The vicar intoned, “I bear witness of your solemn proposal, and I declare you betrothed. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
It was done. Justine and Will looked into each other’s eyes and she saw herself in the warm brown depths of his. He kissed her. Their first kiss. A chaste one to mark so pious a ceremony, but the touch of his lips on hers sent a tingle through her all the way to her toes.
On her walk back to Bishopsgate Street, Justine felt she could have danced. She almost collided with a fat woman carrying a basket of turnips, for Justine’s whole attention was on the band of silver on her finger, which she could not stop touching. True, it was a trifle large and slipped too easily over her knuckle, but that was not an insurmountable problem; she would get a silversmith to correct it.
Yet as she turned north, getting closer to the Thornleighs’ house, the problem she still faced loomed through her euphoria. Before leaving her to hail a wherry to take him back to the palace, Will had said happily, “Now we can tell the whole world we are betrothed.” Caution had pricked her. Did his mother have the power to ruin everything? Did she know that Justine had been born a Grenville? Perhaps not—perhaps Lord and Lady Thornleigh had never told her. Justine had to find out. “Not yet,” she had said to Will. “Let’s give your mother some time to be calmed. For now, let’s keep our betrothal a secret.”
He was reluctant at first, but then agreed that, for the moment, he was too busy with Sir William’s urgent business with the Queen to take time to deal with his mother. “You may be right. A little time may soothe her. For now, my love, this shall be known by only us two.” He had kissed her again, and then he was gone.
Justine slipped the ring off her finger as she entered the Thornleighs’ house. She went straight up to her bedchamber, intent on hiding it in her jewelry box. When she opened the door she was surprised to see Lady Thornleigh laying out a gown on the bed where several others were piled. Justine quickly tucked the ring into her pocket as her ladyship turned, saying, “Ah, my dear, I was looking for you. There is no time to waste. We must get you packed. I have news.”
Packed? Justine saw that her maid, Ann, was on her knees beside an open trunk, folding a linen chemise to go in amongst others. The wardrobe doors stood open, the wardrobe half-emptied of gowns. “Are we returning to Hertfordshire?” she asked.
Lady Thornleigh held up a hand in a subtle gesture that said, Wait until we’re alone. She lifted a cloak of garnet satin from the pile on the bed. “Ann, take this to Margaret and have her mend the hem. Tell her it must be done by dinner.”
“Aye, my lady.” The maid took it and left.
Lady Thornleigh came to Justine and went on briskly, lowering her voice, “I have just come from Her Majesty. I proposed a plan and she has endorsed it.” She noticed that the door remained open, and went and closed it. “My dear, you have an important task before you. Urgent business of state. You have been chosen to carry out a mission for Her Majesty.”
Business of state? Justine thought she must have misheard. “Pardon?”
“You will go with Lord Thornleigh. He leaves tomorrow for the north as Elizabeth’s emissary to the Queen of Scots. Mary is lodged in Carlisle Castle, and Elizabeth has provided her with a small retinue consistent with her royal status. Two ladies chosen from northern high-ranking families now attend her. You are to join them as a third. You leave in the morning with Richard.”
Justine gaped at her. “I?”
Lady Thornleigh patted her cheek like a proud parent. “You. However, your duties as a lady-in-waiting will be a façade.” She lowered her voice even more. “Your real mission goes much deeper. You are to closely observe Mary. Her visitors, her conversations, what letters she receives, and from whom. All this you will regularly report to Her Majesty’s agent in the town. Do you understand?”
Justine was stunned. “Be a spy?”
A flicker of annoyance tugged her ladyship’s brow. “A guardian of Her Majesty’s interests.”
“But . . . why me? Surely there are others in the north who—”
“Ah, you are better suited than you realize. Mary Stuart grew up in France and speaks little English. You speak fluent French. It will give you an opportunity to get close to her as few others could.” She went to a bookcase and glanced over the volumes. “And thanks to your education here, you have another skill that will serve you well.” She slipped out two books and took them to the trunk, adding them to its contents. “Few other young ladies could read Marcus Aurelius and Terence in Latin to entertain a queen.”
