“I think perhaps Mary Everley was also in the pay of the Spanish in some small way,” Kate said carefully. She told Elizabeth of Feria’s words.
Elizabeth gave a sad sigh, and sneezed. “Poor Lady Mary. Why can these girls not keep their wits about them?”
“Perhaps she had some great need of money.”
“Aye, ’tis said Lord Everley is a purse-pincher. And most of what he has goes to that useless son of his. Sons always fare better than daughters, I fear. But there can be no excuse for spying among my household. I will always find out, and everyone should know that. I have eyes and ears everywhere.”
“Your Majesty?” Kate whispered. Elizabeth had gone so quietly fierce it was almost frightening. The queen’s long, graceful hands curled into tight fists, her eyes positively snapping sparks. She looked as if she was on the verge of one of her famous Tudor tempers, where items were thrown at heads and people were banished forthwith from the royal sight.
Kate wondered how anyone dared angering such a queen. She could almost feel sorry for Catherine Grey.
“Knowledge is essential to survive in this world,” Elizabeth said. “I learned that long ago. Know all; reveal nothing. Cecil and my new man Walsingham have most of the country in their pay between them. Treachery will always be found out. If Lady Mary was indeed in the pay of the Spanish, her reasons will soon be discovered.”
“And Lady Catherine, Your Majesty?”
Elizabeth gave her ladies another glance. “I think she bears further watching. After all, given enough rope . . .”
A foolish person was likely to hang themselves. Kate shivered.
“What else have you learned, Kate?” Elizabeth asked, walking onward.
Kate quickly told her about her visits to the Cardinal’s Hat and the goldsmith, of what Master Lucas said about the Everleys’ “patronage” of his shop.
“I think Lord Henry must be found quickly. He is gone from my court without leave, after all,” said Elizabeth. “His father’s tale of sending him off to woo a rich lady when his sister is new in her grave is most odd. Cecil will dispatch a man to Everley Court within the hour. But what of their cousin, this mysterious Master St. Long?”
“I can find little enough about him,” Kate said ruefully. “He has also been to the Cardinal’s Hat, and Bess, the dead woman’s sister, says Lord Henry may have helped pay for his cousin’s pleasures there. He also seems friendly with Edward Seymour. That cannot be a cheap thing to be, I think.”
Elizabeth gave a harsh laugh, ending on a loud sneeze. “Nay. The pretty Lord Hertford does not practice thrift. I have been thinking a diplomatic post abroad might do him some good, the vain peacock. Yet I do feel for Master St. Long. He is a handsome young man, and it’s never easy to go a-begging for one’s supper. He is a cousin to the Everleys, yes?”
“He told me his mother was Lord Everley’s sister and died long ago.”
A frown flickered over Elizabeth’s face. “I do not recall hearing Lord Everley had a sister, but then they have never been a family that was much at court until now. All families have their scandals—perhaps he is one of them.”
Kate’s thoughts raced as they flew over the possibilities. “A bastard of Lord Everley’s own?”
Elizabeth laughed. “Quite possibly. Most of our noble names have such things littered around. The Howards, the Cavendishes, the Herberts. Some are not hidden away at all. My father doted on his son the Duke of Richmond, born of Katherine of Aragon’s lady-in-waiting Bessie Blount. He gifted him with estates and titles, a noble wife. But not all bastard children fare so well.”
Elizabeth grew quiet for a moment and stared out over the winter gardens of her fine palace as if she was seeing something else entirely. Kate remembered how Elizabeth herself had been called “bastard” after her mother died, and of the rumors that the red-bearded Lord Hunsdon was not the son of Mary Boleyn’s Carey husband but of King Henry himself. No one really knew how many children the old king had scattered around. Most noblemen were the same way.
