“It’s strange how people are never certain these days. They always seem to think that something better is just around the corner, but it isn’t, is it? They walk into a relationship through the front door, always keeping their eye on the back way out just in case. Tristan, I’m sorry things didn’t work out for you with Joanna, but I will not take you back. My feelings have changed.”
I could see the disappointment in his eyes, but he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“I know that I betrayed you and lied to you, but I’m willing to do anything to make it up to you. I don’t expect to pick up where we left off. We can start slow with a first date. We can go out to dinner, talk and reconnect. Please say “yes,” I promise I will never look at that back door ever again.”
“Tristan, I won’t go to dinner with you. I am sorry.” He looked away from my face for a moment and his gaze fell on Adrian’s shirt carelessly thrown across the back of the armchair.
“Oh, I see. There’s someone else. I waited too long.”
“Yes, there is someone else, but even if there wasn’t, I still wouldn’t take you back. Tristan, there is no going back. We’re done.” Tristan didn’t say anything more. He simply walked out of the door and out of my life forever, and all I felt was relief.
Chapter 54
September 1586
Connie ground her teeth to keep from crying out. She thought she was bleeding, but she wouldn’t give Norris the satisfaction of screaming. She closed her eyes, praying that Richard would not find them like this. Suddenly, she felt her tormentor pull out, and her eyes flew open. Richard was standing at the top of the crypt stairs, murder in his eyes. Norris threw Constance to the floor next to the casket, and slowly tied his laces while watching Richard with unconcealed glee.
“Welcome, Mr. Carlisle, you are just in time. Your wife and I were having a most pleasant evening, weren’t we, my dear?” He kicked Constance with his foot, prompting her to answer.
“You made a fool of me, Carlisle, and now I made a cuckold of you. Some would say we are even, but I am not ready to call a truce.” Norris was smiling and talking softly, as if he and Richard were two men having a polite exchange at Court, and Connie wondered if he was mad. She scrambled out of the way, her mind racing. If Richard was in the crypt, the other two thugs must have been dealt with. She had no idea how good Norris was at swordplay, but she knew that Richard was a skilled fighter. She felt a moment of hope until she realized that Richard was not wearing a sword. His hands were empty as he came down the stairs, and her heart froze with fear. What was his planning to do?
“Carlisle, you are even more of a fool than I thought. You came to face me empty-handed? This should be a quick fight.” Norris drew his sword from the scabbard and faced Richard across the small space. Richard just stood back silently, not rising to Norris’s goading. Finally, Norris lost his patience and lunged at Richard, missing him by an inch. Richard danced out of the way, his dagger suddenly appearing out of his sleeve. Norris was on the offensive, stabbing wildly and grunting with frustration every time he missed. Richard was one step ahead of him every time, infuriating him further. Norris was panting with exertion and trying desperately to drive Richard into a corner. Richard stumbled for a moment, and Constance saw the sword find its mark, a red stain beginning to spread on the linen of Richard’s shirt. Norris had gotten his left arm, and Connie saw the cold fury on her husband’s face.
Richard seemed to falter, letting down his guard, and Norris lunged for him again. Suddenly, Richard stepped forward, grabbing Norris’s wrist and forcing his arm up, the sword pointing to the vaulted ceiling of the crypt. Norris looked surprised as he tried to free his hand, but that was the moment Richard had been waiting for. He drove his dagger under Norris’s ribs, going straight for the heart. Connie saw a look of shock on Sir Edward’s face as his sword clattered to the stone floor at his feet. Time seemed to stand still as Norris sank to his knees, a trickle of blood running down his shirt and into his breeches. She watched in horror as Norris’s eyes began to glaze over, death claiming him in its name. He sprawled in front of Richard, his blood pooling underneath his body, seeping into the crevices between the stones of the floor. Richard gave him a vicious kick to move him out of the way and ran to Connie.
“Oh, God, Connie. Are you badly hurt? I am so sorry. I got here as fast as I could.” He was cradling her in his arms, and she finally felt the terror of the past hour wash over her as the first sobs erupted from her chest.
“Oh, Richard, I was so scared. I thought he would kill you. He was so sure of himself and there were two other men waiting by the door.”
“They have been dealt with. Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she lied. In truth she felt battered and scarred. “Richard, will you still want me after this?” she whispered.
“Nothing Norris did could alter how I feel about you. I love you with all my heart, and would have freely given my life to see you safe. It’s over now. We need to get out of here before anyone finds them.”
“Richard, what will happen? Will you be arrested for murder? He was an agent of the Crown.”
“Not if there is no one to testify against me. No one saw me come here, and no one will see us leave.” Richard picked up Connie’s cloak and draped it over her shoulders, drawing up the hood. “Let’s go. Our carriage is outside where they left it and I need to get my horse. We need to get away as quickly as possible.”
Constance looked away as they sprinted past the two corpses outside. Their dead eyes stared upward toward the heavens and Connie said a quick prayer for their souls hoping they would not spend an eternity in Hell. It took them a few minutes to get to the horse, but there was no one about and the road was dark and silent. Richard tied the horse to the back of the carriage and jumped onto the box, whipping the horses into a lather as they galloped toward the river.
