The Virgin Queen's Daughter - Ella March Chase (28 page)

I remembered my mother’s story, Katherine Parr racked with fever, raving that Seymour had done just that. Surely Gabriel’s plans could not follow Seymour’s bent? Could Gabriel be that ruthless? Hadn’t Thomas Seymour wooed Katherine Parr with painful sweetness? Promised her love, then betrayed her? “Sir Gabriel will be at the practice field later.” Walsingham interrupted my musings. “The ladies are going to place wagers on the men as they tilt with the quintain.”

The ladies placed wagers on everything—tennis matches, games of skittles or cards. None would wish to miss seeing the handsomest, most skilled men at court display their prowess with the lance. Perhaps I could plead an aching head to escape it.

“Have you heard that Lord Robert is planning a tournament for the queen’s birthday come September?” Walsingham asked. “Rumor is Wyatt is determined to win.”

“I can only hope he will be disappointed,” I said.

“Ah.” Walsingham’s eyes widened. “If you care enough to ill-wish Wyatt, you are not as indifferent to the gentleman as you would have me believe.”

I edged instinctively toward the door. “He annoys me greatly, that is all. Now, if you will excuse me.”

“Mistress.” Walsingham stopped me. I turned back to see his face, dark, somber. “May I call you Elinor?”

“Yes,” I said, though I was thinking of the room deep in the Tower, where truths were ripped from unwilling souls by red-hot pincers or the ropes of the rack.

“There is something about you that reminds me of my own daughters. Sons have the power to battle the world, but a girl . . . no matter how learned she is or how brave—the world can be cruel to women. A father’s greatest fear is that some peril will overtake his daughter and he will not be able to protect her.”

My chin bumped up a notch. “My father prepared me well. I can take care of myself.” But I could not take care of Eppie. I could not shield my mother. I could not see into Gabriel Wyatt’s soul, know if it was dark or light.

“It is a brutal world, Mistress Elinor,” Walsingham said. “I did not make it so. Sometimes I wish I could turn away from what is necessary, but I cannot. We will speak again once I unravel this matter with Mistress Jones. I am sure of it.”

God help me, so was I.

Chapter Twenty-One

The Same Day

H
OURS LATER WE LADIES TRAMPED AFTER THE QUEEN
through the January gardens to the practice field where the men, the court’s finest athletes, had gathered to show off their battle skills. A forest of lances, horses, grooms, and swords thronged the area. Some courtiers paired off, honing their swordsmanship. Others sat astride fierce warhorses that plunged and reared. Breastplates and helms glimmered in cold winter sun.

Women trickled along the sidelines in pools of vivid colors and soft furs. We wandered about to watch the various contests, calling out encouragement to particular favorites. I stared into space, the field a blur, my face feeling as if it might crack from the effort it took to mirror my companions’ enthusiasm. I was not the only one whose mind was burdened with far more serious matters than which handsome courtier would triumph today. Though the queen made a show of watching Robert Dudley as he prepared to take up his sword and fight, I caught her gaze on me time and again, her eyes hooded, her lips compressed above the soft ermine that framed her face.

What was she thinking? Did I imagine a new intensity in her gaze? Last night’s horrors must be written on my face. “Mistress Elinor, come stand beside me.” The queen’s command startled me. “I do believe Lord Robert is about to teach the Gypsy’s Angel a lesson in swordsmanship.” My gaze jumped to where Gabriel stood, stripped to his cut-leather doublet and breeches despite the weather, the wind tugging his dark hair as he tested the blade of his sword with this thumb. “Would you care to place a wager on which man will triumph?”

“It will be a futile wager if we both choose the same champion, and I would not bet against Lord Robert for the world.”

Elizabeth nodded. “A wise decision on your part.”

“Your Majesty, shall I send a groom to fetch a brazier to keep you warm while the men show you their skills?”

“Devil take it!” Her sudden irritation made my breath catch. But I was not the one who had incurred her displeasure. Elizabeth was glaring across the field at Gabriel. “What mischief has that fool Wyatt been about now?”

“Majesty?”

“Look at that rogue’s face! He is mass of bruises again! Mistress de Lacey, fetch Sir Gabriel to me at once.”

There was no avoiding her command. I picked my way across the field to where Leicester and Wyatt circled each other, graceful as if in a dance. Their swords clashed, Gabriel parrying each flash of blade with ease; I hovered on the sidelines, fearful that if I distracted them, one might slip and wound the other. If that happened, the queen would not be amused.

“Pardon me, gentlemen.”

Pickering, who lounged against a nearby post, winked at me and pushed himself upright. “Hold, enough!” he shouted. Two blades froze midstrike.

“What the devil?” Lord Robert grumbled.

Pickering made an exaggerated bow in my direction. “I was afraid the lady might get skewered by one of you. She has some business here.”

