
Well?”

“She's just told you. Still at Tyesdale,” said Tobias. He sounded as though he was having trouble breathing. “My God, she's probably broken her word and put Knollys on our track! Grimsdale, go to the lookout tower and see if anyone's coming. The moon's still out.”

Grimsdale let go of me and ran for the stairs. Gasping, I leaned against the nearby wall, a hand to my bruised face. “You bitch!” Tobias spat at me. The well-bred, well-mannered secretary had disappeared. His face was twisted, as much, I thought, with fear as anger. “If you're being followed . . .”

“I'm not!” I told him, glumly aware that this was almost certainly true, and wishing with all my heart that Sir Francis and his men were about to burst in on us. “If you'd let me explain . . .”

“Yes, I'd like an explanation! Let's hear what she has to say!” Adeliza was completely terrified. Her kittenish face had gone feral with fear. “We'd better hear! We'd better know what we're dealing with before she gets us all burned as traitors, me and my daughters!”

From the huddled group of girls at the foot of the stairs, there came an outburst of whimpers, which were echoed from above. Glancing up, I saw several servants, male and female, leaning over the upstairs banister. Tobias looked up as well.

“Back to bed, every one of you!” His voice shook, but he was regaining command of himself. “You girls—go upstairs and get into your beds, quickly! If anyone comes here, what they've got to find is a normal household, fast asleep as all good folk should be at this hour. Father Robinson, you are the tutor in this household—take your charges away and try to keep everyone calm.”

The priest hurried up the stairs, shepherding the girls before him. They were sobbing and I heard him trying to reassure them, not very successfully, for his own voice was trembling.

“Queen Mary lost her nerve,” I said loudly. “She has been ill. She has a pain in her side. She couldn't face it.”

I hoped that Tobias didn't understand Mary well enough to realize that whatever her other weaknesses and shortcomings, she was nevertheless capable of facing almost anything that offered a chance of getting out of captivity and back into power.

“But she told me that where she was going, she would find Penelope Mason. She knows about Penelope. I disguised myself and came in Queen Mary's stead in order to find Penelope. I am responsible for her. I have
not,
” I said, determinedly lying, “revealed anything to Knollys.”

“Happen she'd say that any road!” said the eldest miner ominously and both the younger miners said: “Aye, Dad, that's right,” in unison. His sons, I supposed. Grimsdale cousins.

“Sir Francis is at Tyesdale but I have told him
nothing.
” As a good liar should, I tried to make myself believe it. “Tomorrow I will not be there, of course, but my woman will tell him I am sick and confined to my room.”

Grimsdale came thumping down the stairs again. “There's no sign of owt moving. Tha can see for miles in this moonlight. Bit of ground mist drifting about to t'north, but not much of it yet, and Tyesdale's not that way, any road. No one's abroad.”

“Good.” Tobias relaxed fractionally. I drew a long breath and once more said: “Where is Penelope? Queen Mary said . . .”

“Ah well. I had to practice a small deception on Her Majesty to ease her conscience,” Tobias informed me. “Pen, of course, could not be allowed to know that her abduction—yes, I admit that it was that—had anything to do with the Queen of Scotland. If Penelope knows too much, she might later on betray my friends, the Grimsdales and Mistress Holme here. My cousin Whitely and I were going to France with the queen, but the others did not wish to leave their homes. They must not be endangered. Your ward, Mistress Stannard, is not here and never has been. She is in another hiding place, awaiting her marriage
tomorrow to Andrew Thwaite. Father Robinson is to officiate. I have, as it were, hired his services from Mistress Holme—at a good price.”

“At a price?” I didn't understand.

“I have five girls to settle, as you well know!” Adeliza was angry and frightened both at once. “I haven't money enough to dower them all.” Her head came up. “I would have helped Her Majesty of Scotland for nothing, but I was glad to be paid and glad as well to be paid extra for Father Robinson's services. Though he's been frightened of the whole thing from the start and, my God, I think he was right! How do we know for sure you've not been followed?” She glared at me. “Or won't be missed tomorrow? There'll be a search if you are. Oh, why are you all still here?” She looked fearfully around her as though she expected Sir Francis Knollys and his men to materialize out of the wall hangings. “Tobias, go away and take this . . . this person away with you! If anyone comes here, searching, I want them to find nothing to incriminate us, nothing at all!”

“Gently, gently. Look, Mistress Holme, we are all very weary and so are our horses. You have a hiding place, I know, because you said that Her Majesty could use it if necessary . . .”

“It's naught but a little room behind a panel! You can't all crowd into it and, anyway, I won't let you! I won't let you stay here! I don't care how tired you are, or your horses!” Adeliza's voice became shrill. “Go away from here! I want no more to do with this! The queen's not here; she isn't coming; it's all been for nothing and I'll not risk my life and my daughters' lives anymore. I don't even care about the money now!
Go away!
You can still take Father Robinson if you want—and if you'll pay for using him, I'll call him. That much, but no more.”

“Mistress Holme, there's no need to be hysterical . . .”

“Yes, there is!” Adeliza shouted.

“What about Penelope?” Doggedly I clung to the story I had told, that I was here only to find Pen. “Where is she? I must go to her.”

“Take the Stannard woman to her!” shouted Adeliza. “What are you waiting for? Go on! Go to her wedding! Father Robinson!
Father Robinson! Come down here again! At once!” She ended with a wild laugh, which turned into a hiccup.