A Traitor's Tears
Page 26
‘One of the worst,’ said Brockley with feeling.
‘It’s odd,’ said Dale thoughtfully. And then, taking me by surprise as usual, she had one of her perceptive moments. ‘I mean,’ she said, ‘it’s odd how it all began. It all started, didn’t it, with that woman in Norfolk, Agnes Wyse, taking Henry Howard away from her maidservant – that’s Cat Spinner now. I think she was born that kind of woman, you know. She wasn’t made that way by a harsh husband; if you ask me, she made him harsh because of her queen of the hive ways. Didn’t that sensible young man Gilbert Shore call her that? If Mistress Wyse hadn’t insisted on being queen of the hive over Cat and Henry Howard, the way she tried to be with Blanche and Gilbert and probably was with Blanche’s first suitor – that farmer, Goodbody – then Roland would never have been born and none of this would have happened.’
Brockley looked at her with respect. ‘I never thought of it that way. But yes, you are perfectly right. That was where it started.’
I thought, though silently, of where it had led. To Jane Cobbold, stabbed to death in her own garden; Jack Jarvis, dead on the Dover Road. And Roland himself … where was he now?
I didn’t want to know the answer to that, nor did I want to know the fate of Gilles Lebrun. I had even written to Sir William Cecil, Lord Burghley, who I knew would understand, to say as much.
Tessie appeared, carrying Harry. ‘Madam, he’s becoming that heavy. Soon he’ll have to do all his own walking, so he will.’
‘Give him to me,’ said Brockley. ‘I’m not too frail to carry a lad his age. He fairly called me back to life again and I’ve got fond of him.’
We walked on, with Harry seated on Brockley’s shoulders. There was a sense of closeness. Harry, by helping Brockley back to health, had in some way bonded us together. From now on, I thought, we would be a family, happy and united, without dubious undercurrents of desire. And without danger or dread. For I would have no more to do with crimes or plots or perilous assignments. Not ever.