The Reluctant Assassin

by FIONA BUCKLEY

  ‘We know now,’ said Brockley, ‘that Philip’s reports of failure were probably lies, aimed at keeping you under suspicion.’

  ‘Philip’s … Master Brockley, do you mean that Sandley, your son …?’

  ‘We fear so,’ I said. ‘And we apologize for suspecting you. And your private affairs are, of course, no business of ours. As long as the stud is well run …’

  ‘My private affairs are your business up to a point,’ said Miller surprisingly. ‘You may as well know. I had a preference for keeping my own counsel; I thought my task would be easier. But I believe you knew, when Dr Fletcher was the vicar at your parish church, St Mary’s, he reported to Sir William Cecil, Lord Burghley on events concerning you. It was for your safety, in view of the work you do for the queen, and your relationship with her. You might as well know who Dr Fletcher’s successor is. It isn’t the new vicar, Dr Joynings. It’s me. The woman I visited in Guildford is my contact. She sends my messages on to Sir William Cecil.’

  ‘Well!’ I was thoroughly taken aback.

  Laurence was now smiling broadly. ‘She is an elderly but active lady who could well be my aunt though she isn’t. The day when I went to order harness, I also went to visit her but she was not at home. However, her maid knows me and let me wait there for her. She was late returning. The maid gave me dinner, and when her mistress eventually came home, she urged me to stay for an early supper. By the time we’d eaten it, the sky was darkening. I was invited to stay the night rather than ride home through a storm and I was glad enough to accept.’

  ‘I see.’ I was still almost lost for words.

  Miller regarded me calmly. ‘It’s for your protection, Mistress Stannard. Though this time, I agree, it didn’t protect you at all. You were vulnerable through Harry. If I may advise, care should be taken from now on to safeguard him.’

  ‘It will be,’ I said in heartfelt tones.

  ‘So now,’ said Miller, ‘I take it that you will deal with Sandley.’ The amusement had gone and he had suddenly acquired an air of authority. He was no longer simply the Hawkswood stud groom, subordinate and respectful in the presence of his employer, but a skilled and responsible set of eyes and ears in the service of Lord Burghley.

  He said: ‘I have no desire to witness that, though I shall have to report on it. May I be informed of the outcome?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. There was no point in saying that I detested being watched and having reports made about me, even with friendly intentions. Miller would obey his august employer and earn his pay. I turned to Brockley. ‘Now?’ I said.

  Laurence Miller left us. I went to the door and called. Phoebe came in answer and I sent her to tell Philip he was wanted. He came in looking grave. ‘You wished to see me, Mistress Stannard? And Father? I’m glad to have a few words with you, for Harry has now shut himself in his room and won’t talk to me. What is the matter with him? Is he just exhausted? I can understand that, but he seemed all right when you all first arrived and …’

  ‘Be quiet,’ said Brockley. ‘We know. We know that you informed Harry’s captors of the message he got to us, which enabled them to have plans in place for getting him away if the hunt came close to them, as it did. Because of what you did, a harmless thatcher was murdered – the man Harry gave his message to. They feared that Harry may have told him things – which Harry actually did not – and that he might be a danger to them. To you, for you are one of them. You advised Harry to ride on a path where they would be waiting in ambush and you lied to us about that, hoping that we would search for him in the wrong direction.’

  ‘And when I went out with you, the day I was seized,’ I said, ‘it was you who chose the way that we should go. I rode into a trap. And, yes, you warned your fellow conspirators that Harry had got a message out.’

  He stood still, looking from me to Brockley. For a moment he was silent and then he said: ‘Yes. It is true. I am one of the party …’

  ‘One of the conspirators,’ said Brockley.

  ‘If you wish to call us so,’ said Philip. ‘I was one of the group who decided that England must be rid of Mary Stuart, so that we can all be safe from her ambitions, and the Duke of Alençon no longer afraid to marry the queen. It could bring such benefits, that marriage. It is England we care for! I know that both of you think of yourselves as true servants of the queen but so am I and so are the friends I have been working with. We want …’

  ‘It isn’t what you want that matters,’ said Brockley. ‘It’s what the queen wants and as it happens, neither she, nor a great many of her council and indeed, the people of England, are happy about the French marriage. It isn’t for you and your little pack of so-called patriots to make the final decision. And to kidnap Harry! A young boy, and your pupil as well, and threaten him as you did! I can’t believe that any son of mine could do such a thing.’

