by Mary Hooper
‘I swear I meant the queen no harm!’
‘So said the last traitor who crossed her threshold.’
I swallowed painfully. ‘B … but how can I prove to you that … ?’
‘Enough of this! Speak now and tell me who is your master,’ he said, ‘or be taken away and have the truth pressed out of you.’
I felt tears of fear spring to my eyes. ‘But how could I harm her – or anyone? I have no weapons concealed about me.’
His eyes flickered over me as if looking for places in which a dagger might be concealed, and came to rest at my neck. ‘What is that tawdry gee-gaw you wear? Are you a member of some secret society?’
I shook my head. ‘’Tis just a groat. Not a real one, or my needs are such that I would have spent it, but a counterfeit.’
‘And why would you wear such a shoddy thing?’
I flushed pink at the scorn in his voice, for I could tell that the cat’s costume was a rich one, see that he wore a wide gold ring in his ear, that his doublet was edged with costly white ermine and his mask decorated with jewels.
‘I wear it because it bears the queen’s image,’ I said simply.
‘Does it? It also bears such a poor amount of silver that it has gone quite black.’
My hand touched the coin and I ran my fingers over the queen’s profile. ‘But I know that it shows the queen’s face, and that is enough.’
He looked at me deeply, consideringly.
‘I am no traitor!’ I declared again. ‘If you wish, you may search me.’
His eyes flickered over me again and after a moment his mouth curved upwards in a smile. ‘Go to, Mistress,’ he said. ‘That will not be necessary.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Not this time.’
I blushed again, for I took his meaning. ‘You believe me? You believe I am merely a housemaid and nothing more?’
He nodded and removed his hands from my throat. ‘I do. For surely no one would wear such a tawdry object about her neck unless she was devoted to Her Grace.’ He laughed. ‘A cat may know a queen, but he also knows a maid.’
‘I am a maid,’ I said, nodding thankfully. ‘I work for Dr Dee and am nurse to his children. My only wish in this life is to serve Her Grace. I’d never do anything to harm her!’
‘I think you speak truly.’
‘I do!’
‘Then we shall be introduced. My name is Tomas.’
‘And mine is Lucy,’ I said, near light-headed with relief. I gasped then, and added, ‘Of course! You are Tom-fool. The real Tom-fool.’
He shook his head. ‘Not today. Today I am Tom-cat.’ He took a step back from me and suddenly flipped himself over twice like a tumbling man at a fair, and I couldn’t do anything but laugh and applaud, for he was deft and neat in his movements and very like a cat.
‘Well tumbled, Sir!’
He bowed. ‘Helter-skelter, hang sorrow, what can we be but merry?’
‘What indeed!’ I replied. I was certainly not able to turn a somersault, so instead I bobbed a low curtsey. ‘But how did you know that I was behind the fireplace?’
‘Where my queen goes, I go,’ he answered. ‘I have the sensibility of a cat and see and hear much that others do not. In short, pretty maidy, I heard you there.’ He smiled at me again, and his grey eyes took on a warmth and a light. ‘So, you would serve Her Grace, would you?’
I nodded fervently.
‘Then you and I are bound to see each other again, and when we do it will be a happy meet.’
There was a short trumpet blast from outside.
‘Her Grace departs,’ he said, and he raised my hand to his mouth, kissed it and left the room, leaving me still quivering with a mix of fear and excitement. But mostly excitement.
I occupied myself by replacing the chairs and stools in their usual positions, thinking on all that I’d heard. And then, Dr Dee not returning to the room straightaway, I cast my eyes about it, thinking to myself how strange and wonderful it was that the Queen of England herself had been sitting there just a moment before. I wished I could have seen her complete, closer, in all her glory, so that I could have admired her jewels the better, seen how she’d dressed her hair, admired her hands – for they were said to be very slim and elegant.
It was then that I noticed something which made my heart skip a beat: the little chest was without its padlock! I had not, it seemed, learned any lesson on the dangers of curiosity, for within a moment I’d swung the lid back on its hinges and was looking inside.
