The Girl in the Glass Tower (37 page)

Dodderidge brought me the casket in which it had lived for the three years it had been in my possession. He untied the binding and lifted the lid. It was the straw packing, I suppose, that smelled suddenly of Hardwick, those acres of matting that had infused the house with the permanent scent of late summer. I was back there, with that old cloistered feeling, the sense that I was waiting for my life to begin somewhere beyond those vast, cold windows.

‘Oh dear!’ said Dodderidge, bringing me back to the bedchamber and its view of the tormenting cherry tree.

I peered in to find amongst the straw only a few slivers of glass. It seemed impossible that a thing so large could have been reduced to such a sparse quantity of matter. Its form was imprinted on my memory, the great balloon of a belly, nothing but air encased in a thin skin of crystal, balanced on a delicate shoe and tapering to the top then flaring out into that almost invisible lip. But of course its beauty lay in its fragility, the fact that it was made of almost nothing. I picked up one of the shards.

‘Take care,’ said Dodderidge.

I was imagining running it up the soft part of my inner arm where the blue filigree veins sit close to the surface, wondering how it would feel. Would the blood gush out of me? My heart jabbered and my breath grew short; I was held in suspension like a sight hound with his eye on something in the undergrowth.
You could take your life back, make it yours
, whispered the part of me that watched.

There is no honour in taking your life through hopelessness
, whispered Starkey;
it is not sufficient reason
.
You have done nothing wrong
.

‘Here, let me …’ Dodderidge gently prised the fragment of glass from my fingers.

I met his gaze firmly. ‘You don’t think I was …’

‘What a shame’ – he was changing the subject, ever tactful – ‘it was a valuable piece, would have fetched a fair amount. There are always your pearls, My Lady.’

I asked him to bring them to me. Holding them, running them through my fingers, reminded me inevitably of Grandmother’s great clattering strings. Mine were paltry in comparison; some small as seeds and threaded on knotted silk to make them stretch further.

‘We wouldn’t get much but it would be better than nothing.’

In the end it wasn’t necessary to sell my miserable pearls as Aunt Mary sent word that a windfall had come her way. She refused to mention by what means.

Ami is reading back through Lady Arbella’s papers again. The words press close about her:
I trusted her
. Not trust but trusted; the past tense seems to speak volumes, makes her feel choked. There is another invisible narrative between its lines: her own side of the story. She remembers so well slipping letters for Will Seymour in between the folds of his clean linens. She remembers the fear she felt, but also the exhilaration, carrying the basket through the gates of the Tower for the first time.

Will Seymour has sent word of his visit. He is coming in a few days. She wonders what he will think of her two small rooms with a dirt floor; the thought continues to nag that, despite what Hal has said, he is still angry. A little knot of apprehension has tied itself in her gut. Perhaps she would rather he were angry; perhaps she thinks she deserves it.

Even in the Tower Will had been surprisingly bright and full of verve, when she had delivered the letters. He was determined to find a way to be with his new wife and talked about her in the most tender of terms. Ami had been so very glad that Lady Arbella had found such a devoted man. They all truly believed then that it was only a matter of time before the couple would be free. People talked about them, of course they did, it was a scandal to set the tongues wagging. Most believed the King should simply let them be, they thought him cruel.

Ami had found Will Seymour transformed from the callow youth who’d made her introduction to the Prince. He had filled out, was muscular and tall, with an air of authority.
Lady Arbella was right in saying his incarceration had made a man of him.

It was surprisingly straightforward getting him in and out of the Tower. He wasn’t kept as a close prisoner; that would have been an impossible challenge. He had the freedom of the Tower environs with just a curfew at dusk, and even that was laxly observed. The guards all played cards with the prisoners, making wagers, drinking beer, and you’d have been forgiven for thinking them all comrades together.

Between them they – Will, Francis, Mister Rodney and she – worked out the easiest way to ensure that William could visit his wife without mishap. She knew the exact times of all the daily deliveries. The firewood cart came first, the laundry cart a little later, after the butcher, mornings and evenings, regular as clockwork. The lieutenant insisted on the laundry being delivered all at once to diminish the comings and goings, despite the fact that most of the prisoners had their own laundresses. They all had to gather at the gates and wait for the cart to go in together.

