She placed the letter back in its hiding place and walked downstairs to let the dog in. She wasn’t waiting by the door, so Maddy headed toward the open area that ran alongside the vicarage. There she was, running and gleefully leaping through the snow, playing with some of the mongrels that loitered about the place. Maddy didn’t wish to spoil her fun, so she hurried upstairs and retrieved her cloak, finally settling herself on a nearby stone bench to watch the antics. The air was cold, but the sun was strong and there was no wind.
Unintentionally, her thoughts turned to Nicholas Ryder. With all that had been going on the past few days, she’d put him out of her mind.
That Ryder was a handsome man—and fine of figure, too—had struck her right from the beginning. And the more she saw of him, the more attractive he became. Since her disastrous affair with John Musgrave, she had steered clear of men, making up her mind they were not to be trusted, and the fates had been kind to her. Maddy had met no man who interested her in the least, let alone one to whom she felt a powerful attraction. Until now. Until Ryder.
But she was nothing more than one of his underlings, forced to do his bidding unless she was willing to risk execution. She might have been a servant, a beggar, a cunning woman. It mattered little to him. Maddy should be afraid of the man, not attracted to him. When she’d said she disliked spying on Lady Dacre, his expression had changed. His mouth had grown hard, his eyes cold. And then he’d said, “You like it better than the alternative.”
Maddy feared her fascination with him would complicate matters, eroding the negligible amount of control she retained over her own fate. At length she grew cold. Whistling for Useless, she made her way back indoors. It was nearly time for dinner.
Lady Dacre and Christopher Dacre left for Naworth Castle directly after the meal. Maddy estimated they would be gone between two and three hours. While they were off gathering plate, tapestries, paintings, and whatever else they deemed valuable enough to strip from the castle, she intended to replace Norfolk’s letter. It may be impossible, but she had to make the attempt.
Maddy had heard Edith say she planned to tidy Lady Dacre’s chamber this afternoon, so she waited until the lady’s maid would have had sufficient time to accomplish that. Given her mistress’s proclivity for clutter, this task could take a while. So Maddy bided her time, playing with Useless and tidying her own belongings, before venturing toward the vicarage.
No one was about. The house was silent, as it might be in the dead of night. Maddy tapped on Lady Dacre’s door and entered, heading straight for the cupboard and glancing around to make certain she was alone. She lifted the coffer from its shelf and set it down, but the lid wouldn’t budge. She tugged, pulled, yanked, even hunted for a hidden spring, all without success. By God’s light, what was she to do?
This was taking far too long. Not that Maddy expected them back so soon, but a servant could catch her prowling around in here, and how would she explain herself? And then it struck her. Keys. She must find Lady Dacre’s keys. Surely she had not taken them with her to Naworth. They were likely to be behind the privacy screen, where she undressed.
But when Maddy searched the area, she didn’t see them. Expelling a frustrated breath, she had turned to leave when she spotted the key ring, hanging from a hook on the far wall. Relief washed over her, rapidly replaced by a sense of urgency. She grabbed the ring and rushed back to the coffer. Only one of the keys was small enough to fit the lock. She inserted it, and thank the good Lord, it opened easily. Maddy pulled the document from her sleeve and rolled it in the opposite direction so it would lay flat. With shaking hands, she placed it near the bottom of the stack, roughly where she’d found it. Maddy had just locked the coffer when the door to the chamber burst open. In walked John Musgrave, who froze when he saw her.
She made a split-second decision to brazen it out. He had less right in this chamber than she did. Concealing the keys in her skirts, she said, “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in Carlisle.”
“Nay, I finished early. Have you forgotten, my chamber is also in this passage? I heard someone skulking about as I was passing and thought I should check, since I knew the Dacres were not at home.”
This was so nonsensical a lie as to be laughable. “That’s ridiculous. I wasn’t making any noise.”
“You shouldn’t be in here without Lady Dacre.”