“Mistress de Lacey?” Lord Robert said in surprise. I wondered again how much he knew about my situation.

“I am come from Her Majesty. She wishes to speak with Sir Gabriel at once.”

“Have you been reduced to a page, Mistress?” Lord Robert asked.

“I do what the queen bids me.”

“Obedience is a fine quality in a woman,” Sir Gabriel said. “Albeit a rare one.” He handed his blade to a squire, then bowed to Dudley. “If you will excuse us, my lord, we will finish this contest later.” I started back across the field again, but Gabriel seized my elbow, then rolled his eyes at his companions. “Do you wish to be trampled, Mistress? Or would you prefer to cause an accident so that some man gets hurt?” Gabriel maneuvered us both out of earshot. “Lord Robert claims you and Walsingham disappeared for a considerable time. Is it true?”

“Why should Lord Robert care who I talk to? I am none of his concern.”

Gabriel’s fingers tightened on my arm. “Do you
want
to end up in the Tower?” His gaze swept the area, making certain no one could hear. “It will do your nurse no good if they put you in the cell next to hers,” he snapped.

“There was no point in pretending I did not know her or love her when Walsingham questioned me,” I insisted. “He already knew she had been my nurse! Half of Lincolnshire would have told him that.”

“There is still no reason to make the inquiry any easier for him. He will uncover dangerous evidence soon enough. The longer it takes him to do so, the more time I have to figure out a plan.”

“From what Sir Francis said, you are up to your neck in schemes already, trying to find enough wealth to build your traitor father’s house. I am certain the widow Downing will be most disappointed when she hears of your marriage.” A destrier ran at the quintain, the smack of lance into shield startling me so badly I bit my tongue.

“Marriage is a business proposition,” he reasoned. “The widow will not blame me for choosing a more lucrative one. Which brings me to the point. I have arranged for our little outing on Thursday next. Lord Robert is planning to take the queen on a hunt. There is some sort of entertainment to follow. They will be gone all day and far into the night. I have already begged off—an engagement with the builder who is working on my estate. You plead ill health to get free of the other maids. A litter will be waiting by the north gate to bring you to the rooms I have secured.”

We had gotten near to the queen. Gabriel closed the distance between them. “Your Majesty.” He swept her a bow. “You desired to speak with me? I would not have damaged Lord Robert very badly had you allowed our match to continue.” He slanted her a roguish grin as if his anger of moments before had never existed.

“It is not Leicester who concerns me at present. It is the condition of your face.” She grasped Gabriel’s chin and yanked it toward her like a tutor at the end of patience. “What devilment have you been about now?”

“It is nothing, just a trifling accident.”

“You have an appalling number of those. And most of the time they involve another courtier’s sword or fist.” Her tone pulled her ladies’ attention from the action on the field.

Gabriel grimaced. I could see his gash pull, noted a wince of pain. “I suppose if I told you I walked into a door you would not believe me?”

“Save your charm for my ladies,” the queen said with a wave toward the women around her. “They may be fool enough to believe you. I will have the truth, Sir Gabriel. Who have you been fighting with? By God’s blood, if you have cleaved off any my courtier’s ears or fingers or even the fastening off their doublets I will beat you senseless with my own two hands!” The queen cuffed Wyatt on the shoulder. He fell back a step, whether from surprise or from the force of the blow I could not tell.

“I am too embarrassed to confess under these circumstances.” He darted a glance at those now listening. “But if we withdraw from listening ears and Your Majesty vows to keep my secret . . .” he let his plea trail off a moment. “Otherwise I will never be able to show my face in the Great Hall again.”

“I promise nothing!” High color washed over the queen’s angry face. “Who were you brawling with?”

Gabriel managed to look as if he wished the ground might swallow him. “A lady, Majesty, who did not find me charming at all.” The other women jostled closer.

“A lady?” The queen echoed.

“Indeed it is true, Majesty. Your own Mistress de Lacey.”

He had called me reckless? Did he intend to spill out the whole story of what had happened in the stable last night? All save our flight to the Silver Swan?

“I cannot tell you what she struck me with,” Wyatt continued with mock sheepishness. “I can say that any hope I had of wooing has been pounded out of my head.”

Elizabeth wheeled on me. “Is this true?”

“Yes, Majesty.” I swallowed my nervousness. “I struck him with a brick.”

The queen tilted her head to one side, regarding me for a long moment as if she were seeing me for the first time. “
That
was as worthy a service as any maid of mine has ever done for me.”

Gabriel shifted his feet, looking much abashed as he glanced around at the tittering women. “Now that you have humbled a knight of the realm completely, might I return to the war games to reclaim at least some fragment of my honor?”

“Honor?” Elizabeth snorted. “You Wyatts have little of that. Do not think I take your trifling with one of my maids lightly! I grow weary of your unruliness. Vex me one more time and I will teach you a lesson more crushing than Mistress de Lacey did.”

