The Traitor's Daughter (18 page)

“Perhaps I misspoke,” he allowed. “The interrogation frightened the devil out of me.”

His evasion unnerved her. “You will not explain your statement to me?”

“Kate, it was a slip of the tongue, no more.” He offered a smile. “Come, have you never made that kind of innocent error?”

“Not when the fate of England may be at stake.”

He stiffened. “I love England every bit as much as you do.”

The face she was looking at seemed like a stranger's: obdurate. Where had her gentle, trusting brother gone? She swallowed hard before she spoke again. “If you will not explain yourself, I have no choice. I must report this to Lord Burghley.” She turned, rocked by her own words. Sunshine splashed the leafy tunnel in a sea of brightness and shadows that was disorienting. She started back toward the house, gravel grinding under her feet.

“Wait.” He caught up with her, grabbed her elbow. Her arrested footstep was unsteady, almost unbalancing her. “I'll tell you,” he said.

His face had gone pale. His chin jutted in small jerks. His tic. He was suddenly nine years old again in her eyes, this twitch possessing him whenever he was nervous.

“I told the councillors I came back to England because I hungered to be home. That's not . . . untrue. But it wasn't the only reason. I was . . . sent.”

Kate felt a streak of dread. Her throat tightened as if squeezed by a garrote. “Good God, Robert,” she whispered. “Who sent you?”

His face crumpled. He twisted away from her as if in shame. He buried his face in his hands. His shoulders heaved and she knew he was fighting back tears.

Kate came around to face him. “Tell me.”

He lowered his hands slowly as if it was agony to have her see him unmanned, unmasked. He closed his eyes, unable to look at her.

She slapped him. “Tell me!”

He gasped and his eyes flew open. His chin jutted in jerks. “Yes . . . Yes . . .” He gulped a swallow. “It was Mother. She has this obsession to . . . to free Mary Stuart. She's talked about it for years. It's like a sickness with her. She spins these wild, impossible schemes of raising an invasion army. Utter madness. But she's not alone. She has two foolish friends who whisper and scheme with her, hangers-on of the Countess of Westmorland. One's an old priest. The other is his cousin, a merchant's widow as bitter as Mother. No one listens to them and their harebrained ideas. But I did. At least, I pretended to.” He gave her a pleading look. “Kate, you have to understand. I had no income. Mother depends on the Duchess of Feria. The duchess paid for my education at Padua, but her largesse to me ended once I graduated. I had to make my own way. And that's when Mother's friends stepped in. They are not poor. They asked me to come to England to—” He faltered.

“To what?”

“It's so absurd. They asked me to reconnoiter the southern coast for places where an invasion force could land. I was to report back to them. Please understand—they offered to pay my way, cover my expenses. It was my chance to finally get back to England. So I persuaded my friend in Padua to have his father arrange my board with the Levetts.” His voice cracked. “Home. Back where I belong, Grandmother said just now, and that's exactly how I felt, stepping ashore. When I rode to Sussex through the sweet, peaceful beauty of England I knew I would never go back. Kate, I did mislead Lord Burghley, but only to keep that day at Westmorland's house buried in the past where it belongs. If I have committed a crime it is only the crime of accepting passage money from Mother's friends under false pretenses. I have not contacted Mother since I arrived almost a year ago and I never shall again. She is dead to me.” He let out a shuddering sigh. “The rest of the tale is as I've already told you. I settled down to make my way quietly by dispensing physic in Lewes. I had no wish to entangle you and Father in my shame. But then old Master Prowse
did
entangle you and—”

“Who are these friends of Mother's?”

“What?”

“The priest and the widow. Their names, Robert.”

“Father Thomas . . . Thomas Crick. And Marion Forbes.”

“Are they in contact with Westmorland?”

“Good heavens, no. They are nobodies. Like Mother.”

“And you? Did you ever see Westmorland again?”

“Never. There was just that one time when you and I were both at his house, so really what I told Lord Burghley was true. Mother and I did
not
move in such circles.”

“These schemes that she and her friends discussed. What were they?”

He groaned. “All mad nonsense. One was to hire a band of Scottish border raiders to attack Tutbury Castle, where Mary used to be held. Ha! Hire rogues and outlaws? Another idiotic plan was to poison all the people at Sheffield Castle, where Mary is now, and whisk her away. How, for God's sake?”

“Was the Duchess of Feria one of this cabal?”

He winced at the word. “Cabal?”

“Is she?”

“No, no, never. She gave Mother and us a home in Brussels because she pitied her old friend, you know that. But she would never involve herself with such beef-witted plotting. Mother knew that and kept it secret.” He scoffed. “As if it mattered . . . as if anyone cared.” Suddenly, he grabbed her hand. “Kate, please, don't tell Lord Burghley. It could mean prison for me.”

She said nothing, her thoughts tumbling. The breeze sent a scatter of leaves, yellow and spotted, drifting down from the apple boughs.

“I see,” Robert said bleakly. “You will do your duty as you see it. But oh, dear God, this will kill Father.”

True, Kate thought with a pang. Father would rather fall on his sword like an ancient Roman than see his son convicted of conspiring with traitors. Robert's obvious distress moved her—that he would think of Father when his own life might be in jeopardy.

“Will you take pity, Kate, and let me at least tell Father myself? Let me explain so he'll understand?”

His pale, anxious face squeezed her heart. He had lied under oath, and it was her duty to tell Burghley, a deeper duty than Robert knew for she was an agent of Her Majesty. But Robert was her brother. And his explanation made perfect sense, for she well knew their mother's obsessive bitterness. And, after all, it was a small lie he'd told, an innocent lie to hide his shame. Really, would the realm be any safer by having her blameless brother in prison and her father shattered?

