Alex rose from her chair, looked once at Mary, and then followed the boy into the hall.
The queen was standing on a pedestal with two seamstresses at her feet fitting her for a new gown. Alex curtsied.
“Well, Lady Selby,” the queen greeted her, “it seems your horsemaster has a colorful past.”
Alex said nothing.
“You’ve heard the charges Captain Markham has brought against your man Burke?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I have sent Sir John Harington to speak to the prisoner, and Harington reports that Burke swears you knew nothing of his previous doings when he was hired. Is that true?”
Alex looked at the two fitters, who were poised, fascinated, listening to every word.
The queen saw the direction of her gaze and said, “You are dismissed,” to the seamstresses.
The women, visibly disappointed, took up their things and left. The queen waited until the door had closed behind them and then said, “Well, Alexandra? Were you ignorant of this man Burke’s past when he came to you?”
The time for dissembling was long gone. She decided to follow her initial instinct to reveal all and hope for a compassionate reception. Burke could hardly be in a worse case if the truth failed to help him now.
“No, Your Majesty,” she said quietly. “I knew who he was.”
“Hmm,” Elizabeth said, watching Alex closely. “And how came you by that knowledge?”
“I knew him in Ireland.”
“What?”
“Your Majesty may recall that my uncle, Philip Cummings, went to Ireland with my lord of Essex last spring.”
“Do not speak to me of that ill-fated expedition, I wish to forget it,” Elizabeth snapped.
“It is not so much of the expedition I would speak, Your Majesty, but of how I came to be on it.”
“On it? Explain yourself.”
“My uncle wished to leave me with an order of nuns whilst he was gone. To avoid such a fate I stowed away on board the Silver Swan and landed in Ireland with the rest of the ship’s company.”
Alex had the queen’s full attention now. The old lady sat on a chair and gestured for Alex to do the same. “Go on,” Elizabeth said.
Alex said a quick, silent prayer and then plunged into the story, telling as much as she could remember. They were interrupted midway by a knock from Lady Warwick, but the queen sent her away, telling her that she wished to be alone with Lady Selby until further notice.
“And so Burke came with me to London, intending to leave me here and then catch a ship back to Ireland,” Alex concluded. “But when Your Majesty met us at the gate, he was compelled to stay, and then ...” She hesitated.
“And then the encounter with Captain Markham.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The queen rose, and Alex jumped up, too.
“Lady Selby,” the queen said, pacing, “that is a most fantastical story.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So your son is not Lord Selby’s, but Burke’s.”
Alex nodded, her heart in her throat, and then croaked, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
The queen stopped walking and whirled to face Alex, clasping her hands together at her waist. “Something puzzles me, Lady Selby. What possible advantage do you hope to gain for your imprisoned lover by telling me this Byzantine tale?”
“No advantage, ma’am. I merely wished to tell the truth.”
“A bit tardy about it, were you not?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You hoped that I would dismiss the charge of desertion and so the rest of this sordid tale would never see the light of day.”
“That is so, ma’am.”
“Who else knows of this?”
“My uncle, and Lady Howard.”
“Both of whom will keep it to themselves, for their own reasons. See you do the same. There are enough wagging tongues at court about this servant who turned out to be an Irish rebel. We can spare the idle gossipers the rest of it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“So, what’s to be done? Captain Markham is pressing his suit most vigorously, and I must pay heed to his remarks. Amnesty for all the rebels in Ireland was a condition of the truce, so Burke cannot be prosecuted for his participation in that action.” The queen paused. “But Markham seeks to turn my mind against your man on the desertion charge with this fresh evidence. I confess I am disposed to listen to a captain of my navy when his opposition is revealed to be a seditious scoundrel.”
Alex could not control her change of expression.
“Your horsemaster, Lady Selby, is a knave who threatened my throne with unlawful rebellion and impregnated a gentlewoman of good family outside the sanctity of marriage!”
Alex inhaled sharply.
“All of this, however, is apart from your own actions, Lady Selby, which were, and are, inexcusable. I see that I have no recourse in the matter.”
Elizabeth strode to the doors of her privy chamber and flung them wide. The guards standing outside snapped to attention.
“Lady Selby is to be confined to her room,” she said to them. “She is not to be permitted to leave it and is to receive no visitors without my express command. Take her.”
The guards lined up on either side of Alex. She was marched briskly down the corridor and through the warren of other halls leading to the quarters for the ladies-in-waiting. Courtiers froze in the middle of their conversations as the little procession passed. Alex could hear the buzz of their voices starting up again in her wake, animated, ravenous for gossip. As her door closed behind her she heard the guards bang their axes against the floor on either side of it.
She was under house arrest.
Alex sank onto her chair by the fire, in shock. It had happened so fast, and the queen’s order had been issued so dispassionately, that she hadn’t had time to absorb it.
She should not be surprised, after all; this was exactly how the queen had behaved under similar circumstances in the past. But Alex had counted on the bond of affection between them, counted on it to bridge an enormous gap and lead the old lady to understand a younger woman’s actions.
