Maddy turned her head slightly, so the woman would know she’d heard. “Thank you, mistress.” And although she longed to pry further, she continued up the stairs and into her chamber.
While Maddy undressed and washed, she thought about the Dacres’ questions. They were suspicious—of both her and the Ryders. Perhaps she should write a note to Nicholas and warn him. If the Dacres had unraveled the truth, wouldn’t they anticipate an attempt to stop them from carrying out their plan? Nicholas and his father might be in danger.
And so might I.
Sleep was a long time coming that night.
In the morning, Lady Dacre embroidered while Maddy read to her, a dark depressing passage written by Sir Thomas More when he was facing certain death. “A Godly Meditation.” It seemed an odd selection. She was still puzzling over it when Edith stepped in and announced a visitor.
“Master David Carleton,” she said.
Oh, no. With all that had occurred yesterday, Maddy had nearly forgotten about being questioned by the justice of the peace. A gray haired, older gentleman entered the room and wished them good morrow. He and Lady Dacre obviously were acquainted. “How is your family keeping, sir?” she asked.
“They are all well,” he said, smiling. “And I have two grandchildren now. How fare—”
But she cut him off before he could finish his question. Obviously, he’d intended to inquire about her grandchildren. With Maddy present, Lady Dacre could not let that happen. “I collect you are here to make inquiries about the death of our servant, Cath Bell?”
He seemed flummoxed and took a moment to gather himself. “Aye. I must question each of you separately. Is this a convenient place?”
She nodded and put her work away. “Begin with Mistress Vernon. I shall be in my chamber. Madeleine, fetch me when Master Carleton is ready for me.”
When Lady Dacre had gone, Maddy said, “Do be seated, sir.” She dropped her embroidery into her basket and turned to face him.
“This should not take too long, Mistress Vernon.” He was attempting to put her at ease, and she appreciated the gesture. “I understand it was you who found the body of the unfortunate young girl.”
She nodded, and he went on. “Can you describe exactly how it happened?”
“My cousin and I had brought a picnic to the river. He was packing up our things, and I decided to walk along the riverbank before we rode home.”
“Go on.”
“After a few moments, something caught my eye. I tried to ignore it, but my curious nature wouldn’t allow it. I plunged into the freezing water to investigate.” Swiftly, she related the remainder of the story.
“Hmm. And you recognized Mistress Bell immediately, would you say?”
“Not immediately, no. Not until I was closer did I realize it was Cath, by her clothing, and especially her hair.”
“Did you know her well?”
Maddy thought about that. “No. But she’d had a problem recently, and I had helped her with it.”
“And what was the nature of the problem, mistress?”
This was the part she dreaded having to recount. As Nicholas had suggested, she would stick to observations and avoid judgments. “Cath was very young,” Maddy began. “A friend of the family who is staying here was trying to seduce her. I could see she was frightened by this man’s attentions, and I intervened.”
He cocked a brow. “What form did your intervention take?”
Maddy explained that she’d urged Cath to speak to Mistress Derby, and that the cook had agreed to remove the girl from serving duties.
“The gentleman in question is?”
“Thomas Vine. He is still here, as far as I know.”
Master Carleton opened the pen case he’d brought with him and extracted a quill, ink jar, and rolled parchment. He flattened the paper and wrote down Vine’s name. Then he asked Maddy to repeat the cook’s name, and recorded that, too. “How did Vine react to your thwarting his…intentions?”
“He was angry with me for interfering, but I don’t know what passed between him and Cath.”
“Did he threaten you or the serving girl?”
“He told me to keep out of his business. I said I’d go to Lady Dacre if he didn’t stop harassing Cath. Or if he threatened me. It was not a pleasant conversation, but to my knowledge, nothing more happened between them.”
“And then?”
“And then one day the cook told me Cath hadn’t been seen for a week.”
She heard a scrape across the flagged floor of the gallery. Was somebody listening? She kept her eyes riveted toward the sound, hoping whoever it was would reveal himself, but nobody did.
