by Karen Brooks
‘One of my own?’ asked Sir Francis, glancing from me to Lord Nathaniel.
Oh please, I silently begged Lord Nathaniel, do not reveal my secret now.
I should have had faith. As he led me to the door, Lord Nathaniel used the most pompous of tones. ‘Did not Mallory work for you? Did you not trust her enough to recommend her services to me? Has she not been through enough today? For Godsakes, you arrested her father, her friend.’
Sir Francis’s face was a mask. ‘It’s not a matter of trust, it’s a matter of safety.’ There was an edge of cruelty in his tone. A reminder of the power he wielded — as my father and as Mister Secretary. Lest we forget. I shivered.
‘I will see to her safety by taking her home,’ said Lord Nathaniel. Not lock her in a room. The inference lingered between them.
Sir Francis frowned. ‘Very well, but I would continue this conversation further. I will organise a time on the morrow and send for you, Mallory. With his lordship’s permission, of course.’
Lord Nathaniel hesitated then lowered his head in acquiescence.
‘Marry, I’ll look forward to it, sir,’ I said in a small voice. ‘May God give you good evening, and I most humbly ask you consider further what we have spoken of.’
‘I will Mallory, and I ask you to do the same. Gideon will not suffer — not tonight. I can see to that at least. May God give you both good evening.’ Sir Francis held the door open for us to leave, then closed it behind us.
The outer room was empty now except for Thomas, who was busy writing.
‘May God give you good even, Thomas,’ I said as we passed.
Without looking up, he replied, ‘Save your requests for the Almighty, Mallory Bright. I don’t doubt you’ll be needing His beneficence soon.’
‘I don’t doubt we both will be,’ I snapped, earning a surprised look from Thomas.
Laurence saw us to the horses Sir Francis had provided. He’d always possessed a fine stable, as the two geldings attested. One of Sir Francis’s men led the way into Tower Street, a lamp held before him. The streets were quiet at this time of the evening. As we rode, I made the decision to tell Lord Nathaniel everything Sir Francis had said — with the exception of the real reason Papa allowed himself to be blackmailed. Among all the bad news was the welcome relief that we could expect Caleb to be at Warham Hall. I also told him Raffe Shelton was implicated in what had happened and had been arrested.
‘What is Raffe Shelton to your Papa?’ he asked suddenly.
Lord Nathaniel had the right to know, if he hadn’t already guessed. ‘To Papa, he’s the man who seduced his daughter and stole her maidenhood. To me, he’s the man I eloped with, only to discover, once we reached his estate, that he already had a wife.’
There was a great sucking in of breath.
‘I … I’m afraid I deceived you, my lord. I am no widow. I am a fallen woman.’
‘I see,’ said his lordship.
‘If you wish to be quit of me at this very moment, I will understand.’
He was quiet, but I could see from his glowering expression, the way his hands held the reins, that he was working hard to suppress his emotions.
‘I really should have thrown him down the stairs,’ he snarled.
I gazed at him in surprise. He returned my look.
‘You are not a fallen woman, Mallory, so much as one who was pushed.’
I knew not what to say.
A few stragglers disappeared down the laneways. The night watchmen tipped their caps when they saw his lordship and the insignia on the guard’s livery. Strains of music from a nearby tavern gave our journey an artificially jovial air. A cool wind tugged at my cloak and I struggled to keep it around me lest what I’d hidden beneath my jacket was exposed.
Divided between wanting to ask Lord Nathaniel if this new knowledge changed relations between us, if he no longer thought me an appropriate companion for his sister, and contemplating my temerity in daring to steal from Sir Francis, my thoughts churned. What choice had he left me? He had refused to listen to my pleas. When it came to Catholics Sir Francis was intransigent, unable to view them as anything but traitors — deadly enemies to be vanquished by whatever means possible. Even, it seemed, when they were old friends protecting his daughter. His indifference infuriated me and made me very afraid.
We passed the Baker’s Hall and were approaching the workshop. I glanced at Lord Nathaniel. It was not only Sir Francis’s reaction to my daring that gave me cause to fear.
‘Do you wish to call into Harp Lane and inform Angela and the servants what has happened?’ he asked.
I shook my head. ‘I’ll send a note tonight and see them on the morrow. I want to get to Warham Hall and see Caleb.’
