The Thornless Rose (25 page)

She raised her chin and stared him down. “I did not expect such base insinuations from thee. The gossipmongers have always accused me of the worst sort of behavior. How many times have rumors spread that I was with child since the age of nine or ten? By Philip of Spain, by Thomas Seymour, by the lead hunt dog, by God knows who or what!” Elizabeth drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Enough of this. Lord Dudley is not a murderer. Neither am I.”

He bowed, chastened. “Forgive me, Majesty, but thou must hear what others are saying, or shortly will. We must gather our defenses. I’ll summon Archbishop Parker.”

“Parker? That old sheep-biter.”

“Ma’am, I beg thee, desist.” Frustrated, Cecil shook his head, then began to pace. “Thou knoweth well enough he hath a true heart and a clear head. I trust him to give good counsel.”

“God’s death.” Elizabeth rolled her eyes, tired of such talk. “Tell me of thy work in Scotland,” she said, forcing a smile. “I wouldst hear every detail of the Treaty of Edinburgh. Did the French ambassador quake in his boots at the signing?”

“We must be united against the sure onslaught of wrathful accusation that is to come.”

“’Tis ever thy wont to worry overmuch, Cecil.” She studied the ornate ceiling. “Tell me of the sea blockade at the Firth of Forth. I heard ’twas a splendid thing to behold, close in and on a clear day visible to all on land.”

He continued to pace. “Whether they will or no, the lords of the realm must stand by us against the mobs, for anarchy will surely ensue, otherwise. This will also aid us in keeping a close watch on any of our sly dogs who may wish to promote the upheaval.”

Elizabeth deliberately ignored Cecil as he stopped his restless footsteps. She felt his gaze on her as she attempted to comb out her hair with her fingers. “I must find my ladies.”

“Majesty, please!”

She flinched, then glared at him.

“With thy permission,” he paused, frowning, “I shalt summon the Privy Council at once, requesting an official inquiry be made as to Lady Dudley’s death. After the council meeting, we shalt have to face the foreign ministers, to ward off any itch our enemies may develop to scratch at our shores whilst the Crown is diverted. Need I remind thee Dudley will now be
persona non grata
at court?”

Tears pricked her eyelids and she glanced away, determined Cecil should not see her distress. She walked to the door. Carefully controlling her voice, she called over her shoulder, “I am hot and fatigued from the hunt, and my attire is dusty.”

“But, Majesty––”

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Enough.”

“Dudley must withdraw from Windsor,” Cecil persisted, “perhaps to his residence at Kew. ’Tis far enough, and highly defensible, yet not so very far that we lose sight of him.”

Tossing her hair, affecting nonchalance, Elizabeth waited by the door. Cecil took no notice. She tapped her foot, impatient.

When he finally looked her way, he rushed to open the door. “Forgive my inattention, ma’am.”

She left without a backward glance.

Kew? Highly defensible?
Her mind reeled.

Elizabeth found the darkest place in the hallway, away from prying eyes and curious ears. She leaned against the wall. “Robin,” she whispered. “Oh, my Two Eyes––”

Her voice caught in her throat, strangling her words, her chest seizing up in spasm. She raised her hand to her mouth and bit down hard on her knuckles to stifle her sobs.

Lord Jesus, do not forsake us!
She glanced up with pleading eyes
. Save us! Please, save us!

Then she moved on, slowly, edging through the shadows toward her bedchamber.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The Hastings’s carriage pulled off the busy London street and into a circular driveway. It stopped before a handsome, ivy-covered, brick mansion.

“Wow!” Anne admired the house through the cab window as the footman opened the door and proffered his arm.

She alighted with his assistance, then turned back to the rig and waited for Jonathan. He emerged with his medical bag slung over his shoulder. It was filled with his usual equipment and supplies, plus the bilberry jam elixir and the books he’d previously borrowed from Lord Henry’s library.

“Now remember, Annie,” he cautioned, “don’t let on you’re a Hastings. I’ll get you into the library somehow. I can distract his lordship, if need be, and then you can write your note.”