“I am helping her sort her papers.” Maddy made a sweeping gesture with her arm. “As you can see, she keeps everything in these random piles and therefore can find nothing.” She picked up the coffer and put it inside the cupboard, as though she did so daily. After making a show of glancing around, Maddy said, “She was supposed to obtain some boxes for storage, but I see she has not yet done that.”
“In which case you should leave.”
Not before I return the keys.
Maddy smiled. “Yes, you are quite right. But I must check behind the privacy screen first, in case she’s stacked them there.” Before he could gather his wits, she’d ducked behind the screen and replaced the key ring. “Not there, either. We should both leave now.” She brushed past him toward the door.
“Wait.” Musgrave grabbed her arm roughly, and a jolt of fear spiraled through her. Here they were, alone in a chamber with a bed. The last time that had happened, he’d nearly violated her. Still clinging to her arm, he pressed his ear to the door, then cracked it open. Thank the Blessed Virgin, he was only checking to make sure there was no one in the passage. Her heartbeat slowed. Musgrave walked through, and she followed him down the hall.
“I trust you completed your business in Carlisle?”
He snorted. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Merely a friendly inquiry. I found it interesting that the necessity of your going to Carlisle coincided with the earl’s visit.” The words were out before Maddy could consider how risky it was to make such a comment.
They’d been walking toward the drawing room. Without warning, he stopped and shoved her against the wall, so hard her head slammed against the plaster and then whipped forward. She cried out in pain. Musgrave towered over her, caging her. “What do you know?” he asked.
“Nothing. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He bent down until his face was so close to hers, she could see the broken blood vessels on his nose and the tiny wrinkles beginning to form around his eyes.
His voice was low. “Have a care, mistress. Servants run off all the time. If you were to disappear, Lady Dacre wouldn’t trouble herself too much.”
Maddy’s blood went cold. This was more than an implied threat. She itched to raise her arms and push him away, but instead she clutched her skirts to prevent herself from doing something so futile. “I have friends who would make inquiries.”
Abruptly, he backed away, glowered at her one last time, and strode off. Maddy rubbed the back of her head. Her neck was already aching, and she hoped Lady Dacre would not summon her to do any work this afternoon.
…
Maddy spent the next morning helping with the booty the Dacres had hauled over from Naworth Castle, making an inventory of all the goods. Every able-bodied servant had been pressed into service, carrying the treasure upstairs and laying it out on a long table in a room Maddy had never been in. Perishable goods, such as loafsugar, dried ginger, and salad oil had already been delivered to the kitchen.
In the afternoon they embroidered. Maddy stole a look at Lady Dacre as she bent her head to her work. She thought it unlikely the lady had noticed that Norfolk’s letter had gone missing for a short time. If so, she would probably conclude that she herself had misplaced it. Musgrave had obviously entered her chamber with the intention of snooping and must know if he informed on Maddy, she wouldn’t hesitate to return the favor. What was he looking for, she wondered? And what was it he feared she knew?
Lady Dacre was feeling ill the following day. Edith told her she thought the mistress suffered from the same complaint she herself had recently gotten over. Ma
ddy attended Sunday services by herself and dined alone. She did not know where the men were, nor did she inquire. In the afternoon, she walked about the property. The air was crisp, but the sun shone with a brilliant fervor. Because it was Sunday, only a few workers were on hand to feed livestock and tend to one or two sick animals. She caught a glimpse of Christopher Dacre’s coursers, Devil and Prince, over by the stables. With a shudder, she walked in the opposite direction.
On Monday, Lady Dacre emerged from her bedchamber looking tired and pale. Maddy read her favorite Bible stories to her, and when she nodded off, sewed. By Tuesday she had fully recovered, and they returned to their usual routine.
That night lying in bed, Maddy thoughts again turned to Ryder. She would see him tomorrow. A pleasurable feeling, more than pleasurable, if she were honest, nestled against her heart. Conjuring up his face threatened to steal her sanity. Those green eyes—severe, judging, but offset, at times, by a sweetness around his mouth. Sleep claimed her with his image still clearly visible in her mind’s eye.