Chapter 55
When they got home, John ran out to stable the horses and put away the carriage, while Richard ushered Connie into the house. She was shaking with shock, and Richard called to Agnes to fetch a cup of ale and keep it coming. His left sleeve was soaked with blood and stuck to his upper arm, so Connie asked Agnes for a basin of water and a cloth to wash away the blood and wrap the wound. John finally came back in and stepped into the light making Connie gasp at the damage to his face. His eye was swollen shut and his lip was puffy and covered with congealed blood, but he seemed in good spirits.
“What happened, Master? Did you kill them?”
“They have been dealt with,” answered Richard quietly, as Connie tried to remove the blood-ecrusted sleeve. “Will you clean my sword, John, and my dagger?” Richard had pulled his sword out of the dead body of the guard and the blade was covered with blood and gore.
“God’s wounds, Richard, you did kill them,” John was staring at Richard with a newfound respect.
Richard winced as Connie finally pulled away the fabric from the wound, looking over his shoulder at his arm.
“’Tis nothing but a flesh wound, Connie. Get yourself to bed. Agnes can see to this.” Agnes did not seem too pleased to be assigned the task, but she dutifully took the cloth from Connie’s hands and began to clean the wound. ‘Put some poultice on it, Agnes. Wouldn’t want it to fester. Sweeting, go upstairs and lie down. I will be up shortly. You need your rest.”
Constance did not bother to argue. Her knees were buckling as she walked slowly up the stairs holding on to the banister. She felt as if all her entrails were shaking and quivering, her head pounding almost as loudly as her heart. Connie took off her sleeves and her bodice, letting the skirt fall to the floor. She took out a clean chemise from a trunk at the foot of the bed and poured water into a basin. She would not go to bed still soiled from Norris. Her hand came away bloody when she began to wash, but it wasn’t a miscarriage. Her baby was still safe within her womb. Constance felt tears running down her face as she pulled on her clean chemise.
Would Richard ever be able to forget wha
t he saw in that crypt? He killed Norris and avenged her, but the image of Norris pounding into his wife over a casket would not be so easily erased. He swore that he would still love her, but what if he couldn’t? She hadn’t told him about the child yet and Richard might doubt its paternity. Connie sighed and sat down on the bed, wiping her tears away. For a moment, she actually envied Pippa. Her troubles were over, and no earthly concerns would trouble her again. She got into bed and pulled the coverlet to cover her shaking body, the ale beginning to take affect, making her drowsy.
Constance was half asleep when Richard slid into bed next to her and put his arm around her, kissing her shoulder.
“Richard, are you all right?”
“I am going to be fine. It’s you I am worried about.”
“I am scared, Richard. Someone will find out and you will be charged with murder. Norris said he was looking for Pippa,” she said with a sob.
“I am sorry, love. John told me about Pippa. I know there are no words that can allay your grief.”
“It was horrible, seeing her like that. I pray that she is at peace now, her and the baby.”
“Speaking of babies…” Richard placed his warm hand over Connie’s belly. “When were you planning to tell me?”
“I was waiting to be certain and I found no joy in it, knowing what Pippa was going through. How did you know?”
“I can count. It’s part of my training as a spy,” he said, smiling at her.
“Oh, Richard. How could everything have gone so wrong?”
“It’s bound to get worse before it gets better. Now that the plot against the Queen has been revealed, there will be more pressure on her to sign Mary’s death warrant, and those who oppose her will try even harder to get to her before she puts ink to paper. The Queen is in danger and so are the rest of us.”
Chapter 56
Richard tried shifting positions to alleviate the burning pain in his wounded arm. The whole area felt hot to the touch and was throbbing terribly, but he didn’t mind the physical pain as much as the emotional torment that was tearing his soul to shreds. Constance had finally drifted off to sleep, after what had no doubt been the most horrific day of her life, allowing him to drop the pretense of calm and control. The events of this cursed day came like a bolt of lightning on a beautiful summer day and he replayed the past few weeks over and over in his mind searching for clues to Norris’s plan, but found none. Norris had been his usual charming and courteous self. He had stopped to chat with Richard after a meeting with the Secretary only yesterday, asking after Constance and complimenting him on his report on the Armada.
Richard had been completely duped. When he got the note from Norris telling him to come to the church if he ever wanted to see his wife again, he knew that Norris wasn’t playing games. This was serious and it was kill or be killed. He had never slain a man before today, and he felt a slight sense of remorse for the two men he was forced to kill. Norris deserved everything he got and then some, but the other two had just been following orders.
Richard tried desperately to get the picture of Constance bent over that coffin with her skirts around her waist, and Norris between her legs, out of his mind. His blood still boiled with fury and shame every time he thought of it. He had been ridiculously naïve to think that Norris would allow him to interfere with his investigation and get away with it. He had just been biding his time all along, waiting for an opportune moment to strike and now there was no going back. Connie would recover physically, but the emotional scars would not be so easy to heal. He had failed to protect her and keep her safe. He had tried to reassure her that this awful episode was now behind them, but he wasn’t so sure. Someone might have seen him going to the church or recognized the carriage, although there was no insignia on the door to point to the Carlisles.