The chest was lined in dark blue velvet and contained two things: a small glass ball, about as big as a duck’s egg but perfectly round, and a black and silver mirror. At first glance this seemed to be a looking glass on a handle, similar to the ones that great ladies have to apply their rouge, but when I nervously took it up I found that instead of one surface being reflective, back and front were both equally dark.
For what magick could this be used? I wondered. Pondering, alert for any sound from the hallway, I put it down and picked up the glass ball. This was of heavy crystal, a dead weight, beautiful, shining and clear; surely the show-stone which Merryl had spoken of? As I stared into it, entranced, looking deeper and deeper as if into a bottomless pool, I thought I saw blue colours within its depths: sapphire and purple stones, acqua and turquoise, sparkling altogether on a gold flask or bottle.
But how could I see such a thing? I looked around me. Was I merely seeing a reflection of something within this room?
But before I could pursue this question further I heard footsteps outside and immediately replacing the crystal within the chest, moved away to the other end of the room.
Mr Kelly came in, his gown and cloak askew, his face red with indignation.
‘I’ve missed her, haven’t I? I just saw her entourage going down the high street.’ He frowned deeply at me, as if I was responsible for his not having been there. ‘Couldn’t someone have been sent to tell me she was coming? Couldn’t you have come with a message?’
I murmured something but couldn’t give a proper reply – for indeed it wasn’t my place to make excuses on Dr Dee’s behalf – and when that gentleman came in a moment later I made myself busy tending the fire at the far end of the room.
‘Did she ask about the elixir?’ Mr Kelly asked after some angry preamble, and Dr Dee murmured something in reply, two words that I didn’t understand, using a strange language.
‘But why didn’t you contact me?’ Mr Kelly asked again.
‘I had no time to do so, Sir,’ answered Dr Dee.
‘But I am your partner. Your scryer. We work together, Dee. We work together or not at all.’
‘Then hear this,’ said Dr Dee, and he took up two chairs, placed them before one of the tables and, I believe, told Kelly about the queen’s minister and his dead daughter. I knew this was so because, before leaving the room, I heard the words ‘thirty gold pieces’ spoken, once by Dr Dee and once, in awe, repeated by Mr Kelly.
I went back to the kitchen and resumed my duties, thinking all the while about the two objects in the box, wondering if they were true articles of magick and, if so, what conjurations could be performed with them. I’d held them both in my right hand and I now felt an ache and tingle all the way up this arm, as if I’d been lying on it overnight. Soon, though, going about my daily duties, emptying slop buckets into the river and listening to Mistress Midge’s complaints, I began to doubt my eyes. Had I really seen blue stones glittering within the crystal globe? Or, my mind half-expecting magick, had it just been my imagination?
The girls, not having seen the queen, came back to their room to change into their everyday clothes. I told them that I’d seen the real Tom-fool, although, of course, didn’t tell them the circumstances.
‘Oh!’ Merryl said, sticking out her bottom lip in a pout. ‘I wanted to see him. I like him! He told me that when I grow up he’d marry me.’
‘Did he now?’ I said, my mind still on the mysterious, magical objects. ‘But I expect your father has a m
ore prestigious match in mind than for you to marry the queen’s jester.’
‘But it would be such fun to be married to him and to help him dress up in different outfits all the time!’
‘He’s too old for you,’ said her sister.
‘And how old is that?’ I asked.
‘We’re not sure,’ said Beth.
‘Is he handsome?’ I asked lightly, which was a question of little consequence, but which could be explained by my being curious about someone who’d kissed my hand and called me pretty. ‘For today he was disguised as a cat and I couldn’t tell.’
‘He is remarkably handsome,’ said Merryl, ‘or I wouldn’t consider marrying him.’
‘No, Merryl,’ said Beth, ‘we’re not sure about that, either, for he nearly always has a mask on.’
‘Yes, and when he hasn’t, he’s never still long enough for anyone to see him because he’s jumping and rolling and turning somersaults,’ Merryl said, and she attempted to turn a somersault herself, but only succeeded in getting caught up in her petticoats.