“I am properly terrified.”

“I doubt it. But someday your recklessness will cost you dear. I have my eye on you, Sir. Forget that to your peril.” Gabriel backed away from her, then turned and ran across the field with lithe strides. Horses nearly trampled him, sword points slashing close.

He did not seem to mind disaster closing in all around us. But I had glimpsed it as Walsingham’s scribe wrote down my words. And I sensed it in the queen as Elizabeth Tudor watched the Gypsy’s Angel lope heedlessly away.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Elizabeth

A D
AY
L
ATER

E
LIZABETH RUBBED THE BACK OF HER NECK, GRATEFUL
the council meeting was over, ready to have Robin send to saddle her favorite mare and secure the birds so they could go hawking. And yet, hunting had not had its usual appeal of late. Her heart no longer soared with the falcons, fierce, untouchable. Elinor de Lacey had reminded her far too keenly how it felt to be the prey.

“Your Majesty.”

She looked up. “Sir Francis.”

“I have news to impart to you alone.”

The queen waved her hand at the other ministers who were gathering their parchment, quills. “Leave us,” she said.

Lord Robert’s eyes narrowed. William Cecil started to speak, but Elizabeth glared at them, driving them to join the others exiting the Council Chamber. Once the door shut behind them, the queen bade Walsingham speak.

“I wished to report that we have the subject of our search lodged safely in the Tower. Now we have only to decide what to do with her.”

“Discover any tales she might have to tell about Nell de Lacey’s birth and about the scar on the girl’s hand. I must be certain there is no link to me.”

Walsingham raised one brow. “If you could be more specific . . .”

“I will tell you all I can.” Elizabeth paced away from him. “There are shades from when I was exiled to Cheshunt, ghosts summoned up by my feverish brain in that place. The people who tended me, the months I suffered there . . . they blur together as if a nightmare. I was little more than a child then, so ill. There were times I even wished . . . well, death will come for us all in time. Hepzibah Jones haunts me from that time, makes me fear . . .”

“Fear what? Tell me, Majesty. I would die to keep you safe.”

“And kill to secure the same end.”

“If necessary. Is there something you remember about the Jones woman?”

“I do not remember, but sometimes I dream . . . hellish dreams, Walsingham. I wake feeling as if someone had scraped my very soul from my body.”

“Surely it is some strange humor of the blood. After all Your Majesty endured it is little wonder your nerves are shattered when you think of those terrible times.”

“Nell de Lacey and Hepzibah Jones bring those times back to me. They flood me with poison, churn inside me until I feel half mad myself.”

“There is no need for you to endure such. Send the girl away.”

“No. The situation is too unpredictable. I need her here, under watchful eyes.”

“Sometimes when a situation becomes too unpredictable, it is best to act subtly. Accidents happen. People die of strange fevers. Fall down stairs and break their necks.”

“How dare you fling Amy Dudley’s death in my face! It
was
an accident. The incident was thoroughly examined, and Lord Robert was acquitted of all charges.”

“Indeed, Lord Robert was a most fortunate man.”

“Was he?” Fury bubbled up in the queen. “In that one fall Amy made certain I could never wed the man I love.”

“That result was either tragic or fortuitous, depending upon your point of view.” Walsingham did not flinch. He was the one among all her councilors who never did.

“Do you think it is a pleasure to be alone?” Elizabeth raged. “To be denied the comfort of a husband in my bed? To carry the weight of a kingdom without a strong shoulder to lean on?”

“I am merely observing that people disappear and sometimes the world is safer for it. Would I could make the Queen of Scots vanish.”

“God’s anointed queen? How dare you presume.”

“She would not scruple to rid the world of you if she had the power. We must make certain no one gives her the weapon necessary to depose you.”

“Indeed. We can decide what to do with our captive later. For now, I wish you to be on the alert for anything unusual. If there is some irregularity in Nell de Lacey’s past, we must uncover it.”

Walsingham frowned, considering. “In fact, there was something unusual at the arrest of Mistress Jones. Sir Gabriel Wyatt wounded one of my soldiers.”

“What?” Elizabeth stiffened, remembering the gash on his face, his claim Elinor de Lacey had wounded him.

“Wyatt was in the area with his mistress. Apparently the woman has a jealous husband threatening to murder her. Wyatt drew his sword rather than let the soldiers get a glimpse of her face.”

“That is reckless even for him.”

“Is it not time Sir Gabriel’s temper was checked, Your Grace? You have certainly given him warning enough to stop his brawling. This offense is grave, and yet . . .” Walsingham stroked his beard.

“Yet what, Sir Francis?”

“I cannot help but wonder who this mysterious woman was. And why the Gypsy’s Angel risked so much to shield her.”

“Some foolish notion of chivalry?”

“Perhaps. But I will probe more deeply in case it is something more.”