‘Very well. I’ll have a messenger take the letter immediately we get home.’ Lord Nathaniel let out a long sigh. ‘We can do little for your father tonight. I pray it will be different, but it seems Sir Francis is committed to his course.’
‘Perchance Sir Francis is, but tomorrow I’ll have Papa free.’
Lord Nathaniel gave me an indulgent, sad smile. ‘I would not wish you to be deceived in your hope.’
I glanced at the guard ahead, slowed my horse’s pace. Lord Nathaniel matched his own steed to mine. His lordship said I could trust him. Having already made one confession tonight, I was about to put that assurance to the test again.
‘I do not believe I am, my lord.’
Slowing his horse even further, Lord Nathaniel turned in the saddle. ‘Why, mistress, are you hatching some plot that will steer Sir Francis in another direction?’
‘No, my lord —’
He appeared relieved.
‘It is already in motion.’
Lord Nathaniel let out a long whistle and shook his head.
‘My lord, if I tell you, then you are complicit in a devious plot that could well see you in the Tower. Are you certain you want such knowledge?’
In the light of the street lamps, it was impossible to read his face. ‘You’ve seen fit to share with me a secret that must have caused you great anxiety, my lady. I’m yet to hear a full account and ponder the implications. You owe me that.’
I lowered my head, my heart heavy. I did. No doubt he would ask me to leave so the reputation of his innocent sister wouldn’t be sullied by my presence. Once I confessed to my theft, I’d have to work hard to convince him not to alert the authorities and have me dragged back to Seething Lane.
‘Out with it then,’ said Lord Nathaniel impatiently.
‘You must know, my lord, that the woman you hired to be your sister’s companion is not only a woman of poor moral virtue, but a thief of the very worst order.’
‘There are degrees?’
‘Aye, for I’ve stolen from my own blood.’
‘What is it you’ve taken?’
‘In my possession I’ve something Sir Francis holds so dear, he’d sell the Queen’s soul to have it back. I pray he will sell me Papa.’
Lord Nathaniel stared at me with eyes that were huge and glittering. With disbelieving laughter in his voice, he drew alongside, his thigh brushing against mine.
‘Oh, Mallory Bright, my little gull, my believer in churls and knaves who has plummeted from great heights and survived — tell me, what have you done?’
FIFTY
WARHAM HALL, KNIGHTRIDER STREET, LONDON
The 19th of March, Anno Domini 1582
In the 24th year of the reign of Elizabeth I
Upon our arrival at Warham Hall, Beatrice, Sir Lance and a battered and distraught Caleb besieged us. He’d arrived hours earlier, but thank God had revealed little of the situation except to say he’d been duped by a sly Catholic and stood accused of treason. Without exposing my theft or my plan for freeing Papa, Lord Nathaniel filled them in on the rest, including our failure to secure Mister Secretary’s support. Caleb staggered and Sir Lance helped him to a chair.
‘Oh dear God. Gideon, Gideon,’ he wailed.
Beatrice paled even a
s she tried to offer Caleb comfort. ‘Where has he been taken?’ she asked.
‘The Tower,’ groaned Caleb. ‘It’s where we both were.’ One eye was swollen shut, and though he’d changed his clothing and had washed most of the blood away, evidence of his rough handling could be seen on his hands and face and in the way he limped to his seat and winced when he reached for a wine. Even lifting his arms was an effort.
He’d been bashed repeatedly on his way to the Tower and thrown in a cell. Fully expecting to be interrogated, he was astonished when, not long after he arrived, the warder had unlocked the gate and released him. Told he’d been cleared of all charges, he was ordered to get out of the Tower, make his way to Warham Hall and, as soon as he was able, get out of the city — and, if he had any sense, out of the country as well.
‘I’ve little desire to remain here,’ he admitted. ‘But I’m not leaving until I know Gideon is safe — that you all are.’ His eyes filled with tears. Sir Lance propped on one arm of the chair and patted his hand gently. I sat on the other arm and stroked his hair.
‘Your poor Papa,’ said Beatrice, her eyes welling. ‘How can you bear it, Mallory? You are so strong, I admire your faith so much.’