By tomorrow, Norris’s body would be discovered in the crypt, and an inquiry would begin into the killings. Norris had been an important figure at Court and the Queen would accept nothing less than an arrest. If by some sheer stroke of luck he managed to avoid discovery, there was still the suicide of Pippa and the rape to deal with. Connie tried to convince him that she was all right, but he knew she was in shock, and the consequences would come crashing through the barrier of denial like a tidal wave destroying everything in its path. Could things get any worse? He hoped not.
Chapter 57
The broadsheets began to circulate by the following afternoon. They were everywhere, glued to walls and trees, passed around in taverns, and circling like falling leaves in the howling wind. They read:
“Sir Edward Norris, a Faithful and Most beloved subject of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth I, Peer of the Realm and an agent of the Crown, was brutally murdered in the olde St. Basil’s Church in Southwark on September 20th along with two of his most loyal companions. The foul murderer first drove his accursed sword through Charles Rigg and shot William Saunders in the chest at close range before surprising the very pious Sir Edward at prayer and stabbing him mercilessly in the heart.
The newly bereaved Lady Norris is asking for the help of all Her Majesty’s loyal subjects in apprehending this fiend and bringing him to a swift and brutal justice. Any informant will be generously rewarded and a sumof£500 will be awarded to anyone who reveals the identity of this vicious killer.”
Richard took the broadsheet out of his pocket and showed it to Constance. “They are all over town,” he said with a grim smile. “This is actually useful to our cause. Now every tramp will be lining up at Lady Norris’s door claiming to have information. She will have so many suspects by the end of the week, that the trail will grow cold by the time she sifts through them.” He threw the broadsheet on the desk in his study and went to wash up. Connie wasn’t convinced. Maybe someone actually saw something, and the extra incentive of coin would induce them to speak up where they might otherwise have remained silent. She followed Richard out of the room with a heavy heart, if it was possible for it to get any heavier.
Constance had spent the day sewing in the front room. Her initial plan had been to go visit Jane, but she simply could not bring herself to go to that house just yet. The mortar hadn’t even dried on Pippa’s final resting place and she couldn’t bring herself to confront her demons -- not today-- not after what happened the night before.
Connie had spent the night tossing and turning, dreaming of the stifling crypt. What if Richard had not come? What would Norris have done with her? She still felt soreness between her legs from his assault, and she shuddered to think what the next step might have entailed. She couldn’t help thinking that Richard might have been killed by Norris’s thugs, or that Norris himself could have gained the upper hand in the fight. It was all too horrible to contemplate.
Constance joined Richard at the table, where Agnes was already serving roast fowl and freshly baked bread. She wasn’t very hungry, but maybe the wine would help her sleep better this night. She took a sip of the fragrant, garnet-colored liquid and rolled it around her mouth. She preferred cider, but this would do. She needed something to calm herself down, if only for Richard’s sake. He needed her to stay calm and brave.
As Agnes retreated to the kitchen to have her own supper with John and William, Constance felt a sense of relief. The girl had been downright hostile lately, and although Connie could understand her fear, she wished she didn’t have to deal with her anger. None of this was her fault. She took another sip of wine and turned her attention to what Richard was saying. He was telling her that Sir Frances Walsingham had presented the Queen with Mary’s letters sanctioning the plot to have her assassinated. Now it was up to Elizabeth to decide the fate of her traitorous cousin, and the whole world was watching to see how things would play out on the stage of English politics. Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to get rid of Mary, whom she held imprisoned for the past nineteen years, but she was also terribly afraid to execute an anointed monarch and provoke the wrath of her son, James.
England was already threatened by the might
of Spain, and if James decided to form an alliance with other Catholic nations such as France and Spain, England would be in terrible peril. The Queen raged in her apartments, first talking herself into ordering the execution, then talking herself out of it. Mary would have to stand trial, but everyone knew that the outcome would be a foregone conclusion. She was guilty of plotting to kill Elizabeth, and there were only two possible outcomes. She would either spend the rest of her life as a prisoner of the Crown, or lose her head. Leaving Mary alive would leave Elizabeth vulnerable to more plots, but killing her would be just as dangerous -- if not more so.
“What is your opinion as a Catholic, Constance? What should the Queen do?” Richard regarded her thoughtfully over his own wine glass. He was of the opinion that Mary should be executed to avoid further plotting, but he also felt some pity for her plight.
“I think her Majesty should imprison her more securely and take away her privileges of communicating with her subjects. She cannot plot if she cannot communicate. She should replace her ladies-in-waiting with her own subjects, who will not be party to smuggling letters out of the prison. I do not think she should execute her. It’s barbaric. Mary is her cousin and a Queen in her own right. It would be regicide and that cannot be sanctioned by God.”
“I agree with you, sweetheart, but only time will tell. Shall we go up now and leave this sad business behind?” He rose from the table and offered Connie his arm, escorting her upstairs. Her head was swimming with the wine, and she was fast asleep by the time Richard blew out the candle.
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