The queen suddenly shook her head and smiled, back from wherever her mind had wandered. “You have been most resourceful, Kate. Let me know what else you discover. For now, you should find your chamber and warm yourself by the fire. You must play for my banquet tonight. I expect the French ambassador as my special guest, and I wonder what you will think of him compared to Feria.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” Kate said. She curtsied and hurried toward the palace, leaving Elizabeth to her solitary contemplation of the garden. Or not so very solitary, for her ladies waited nearby, ready to leap into action at the queen’s smallest sigh. One of them was the young Duchess of Norfolk, cradling the little dog in her arms. Lady Gertrude Howard lurked behind her, leaning on her cane.
Kate dashed past, too tired to try to puzzle out Lady Gertrude’s cryptic certainty that Kate was Eleanor Haywood come back to life. She had enough to puzzle out about parents and children, about the sticky web of families, already.
As she stepped into the dark coolness of the narrow back corridor off the kitchen garden, she saw a page boy leap up from his stool and run toward her, as if he had been waiting for her.
“This message came for you, Mistress Haywood,” he said, handing her a neatly folded and sealed bit of parchment.
“Thank you.” Kate turned the note over in her hand, half-afraid it was from the Spanish embassy or perhaps Lord Everley, denouncing her as a spy. But the writing was in a neat, strong lawyer’s script, and the signature at the bottom was one that was most welcome.
Anthony Elias.
Kate began to read.
I have discovered some information that might be helpful to what you seek. Meet me when you can, send word to me here at Master Hardy’s house.
—Anthony
Kate carefully tucked the note away in the sleeve of her doublet. She couldn’t help but smile, though she told herself sternly that it was only at the prospect of discovering more pieces of the puzzle. Not at the chance of seeing Anthony again.
CHAPTER 20
Anthony Elias rubbed his hand over the back of his aching neck as he finally looked up from the ledgers scattered across the table. It felt like many hours indeed since he had locked himself away in the small closet at the back of Master Hardy’s house to examine every legal record he could unearth concerning the Everley family.
It was a great deal of information indeed. The Everleys were a very old title, made more solid by the fact that a great-great-uncle had died fighting for Henry VII at Bosworth Field, but they had not much coin to help maintain their estate at Everley Court. But lack of funds didn’t stop them from being litigious.
Anthony studied the open ledgers scattered around him like hovering black-winged birds. There, in faded, cramped law clerk’s handwriting, was column after column of the saga of the Everleys. It was a fascinating tale, but one he feared would take much longer to untangle than he had.
The Everleys, starting with the current earl’s father, as many earlier records had vanished into the maw of destroyed churches, loved to feud with their neighbors and relations. They had retained lawyers and clerks to bring suit with the earl’s uncle (for keeping a set of valuable tapestries meant to go to Everley Court), his late wife’s family (for failure to turn over a dower property), and with any neighbors within two counties.
As Anthony traced the branching lines of the earl’s suits, he could see a pattern of complicated alliances and feuds emerging. Very often the earl’s co-litigants or witnesses were members of the Seymour family. And after the catastrophic fall of the Boleyns after Queen Jane supplanted Queen Anne, the Everley/Seymour suits became even more aggressive, going after the property of vulnerable Boleyn allies.
Surely Queen Elizabeth knew nothing about Everley’s actions against her own relations or she would not allow him and his children at court now. Or perhaps she did—Elizabeth Tudor
knew how to play a long game indeed.
There was also a case from the second year of Queen Mary’s reign, when Lord Henry Everley spent a few nights in Newgate gaol after stabbing a man to death in a brawl in a Bankside tavern. Young Edward Seymour had come forward and testified that Lord Henry had acted only in self-defense, and Queen Mary herself ordered his release. The victim was a young man named Oliver Dennis.
And that was not the Everleys’ final dealings with the Dennis family.
Anthony sat back in his cross-backed chair with a satisfied smile. His eyes would never be the same after the long hours of reading the cramped script, but he would have interesting news for Kate. And that was the most important thing.
Anthony pushed himself back from the table and stacked up the ledgers before he went to open the window. The cold winter wind, smelling faintly of fish from the river, swept into the stuffy chamber and cleared his head.
In the courtyard below, two of Master Hardy’s new young apprentices were playing a spirited game of battlecock, shouting exuberantly as they ran along the narrow gravel pathways, swinging their rackets.