It all felt like a bit of a game. She remembers Will, in his brother’s clothes, turning up heavy-lidded from lack of sleep and haloed in contentment, after his visit with his wife. They walked back in together and not a question was asked. It had been just the same when he’d left on the previous evening.

It is strange to write herself into her verse. But there she is emerging from her own pen. She cannot shy from the truth of her part in it all. It is a confession of sorts.

Hal comes crashing in wearing a broad grin.

‘Where have you been out so early?’ she asks.

‘Oh, here and there.’

‘Anyone’d think you had a secret sweetheart with all your here-ing and there-ing lately.’

‘Don’t be silly.’ Hal settles down to fitting a new reed on
his pipe and Ami begins to clear up her papers before her pupils arrive, contented in this calm little bubble of family.

‘Listen, Ma, I’ve been thinking,’ Hal says a few minutes later, ‘why don’t you open a school?’ But Ami’s mind is elsewhere, caught up in other thoughts.

‘Ma, are you listening? Did you hear what I said?’

‘I’m sorry, my love, I was …’ She pulls herself back from the vortex of the past.

‘I said, why don’t you open a school? You’ve already turned away half a dozen new pupils in the time I’ve been home. If you had more space –’

‘A school?’ she interrupts, ‘Oh, I don’t know.’ In her head she begins to run through all the reasons why it is not a good idea: an expensive lease; the responsibility; the fear of more debt.

‘It makes perfect sense.’ He pauses to look at her directly. ‘Give me one good reason why not.’ He brings his pipe to his mouth and blows, testing the new reed.

‘I’m too old.’

‘Ma! Firstly, you are not too old, you’re forty-six and seem a decade younger. Plus your age is in your favour; you have accrued wisdom; that’s a good thing in a teacher, isn’t it?’

‘Things are manageable as they are, Hal. I’m earning enough and so are you.’

‘You could get away from that woman.’ He leans his head in the direction of Goodwife Stringer’s house and raises his eyebrows.

The idea suddenly sounds more tempting, though Goodwife Stringer has been conspicuously scarce lately. ‘I suppose I could look into it.’

‘I have a confession to make.’ He’s grinning now, that look he used to give her as a small boy, when he wanted something.

‘Oh yes?’

‘I made a few inquiries and there’s a building near St Giles-in-the-Fields that might suit you.’

‘St Giles, north of Convent Gardens?’

He is nodding. ‘Close enough for your present pupils to walk there and far enough to get away from that busybody.’ He points a finger at the far wall.

‘But I’ll never raise the money for the lease.’

‘Surely Father …’ He hesitates. ‘
Your husband
, left enough –’

‘It’s not quite like that.’

‘What do you mean?’ He is sitting stock-still, pipe aloft, awaiting an explanation.

‘Alphonso left us without a penny. He lost everything and more.’ The minute the words are said she wishes she could retract them. The instrument slips from his fingers and falls to the floor with a clatter. He doesn’t pick it up.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ His expression moves from aghast to angry, making the threat of tears suddenly prick at her eyes. She cannot bear another estrangement from her boy, just when all was so well. ‘Another lie!’ he adds bitterly, dropping his elbows to his knees and slumping his chin on to a fist.

‘I didn’t want you to worry; didn’t want you to not go to court out of duty to me.’

He stands abruptly and picks up the pipe, putting it on to the shelf, not looking at her. ‘How can I trust anything you say?’ He then begins to put on his boots and coat.

‘Don’t go,’ she pleads. ‘Let me explain.’ She gets up and grabs his sleeve but he shakes her off.

‘I understand! You didn’t want me to worry. You seem to think I’m still a child and not capable of dealing with the realities of life.’

She lets him go. There is no point in trying to get between him and his anger, and her pupils will be here soon anyway.

Once the children have gone for the day she goes out to see if she can find Hal, fearing he might have returned to court, but she reasons, surely not without all his things, without his instruments, without at least a goodbye.