Chapter Eleven
Early the following morning, Maddy made a list of the embroidery silks Lady Dacre needed and accepted the necessary coin from her. Because it would require extra time to visit the market, Maddy intended to depart early and requested a simple meal in her chamber. Ever since she’d made up the platter of apples and cheese for Mistress Derby, the cook seemed to be warming toward her. Maddy had asked only for some bread and cheese, but the tray delivered to her chamber contained apples, figs, and several pieces of marchpane as well. Apparently, the woman had forgiven Maddy for her past sins, whatever she thought they had been.
The northern climes were fickle, but now, in mid-March, the snow was rapidly melting, giving way to puddles, overflowing streams, and flooded meadows. The Irthing was running high. Ploughmen would soon be out turning the earth, sowing oats. The road, wet and muddy, was leaving its unwelcome gift on her hem with every step taken by her trusty mount, Eve. There was nothing to be done about it. The sun was shining, the day mild, and she would not allow a muddied hem to ruin her ebullient mood.
The church bells were ringing nones when Maddy rode into the village. She stopped in at the mercer’s shop to purchase the silks, both for her mistress and herself, then strolled about the market with her basket, hoping to be noticed by many of the good citizens of Brampton, as Ryder had suggested she do. The square was filled with gossiping housewives, servants, and men drinking ale they’d bought from a stall. No doubt they were talking about farms and enclosure, sheep and horseflesh. Children ran hither and yon, chasing each other. A couple of older boys were poking a dead dog lying in the ditch.
When she arrived at the Ryder house, Nicholas Ryder met her at his door, looking ferocious. “Where is your groom?” he demanded.
“I-I did not bring one.” Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Daniel peeking out from between Ryder’s legs, smiling mischievously.
“I thought we agreed that you would not come unaccompanied. What is the matter with Lady Dacre, that she allows you to go about the countryside without an escort?” All this before he had uttered a word of greeting, while Maddy was left standing on his front step.
“I’m sure she would have seen to it had I asked. But the truth is, I never thought of it again. I am not afraid, you know, to travel alone.” A half-truth at best.
As if God were punishing her for the lie, a giant slab of snow, soft and melting, dropped onto her head from the roof, soaking her hair, bodice, even her skirts. Maddy inhaled sharply, her breath stolen by the shock of the searing cold. Bits of wet snow dribbled down her face. Even worse, some of it forged a chilling trail down the back of her neck.
“By all the saints, why are you standing there?” Ryder hauled her inside and called for a servant. He began brushing snow from her hair and clothing, touching her body in places he truly should not be anywhere near.
Maddy stepped back. “I pray you, sir, stop!” Her host appeared unfazed. Fortunately, a servant came running with a stack of linen cloths in her arms. Ryder grabbed one and made as if to continue assisting Maddy, but she relieved him of the cloth. “Pardon me, but could she”—Maddy looked at the serving woman, whose name she did not know—“take me to a chamber where I might dry off?”
Now discomposed, he said, “Certainly. Margery, escort Mistress Vernon to the blue bedchamber. And find her some fresh apparel to wear. When she is ready, bring her to my study.”
She followed Margery upstairs to the designated chamber. The tester bed was hung with deep blue drapes, pulled open, and a Turkey carpet in the same shade of blue covered much of the floor. Margery helped Maddy undress, and she rubbed herself briskly with the linen cloths. Only her hair remained damp. Meanwhile, Margery had laid out a clean smock, kirtle, a lovely embroidered bodice, and petticoats on the bed. While Maddy was dressing, she asked where the clothing had come from.
“It belonged to Mistress Ryder. Susan, her name was.”
“Master Ryder’s mother?”
She smiled. “No, mistress, his sister-in-law. Master Daniel’s mother. The poor lady died while bringing her second child into the world. The babe passed on, too.”