“Do you think Vine murdered her?” Carleton asked, inclining his head toward Maddy.
How to answer that? She’d been so sure, but no longer. Drawing a deep breath, she plunged in. “I thought so at first. But now I have my doubts.” She gave him the gist of her conversation with Musgrave, emphasizing the man’s shock and sadness. “If he was acting, he should join a company of players. He was that convincing.”
Jotting more notes, he glanced up at her and said, “Thank you for answering my questions, Mistress Vernon. Would you summon Lady Dacre?”
Maddy curtsied. “Certainly.” As she passed the open entryway to the gallery and stairs, she glanced around. But it was empty.
From the window in her chamber, Maddy saw Master Carleton ride off before dinner. It seemed scarcely enough time to have questioned all the others, but that had been his intention. Nobody mentioned his visit during the meal, but neither of the Dacres, nor Musgrave, seemed perturbed.
After they left the table, Lady Dacre said she would sew for a while before her customary afternoon rest. Maddy followed her to the drawing room, and when they were seated said, “Is there a carpenter on the estate, my lady? If so, you might have him build something for the storage of your documents.”
“Oh, why didn’t I think of that? Clever girl! But I can’t fit anything else into my chamber.”
Maddy laughed. “No, indeed. But isn’t there an unused room you could claim for yourself? Perhaps one of the chambers off the gallery? That way you could remove all of your business papers from your bedchamber so the room would be more comfortable.”
“Hmm.” She tipped her head up. “Yes, there are one or two chambers that would serve. I am afraid they are both sorely in need of cleaning and rearranging, however. We will see to that after my trip.”
“Aye.” Dare she slip in a question about the lady’s trip? It might seem odd if she weren’t the least bit curious. “Where are you going, madam?” Maddy tried to sound spur-of-the-moment, leaning over for her embroidery as she spoke.
“To Carlisle, to tend to some business that demands my attention. It has to do with properties left to me by my late husband.”
“Ah,” Maddy said, concentrating on her stitching. A vague answer, but one she would have to let stand.
At length, Lady Dacre sought her bed and Maddy returned to her chamber, pondering what to do with a few hours of freedom. She felt too restless to sleep. Useless jumped up beside her, and she scratched the pup’s ears and petted her while she thought. The little dog seemed full of energy, so a walk might serve them both well. The day was warm, with scattered, billowy clouds obscuring the sun every so often. Maddy carried a basket, thinking she would pick some wildflowers. She gravitated toward the Roman wall, which of course reminded her of Nicholas and the first time he had kissed her.
And then she had ruined the lovely moment by confessing she’d known all along who Musgrave was, and worse, that she’d lain with him when she was a girl. Nicholas had claimed he could no longer trust her, but later apologized for that, admitting he’d only been hurt and jealous. It wasn’t long before she drew near the Roman fortification where she and Nicholas had sheltered that night, and the sight of it made her heartsore.
Snapping her fingers, she called to Useless, who had run off in pursuit of a rabbit. It was then she heard a h
orse and rider approaching. Scooping up her dog, she hurried inside the fort before she could be seen. Voices drifted on the wind. Clearly, there was more than one rider. Huddling against the stone wall, out of sight, she hoped they hadn’t spotted her.
Maddy had expected them to turn off toward the priory, since there wasn’t much else nearby. But they raced on past. Whoever it was, they were traveling at a fearsome speed. There was an opening in the wall, and cautiously she peeked through. One of the riders was Dacre; the other one she could not immediately identify. And then realization hit. So great was the shock, she felt exactly as she had the day she’d fallen into the icy river.
No. It can’t be.
But it was. If Maddy hadn’t recognized him by his posture, the way he sat his horse, his mount would have given it away. The elegant, sleek gelding, moving across the land in long, sure strides, carried Nicholas Ryder on his back.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The days passed in a haze. Maddy could not engage fully in anything, images of Nicholas flying past on his horse alongside Christopher Dacre unsettling her. What business did they have? Where were they going? Was Nicholas secretly working for the other side? No matter how he’d deceived her, she could not believe he would betray his father—or indeed, the queen. His life would be forfeit. Or was Dacre a double agent, like John Musgrave? She could not make sense of a meeting between Nicholas and Dacre. Seeing them together rekindled the urge to be gone from Lanercost. Desperately alone and confused, Maddy questioned why she remained here. If only she could solve the puzzle of Cath’s murder, she would leave the priory—the Ryders, William Cecil, and the queen be damned.