“What if he suspects something?”

There was a sudden shout as the front door opened. “Doctor! How good of you both to come!” A barrel-chested man of medium height and age stood in the entryway, arms stretched wide in welcome. He thrust his hand toward Jonathan, who shook it heartily, even as he managed a short bow from the waist.

Hastings then smiled at Anne. “Mistress Brandon, I presume?” His green eyes twinkled with natural good humor.

Family eyes
, she thought as she returned his smile.
Definitely family. How crazy is this?

Anne remembered her manners and curtsied to the nobleman. Drawn to him, she felt as if she were looking into the depths of her grandmother’s warm gaze. The same tinge of emerald in the irises, she noted. A similar slant of the lids. Even the slight arch in the middle of the right eyebrow.

“Dearest lady, welcome,” Hastings said, his tone grown soft as he considered her features. His expression dissolved in puzzlement. “Have we met before, Mistress Brandon?”

She exchanged a glance with her husband. “No, my lord. I guess you could say I’m new to the area.”

“Thou hast the look of mine own sister. What is thy family name?”

“My maiden name is Howard.”

“Oh! Art thou a relation of the duke’s?”

“No way!”

He laughed. “Thank the stars in heaven!” His brows knitted together. “Thine accent is mighty queer, but the good doctor hath told me of thy foreign birth.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Just so.” Hastings considered her features a moment longer, before turning to Jonathan. “My wife awaits us at table.” He patted his stomach. “’Tis well past time for my Sunday victuals, and I am fearfully hungry. Cook hath prepared a fine haunch of roast beef. Shall we retire to table with all haste?”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Lord Henry took Anne’s arm, and they started for the door. She was suddenly conscious of the ballpoint pen she would use to write the note to her grandmother. Secreted in the fabric pocket tied beneath her skirt, it felt tangible, weighty.

Soon
, she thought,
very soon
.

…

Anne placed her empty wine glass on the table. Full and content after a warm, friendly luncheon, she smiled at Lady Catherine Dudley Hastings.

She was a tall, willowy brunette. While she shared many of the same traits as her brother Robert—a long nose, dark, almond-shaped eyes, and a strong chin—one could not consider her a beauty, whereas he was considered to be the most handsome man at court. The Dudley looks simply were not well suited to a feminine face.

Maybe
, Anne thought,
with a little makeup and the right haircut, Catherine’s looks could be softened
.

Oh, cut it out! This isn’t the era for makeovers
, she chided herself. Besides, Lady Catherine had plenty of attributes: a quick smile and warm personality—she’d instantly made Anne feel at home—and remarkable skin for any era, smooth, snowy-white, and completely unblemished.

“Please do join me in the garden, Mistress Brandon. We shalt have a pot of mint tisane, whilst the servants clear the table.”

Anne politely accepted, since the men had already excused themselves to share conversation and mulled currant wine in the library. She hoped Jonathan would find a way for her to write the message in the Bible.
But how?
she wondered, her confidence in their plan fading with each passing moment. She needed to be alone in there for a while, but even if her husband did manage to get her an invitation inside, she didn’t see how he would get Lord Henry to stay out.

Anxious, she followed her hostess to the rear of the house, then outside and down the steps to a shaded spot in the backyard, under an old yew tree. The ground was paved with slabs of blue, red, and gray slate, upon which rested a wicker table and matching chairs. A lidded pot, two cups, a few plates, and a tray covered with an array of small, sugar-encrusted cakes had been set out on the table.

“Please, do sit and take thine ease,” Lady Catherine said, indicating a seat.

Anne settled herself in a chair and studied the view. A broad sweep of lawn rolled off toward the blue chop of the Thames. Ancient hedges of damask and cabbage roses perfumed the air honey-sweet. Large peacock butterflies flitted from blossom to blossom.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the serenity, determined to push aside her troubled thoughts. She’d get a chance at the Bible; if not this time, then soon. She breathed deeply. This riverfront mansion seemed a world away from raucous and ratty London.