Mistress Hardy, trailed by a maidservant as she trimmed back the dry winter roses, scolded them when they knocked over an Italian statue of a small cupid. But then she laughed as they scurried to apologize and set cupid aright. The wind swept around her fashionable plum woolen skirts and tugged at her graying hair. Master Hardy appeared, a book in his hand, and kissed her cheek.
It was a pretty scene, peaceful and domestic, and prosperous after all their long struggles. The Hardys were safe in their own house, their own livelihood, again, and Anthony’s career was about to begin. One day he would have just such a place for himself, as he had worked so hard to obtain. A law practice with fine patrons, a house.
A wife? He smiled as he watched the Hardys stroll the pathways together, arm in arm, laughing as the apprentices tumbled back to their game. The Hardys had never had children, but their affection for each other was clear to everyone who saw them. Their long separation under the reign of Queen Mary had only strengthened that bond.
Anthony’s father had died so long ago, and his mother had relied on her only son ever since. Their small house in Hertfordshire was often bare and cold, until his studies led him to this place. He had never seen such a marriage as the Hardys, a real partnership. And suddenly he had the dagger-sharp realization that he wanted that for himself. A friend, a confidante—a home.
And the only woman, the only person, he could ever really confide in was Kate Haywood. From the first moment they met at a small banquet at Hatfield House, where they talked for many hours, he had thought about her. Wondered about her.
But would Kate ever want to trade court life for an existence as a respectable lawyer’s wife? A housewife like Mistress Hardy? Would she wait, perhaps for years, until his career was established and he could afford a wife and family?
Helping her find this information could surely only help his suit with her. He couldn’t woo her with pearls and perfumed gloves, not yet, but he could do this for her. And stay close to her, make sure she was safe, at the same time.
He quickly scribbled a note to Kate, telling her he had much to share with her about his discoveries, before he hurried down the stairs into the courtyard garden.
“Anthony!” one of the apprentices called. “Come play battlecock with us.”
Anthony laughed and tried to refuse. It had been many months since he had time for such games, and he was sure he was rusty. But he also felt as if a strange, burning energy was flooding through him, forcing him to move.
“Go, Anthony, go,” Master Hardy said. “You cannot spend all your days at work.”
Mistress Hardy sighed. “Young men must have their pleasures. I think we should look about for a wife for Master Elias, my dear. Someone with a great deal of spirit, yes?”
Master Hardy patted his wife’s hand as he studied Anthony with narrowed eyes. “There is plenty of time for that. Anthony has much work to do first, and we must be most careful to find him the right lady.”
The right lady. Anthony feared that no matter how much he craved to hear Kate’s laugh, their lives could not fit. Not yet, anyway. Not until he could earn her. Yet he couldn’t wait to see her smile when he told her what he had discovered.
He caught up a racket and launched himself into the game, snatching up the ball and laughing as he dashed down the length of the garden. For just that one moment, knowing he would soon see Kate, he felt free.
CHAPTER 21
Kate stared up at the house before her, tall, narrow, most respectable, with freshly plastered, half-timbered walls and solid chimneys wreathed in gray smoke. It was near to the shops, including Master Lucas’s establishment, but not too near. They were at the quieter end of the street.
Master Hardy’s house spoke of professional, proper prosperity, a place such as she had never lived in before. The tiny, diamond-shaped panes of glass in the windows stared down at her blankly, reflecting back the slate-colored sky.
She held Anthony’s note in her hand, asking her to meet him there, but somehow she couldn’t quite bring herself to go knock on the door. She stood across the street on the narrow walkway, jostled by hurrying passersby, loath to disturb the solid silence of that house.
Suddenly the front door flew open, and two young men, probably apprentices, tumbled out and chased each other down the lane, shouting. Anthony came to shut the door behind them. He wore no cap, and his dark hair was neatly trimmed to reveal the carved, sharp angles of his handsome face, his slightly crooked nose and bright green eyes. He was grinning, as if at some joke, and the sight made Kate’s heart beat faster. He so seldom smiled.