‘But, Lucy, why do you want to know if he’s handsome?’ Beth asked, frowning.
‘Oh, I was just interested,’ I said, and changed the conversation by bidding her to stand still so that I could pin her bodice on to her skirts without pricking her, a task completed successfully until Tom-fool the monkey spotted the pincushion, scooped it up and proceeded to bombard us with tiny darts, causing us to leave the room in haste and go downstairs.
That night, for some reason unable to sleep, I heard strange noises in the churchyard of St Mary’s and, looking out of my window, saw by the light of the moon two shadowy figures standing over a flat-topped family tomb. I took these for newly risen wraiths at first and was set to scream out when one of them turned towards the house and I saw from his profile and lengthy beard that it was actually Dr Dee, with Mr Kelly beside him. I watched with an awful fascination as the two men stood over the tomb and raised their hands, all the time chanting a dirge, very low. I believe I saw the dark looking-glass mirror being raised in the air, and once Mr Kelly prostrated himself at full length on the stone. I came to the conclusion that they were in the graveyard for the purpose of practising their trade, and I say practising, for it couldn’t have been Alice Vaizey they sought to raise that night, for her father had said she was buried in Richmond.
Such practices filled me with great fear, and did indeed seem to be the Devil’s work, but I could not help but be horribly fascinated about the particulars of such a ceremony and want to know whether it would succeed. This time, with me watching behind my shutter, it did not, but my guess was that Dr Dee and his companion would continue practising, for thirty pieces of gold was great riches and beyond what an ordinary person would ever see in a whole lifetime. If Dr Dee was really without money, as Mistress Midge had said, then he’d surely go to any lengths in his efforts to raise young Mistress Vaizey from the dead.
That Sunday Mistress Midge and I attended church, going not because of any surge of religious feeling on our parts, but because an edict had recently come through that everyone in the country must attend church at least once on a Sunday or be fined sixpence. The church was packed, therefore, but there were many stony faces and much muttering behind hands, for most folk didn’t like being dictated to in this way. I, however, was of a different mind, for it gave me an opportunity to see other maidservants, to see how they were dressed and how they did their hair, to wear my best outfit – and also to see whether my employer suffered any distress at being in a House of God, for if he was in league with the Devil, then surely he wouldn’t be at ease in such a place?
Mistress Midge and I filed in, found a seat in the church at the back amongst the servants of the other big Mortlake houses, and I shifted to one side slightly so that I had a good view of Dr Dee who, as befitted his status, was seated in one of the front pews. But to my slight disappointment, he seemed untroubled, and appeared to be singing in hearty voice, one hand on Beth’s shoulder, the other on Merryl’s.
After a long and tiresome service the servants came out of the church briskly – all the sooner to get home and prepare their family’s dinners – while the well-to-do folk stayed to be greeted by the parson. I took this opportunity to walk across to the part of the graveyard which was overlooked by my bedroom window, where I located the flat-topped sepulchre where Dr Dee and Mr Kelly had been three nights before. This was a substantial family tomb and, though I couldn’t read the names on it, I counted eight of these, two on each face of the structure. One name seemed to be newly carved, for it was considerably sharper and lighter than the others. I say I couldn’t read them, but that is not quite true, for I was strangely thrilled to discover the name LUCY writ on one face, though this was older than the others and dark with lichen.
I didn’t wish to draw attention to myself, so as I looked around I picked some herbs. If anyone asked I could say I was gathering rosemary to make a wash for my hair. As I studied the tomb (wondering if the final, newer name was the corpse they’d sought to raise) I noticed that it had a large symbol chalked on the top of it. There had been rain the night before, so this was not complete but seemed to be a large circle with a form of star – five-pointed – writ within it. There was some writing or sign at each point of the star, but these marks were obscure, although I could make out a crescent like the new moon, and saw also four short wavy lines.
