The Other Countess (8 page)

‘I know that, but this is the rest of my life I am hazarding here, no small matter easily settled. I want at least to know something of the character of the lady I eventually woo and wed.’

Ever pragmatic, James sighed. ‘To be honest, Will, all that matters at the moment is the size of the dowry. We are skimming just an inch above ruin.’

Infuriated at having his rest time spoiled by a reminder of their problems, Will threw the sponge at his brother. ‘I know that. But do I have to remind you that you were the one who persuaded me to take on that extra servant today?’

‘Diego’s a good investment – a wonder with horses.’

‘Only if we can afford to keep a stable. If you’re so damned eager for a solution, go raid a Spanish galleon!’

James threw the sponge back so that it slapped into the water. ‘If you had the damned funds to fit out a ship, I would!’

Tobias rolled his eyes. His older brothers, so close in age, had always fought like cat and dog while remaining fiercely loyal to each other. Taking matters into his own hands, he jumped on a chair to gain their attention.

‘I know what – I’ll go found a plantation in the Americas and discover a gold mine!’

‘Get down, you fool,’ growled James, though he began to smile at his younger brother’s antics.

‘No, I will not be silenced – I’m on to something here. You merely have not yet recognized my brilliance. Just you wait: I’ll come home as rich as the King of Spain and buy you each an estate and myself three.’

‘Only three?’ asked James drily.

‘Yes. Never let it be said that I am greedy.’

‘Just deluded,’ added Will, hauling himself out of the tepid bath. ‘Come on then: let’s fit out our ships for the banquet and go plunder some rich lady galleons, if any cross our path.’

‘Cross? After your heroic efforts today, they’ll be steering straight for you, Will,’ promised James, passing him the linen towel.

‘Sounds a recipe for a shipwreck.’

‘That’s a definition of marriage for you.’

Descending the stairs on her brother’s arm, Jane felt sick – sick of the pretending, the shallow words of her many suitors, the lewd remarks of Ralegh. She already hated court and she had
only been at it for two days. She realized that it was a snare in which she had thrust her head willingly, thinking she would manipulate it to her purposes, but now she knew her struggles would only tighten the noose. Her family expected her to make a glittering match, had lavished money on her for the purpose, but she had lost her relish for conquest.

And why? Only yesterday she had contemplated her image in the glass and promised herself to win the marriage game; today, she looked about her and found she wanted no one because no one wanted her for herself. Ralegh was part of the problem, with his knowing looks reminding her of her shortcomings every time she turned around. But it had really struck home when the charming but insincere young Earl of Dorset had showered her with pretty compliments. Not once had he actually looked at her properly, his eyes skimming her face only briefly, not meeting her eyes. He was not alone: every gentleman spoke to her in the same way, affecting an interest when their mind was on other things, usually the size of her dowry. She’d felt so depressed by the end of the day that she had even tried to explain it to her maid, but Nell had merely stared at her as if she were mad. She had been foolish to speak her mind so frankly as she knew her maid had no liking for her. There was little sympathy to be had from someone so far beneath her rank. Any loyalty she got was paid for.

‘Why the long face, Janie?’ asked Henry. He held his right arm in a sling, having sprained it falling from his horse that afternoon. ‘You’ll curdle the milk. You should be pleased with yourself. So far you’ve been a great success.’

‘Thank you.’ Jane didn’t bother to confide her thoughts to
her brother, knowing he would dismiss her complaints as girlish nonsense.

‘Father will be pleased to hear the Queen spoke to you.’

It had been to approve the quiet colour of her gown. The Percevals knew better than to risk the Queen’s ire by setting their daughter up as a rival. The Countess of Leicester had had her ears boxed for that offence and been dismissed from court.

‘Midnight blue becomes you.’

Jane hadn’t wanted to wear this gown but it had been specially commissioned for the banquet and too expensive to waste.

‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘Ralegh wore that colour last evening.’ Henry gave his sister a speculative glance. There was something between her and his friend and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what.

‘Then I pray he won’t wear it again tonight. We wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a match.’

‘He has good prospects. You could do worse.’

‘I could do better.’