How could I reassure her? How could I tell Caleb I felt confident Papa would not be incarcerated for long? Though I’d committed a dreadful crime, I didn’t fear Sir Francis’s retribution — either upon myself or those who harboured me. This wasn’t only about mediocrita and controlling my emotions. I was convinced that once Mister Secretary learned of my theft, he would no more send soldiers to retrieve his book than confess my paternity. After all, as he himself admitted, he did not like to appear a fool. If knowledge got out that a mere woman had bested Sir Francis by stealing the most important thing in his possession, a book that kept the realm and its queen secure, his reputation would not recover. He couldn’t, wouldn’t allow that. It was what I believed with all my heart; to consider anything else would catapult me into sorrow.
Sir Lance started to ask more questions, but Lord Nathaniel silenced him, saying all would be explained in good time. Aye, it would be. If I wanted his lordship’s aid in all this, then the time to disclose my role as a watcher was at hand.
‘I’ve already instructed Bede to see that bedding, fresh clothes, food and wine are sent to the Tower,’ said Lord Nathaniel. ‘God knows he’ll need comfort tonight.’
‘I will visit him on the morrow,’ said Sir Lance.
‘We both will,’ added Lord Nathaniel.
I knew I dare not try to visit myself, not while I had the book in my possession; not while I planned to blackmail Sir Francis.
We were a sorry group that evening. Every conversation eventually returned to the subject of Papa, his innocence, how neither the chest nor its contents belonged to him, that all he’d done wrong was store goods, the nature of which, Sir Lance and Beatrice assumed, he was ignorant. I didn’t enlighten them on that score. Raffe was not mentioned, for which I was grateful.
It was late before Caleb, Sir Lance and Beatrice retired, leaving Lord Nathaniel and me in the parlour. If they thought it unusual that we remained in each other’s company, no-one said anything and there were no offers to chaperone us. Not that it was possible to ever really be alone in Warham Hall, with all the servants about.
After they had left, Lord Nathaniel rose and held out his hand. ‘Come,’ he said. Without a second thought I placed my hand in his and we went to his study. There, Lord Nathaniel sat me in his chair and placed his writing instruments at my disposal.
‘Once you’ve written the letters, we will talk.’
I gulped. ‘We will.’
In my brief letter to Angela, I wrote of Sir Francis’s intractable attitude regarding Papa, of Caleb’s freedom and its cost. I also said not to give up hope and mentioned one avenue that remained to try. In the meantime I suggested that she, Comfort and the rest of the house pray, and signed with love and God’s blessings.
I then began the letter to Sir Francis — a letter of extortion. Lord Nathaniel remained silent as I composed, and when I had finished, asked me to read it to him.
‘If I’m to be a co-conspirator, I wish to know exactly what it is I’m conspiring about.’
‘The release of an innocent man,’ I said.
He nodded slowly. In this man both Caleb and Papa had a brave and gallant ally. What I had remained uncertain. Lord Nathaniel had not yet denounced me or turned from me in disgust. I was both anxious to see, once more of my story was known, which way the axe would fall.
‘Read it to me,’ prompted Lord Nathaniel.
I nodded. Lord Nathaniel was about to hear even more than he bargained for, and learn yet another aspect of the woman he had hired as his sister’s companion. I began:
My dearest patron, parent and protector, Mister Secretary Walsingham, may God be with you now and always.
Mayhap, upon reading this, you will regret you ever took such a one under your wing, trained me in the ways of your men and honed the skills my papa taught me and of which you too were so proud.
I glanced up at Lord Nathaniel who raised an eyebrow. ‘There’s more to your story yet, mistress. I will have it.’ I continued.
I hope one day you will find it in your heart to forgive me, as I’ve abused your trust in the most wretched and underhand of ways that will see you disown me as soon as punish me.
Sir, I have taken a book that you hold most significant and secret. I will gladly return it in exchange for someone most significant to me — significant and, I know in my heart of hearts, innocent as well — my Papa, Gideon Bright. By your own admission, he is an ‘old friend’ and the man who raised and loved your daughter. I do not feel the need to insist upon Papa’s innocence as your own heart will tell you it is true. I also require a guarantee of his safety. Lord Nathaniel informs me that once released it’s unlikely Papa can remain in the country and I ask you provide him and Caleb with safe passage into exile and the means to execute this as well.