Justine was dumfounded. Carlisle was hundreds of miles from London. From Will.
Her ladyship’s tone turned somber. “Another thing, and perhaps the most important. The other young ladies attending Mary come from stoutly Protestant families. Your early upbringing was Catholic.” She took Justine’s hands in hers. “Of course we never held that against you, a mere child at the time. And now it can be turned to good use. Mary’s Catholicism is another potential bond between you and her, a powerful one. Do you see? You have all the tools to befriend the Queen of Scots.”
Justine jerked her hands free. “I am not Catholic. I have no desire to know the Queen of Scots.”
Lady Thornleigh looked taken aback. She collected herself and said evenly, “Then modify what you desire, my dear. For this is Her Majesty’s wish.”
Justine instantly regretted her outburst. It was childish. And she knew she should feel tremendously honored to be chosen to do a service for the Queen. For England. Still, it appalled her to think of leaving Will when his mother might have the power to tear him from her, and she felt frantic to find a way out. “I . . . could fail.”
“You shall not fail. You are clever. You know you can manage this.”
“I know no such thing. I am not trained at subterfuge.”
“I trust you to find your way. More important, Elizabeth trusts you.”
“Because you persuaded her. Pardon, my lady, but it’s you she trusts. She does not even know me.” She slipped her hand into her pocket and clutched the ring. “It’s just . . . so hard to leave London right now. Leave Will.”
“Will?”
“I told you and his lordship. We want to marry.”
“Ah, yes. But that can wait. You have a higher duty.”
“To stay in the north for how long?” Weeks? Months?
“For as long as you are required.”
A year? she thought wildly. Will’s mother will surely tell him the truth. “Please, my lady, can you not find someone else?”
“Justine, stop this.” She took her by the shoulders and said sternly, “Our family owes everything to Elizabeth. You understand? Everything. All our fortune, all we have, is due to her. So your good fortune, in being one of us, is due to her as well. And now, when she needs you to make this small effort on her behalf, I will not have you let her down over a trifling matter of—”
“Trifling? Will is my life!”
Anger flashed in her ladyship’s eyes. She murmured crossly, “Love. How blindly it governs us.” She turned away as though too upset with Justine to stay face-to-face with her. Voices sounded in the garden below. She went to the window and laid her palm on the glass as thought in an effort to compose herself. Justine watched her, waiting in agony. She loved Lady Thornleigh and it made her sick to cross her, but what she was asking was too much. Justine sank onto the edge of the bed, waiting for she knew not what.
“Fair weather for traveling,” her ladyship said, looking out at the garden. “Yet the long journey north will be hard on Lord Thornleigh. There is a problem with his leg. Have you noticed?”
The shift in topic was jarring. “He hasn’t said anything lately.”
Her ladyship turned abruptly. “He spoke about it to you?”
Justine saw her blunder. “Only once.” This sounded worse—like a conspiracy. She hastened to add, “He didn’t want to worry you.”
Anxiety, like a shadow, fell ove
r Lady Thornleigh’s face. “I would be the worst kind of fool to live with a man for over thirty years and not notice he was ailing.” Justine felt she was looking at a woman she thought she knew, but didn’t—not all of her. Not this deep worry.
Lady Thornleigh seemed to recover herself. She found a smile. Her voice, when she spoke, was strong and warm. “I know what you are feeling, my dear. Believe me, I wish with all my heart to see you wed the man you love. Marry, and be happy, as I have been.”
Justine gasped in joy. “God bless you, my lady!” Buoyed with relief, she jumped up and ran to her and embraced her. “You won’t be sorry. I’m sure you’ll find several young lady candidates eager to go to Carlisle. Her Majesty can have her pick.”
“No. It is you we have chosen. You are the ideal candidate. I told you, Will can wait.”
