Witchrise (12 page)

Glancing past Mistress Ashley, I saw a host of doors ahead, more than I remembered. Hundreds, possibly. I blinked, bewildered and no longer trusting my eyes.

It was no dream though. I pinched myself and the corridor still stretched on for ever, the far end shrouded in sinister oblivion, each door yawning open on either side like a row of black toothless mouths.

We could be walking for days, I thought in horror, and never reach Elizabeth’s room.

Then I became aware that we were not alone. The hair rose on the back of my neck. Someone was following me. I could hear the thin scraping of a shod foot along the floorboards, and the brush of thick cloth from a long robe . . .

I whirled in terror, my heart thundering wildly.

But there was nobody there. All I could see was the reddish glow of firelight on the wall above the stairs. Then I heard William’s deep familiar voice greeting the hall retainer below, and the sound of laughter from the serving women.

I am the one bewitched, I thought, and shook my head in dismay. First, the tinglings I had felt on the cart when I first set my mother’s ring upon my finger, and its strange warmth, both of which seemed to have vanished now. Now I was beginning to hear things that were not there. Perhaps I needed more sleep.

‘Did you hear what I said, girl?’

I turned, hot-cheeked. ‘Forgive me . . . what were you saying, mistress?’

To my relief, the long black corridor ahead of us was gone. The landing was just as I remembered it, unlit but otherwise perfectly ordinary.

Mistress Ashley had paused before the Lady Elizabeth’s door, her hand raised to knock. Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I said, the Lady Elizabeth is bewitched by love.’

I had paused to remove my glove, slip off my mother’s ring and conceal it in my belt pouch. But at this I looked up at her, astonished.

‘By love?’

‘Yes.’

Her voice hissed through the darkness, leaving me cold. A restless shadow-spirit had stalked this house when I was here before, terrifying us in the night and haunting our daydreams. It might have gone now, blown back to its kingdom in the realm of death, but something dangerous still stirred here in the dust. I could feel it in the uneasy drumming of my blood.

‘The Lady Elizabeth has fallen in love and is bewitched by her passion. So bewitched, she has barely eaten or slept or spoken to a soul this past month, and lies near to death.’ Kat Ashley met my gaze fiercely. ‘And you will break the spell that binds her.’

I had seen the Lady Elizabeth in many different moods since first entering her service over a year ago: I had seen her proud, joyful, furious, commanding, even frightened. Yet never before had I seen the Queen’s sister
broken
.

Not lying in bed as I had expected but seated in the window-seat in her nightgown and lacy mantle, the Lady Elizabeth seemed to be waiting for someone she knew would never come, staring out into the wintry sunlight without hope.

Her small dark eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, as though she had been crying, her face paler than ever. Her knees drawn up to her chin, she hugged them tight, rocking slightly back and forth on the window-seat, her air that of a distressed child.

It was strange and disquieting to see the princess, five years my senior, reduced to this childlike state.

Blanche Parry sat in a high-backed chair beside the fire, her face pinched, not sewing or occupying herself with some mundane task as she habitually did, but watching her ladyship with a scared expression. As I entered she looked up in brusque recognition. There was relief in her face. We had never been friends. But I knew the princess’s lady-in-waiting held me in some awe since the night I had ‘died’ and come back to life. Her eyes had never quite met mine after that. But I could tell from her face that she hoped I had come to cure Elizabeth.

‘My lady,’ Kat Ashley murmured, dropping to her knees before her mistress, ‘Meg Lytton is here.’ When she received no response, she plucked nervously at the princess’s sleeve. ‘My lady . . . can you hear me? The young Spaniard has come back at last. And he has brought the witch girl with him, as you requested.’

The Lady Elizabeth stirred then, frowning, and looked down into Kat Ashley’s face as though she had only just noticed she was there.

‘Meg Lytton?’

‘I am here to serve you, my lady.’ I dropped a low curtsey, shocked to see my former mistress so disconsolate. ‘In whatever way I can.’

What could have happened during my absence to reduce the Lady Elizabeth – whom I remembered as so regal, so composed – to such depths? At once I shared Mistress Ashley’s suspicion that she was bewitched, for surely no ordinary man could have brought the proud daughter of Anne Boleyn to this.