Maddy nodded, feeling at a loss for words. Last time, Ryder had introduced Daniel only as his nephew and ward, with no mention of the tragedy that had befallen them. Daniel’s father—Ryder’s brother—must also be dead.
“I will set your clothes by the hearth in the kitchen, mistress, but they may not be dry before you leave.” She passed Maddy a wool shawl to wear about her shoulders.
Ryder was waiting for her in his study. The mood was different this time, more welcoming. Cushions had been placed on the settle, and a tray with hot spiced wine and a platter of dried fish, fruit, and tarts lay on the desk. Getting to his feet, he said, “Pray, be seated. I’ll stoke the fire.” Busying himself with prodding the blazing wood and adding another log, he spoke no further. When he finished, he seated himself next to Maddy on the settle. Something about his appearance seemed altered—he reminded her of somebody she’d seen before. Before she’d become his captive. But that was impossible.
Maddy was leaning toward the heat of the fire when he spoke. “Are you warm enough?”
“Yes, quite, thank you.”
He looked at her sheepishly. “It was rude of me to leave you standing on the doorstep. You have my apology.”
“No matter. All is well now. I am grateful to have fresh clothing, since my own was quite soaked through.” That reminded her of his hands touching her body, and her face grew hot. When he rose to pour her a cup of wine, she said, “You look different today, Master Ryder.”
He handed her the wine and sat. “That is because my hair and beard have been trimmed.”
“Ah. Of course.” She could see it now but still could not shake the odd feeling of having made his acquaintance prior to their first meeting in the castle.
“What do you have for me today?” Except for the fact that he remained seated next to her on the settle, he was now all business.
“First, will you tell me if you received my message?” She drank a long swallow of the wine, its heat sliding down her gullet to her belly, banishing any cold left from the drenching.
“I did. Thank you for the warning, but I have not had occasion to be in Carlisle of late. The questioning of the captives from Leonard Dacre’s raid is finished.”
“I have my doubts as to whether Vine himself was actually there. I suspect that he wished to see Sussex no more than I and simply invented an excuse.”
“The mysterious Master Vine. Have you had any more threats from him?”
“I’ll tell you in a moment. But first, I learned nothing about the Dacres’ meeting with the Earl of Sussex. They dined in the small chamber, with the door closed. There were servants going in and out of the room, so I could not loiter.” Maddy set her cup down, and leaning close to the fire, ran her fingers through her locks to hasten their drying. Glancing at Ryder, waiting for the next questio
n, she found him staring at her most unnervingly, his eyes glowing softly. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
“The red-gold strands in your hair gleam in the firelight, Madeleine.”
Disconcerted, she said, “But my hair is brown, sir.”
“Aye, but in the light it…” He never finished his thought but gave his head a shake and got on with business. “Some believe Sussex is not as loyal to the queen as he ought to be. The fact that he was dining at Lanercost adds fuel to that fire.” His eyes now wore their usual cool expression. Possibly she had been mistaken in believing they’d ever looked any different.
“Why did you not wish to see Sussex?” Ryder asked.
“He was present the day I pleaded for my brother’s life before the council. I feared he would recognize me and tell Lady Dacre she was harboring the sister of an executed traitor.” Ryder looked rueful, as though he might feel some regret over her brother’s hanging. Maddy cast that thought aside—she could make no sense of it—and went on. “I have brought you Norfolk’s letter. I made a copy of it.” She jumped up to retrieve it. Painstakingly, she had rolled it up, tied it with a cord, and put it in her basket, covering it with a cloth. Glancing about the room, Maddy felt a bit frantic when she didn’t see the basket anywhere. She should have kept the letter on her person. If anybody else found it…this was most careless. “I must have set it down when I came in. I was…distracted.”
“Calm yourself, mistress. I’ll find it.” He strode from the room and returned shortly—empty handed. Daniel trailed behind him.
“My nephew was angry with me because I would not allow him to speak to you. He has hidden the basket and will reveal its location only after he is permitted to greet you properly.”
Mistress Spy Page 11