She searches through the market where the stallholders are packing up. Out in the backfield she can see Dill, Birdy and the others folding the day’s linens. Her hands are completely healed now. Suddenly Salisbury is in her head:
Not the hands of a laundress, are they?
A new uneasiness falls over her and she finds herself suddenly caught up with imagining some disaster has befallen her boy, convinced it is God’s punishment for her past failings. She circles round, towards the vast shape of the church, bathed in golden evening light, its spire soaring up.

Her uneasiness is unfounded for there Hal is, sitting in a splash of sun on the church steps – with Joyce. They are deep in conversation, the kind of intense attention to one another that forgets about the existence of all else. Ami feels a frisson of joy at the sight of them and slips away unseen, not wanting to interfere in something that seems so intimate.

Not long after she gets back home, Hal returns. There had been a momentary storm, sudden glowering clouds, pelting rain, thunder, and he arrives soaked to the skin. ‘I needed a bit of time,’ he says.

‘I know, sweetheart. I know. Listen,’ she says, taking both his hands, ‘I am so sorry, sorry I kept so much from you, treated you as if you were still a child.’ She hesitates, watching water drops glisten and fall from the dark tendrils of hair around his face, before adding, ‘Sometimes it can be difficult for a mother to see when her child has grown up – difficult to let go.’

‘It’s all right, Ma; I understand, I really do – needed a bit of time to think, that’s all.’ He smiles that wonderful lightning-bright smile and Ami’s agitated heart settles.

‘I’ve been thinking of ways to raise the money for the
lease,’ he continues, stepping away from her to shake the water out of his hair like a dog. ‘I might be able to get a loan from someone at court. Villiers perhaps, even.’

‘You want to be careful of what he might ask in return,’ she replies, teasing slightly. ‘Villiers likes a beautiful boy.’

Hal laughs. ‘Really, Ma!’

‘Goodness, how silly I have been,’ she exclaims as a thought alights. ‘Wait!’ She rushes to the stairs, climbing them two at a time.

‘What is it?’ calls Hal, following her up.

When he enters she is crouched down by the bed lifting one of the floorboards. Amongst the dust and mouse droppings she finds the small package where she left it. She unfolds the old linen wrapping and holds out her open palm to him. In it is a stone the size and colour of a raspberry, set with three suspended pearls.

‘Been keeping it for a rainy day.’

His fingers hover over it.

‘Take it, it won’t bite,’ she says. He carefully picks the jewel up and holds it to the light. He turns back to her, puzzled. ‘The Queen gave it to me. A consolation of sorts when I was dismissed from court.’ She pauses, taking a breath. ‘There’s something else I haven’t told you.’

He is silent, and looks away from her abruptly.

‘It is only partly true that I was sent away for offending the King with my verse. Lord Salisbury – he was the one with all the influence in those days. Salisbury learned that I’d aided a prisoner escape the Tower.’

‘Ma!’ He looks horrified. ‘Who?’

‘It was Will Seymour – an innocent man who should never have been held.’

Hal’s look transforms to one of wonder. ‘But I’ve heard of the story of Seymour’s escape; it is well known.’ He meets her gaze. ‘It was
you
who helped him?’

‘Not me alone, of course.’

His shoulders begin to shake and he brings his hands to cover his face. He is laughing, ‘Well I never …’

Relief floods through her; sharing her secret is a burden halved. Sometime she will tell him what really happened that day, but this is not the moment. She takes the jewel from his hand and slips it into his pocket.

‘Take it to Cheapside tomorrow; see what you can get for it.
You
won’t be fleeced if they know you work for Villiers. You’re the one with friends in high places these days.’

The days crawled by at the house in Barnet and, as I began to recover, my compulsion to write returned. I penned letters of thanks to the King for my month of respite, letters to Cecil, letters to Aunt Mary. Margaret and Bridget began to work on an embroidered woodland scene, so complex and detailed we swore they would never finish it. Still none of us managed to beat the deceptively doe-eyed Crompton at chess, though Doctor Moundford came close once.