Father, I know I abuse the bonds I so greatly esteem and, in doing so, do myself no credit. Please understand I would never act in such a manner were my convictions not resolutely engaged. Papa is no traitor. Nor is Master Hollis an enemy. He is simply a playwright and actor who took the world to be his stage and misread his part. I ask you to allow both men to exit with their lives and dignity in tact.
Your loving daughter,
Mallory Bright, SS
‘SS?’ asked Lord Nathaniel. ‘To whom or what does that refer?’
I took a deep breath.
‘Another secret?’
Exhaling, I sealed the letter. ‘Aye. Another.’
‘Will you honour me by sharing?’
I closed the inkhorn, replaced the quill and sat back in the chair. Candles flickered between us, their light comforting. The shadows they cast upon his face softened his features, the look in his eyes. It occurred to me that at some point, mayhap this very day, Lord Nathaniel had ceased to be my employer alone and had become my friend.
Swallowing the sensations that thought aroused, I decided to place my cards upon the table and see where the game went.
‘SS stands for Samantha Short. It’s my code name, my alias if you will. As you’ve long gathered, my lord, I was never a companion to Frances Walsingham —’
Lord Nathaniel raised a goblet in my direction, a smug look upon his face. I didn’t find it nearly as offensive as I once would have.
‘I worked as one of Mister Secretary’s watchers.’
Lord Nathaniel sat up. ‘Go to. A watcher? You — a woman?’
I could not help but grin at his reaction. ‘A woman. That was the point. Sir Francis included me in his network of agents because he believed no-one would suspect me.’
‘Oh, I suspected you, madam, but not of being a spy. I thought you —’
‘What?’
‘Forgive me, Mistress Mallory, I’m mortified.’ He hesitated again. ‘There was a brief time when I thought you a woman of
questionable virtue … I believed, against my own better judgement, that you were Sir Francis’s mistress.’
Shame swept over me, suddenly replaced by a modicum of irony as I looked at the discomfort upon his face.
‘Not Sir Francis. But I did occupy that position with another man. As I mentioned, I lost … no, I gave — my virtue, my honour, to Sir Raffe. I did this outside wedlock.’ I then explained how I was gulled, and some of what I endured. ‘I am a fallen woman, my lord. Not, as kind as it was of you to suggest, one who was pushed. I tripped over my own conceit, my own foolish dreams.’
‘What you did was give that rogue your trust, your faith in his word, and he abused it. He deceived a young chit, and thrashed your reputation for the sake of his own base desires. He’s of the worst kind.’
He paced around the room, then stopped when he reached the hearth, gazing into its cheery warmth. ‘Mallory,’ he began, turning to regard me once more, ‘you’re not the first woman to fall victim to a blackguard. Sadly, you won’t be the last either.’ He came to the back of my chair and placed a comforting hand upon my shoulder.
‘Your … your forbearance is more than I deserve, my lord.’
‘It is the very least you deserve. Though I do question your taste.’ I could hear the mirth in his voice. I lowered my head, burying a smile. I questioned it as well. If only I’d done so sooner.
‘Anyway, how can I hold you to account when I too was coney-caught by declarations of love? When I too sacrificed my reputation and almost that of my family for someone to whom I gave my heart? Someone who didn’t understand the gift it was and mistreated it most cruelly.’
I tilted my head back to look at him. ‘Perchance we are both fools, my lord.’
He gazed at me for a long moment. ‘Perchance we are,’ he said softly. ‘Fools for love.’ Bending over the top of my chair, his lips captured mine as he held my face between his hands, allowing his fingers to stroke my cheeks before they slid down my arms and drew me to my feet. Guiding me around the chair, he pulled me tight against his body. I didn’t resist. Oh no. I did what I’d longed to do: I twined my hands around his neck and pulled his face closer, pressing the full length of my body against his hardness, his towering form. Staring into those golden eyes that claimed mine as surely as his tongue did my mouth. With a look I urged him not to stop, before closing my eyes and losing myself in the sensations rippling through my body that made me light-headed and weak-kneed. With a groan, his kiss deepened and a hot wave of longing spread from my centre to inflame me. When his mouth left mine, I gave a cry of protest before his lips found my neck, his fingers the ruff which he drew away boldly, dragging the partlet free, unlacing my bodice, so he could claim my flesh, first with his searching fingers, then his warm, firm lips and scalding tongue.