She’d made a dreadful mistake. In thinking only of saving Burke, she had brought doom on both of them.
Alex bowed her head and put her face in her hands.
With both his parents under guard, what would become of her little son?
* * * *
Several days passed, during which Alex jumped up and faced the door every time she heard footsteps in the corridor. When it swung open at long last, Lady Warwick appeared on the threshold and announced the queen.
Alex dropped into a curtsy, her pulses pounding, as Elizabeth swept into the room. Lady Warwick withdrew, and the door closed, leaving the two women alone.
“I have had a letter,” the queen announced, withdrawing a missive from her capacious sleeve.
Alex was afraid to move.
“Oh, get up,” the queen said.
Alex rose and waited.
“Madam,” the old lady said, “your husband is dead.”
Chapter 13
Who will not mercy unto others show,
How can he mercy ever hope to have?
—Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene
“Burke?” Alex gasped, her hand going to her throat.
“No, my lady,” the queen snapped, “your official husband, your husband in law. I trust you remember who he is. This letter, which I received just this day, is from the Netherlands. Lord Selby has died there of the sweating sickness.”
Alex tried to disguise the wave of relief that flowed over her, but the queen was not fooled.
“At least you have the good grace not to fall on your face and weep,” Elizabeth said. “You have no comment on the matter? Pray, what say you to this news?”
“Lord Selby was a good and kind man, kind to me, anyway,” Alex said quietly. “Beyond that I hardly knew him, as he was gone for most of our marriage.”
“He was a good servant to me, and that’s the very reason why I must punish your flagrant disregard of his person!” the queen bellowed, and stalked out of the room.
Alex fell back onto her chair, stunned. She looked up when Lady Warwick peeked around the doorway.
“Lady Howard sends greetings, try to be of good cheer,” she whispered.
Alex nodded miserably.
“I will do what I can to calm Her Majesty down,” Lady Warwick added, and then hurried away as they heard the queen calling her name from a distance.
* * * *
Another day passed before the door opened again, this time to admit Mary Howard.
Alex rushed to embrace her. “How did you get permission to see me?” she said, looking over Mary’s shoulder at the guards who were closing the door.
“I asked,” Mary said.
They waited a moment longer, listening for sounds outside the door, then settled onto two chairs pulled close together.
“What did you say to cause your confinement?”
“I told the queen about Burke and me.”
Mary closed her eyes.
“I know, you warned me. But there were no options left. Her whim might have favored me, as it has favored others in the past. I was desperate and had to try.”
“You might have said nothing and saved yourself,” Mary said.
“By speaking, I thought to save both of us.”
“She seems fixed on the insult to Lord Selby. She talks to me of defending his honor or some such notion,” Mary said.
“Lord Selby was aware of my circumstances when we married,” Alex replied. “He accepted the situation, and gladly.”
“That’s not what has infuriated the queen,” Mary said, as if Alex should know.
“What, then?”
“The insult to Lord Selby’s indulgence. Your keeping your lover at Hampden Manor in the guise of a servant whilst Selby was away.”
“But I never!” Alex gasped.
“What do you mean? He was there, was he not?”
“I never lay with Burke after I was married. Never!”
“The queen thinks you were conducting an illicit liaison while acting as Selby’s wife, boldly keeping a roof over your fancy man’s head with your absent husband’s money, and right under the noses of his servants. You know how she feels about such furtive relationships. Nothing irritates her more.”
“I didn’t even know Burke was still in England until I walked into my stable and found him working there! There was no plan to keep him as my lover, you should know that, Mary. What was I supposed to do, throw him out onto the roads? He was going back to Ireland after he left me at Whitehall. It was a cruel misfortune that the queen saw him when we arrived, liked his looks, and told him to stay the night. Markham saw him the next day.”
“I’m not the one who wants convincing,” Mary said.
“I must explain it to her.”
Mary shook her head. “She’s not in a listening mood.”
“But she’s judging me unfairly! Mary, you must ask her to give me another interview. She must not be completely insensitive to my unhappy state, she let you come to see me.”
“I think she is not pleased about keeping you confined like this, as she has always been fond of you. But her disappointment has no other outlet. She must show her disapproval of your conduct.”
“Of my supposed conduct! I had no affair, on my oath. I wanted to, was often tempted, but never succumbed.”
Mary sighed. “Do you think she will believe you?”
“I know not.” Alex looked down at her hands and then up at her companion. “Mary, I must speak to you concerning a weighty matter.”
“What?”
“Lord Selby is dead.”
“Yes, I heard it.”
“If both Burke and I. . . well... if fate is not kind to us, my son will have no one. My uncle will not recognize him, I know that.”
Mary covered Alex’s hands with her own. “Say no more. I will have Michael to live in my house and raise him as my own child. I promise you.”
Alex lifted Mary’s hand to her lips and kissed it. “I can’t think what I’ve done for God to send me such a faithful friend,” she said with tears in her eyes.