Sir James was proving a lenient jailer; he joined us often in the evenings and as the end of the month neared he recognized that my recovery was fragile – I still could not walk the length of my bedchamber – so he went, with Moundford, to petition the King in person. As a result the journey north was postponed a further month. I took this to be a sign that the King was relenting, for he also allowed me a visit from Aunt Mary.

The blossom outside my window had all dropped by the time she arrived, dishevelled from the road, with mismatched gloves and birds’-nest hair. ‘My poor dear sweeting,’ she said as she sank beside me on the bed. ‘You are so pale. Is Doctor Moundford taking good care of you? Are you eating properly?’

‘Moundford is a wonder,’ I replied. ‘If it weren’t for him and Bridget, I might not be here.’

‘And Crompton, is he serving you well?’

‘I don’t know what I did without him. He’s so discreet and painstaking with my accounts.’

‘Yes. He’s certainly very good with money.’

She seemed to be saying something else but I didn’t quite
know what. Crompton did make my meagre income stretch, it was true. I was waiting for her good news from court; news that the King was mellowing, that Will and I would be released to live as husband and wife. Just the thought of it caused my heart to dilate. ‘So the King?’ I began. ‘Will our penance soon be over?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘But I thought –’ My expanding heart began to shrivel.

‘No.’ She looked at me and took my hands, speaking very quietly. ‘The only answer is to get you both away to the Continent. I have begun to make arrangements.’

Strangely, through my desperation I felt a faint thrill. After all, I was not one to meekly wait for a pardon. All the talk of escape and raising funds had seemed only abstract until that moment. ‘Is it possible?’

‘Your husband is not closely watched. He has walked out of the gates before, I understand.’

I nodded.

‘Anyway, Crompton has all that in hand. Now we must discuss
your
escape.’

‘No,’ I stopped her, ‘I need to know everything. Firstly, what has Crompton got to do with all this?’

‘He’d better explain for himself,’ she said, before leaving the chamber to fetch him. Left alone, my head swirled with the thought of my freedom and I felt myself unfurl, my resolve reviving.

They returned together. Crompton pulled up a stool and began to explain the plan that he had concocted in respect of my husband’s escape. ‘I am having a black beard and wig made,’ he said, ‘and an ordinary suit of clothes. He will follow out the linen cart. Your Mistress Lanyer has proved most willing to help with this. She will take the suit in and accompany him out in plain sight. No one will be the wiser until it is too late.’

He cast those beguiling eyes over me and I wanted to ask him how such an angelic appearance could hide such a devious nature. Aunt Mary looked on, wearing an air of pride as if he were her own invention – perhaps he was, it was she who had placed him in my household.

‘Mistress Lanyer’s own laundress sometimes takes in washing from the Tower, so it will be easy to substitute herself with some excuse or other, as she has done before.’

‘I don’t want her put in any danger. It won’t be –’

‘Of course,’ said Aunt Mary. ‘Don’t worry, sweeting, everything will be watertight.’

‘Who will provide the decoy?’ I asked. ‘Last time it was his brother Francis. They are very alike I’m told.’

‘Your husband is not keen to involve his brother.’

I wanted to ask how he knew all this about my husband; when he’d had time to visit him without my knowledge. But instead I directed my question at Aunt Mary. ‘How long have you been concocting plans for me?’ I was more curious than displeased. I truly believed Aunt Mary had only my welfare at heart.

‘It is always vital to have a contingency in place.’ I didn’t quite know what she meant by that but Crompton had begun to talk again and the moment to ask for something more specific had passed.

‘Your husband will feign a toothache to explain his absence about the place. His servant will make his master’s malady generally known but
he
will believe that your husband is leaving only to spend a conjugal visit before your journey north.’ He paused, opening his hand like a conjurer performing a disappearing trick. ‘The smaller crime will hide the larger.’

‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘Why complicate things further?’