My instinct told me this was not the witchfinder’s work though. Dark magick felt entirely different. Yet who else but an enchanter could be responsible for her tears?

‘I was told you were sick, my lady,’ I ventured when the princess did not reply, ‘and had kept to your chamber these two weeks at least. I am no skilled healer, but if the cause of your sickness is magickal . . .’

Elizabeth said hoarsely, ‘’Tis not magickal.’

I was surprised by such a flat denial. And suddenly uncertain of my territory. If my talent as a witch was not required, why had the princess summoned me?

‘Then how may I be of assistance to your ladyship?’

‘How indeed?’

The princess closed her eyes, leaning her head against the window frame. Her reddish hair glinted in the sunlight, unbound and hanging to her waist. For a while there was silence in the room. Then her eyes flew open and she beckoned me nearer, as though she had just reached a difficult decision.

‘They say every poor village witch knows a spell or a love-potion,’ she whispered, watching me intently, ‘to charm even the most impossible lover. Can you do this for me, Meg? Can you brew a love-potion that will bring me the only man in the world I want?’

A love-potion?

I avoided Kat Ashley’s sideways glance. So she was right. The princess was indeed bewitched. But by love, not Marcus Dent.

‘What . . .’ I licked my lips, almost too afraid to ask the question. ‘What man is this, my lady? What is his name?’

Blanche Parry made a noise of protest, but I kept my gaze on Elizabeth and waited.

‘His name is Robert Dudley,’ the princess said softly. ‘His father was the late Duke of Northumberland.’

‘His father was the D . . . Duke of Northumberland?’

I stared, horrified by her admission. Before Queen Mary came to the throne, after their young brother King Edward had died, the Duke of Northumberland had gathered together his own supporters in an attempt to put his daughter-in-law Lady Jane Grey on the throne before Mary Tudor could be crowned.

Needless to say, the duke’s rising had been put down with little difficulty, and those involved had paid with their lives. Or most of the ringleaders, at least.

‘But was the Duke of Northumberland not executed for treason?’

The Lady Elizabeth nodded, and hugged herself tighter. ‘His sons were imprisoned too,’ she admitted sadly, ‘and stripped of their titles and estates. His son Guildford was executed along with him, and his son’s wife, poor Jane Grey, a sweet child who was once a friend of mine and whom they had hoped to set upon the throne in my sister’s place. I too was suspected for a time, and thought to lose my own head.’ Her voice snagged on pain, then recovered slowly as she continued. ‘The Queen agreed to release Robert from the Tower and allow him into her service. His family lands and title are still forfeit though, so for now he must be plain Master Dudley and earn his keep like any other man at my sister’s court.’

‘I see,’ I murmured, trying to hide my reaction.

But it could hardly be worse. The Lady Elizabeth had fallen in love with a suspected traitor like herself. How had this disaster occurred? Out here at Hatfield she was isolated from everyone at court, or so I had thought.

As though sensing my confusion, the princess managed a wan smile. ‘I met Robbie when we were imprisoned in the Tower at the same time,’ she explained quietly. ‘We are the same age, so were naturally drawn together at that dark time. Robbie is witty, clever, so amusing . . . and yes, though Kat hates to hear me say it, he is good to look upon. The most charming and handsome courtier I have ever known, and the truest.’

‘Yet you have never spoken of Master Dudley in my hearing before today. Are you sure this is not some idle fancy that will soon pass?’

This remark was rather too blunt for Kat Ashley’s liking. She stiffened and hissed at me, ‘Silence, witch girl!’

Blanche Parry was on her feet too. ‘You had best mind your manners, Meg,’ she told me fiercely, hands on hips, her mouth pursed with disapproval. ‘Remember Lady Elizabeth may be your future Queen. Do not forget your place.’

‘Forgive me,’ I said, looking at the princess.

But Elizabeth waved her ladies to sit, a grim smile on her face. ‘No, the girl is right to question the strength of my attachment to Master Dudley. The truth is, I thought Robbie lost to me, that he would eventually meet his end on the scaffold like his ambitious father and brother. So I said nothing and told myself to forget him.