“He’s sent you troubles enough to make up for it,” Mary replied sympathetically.
Alex sighed, still retaining hold of Mary’s hand. “Is there any news of Burke?”
Mary hesitated.
“Tell me,” Alex said.
“A warrant is being drawn up for his execution.”
“Has the queen seen it?”
“I think not yet.”
“She’s notoriously reluctant to put her name to any such document. Look you, Essex still lingers, and it took her ministers many tries to get her to sign away the life of the queen of Scots.”
“That is true, but Markham presses his case very vigorously.”
“Yes, I know.”
“But too much pressure on a matter sometimes causes the queen to turn the other way,” Mary added.
Alex nodded.
“It is impossible to say what will happen.” Mary paused. “I’ve overstayed my time,” she said, rising. “You have another visitor.”
“Who is that?”
“Your uncle.”
Alex shook her head.
“The queen has given him leave to see you, and it would not be wise to refuse the interview,” Mary said.
“I suppose.”
“Courage,” Mary said as she left.
She had hardly passed through the doorway when Philip Cummings appeared in it. He was dressed in his usual sober color, a deep gray doublet and hose, and looked much the same as the last time Alex had seen him.
“Uncle,” Alex said.
“Well, Alexandra, it seems you are in a pretty fix.”
“No lecture, Uncle, I cannot abide one.”
“So it seems,” Cummings said, folding his arms. “All my lectures in the past were certainly to no avail.”
Alex said nothing.
“I’m not surprised that your relationship with that Irish blackguard has wound you up in such a case.”
“Must we cover this old ground again?”
“He found you here, in England.”
“Obviously.”
“And you simply could not give him up.”
“I gave him up, in the sense you mean, anyway. He was on his way back to Ireland when the queen saw him with me and asked him to stay to court. He was there spotted by Captain Markham, from whose ship he had deserted.”
“Markham had no knowledge of Burke’s rebellion in Ireland?”
“He does now.”
“And why was Burke on Markham’s ship?”
Alex sighed. “Burke was taken at sea. He was trying to get to England.”
“And you.”
“And me.”
“So,” Cummings said, unfolding his arms and putting them behind his back, “both of you are in this miserable circumstance because Burke pursued you here. If he had remained in Ireland, he would be free, having established his truce with the Crown, and you and your child would still be safe in Selby’s house.”
Alex looked away. “I cannot fault him because his love for me led him here,” she said softly.
“A most determined man. Determined to have you, anyway.”
The comment did not require a reply.
“I own I underestimated him,” Cummings added.
Alex looked up at him. Her uncle rarely admitted a mistake of any kind.
“When he came to Inverary after you, and I told him you were married, I thought he would give you up. I should have borne in mind the long years he fought us in Ireland. Clearly, he is most tenacious about something, or someone, he wants.”
“Yes.”
“What about the child?”
“Pardon?”
Cummings eyed her judiciously. “Alexandra, you must show some responsibility in this matter. Selby is dead. A warrant is b
eing prepared for Burke’s condemnation and you are under house arrest, with a future that could be described as uncertain at best. Have you given no thought to your son?”
“I have. Mary Howard has promised to take him, and it is my heartfelt wish that he should go to her.”
Cummings nodded. “I see. Well, I should not be surprised that you wouldn’t want me to have him.”
“You?” Alex said, shocked.
“Why not? He is my blood.”
“And he is Burke’s blood! As I recall, you came near to apoplexy when you heard of his impending arrival. Why are you interested in him now?”
“I am ready to do my duty by my brother’s grandchild.”
“Please,” Alex said. “I have had enough of you doing your duty, Uncle.”
“Very well,” Cummings said briskly. “I will take my leave of you, wishing you the best.”
“Is that so?”
“Certainly.”
“You cannot be unhappy that all of your dire predictions concerning me have come true.”
“I never wished you ill, Alexandra,” he said in so sad a tone that she came near to believing it.
“I pray that is so,” she said. She folded her hands and asked, “What is the news of your friend, Lord Essex?”
“His day has passed. His house has become a gathering place for grumblers and malcontents, it will come to no good in the end.”
“But you, of course, are now allied with the other party.”
“Of course.”
“So you survive.”
He smiled thinly. “Always.”
“I admire your agility, Uncle.”
He held out his arms. “Enough of this banter. Embrace me.”
Alex went to him and endured the touch of his dry lips against her cheek.
“I will do what I can to procure your release,” he said, stepping back from her.
“Really?”
“As much as I can without endangering my own position,” he said, and Alex smiled. It was the most straightforward thing he had ever said to her.
“Good-bye, Uncle.”
“Good-bye.”
Cummings left the room. Alex sat once again on the deep chair that had become her roosting place since she had been under guard.
* * * *
Burke sat up in his bed of straw and propped his back against the rude stone wall behind him. His manacled hands allowed him freedom of movement as long as he kept his wrists close together, as there was a foot-long chain linking them. He drew up his legs and rested his arms on his knees.
The Highwayman Page 23