I stared at these symbols, fascinated, then, seeing Dr Dee come out of the porch, turned away quickly to leave the churchyard by the side gate. Once back in the dark house I had all thoughts of magick and enchantment erased from my mind, for Mistress Midge intended to begin the big wash the next morning and there were soaps and lye to be prepared, and much shouting to be endured.
Chapter Eleven
On Monday night, I believe that Dr Dee and Mr Kelly tried again to raise spirits, for I heard strange sounds coming from the churchyard. I was so fatigued, however, having risen at three that morning to begin boiling water for the wash and then spending the day helping Mistress Midge scrub, soak, wash and scent the household linen, that I couldn’t make myself stir from my bed.
The following morning, too, I had to be shaken awake by Beth and Merryl, but this was because I’d been woken in the middle of the night by a nightmare about my mother and had been so disturbed by it that I’d been unable to get back to sleep until dawn. In the dream I’d gone back to Hazelgrove but had been unable to find my old home, for in the place where it had once stood was now only rubble, sticks and stones. I’d searched everywhere, feeling that desperate panic of a child lost, but neither the house, nor Ma, were to be found. At last, though, I’d met Harriet Simon and she’d told me that my parents had been turned out of their cottage and sent to a house of correction, where Ma had died. Sobbing, I’d begged her to tell me that it wasn’t true, but she’d just laughed – upon which I’d screamed out in my sleep and woken myself up.
All day the nightmare hung over me so that I thought little about my duties but much about home. These fears were further compounded by the knowledge that from early childhood I had, on occasion, dreamed of future events: about someone coming to the house and that person arriving the following day, about the weather turning and there later being a horrendous storm, or, once, a near-neighbour dying of an accident. After this latter thing had happened, I’d stopped telling people of my dreams and never attempted to recall them once awake, for I was too scared of dreaming that something bad would happen to my ma, or to my brothers or sisters. This time, though, I couldn’t seem to shake the nightmare from my mind.
The afternoon when Mistress Midge and I were sitting mending the mistress’s silk stockings I began to tell her about the dream, hoping that she’d give me some simple reassurance that it was nothing but a night-fright and that all at home was sure to be well. I hadn’t got far into my retelling of it, however, before she stopped me, saying that she’d heard quite enough (for the stocking-mending had put her in a horrid mood), and had s
ufficient worries in the real world without being troubled by my mewling nightmares. I said no more, for I well knew that she had no time for talk of anything strange or inexplicable. It seemed that she could only work in the magician’s house if she kept her mind on everyday events. Food, drink and gossip concerned her, but not much else.
My thoughts were all over the place that day, my fingers clumsy, so that I broke a porcelain plate in front of Dr Dee, spoilt a pottage by over-salting it and burned a batch of biscuits which the mistress had asked me to make. When Dr Dee sent for me that evening, therefore, I knew I’d been careless and thought he might be about to chastise me or even tell me that my services in the house were no longer required. As I made my way to see him in the library, therefore, I was practising my apologies.
I knocked and entered as usual, sank into a curtsey, and when I straightened up, I saw that Dr Dee had Mr Kelly with him. They were sitting one each side of the small table on which reposed the skull.
‘Lucy, is it not?’ asked Dr Dee. I had been in his presence perhaps five times by then, but he always looked at me with slight surprise, as if he was seeing me for the first time. I was so certain that he was going to say I must leave his house that my mouth dried up and I could only nod that yes, that was my name.
Instead of listing my failings as a maid, however, he began, ‘My children profess themselves very content to have you as their nurse.’
I managed to say, ‘Thank you, Sir,’ although I was still waiting for him to add, ‘But …’
The two gentlemen exchanged glances, then Mr Kelly, looking me up and down carefully, murmured, ‘I have seen a miniature of the girl in question and yes, this one is quite like. With a little care ….’
‘Perhaps wearing a similar gown?’
‘And at night, by the light of a candle, certainly.…’
I looked from one to the other, having no idea of what they were speaking of and just relieved that it didn’t seem I’d lost my position in the household. They asked me to take a couple of turns about the room so that they could judge how I walked, then just sat, murmuring together and nodding thoughtfully.