They turned into the antechamber to the dining hall, pausing to rinse their hands in the silver basins prepared for the purpose. Servants carried food in from the outdoor kitchens to the servery: sizzling sides of beef, joints of pork, pies and roast chickens. Carvers lined up ready to set to work once the signal was given that the Queen was on her way.

Jane wished the evening were already over. ‘We had better take our places; she’ll be here anon.’

But her brother had spotted someone he knew. He stopped before a black-robed man and a pretty dark-haired girl standing by the entrance as if uncertain of their welcome beyond.

‘Sir Arthur, I hear you’ve been setting the castle on fire,’ Henry said jovially.

The alchemist shook his head. ‘An exaggeration, sir. Merely a little accident soon mended.’

Jane stared in horrified fascination at the shiny burns on the back of the scholar’s hands. A little accident?

‘I hope you were nowhere near the conflagration, Lady Eleanor,’ her brother continued, turning his full charm on the girl.

‘Not near enough to account it worth mentioning,’ the girl said, retreating a step as if she was well aware of Henry’s interest and wished to run.

Yes, thought Jane, she would be the sort to attract Henry: sultry brown eyes, complexion more golden than a fashionable white, but attractive nonetheless, a mass of raven curls inexpertly braided so that locks spilled free, teasing her neck, and doubtless driving her brother wild. Had the girl done this on purpose? Jane frowned. If she had, then she deserved the petty annoyance of her brother’s attention.

‘I do not believe you’ve had the chance to meet my sister. Jane, may I present Sir Arthur Hutton and his daughter, Lady Eleanor?’

The girls exchanged curtsies, Jane’s shallow, Ellie’s deep.

‘What did you do to your arm, sir?’ asked Arthur, drawing Henry aside in conversation. ‘I hope it is not broken?’

Jane continued to look coldly at the girl, holding herself aloof.

The lady twisted her hands nervously. ‘I … er … admired your gown yester eve, my lady, but today you exceed even that. You look very well indeed.’

Jane examined the girl’s green skirt. It was clear that she
had no others as it showed dirt round the hem, probably picked up at the joust earlier in the day.

‘A woman is more than her dress,’ Jane said, intending it as a put down.

The girl, however, surprised her by smiling. ‘I’m glad you think that. All this fuss over what we wear is so tiresome, don’t you think? If that was all that mattered, perhaps they should send the gown on the tailor’s dummy to these feasts and give us a quiet night at home?’

The image was an extraordinary one and appealed to Jane’s sour humour. She found herself smiling. ‘For that to work, you would have to send a herald to announce each arrival.’

‘Exactly. “Make way, my lords and ladies, for the dress of her extreme importance, Countess of Everything, and his grace, the Duke of All!”’

‘Would save the Treasury a fortune in food.’

‘And raise the normal level of conversation to new heights.’

Jane spluttered, then lifted a lace-edged handkerchief to hide her laughter. ‘Ssh, don’t! I’m supposed to be here on my best behaviour.’

The lady sighed. ‘Me too. But after Father exploded Lord Mountjoy’s close stool this morning, I rather doubt anything I do will shock the company.’

‘He did what?’

‘Blew up the privy. He’d managed a small explosion with a glass vial, but thought to repeat the experiment in a confined space to save himself further burns. He got rather carried away.’ The girl was regarding her father with the harried look of a desperate mother with a disobedient child. Jane’s sympathy stirred.

‘How serious are the repercussions likely to be?’

Lady Eleanor gave a tiny shrug. ‘We’re not entirely sure we’ll be welcome at Lord Mountjoy’s table tonight. His son already hates us and his father is lying down, overcome by the fumes from the latest disaster.’

‘Sir Arthur seems in good health.’

‘Yes, my father is immune to injury, it would seem. Or at least, believes he is.’

Jane glanced into the hall. Nearly all the seats were taken now which meant the Queen was on the point of arriving. ‘I know Sir Charles Blount. I could speak to him on your behalf if you wish.’

‘No need, my lady. I’d prefer my father to feel at least some of the consequences of his adventure today. How else will he learn?’

It seemed an odd thing for a child to say in reference to a parent, but Jane guessed the relationship had long since been reversed.

‘He’s pinning his hopes on a gift I’ve prepared for the Queen,’ continued the girl, rubbing her arms as if cold. ‘A translation. But so far we’ve heard nothing from Her Majesty.’