“Ah, there you are!” The voice was their grandmother's. They turned to see her beckoning them down the path. “Come in for dinner, you two. The musicians have the hall. We three can have a nice long private talk in the solar.”

Robert stared at the food before him. Roast goose. Halibut with saffron sauce. Borage and fennel salad. Nutmeg custard tarts. He ate, but felt in such a rocky state each dish tasted alike. Kate's accusation had stunned him. And sent a flag of caution waving wildly in his mind. She had paid the clerk for a look at the transcript, she'd said. How had she known where to find it? And how did she know Lord Burghley well enough to threaten to take her concerns to him? How was she in a position to do that?

“More wine, Robert?” His grandmother's voice broke into his thoughts.

“Thank you, my lady,” he said. “It is a fine Rhenish.”

The three sat in Lady Thornleigh's solar, a small bright room adjacent to her library. Kate was being served a custard tart by a footman.

“A gift from Lady Mildmay,” their grandmother said, beckoning another footman to fill Robert's glass. “In thanks for my gift of pears to her. Our orchard has produced a happy abundance.”

He managed a smile. He drank some wine, watching Kate as she bit into the tart.
She has lived with Father these last ten years. He's likely on friendly terms with Burghley. That must explain it.
Still, her questions had been sharp, a field of thorns. He had barely slithered through.

At least he had convinced her, thank God. “You shall not tell Father, nor anyone,” she had gently assured him when their grandmother had called them in. “And nor will I. It shall be our secret.”

Yet Robert did not feel easy. Kate was not the naïve outsider he had thought.

The women's talk, as they ate, turned to Father. Lady Thornleigh was saying he had sent a note confirming that he and his wife would attend the private supper she was planning. “He is so delighted to have you home, Robert. And to think that Kate found you. It is so good to have the family whole again.” She cast a reassuring look at Kate and added, “Your father will soften toward you, too, my dear. It is just a matter of time. He is a man who loves his children. Robert, you and I must work on him.”

“Indeed, we shall, my lady,” he said.

“Don't worry, Kate. We'll bring him round.”

Kate smiled. “With such sturdy advocates, how could I despair?” Bravado on her part, Robert thought. She seemed less than certain.

Lady Thornleigh raised her glass. “To the family.” They all drank.

Their grandmother, enjoying her wine, launched into tales of their father's seafaring exploits. She spoke of his sea battle off San Juan de Ulua in Mexico fourteen years ago when he'd captained the
Elizabeth,
one of seven ships in Sir John Hawkins's trading expedition. The Spaniards had attacked, sinking several vessels, and Father's had been one of the few to make it home. A few years later, she went on, he attacked one of Spain's pay ships in the Channel carrying gold to King Philip's troops in the Netherlands.

“Your father delivered the gold to Elizabeth and suggested that since Philip had borrowed it from the banker Spinola, Elizabeth should borrow it herself. Which she did. Spinola was happy to have his loan secured and the Spaniards, apoplectic though they were, could do nothing.” She laughed. Kate did, too.

Robert pretended to join in their mirth. He had always been disgusted by his father's pirating crimes.

Lady Thornleigh's tone became serious, but still warm. “Your father is not my blood, but I have always loved him like a son.” Robert caught Kate's nod. Their father was the son of their late grandfather's first wife. Lady Thornleigh went on, “He saved my life, you know.”

Kate's eyes widened in surprise. Robert was curious, too.

“How so?” Kate asked.

“You were never told, of course, not while your parents were married. Then your mother and her brother committed treason and she stole you both away and Elizabeth granted Adam an annulment. Well, you are not children anymore, so I feel it's only right that you should know the extraordinary sacrifice your father made for my sake.”

They both waited to hear, rapt.

“It happened twenty years ago,” she went on. “I believe Frances was in love with Adam from the day she first saw him. He was kind to her, but did not share her feelings. This was during the reign of Elizabeth's half sister, Queen Mary, who ordered hundreds of Protestants burned at the stake. Years before, I had helped people persecuted by the church, smuggling them out of England on my husband's ships, but by the time Mary became queen that work was behind me and I lived quietly so as not to be noticed. Frances, however, knew about my past. Wanting Adam, she threatened that unless he married her she would denounce me as a heretic. I would be burned at the stake.”

Kate looked astounded. Robert was equally amazed. They had known none of this! But he was sure his sister's reaction was very different than his. The vile slander against Mother made him burn with anger.

“Your father is my well-beloved friend,” their grandmother went on, “for the sacrifice he made for me, and for the loyalty he has shown Elizabeth, who has also honored me with her friendship these many years. That is why Elizabeth and your father and his wife shall come here as my special guests, as they come each year on this special date, along with Lord and Lady Burghley, in remembrance of your grandfather. October twenty-fifth. St. Crispin's Day. The anniversary of the day we were wed.”

Kate's hand went to her heart in awe. “Oh, my lady! I knew they would be your guests, but now I understand . . . about Father. What a tale!”

Robert could not speak. A bolt of excitement shot through him, so jarring he had to place his hands flat on the table to conceal their trembling. He had come to England to free Mary, his act to be coordinated with Westmorland's invasion fleet landing in the north and Northumberland's uprising in the south. The final hurdle would be the removal of Elizabeth by capture or death. That was Northumberland's mission, a perilous one because Elizabeth in her palace was well guarded. All of this complex planning would take some time longer, and Robert had been prepared to await orders.