“Kate!” he called. He ran across the muddy lane, dodging carts and a herd of pigs being driven to market. The cold wind tousled that dark hair, and he impatiently shook it back out of his eyes. “Why are you standing out here? Come inside where it’s warm.”
“I—I don’t want to be in the way of your work,” she said, suddenly strangely shy. This was Anthony, her friend. Surely she should not be uncertain around him?
“Master Hardy has gone out on business,” Anthony said. “And Mistress Hardy would be most angry to lose the chance to show off her new home to you.”
Kate nodded and let him take her arm to lead her through the front door left ajar by the apprentices. The front hall smelled of lemon polish and fine wax candles, the floor buffed to a high sheen and the paneled walls hung with pretty painted cloths. Herbed rushes in the corner scented the air. Mistress Hardy was indeed a fine housekeeper.
She followed Anthony into a small sitting room where a fire crackled in the grate and a long table was piled with thick ledger books.
Anthony looked almost boyishly eager to show her what he had discovered, and she found herself excited, too, her nervousness forgotten. Hopefully something in those ledgers would help her untangle some of the puzzle of what happened to poor Lady Mary. They sat down beside each other on the bench drawn close to the table and Anthony opened one of the books. Kate’s eyes almost crossed as she stared down at tiny columns of cramped, faded humanity.
“Your Everleys have been most busy for a few years,” Anthony said, pointing out one of the columns.
“Mary always gave the impression they lived quietly in the country,” Kate said. She felt a pang of sadness to remember how Mary loved to dance at court.
“They may have lived in the country in recent years, but not so quietly,” Anthony said. “Once they were great friends of the Seymours and enjoyed some favor, but of late they have spent their time bringing several lawsuits into the courts.”
“Lawsuits?” Kate asked, surprised. Surely retaining the services of many lawyers would make the coin in short supply—and court life was expensive.
“Indeed,” Anthony answered. He told her a litany of quarrels with neighbors and relations. Dowe
rs and tapestries, jewels, money, disputes over herds of sheep wandering onto land where they did not belong. “The latest suit should be of much interest to you, Kate. Lord Everley has been feuding with a neighbor of his, the Dennis family.”
“The Dennis family?” Kate cried. A name she was becoming most familiar with of late, thanks to Rob and his visit to the golden-eyed Lady Dennis’s manor.
“You know them?”
“Nay, but I have heard of them lately. What have they to do with the Everleys?”
“It seems the matter began long ago, over a disputed piece of land between their estates. Lord Henry even spent a few days in gaol after killing a Dennis cousin in a brawl, though Queen Mary saw to his release. But last year Everley’s daughter, Lady Mary, tried to elope with the son of the Dennis family, a certain Sir Walter, and was dragged back home by her brother. Her brother then tried to kill Sir Walter, and the Dennises in turn brought suit. Lord Henry seems to be most strong-tempered.”
“Walter!” Kate cried.
Anthony glanced up from the ledger page, his brow raised. “You do know of this matter.”
“Not of this matter specifically, no, but I have heard these names much of late. I saw a man at Lady Mary’s bier when I went to see her body. He ran away before I could talk to him, but someone called him Walter.”
“Do you think this Walter killed her in a lovers’ quarrel, since their elopement was thwarted?”
Kate closed her eyes and remembered her few half glimpses of Walter Dennis. Embracing Mary on the Tower ramparts, lingering near her body in that cold chapel. “I don’t want to think so, not if he loved her enough to try and run away with her.”
Something unreadable flickered in Anthony’s green eyes. “Perhaps she had found a new lover and he was angry with her. Not everyone is as kindhearted as you, Kate.”
“Oh, I do know about acts taken in anger and regretted after,” Kate said quietly. “But Walter and Mary didn’t look angry with each other. Lord Henry has vanished from court. His father says Lord Henry has been sent to woo an heiress, but it seems more likely now he killed his sister and ran away. Don’t you think?”
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