She and her mistress continued to work on their project. Nothing of any significance turned up among the papers Maddy sorted. She was morose and withdrawn, so much so that one afternoon Lady Dacre said, “What is troubling you, Madeleine? You are not yourself lately.”
Maddy didn’t know how to answer. There was a long silence. “I don’t think I’ve ever fully regained my strength since my illness,” she said, making this up on the spot.
“Influenza can leave you feeling out of sorts for weeks, and you had a relapse, don’t forget. I leave tomorrow, so you’ll have some extra time to rest while I’m from home.”
Maddy rolled her shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness. “What would you like me to do while you’re gone, my lady? Shall I get started on cleaning out one of the chambers for your use?”
“I don’t think you can manage that on your own,” she said. “Why don’t you go on with the sorting, and we’ll work on the other task when I’m home, with the help of a servant.”
Maddy thought physical labor was just the diversion she needed but didn’t press her. Only God knew what might happen while her mistress was away. Maddy may not be at the priory much longer if the plot to abduct Mary Stewart came to fruition. Her stomach grew a little queasy when she considered possible outcomes, one being the necessity of arranging a hasty escape from Lanercost. If she could not—what would Dacre do with her? Would he simply ride off and leave her here with no explanation? Lock her up in one of those unused chambers? Since the Dacres’ interrogation of her after she returned to the priory, she’d felt uneasy. Frightened. Not only for herself, but for Nicholas as well. She had decided not to warn him. He and his father were in charge of this operation, after all, and were most likely keeping a close eye on the situation. Perhaps that’s why Nicholas had been riding with Dacre. She no longer knew what father and son expected of her, if anything, and she wasn’t sure what she could do about any of it.
In the morning, Maddy and Lady Dacre broke their fast together, as they’d become accustomed to doing. Afterward, she asked Maddy to accompany her to her chamber. She assumed the lady had some further instructions to impart before her departure. Edith was there, packing up the last few personal items, and was dismissed by her mistress. That seemed odd.
“Sit, Madeleine,” she commanded, gesturing to the bed. She herself remained standing.
“Will you not sit too, madam?”
She didn’t answer, only began to speak. “You know, my dear, how much I prize loyalty.”
Maddy blinked, smiling hesitantly. “Aye, my lady. Of course.”
“We have become more than mistress and retainer to each other these last few months, do you not agree? More like friends, or even family.” She did not give Maddy time to answer, which she was glad of. “Your loyalty to me, to the Dacres, will soon be tested. You may find yourself having to…to make a choice. Pray do not disappoint me.”
If only she’d had warning of this meeting, she might have been prepared, known what to say. Something that implied understanding yet was noncommittal. Instead, Maddy fumbled for words. “I-I am not sure what you mean, my lady.”
Lady Dacre heaved a sigh and turned away. “Recall my love for the story of Naomi and Ruth. I admire Ruth’s pledge to remain with her mother-in-law, with no thought for her own wishes or desires.” She swiveled toward Maddy. “Do you think you can be my Ruth, Madeleine?”
Now Maddy was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. A little seed of anger planted itself in her belly, and she rose. She was taller than her mistress. “That depends, madam, on what you are asking of me. I care little for my own wishes and desires. But if loyalty to you means endangering somebody else, I cannot be certain what I would do. What choice I would make.” Maddy kept her gaze fixed on Lady Dacre, and they remained that way, eyes locked.
“Fair enough. That is all I can expect, I suppose.” She opened the door, dismissing Maddy.
“Fare thee well, madam. Have a pleasant journey,” she said as she exited.