‘For over a year I struggled to put Robert from my mind, to keep my heart hardened against love. A suspected traitor makes a dangerous friend, especially when I was so newly returned to my sister’s favour myself. But then the unexpected happened. Robbie came to visit me himself, soon after you had returned home to Oxfordshire. He stayed secretly in the old shepherd’s hut so the servants should not know of his visit. I visited him there after dark each evening, and we . . . we talked for hours.’

I was astonished and a little shocked by this admission.

My stillness must have communicated itself to the princess. A small red spot burned in each of her cheeks and Elizabeth could no longer meet my gaze.

‘I did not intend to encourage him, but I could not help it. Robbie has a fiery nature like my own, and can be very persuasive when he wants to be. He made it clear that his affection for me had grown rather than waned since our last meeting. And I am afraid I did not hide my interest from him either.’

‘But now he has left Hatfield?’

She nodded. ‘Robert has returned to court in the Queen’s service. Mary means to send him abroad soon, I would guess. Robert is an excellent soldier as well as a skilled courtier, and already has some reputation as a leader of men. No doubt my sister feels he may be useful to her at the head of her troops. And she is right to do so.’

There must be something she was not telling me, for this matter seemed simple enough to me.

‘But there is nothing to fear here, my lady, if both of you are in love and willing to marry. You merely have to wait until your sister . . .’

I hesitated, seeing the quick twitch of her brows. She had never liked any of us to mention the succession aloud, even here in the relative safety of Hatfield House, her childhood home, as a matter of precaution against spies and eavesdroppers.

‘Until you inherit the throne,’ I continued more cautiously, for it was dangerous to speak of the failing health of her much older sister, Queen Mary, ‘and then marry Master Dudley when you are free to do so.’

The princess’s eyes turned to me, burning with a strange dark flame. ‘It is a lovely future you spin for me there, Meg. And I wish with all my soul that such simple happiness could be mine. For I admit, Robert Dudley fascinates me more than any other man in the world. I was drawn to him from the first moment we met, and kept him in my heart during my tedious months at Woodstock. But now, having spent many hours in his company, I cannot seem to stop thinking about him, talking about him . . . even dreaming about him.’ Her gaze searched mine intently. ‘Is that love, Meg?’

My lips curved into a slow smile. For what she had described was a perfect mirror image of how I felt about Alejandro.

‘It certainly sounds like love.’

She closed her eyes. ‘I feared as much.’

‘But if Master Dudley loves you, and you love him too and wish to marry him, this is merely a matter of patience.’ I frowned, bemused now by her forlorn expression. ‘Forgive my impertinence, my lady, but your problem will be solved by time. I do not understand why you had me summoned here.’

‘Meg, we cannot be wed,’ Elizabeth whispered, her face suddenly ashen again.

‘But you said—’

‘Robert Dudley is already married.’

‘Already married?’

‘That’s what her ladyship said.’

Alejandro looked thunderstruck. Seated under the window in his candlelit chamber, his legs covered by a horsehair blanket, a book open on his lap, he raised his gaze to mine.

Ignoring that look, for I knew what it signified, I paced from the bed to the door, then back again. This would not be an easy tangle to unravel. Even with magick.

My brother was playing cards with Alice on the bed. He turned his head to ask, ‘To another woman?’

‘That is the ordinary way of things, yes.’

William gave a bark of laughter. ‘I am not a fool, little sister. I only meant, it was not an admission that she is already secretly wed to Master Dudley?’

I shook my head impatiently. ‘Dudley’s wife is called Amy Robsart. They were married young. Childhood sweethearts, her ladyship said. Only Master Dudley now swears that he no longer cares for his wife, and is in love with Lady Elizabeth instead. And she with him. But the case is hopeless, since she cannot fall in love with a married man. Not if she hopes to be Queen one day.’

‘So why summon you?’ William frowned over his cards, then played his hand. ‘You are not his Holiness the Pope; you cannot grant this man a divorce so the two can be legally wed.’

Alejandro intervened just as I opened my mouth, no doubt sensing my irritation. ‘The Lady Elizabeth is sick, my friend,’ he explained. ‘If you could have seen her these past few weeks, never sleeping, refusing food, lying near to death at times, you would not mock her need for help.’