“M’lady, shall I serve the fool?”

Anne opened her eyes. The noblewoman nodded to the liveried butler, who had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, tray in hand.

“Fool?” Anne asked as the man placed before the women two tall glasses filled with a frothy, pale green whip.

Lady Catherine’s laugh rose high and clear. “Hast thou never tasted fool, Mistress Brandon?”

“I’ve never even heard of it, ma’am.”

“Ah! Then I am well pleased to serve something new to thee.” Lady Catherine hesitated, tilting her head as if in question, and then turned to the hovering butler. “How doth Cook make fool, Giles?”

“’Tis a puree of green gooseberries, mixed with sweet cream.”

“Indeed,” she said, waving him off. “So, Mistress Brandon, my husband told me of the travails of body and mind which thou hast suffered of late. Mayhap this will lift thy spirits.” She indicated the dessert. “Please.”

“Delicious,” Anne said after tasting the luscious fool. “My husband would approve, I think. He is concerned that I’ve lost weight.”

“Ah! Henry wouldst have mine own body plump—nay, monstrous fat with a broad arse—but alas, he’ll just have to suffer and love me as I am, just as the good doctor seems to adore thee, warts ’n all.”

They exchanged wide smiles.

Spontaneously, Lady Catherine reached out and touched Anne’s hand. “My brother speaks highly of thee. Robert did not exaggerate thy beauty, or thy sense of good cheer. I do hope we’ll become friends.”

“I’d like that very much. Lord Robert is a wonderful man.”

“He is, indeed.”

“You...” Anne hesitated, still struggling with the damn thees and thous. “What I meant to say, er, thou dost remind me of him, m’lady. Same sense of humor.”

“Please, call me Cath. ’Tis Robert’s name for me. Even the ol’ husband hath been known to use it from time to time,” she glanced at the house with a look of undisguised affection, “but, of course, never in front of the servants.”

“Thank you, Cath. And please call me Anne.”

“Anne, then.” Nodding, she took up her spoon. “Now, my dear, shall we see to those broad arses?”

They ate in amused silence for a time, before Anne finally said, “Where I come from, a woman with your slim figure and long legs would be much admired. In fact, you resemble a famous actress.”

“Actress?” The noblewoman looked stunned. “Doth thou mean to say a woman player?”

“I meant...” Anne faltered, realizing she had already said too much.

Lady Catherine shook her head in disbelief. “A woman hath been permitted to perform on stage?” When Anne nodded, she threw back her head and laughed heartily. When she could finally speak, she said, “’Tis a bold curiosity, for certs. Tell me, where is thy place of birth, my dear?”

Think fast, Anne
, she told herself. Then she remembered her husband’s ruse. “I was born in the East.”

A discreet cough, followed by boot steps on slate. The women turned.

“Ah, my dear, do we disturb?” Hastings asked his wife. “The good doctor told me Anne wouldst like to borrow a book or two, to pass the time.”

Anne purposely kept her face neutral as she looked into Jonathan’s dancing eyes, saw the flash of his smile.

“Why, of course she may,” Lady Catherine said as the men helped them to their feet.
“
Parlez-vous Français?
”

“
Oui, je me débrouille assez bien
,” Anne
replied
.
Yes, I do all right.

“Then, m
ay
I recommend two marvelous works?
Cléopâtre Captive
by Etienne Jodell
and
Amours
by Pierre de Ronsard.
”

“I would very much like to read them.”

“Indeed. I shall be pleased to lend them to thee,” Lady Catherine said happily.

Anne tugged on Jonathan’s arm, gently holding him back so their hosts could take the lead. “Congratulations,” she whispered with a smile. “I’m dying to see if we can pull this off.”

He glanced at the house. “As am I.”

…

“I’ve well over three hundred volumes,” Hastings said proudly as his hand swept through the air, indicating row upon row of leather and velvet-bound books, some with spines of inlaid nacre, or carved ivory. “I think, in this regard, none in the realm couldst rival me, except mayhap Her Majesty, the queen.”