She pulled back in dismay. “But—”
“You are one of us, Justine, a Thornleigh. Thornleighs serve Elizabeth. It is our privilege and our duty. You shall not fail at yours.” She started for the door. “Be ready to ride north in the morning.”
Justine ran down the stairs to the library. Lord Thornleigh would listen to her. He would not let them banish her to Carlisle, cut her off from Will!
She found him standing at the big oak desk with his clerk, both of them sorting papers and packing them into a wooden chest.
“My lord,” she blurted, “I must speak to you.”
He looked up. “And I to you.” He turned to his clerk. “I’ll finish this, Curnutt. See about getting the letters sent, would you?”
“Certainly, my lord.” The clerk poked through the papers, gathering letters—an interminable business, it seemed to Justine. Waiting for him to finish and leave, she noticed Lord Thornleigh rubbing his left hand with his right, slowly, methodically. Was his hand numb? It gave her a prickle of alarm. Had his malady spread? He saw her looking and let his hand drop to his side as though unwilling to let her see.
The moment his clerk was gone he said, “So, has her ladyship told you of your mission?”
“Yes, but—”
“Good. We need to discuss the journey. Can your maid have you ready early tomorrow? I’d like to set out right after breakfast.”
“Oh, sir, I am loath to go! May I not decline?”
He looked taken aback. “Decline? A request from the Queen? Certainly, if you want to stain the reputation of our house.”
“No . . . of course not,” she stammered, “but, I mean, could you not intercede for me with Her Majesty? Get this plan changed? Anyone could go in my place. I know she relies on your counsel.”
“With good reason, that I advise her honestly. You are her choice, and I agree it’s an excellent one. Why do you balk?”
She was in turmoil. How much could she tell him? Looking at his weathered face, his worried look as he waited for an explanation for her extraordinary resistance, she knew his concern for her was heartfelt. He had taken her in when she was a terrified, lonely child and had brought her up like a daughter. No father could have been more kind. She owed him the truth. The whole truth.
She took a breath and began to pour out her heart. How, despite her promise, she had not yet told Will her real background. How she had met him that morning at St. Paul’s and heard that he’d told his mother of their desire to marry and that his mother had flown into a panic and refused to give her consent.
Listening, Lord Thornleigh let out a groan. He sat down heavily in the chair by the desk. “I was afraid of this.”
Justine froze. She was right. “She knows who I am. That’s it, isn’t it?”
He nodded grimly. “She does. So, now Will knows, too?”
“No. He has no idea about it, I’m sure. But he said his mother may come to you and demand that you refuse your consent.”
“Poor Joan. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her.”
“And you won’t listen to her, will you? If she demands that you to forbid us to marry?”
“I told you, I’m pleased about this marriage.”
“But if she insists—”
“Justine, don’t worry. I’m sorry Joan has reacted so badly, but it changes nothing. You have my consent and my blessing. That’s all you and Will need.”
She was so grateful she did not trust her voice to be steady. She whispered, “Thank you.”
“I feel I should thank you,” he said with feeling. “This means a lot to me. A new beginning. The hatred between the houses of Thornleigh and Grenville has festered too long, like some witch’s spell. You and Will, with your union, are going to break it.” He glanced at his hand hanging limply at his side. “I want peace. That’s the legacy I intend to leave my family.”
“Leave?” She felt a clutch of alarm. “Is your malady so dire?”
He chuckled. “Don’t bury me yet, girl. I mean to dance and eat plums at your wedding.”
She had to smile. This day, so overwrought, was making her imagine things.
“You and Will have already made peace,” he said, “and that’s what’s so heartening. Now the rest of us need to do the same. I’ll talk to Joan.” He got to his feet. “And you need to go and get packed. Your first duty is to Elizabeth.”
She did not move. Gathering her courage, she swallowed and said, “Sir, there is more.” She confessed that this very morning she and Will had become betrothed.
“What?” His extreme displeasure was plain. “That was ill done, Justine. Betrothal is serious. It should be an open, public ceremony, not this hole-in-corner sneaking.”