‘So you linger here wondering if fortune will smile or frown on you?’

A sweet smile flickered over the girl’s lips. ‘Exactly.’

‘I will pray for the former then.’

‘Thank you.’

Henry managed to extract himself from his conversation and offered his arm, leading Jane into the hall.

‘We must stop making these late entrances,’ he said insincerely, nodding to acquaintances as they walked to their places.

‘You love the attention, Henry,’ she replied, smiling through gritted teeth.

He handed her to her seat. ‘I’d be grateful if you cultivated the Hutton girl for me, Janie.’

Struggling with the hoops of her farthingale, Jane forgot to smile. ‘I’m not your pander, Henry. I like the girl. Leave her alone.’

Henry took a place beside her. ‘What do innocents such as you know of panders, Janie?’ He lowered his voice. ‘Maybe not so innocent, eh?’

She shivered. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘If you wish to retain the claim to ignorance, then I suggest you do as I ask. I would hate to have to send back any unfavourable remarks to Father about your conduct at court.’

‘Judas,’ murmured Jane.

He took his knife from his belt and stabbed it in a manchet. ‘At your service, but you’re no Virgin Mary, are you, sister?’

A fanfare of trumpets announced the approach of Elizabeth. Everyone in the hall rose to their feet.

‘God save Her Majesty!’ declared the herald before sweeping into the hall at the head of the procession, the ushers walking backwards before the Queen.

Jane joined in the cheers. It was foolish to be jealous of the monarch – her position was unique – but Jane could not help but envy the Queen for that moment at the centre of everyone’s attention. Under no rule but that of God, Elizabeth kept the men dancing before her as she glided to her seat, her clothes an astonishing display of wealth and power – cloth of gold, ropes of pearls, a ruff of proportions beyond any other in the hall. The sovereign drew the eye like a jewel in a well-crafted
setting, striking both fear and awe in her subjects. Jane mused that if she could but learn her Queen’s secret for managing her unruly subjects, then maybe she would not have to fear her brother’s threats or the prospect of marriage to one of the empty-hearted men that courted her. She also would be too clever for them.

But then Elizabeth had never married – since ascending to the throne, she had never submitted to any man. The Queen understood that a woman’s power lay in the courtship not the wedding and held off the threats to her person and realm by hinting but never committing. With a numb sense of hopelessness, Jane knew she could not use that behaviour for her pattern as she had no kingdom with which to bargain.

The Queen took her place and nodded to her chaplain, who droned a long extravagant grace. When he finally finished, the Queen sat, and everyone else followed, a ripple starting with those nearest the centre of power, spreading out to the lowliest knight at the far end of the tables.

‘Ralegh’s done well for himself,’ observed Henry, signalling a server to bring him a cup of wine.

Jane studied the placement at the top table and spotted him among the highest nobles near to the Queen, far above his station.

‘His star rises. That should benefit us,’ Henry continued, piling a spoonful of lamb stew on to his plate, his movements clumsy as he had to use his left hand.

On the other side of the hall from where they sat, Sir Arthur and Lady Eleanor approached the Mountjoy household, skulking along the wall in the knowledge that it was poor manners to arrive after the Queen. The girl looked as if she’d rather be
anywhere else but there and Jane couldn’t blame her. When Sir Arthur attempted to take his place at the end of the bench, Sir Charles Blount signalled his men to prevent him. The resulting whispered argument began to attract eyes to that obscure corner. Henry snorted his amusement as two of Blount’s retainers forced Sir Arthur to retreat, escorting him out of the hall with the application of their firm grip to his elbows. That left his daughter stranded. She made to follow her father but one of the girls at the table caught her hand and pulled her down beside her.

Henry tore the meat off a drumstick. ‘Plenty of room over here,’ he said through his mouthful. ‘Send her a message, Janie. Invite her to join us.’

‘She is well enough where she is, Henry. Leave her alone.’

‘Not for long, she isn’t.’ Henry nodded his head to the two men who had returned from ejecting the alchemist. On a signal from Blount, they tapped the lady on the shoulder and jerked their heads to the door. Blushing, she got up and ran from the hall, her carrot-haired friend looking outraged on her behalf.