…
After the disaster with Maddy, Nicholas had remained in a foul temper. He should have been elated because of Daniel finding his voice, but the way in which it happened would haunt him. The child had only spoken because Nicholas and Maddy were quarreling. In truth, it was far more significant than a mere quarrel.
Over the past days, Nicholas had written a number of notes to her—all undelivered—and even ventured toward Lanercost himself, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. That was how, to his consternation, he’d encountered Christopher Dacre and ended up racing along the wall with him. Of all the asinine actions he’d taken, that qualified as one of the worst. When he’d run into the man, he had to invent a reason for being in the neighborhood. He said his horse needed exercise, practically inviting Dacre to suggest a competition—which Nicholas had won handily. But the only thing he’d wanted had eluded him. To find Maddy and convince her to see reason and forgive him.
He turned his attention to the man sitting before him. Nicholas had to know what was happening at the priory, and John Musgrave should at least be able to tell him if Maddy was safe. Though he’d like to throttle the villain for the way he’d treated her, he needed to keep this discussion cordial to get the information he sought.
“Musgrave—if that’s what I should call you—I summoned you here for a report on the affairs at Lanercost. What can you tell me?” Studying the other man, he could understand why women might find him attractive, in a rough, brutish sort of way. Especially, when he’d been a few years younger.
“Lady Dacre is leaving today for Carlisle, to see her daughter. But I suspect she has other motives.”
“Such as?”
“You know the Scots queen is currently at the castle?” When Nicholas nodded, he went on. “Lady Dacre knows the place intimately, having lived there with Lowther, raised her bairns within its walls. If anybody can figure out where the queen’s chambers are it’s her.”
So Musgrave had known about the lady’s past. “You believe the plot is on to capture Mary and her son, then?” The other man nodded, and Nicholas asked, “What makes you so sure?”
“Everything and nothing. Lady Dacre’s jaunt to Carlisle, the so-called raid, the sudden taking on of extra laborers. But nothing’s been said, and I’ve found no clues in any correspondence. Despite doing everything possible to be a
friend to Dacre, I’ve learned only trivial bits from him. He imbibes little, so his tongue is never loosened by drink. He’s a little too circumspect, if you ask me.”
“Allow me to make sure I understand. You believe the scheme is going to be carried out, but you do not know the particulars. The when or how of it. Although if Lady Dacre has left for Carlisle, we can assume it will be soon.”
“Correct. Scottish lairds are involved, but I don’t know who. I wasn’t there the night of the raid, but I believe it was cover for a meeting with one or more of them.”
There would be no harm in confirming that. “Ferniehurst was there. Madeleine saw him, but no other.”
“I knew she was holding out on me! That little—”
“I would guard my words when speaking of Mistress Vernon, were I you,” Nicholas said, his voice steel.
Musgrave smirked. “Of course.”
“My gravest concern at present is for her safety. You will do everything in your power to see that she comes to no harm.”
“At the expense of the mission?”
“Aye. At the expense of the mission. She comes first.”
Just then, Francis Ryder burst through the door, glowering at both men. “No, Nick. She can’t come first.”
Nicholas was aware his father had arrived home late last night, but he hadn’t yet seen him. He did not wish to have this discussion with Musgrave present, but it seemed unavoidable. “Madeleine knows all, Father. She discovered it on her own. The pardons. Her brother. All of it.”
“That’s as may be. I’m sorry for it, but we’re at the most crucial point of this mission, and the merest suspicion we’re on to them could ruin months of careful work and planning. Some of which the lass helped us with. Madeleine Vernon is a very determined woman. Do you think she would want to see it all come to nothing?”
“Since she learned of our deceptions, she’s no longer vested in the mission. Would you be, in her shoes? Her only interest now is in finding out who murdered Cath Bell.”
His father looked livid. “For both your sakes, I pray that’s not the case.” He turned to Musgrave. “Return to the priory. If you see anything to indicate Mistress Vernon is in mortal danger, send word to us immediately. Otherwise, carry on as usual.”
Mistress Spy Page 24