Anne gazed at book-filled cabinets, a half-oval mahogany writing table, leather chairs, and a chaise, seeing parallels with Thomas Jefferson’s bedroom-study at Monticello. Since Jefferson’s library was considered a wonder in eighteenth-century America, the same must be true here. This collection must have cost a fortune.

Hastings walked to a tall, deeply shelved secretary-cabinet and indicated a large book, sitting by itself on the center shelf. “’Tis a Gutenberg Bible,” he said in a soft, almost worshipful, tone.

“Really?” Anne asked, with an effort at controlling her voice. She had seen only one in her lifetime, housed behind museum security glass.

Could this be the Bible Jonathan used?
she wondered
. But Grandma didn’t mention anything about it being a Gutenberg.

She glanced at Jonathan, momentarily engaged in a conversation with Catherine Hastings.

“Doctor,” Lady Catherine was saying, “didst Anne tell thee about the woman player in her birth country? She performed on stage and was not arrested! ’Tis no wonder thy wife is inclined to study medicine under thy tutelage.”

Eyes wide, Jonathan turned to Anne.

Giving him an awkward smile, she admonished herself for being so careless. Was he wondering what else had slipped out in conversation?

Jonathan looked back at Lady Catherine. “No, m’lady. My wife never mentioned a woman player. As for medical instruction, sometimes I’m not sure who is the tutor and who is the student.”

The noblewoman laughed.

Next to Anne, Hastings opened the Gutenberg and pointed to a page. “Now, my dear, wouldst thou look here?”

There was a tapping on one of the library’s tall double doors. Giles stepped into the room. “Sir, m’lady, my sincere apologies,” he interrupted. “There are messengers here, one from Robert Dudley and one from William Cecil. They await you in the foyer.”

The Hastings exchanged puzzled looks.

“Robert? Cecil?” Lady Catherine asked.

Nodding, Giles ushered them from the room. Before he closed the doors, he lifted his chin with a look that warned Anne and Jonathan:
Don’t touch anything
.

But Anne didn’t care. They were alone.

She smiled. “Wow, Jonathan. That was easier than I imag––”

“Annie, quick, quick,” he interjected as he crossed to her side, took her arm, and hustled her to the opposite side of the library, near his lordship’s writing desk.

“Wait. I thought the Gutenberg––”

“No, no, that’s not it,” he replied. He pointed to a voluminous tome, gathering dust on the lower shelf of yet another book cabinet. “This is their old Catholic Bible,” he explained, pulling it from the shelf. “It’s the perfect place to secret a note, since it’s not used anymore. Lord Henry is vehemently Protestant and prefers King Edward’s second Prayer Book.”

He placed the heavy book on the desk. After rifling through the pages, he removed a crisp sheet of ivory paper.

Anne pulled the pen from her pocket and paused. It seemed strange to be looking at the very note Jonathan had written to her grandmother, but from the other side of time.

“Bloody hell, Anne, get cracking!”

She jumped and put pen to paper, scribbling at the bottom of his note.

Dear Grandma,

I’m safe with Jonathan...

She glanced at her husband, wondering if she should go ahead and tell her grandmother about their marriage, then decided the time wasn’t right.

Instead, she wrote,

He’s doing very well, as am I. So far, we haven’t found a way back. I’ll try to send more messages. Maybe you should buy the Hastings’s Bible, so you’ll be able to get any new notes. Meanwhile, I’ll write at the bottom of Jonathan’s letter. Tell Mom and Dad I miss them. Reassure them I’m okay.

I love you,

Anne

Her hands shook as she shoved the pen back in her pocket. She felt drained.

“That’s spot on, Annie... Good idea about purchasing... Let me get this back in order.”

She watched as Jonathan replaced the letter in the exact spot where he had stashed it before. He closed the Bible and pushed it back on the shelf.

“Jolly well done.” He held out his arms to her and glanced at the library’s doors, considering.

She snuggled against him. “What are you thinking?”

After a moment, his head bent to hers and he kissed her with a tender insistence.