‘Ah, My Lady of Shrewsbury asked the very same thing.’ He turned to Aunt Mary for acknowledgement of this. ‘You
see, if suspicion is aroused or word somehow gets to the Lieutenant of the Tower and your husband’s servant is questioned and, God forbid, a story squeezed from him, well,’ he opened both palms to the heavens like a chaplain making a point in a sermon, ‘a search will not be sent out. They will likely opt to await his morning return. Meanwhile, you will both be well on your way to France.’

Questions nagged at me but before I had a chance to work out what to ask first, Aunt Mary said, ‘And you too will walk straight out of these gates. Sir James in turn will believe you are going to visit your husband in the Tower for the night on the eve of your departure to Durham.’

‘What a pleasing symmetry of deceit,’ I said, filled with incredulity. ‘Sir James is a lenient jailer, but I don’t think …’ I began to realize that I knew little about anything. I had been so ill I could barely make sense of myself, let alone those around me. It was no wonder I had no awareness of Crompton’s secret dealings.

‘Sir James will be easily bribed,’ said my aunt bluntly.

‘I happen to know he is deeply in debt,’ added Crompton. ‘He’s a gambler.’

‘And he has a soft side. Bridget tells me he’s a great romantic. He won’t be able to resist reuniting a husband and wife for the night.’

Bridget, too? Was there anyone in my household who had not been party to this? ‘Where will the funds come from?’

‘You know I have raised a sum,’ said Aunt Mary.

‘Yes, but …’ I was thinking of all the expenses that would be incurred. ‘Bribes, boats will have to be paid for, horses, we must be able to pay our way in France …’

Crompton interrupted me: ‘Three thousand – two hundred of that for bribes. I think two thousand eight hundred will be sufficient.’

‘Good grief, wherever did you raise such a sum?’ It was
the vast amount that made me believe that the whole thing might be more than a fantasy.

‘You don’t need to know,’ said my aunt in a manner that clearly stated she would not be drawn on the topic.

The plan was growing in my mind, allowing me to access a reservoir of hope. ‘But –’

‘But what?’ Aunt Mary’s face was suddenly stern.

‘I don’t want Dodderidge involved in this. He suffered enough on my behalf the last time.’ Bringing up that thwarted first attempt at escape all those years before made me feel suddenly heavy.

‘You have my word,’ she said, the stern expression melting away.

‘And,’ I added, ‘the source of funding apart, I will not be kept in the dark about any of this.’

Crompton wore a half-smile and Aunt Mary nodded her agreement.

‘I will remain abed.’ I felt the plot twine itself around me, filling me with ideas, driven by the thought of being together again with my husband. The power of my desire would see me through this, I knew. ‘As long as reports go back to court of my fragile condition there is less danger of being ordered north before we are ready. Also’ – this had dawned on me from nowhere – ‘when I leave this house I will wear a man’s garb beneath my clothes.’ I saw Crompton’s eyebrows lift slightly. ‘Once on the road I will be to all intents and purposes, a fellow, so if we are stopped it will be of no consequence.’ I was remembering that time as a child when I had ridden bareback in breeches and felt a sense of everything being part of a pattern too great to understand as a whole, as if that childhood transgression had been a preparation for this. ‘Will it be you accompanying me, Crompton?’

‘Probably. Bridget too, I’d think, and Margaret. But all the finer details have yet to be carefully drawn up.’

He looked so utterly free of guile but a question rose to my surface. Bridget’s involvement I understood, and Aunt Mary’s and Margaret’s, and to an extent Mistress Lanyer’s, but this young man was an enigma. ‘Why are you helping me, Crompton, when it is such a great risk?’

Without missing a beat he replied, ‘I can’t bear to see an innocent person imprisoned.’ It seemed tenuous as an excuse but, given what I knew of his character, the obsessive adherence to logic that made him an unbeatable adversary at chess, it made a certain sense that he would not want to see something out of its proper place. ‘And also I swore loyalty to you when I entered your household. I stand by that.’

Aunt Mary was smiling; I smiled too.
It will make you seem meek
. I smiled more widely and the list of Grandmother’s rules to live by faded, drifting off into the air, leaving me feeling, if still feeble in body, then robust in spirit.