“When I went to meet him, sir, I did not know it would happen. He asked, and I was so happy I said yes. He had brought a friend, a vicar, and the ceremony was done then and there.”
“And you never thought to wait until the thing could be properly done? You should have had your family with you. Me.” He looked almost hurt.
Justine loved him for his concern. But she could not pretend to regret her vow to Will. “I hope you will forgive me, my lord. It was done for love.”
He gave her a piercing look as if to warn her that she could not be so easily mollify him. But a ghost of a smile played on his lips. “Love above all, eh?”
It moved her. He understood. He was only putting on a show of anger now. Yet her fears leapt up again. “Sir, I persuaded Will that our betrothal should be a secret for now.” His angry frown returned and she hastened to add, “Because I am so afraid his mother will tell him about me.”
Wearily, he shook his head. “She won’t. When we took you in she gave me her solemn promise never to speak of it.”
Ah, that explained so much! Yet, was it enough? “But now that Will has told her about us? What if she breaks her promise and hurls the truth at him? Especially if I am sent north and am not even here to defend myself?”
“Then tell him now. Get it over with. Tell him today.”
“He’ll hate me.”
“Nonsense. You are an innocent in this miserable feud. He’ll understand that. And it’s clear that he loves you. Trust in that.”
She felt a shiver. “But can I trust? Won’t he see in me his enemies, my kinsmen? Can he really forget how his father was killed and his mother left widowed? Besides, our family and his are so staunchly Protestant, and he’ll realize that as a Grenville I was born a Catholic. For all these reasons . . . oh, my lord, I have seen with my own eyes the loathing he bears my aunt.”
“Frances? Ah, well, she is a hard woman to warm to.”
“It’s not that. Will hates her. For her Grenville blood. My blood.”
That gave him pause, she saw. Made him quiet. She felt a shudder, seeing how truly she had hit the mark.
“Look,” he said, “this can’t go on. You have to be honest with Will. You cannot build a marriage on a lie.”
Anger swelled in her, born of desperation. “Lies are what we’ve all been living with, ever since I came among you.”
“I thought it best for you. I would have done you no favor to have people know you’re the daughter of a
traitor.” He heaved a troubled sigh. “However, that may have been a mistake. Your father’s sins died with him in the flames, and maybe that wiped the slate clean for you. This damned secrecy. I never thought it would grow into such a problem.”
She had to look away. Could not let him see that she held back a deeper lie. Her father had not perished in the fire. Where he had gone, she had no idea, but he was alive, somewhere, and she alone knew it.
“Justine.”
She turned back, hearing the new note in his voice. A hopeful note, as though he had discovered something. “This mission you’ve been chosen for,” he said, “to attend Mary, Queen of Scots. It could be the very thing to help you win Will over.”
She stared at him, baffled. “How can leaving him do that?”
“By your service to Elizabeth. Will is devoted to Her Majesty’s cause, as are all our family. Your being part of that cause will strengthen your bond with him. It will prove to him how deeply, how thoroughly, you are one of us. A Thornleigh.”
A glimmer of light broke through her fears. “Think you so?”
“I do. Show Will your loyalty, by your actions. Then nothing can shake him. Not even when you tell him your past.”
She clutched at what he had just implied. “When I tell him? You mean, not yet?”
He seemed to realize the contradiction: A moment ago he had said she should tell Will today. “You won’t be with Mary for long. A couple of months at most, and meanwhile I’ll deal with Joan. Once you’re back home, that’s the time to tell him. You will have proved yourself. I dare say your service to Elizabeth will even boost his prospects with Sir William.”
Justine felt a jolt of excitement. The picture he painted was so bright, so beautiful, it made tears spring to her eyes. She was part of his family, and she would prove this truth to Will! She would show herself to be such an essential member of the house of Thornleigh and be so valiant in her service to Elizabeth, nothing could shake his love, not even her Grenville blood.
Barbara Kyle - [Thornleigh 05] Page 8