  ‘But I am your son, just the same.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that you are! Unfortunately,’ said Brockley bitterly. ‘I wish you were not. At this moment, I would willingly kill you. I take it that when you were found dazed in the woods, and complained afterwards of a blow on the head, that it was all pretence.’

  ‘They scraped my scalp a little so that there would be some blood. There was quite a lot. It looked convincing,’ said Philip. ‘And it was sore enough, God knows.’

  ‘My poor boy,’ said Brockley savagely. ‘My heart truly aches for you!’

  There was a silence. I had never seen Brockley look so wretched. ‘How did you get involved with your … friends?’ I said, turning to Philip.

  ‘Lucas Dean. He’s my foster brother.’

  ‘Your … but you were reared by the Sandley family,’ I said.

  ‘Lucas was a few years older than I am. Mistress Sandley had a previous husband, a Master Dean. He died shortly after Lucas was born, and then after another year or so, she married Master Sandley. We were always friends, Lucas and me.’

  ‘You choose your friends badly. Ask Harry,’ said Brockley.

  ‘I’d rather not. I have learned now that it was Harry who … who …’

  ‘Put a dagger into him in self-defence,’ I said. ‘Tell me, did you come here, and apply to be Harry’s tutor, as part of the conspiracy? To help them get hold of Harry?’

  ‘Yes. But I was so glad to find my father too. I knew he was my father and thought that that would help me to get the tutor’s post here. But it was a splendid thing, to find you, sir!’ He looked at Brockley with something like appeal.

  But the silence that followed was frigid. Eventually, Philip said: ‘What now?’

  ‘Your name has not been mentioned,’ Brockley said. ‘Neither I nor Mistress Stannard have told what we know and your fellow conspirators have not spoken of you, either. I persuaded them not to. You are safe from the law. But things can’t … I can’t bear the sight of you!’

  His voice faded. I stepped in again. ‘You cannot remain here as Harry’s tutor. I would hardly suppose you want to, considering what happened to Lucas who you say was your friend. In any case, Harry would not accept you and nor can I. After what he and I have been through, there can be no question of such a thing. You must leave this house. You will be paid for your services; you won’t be cast into the world penniless. I will even give you a testimonial as a tutor, for I think you are a good teacher. A pity you didn’t keep to your real business in life instead of haring off after political schemes, tangling with matters you don’t understand! But I want you gone by tomorrow. That is, if your father agrees and does not have any other suggestion.’

  ‘Some people might have a number of other suggestions,’ said Brockley grimly. He stared at Philip and then, to my distress, I saw his features pucker, and there was a glint in his eyes which suggested tears.

  ‘That a son of mine could … could ever … conspire to throw a young lad, one in his care! – to the corsairs of Algiers …! And that poor thatcher. Poor Daniel Ashley. Be gone from this house tomorrow morning, Philip. Never return. And leave ear
ly, so that I need not see you.’

  ‘Will that be the end, then?’ Philip had paled, realizing, I thought, that having found his father, he had now lost him again, and that he minded.

  So did Brockley. ‘When you are settled again,’ he said, ‘you may send word to tell me where you are. In time, perhaps we may … be now and then in touch. Perhaps. But I promise nothing.’

  I said: ‘Your money and your testimonial will be made ready and sent to your room tonight.’

  ‘Thank you, Mistress Stannard.’ He did not ask permission to leave us, but simply did so. Brockley watched him go and without turning to look at me, muttered: ‘How can I disown him? When I’ve only just found him. But …’

  He couldn’t go on talking. With his face averted from me, he followed Philip out. But as he went, I glimpsed his expression and it tore my heart. But I could not help him. I had no right. Only one person was entitled to do that.

  I followed him out and hastened upstairs to find Dale. As I expected, she was still with Sybil, sorting through my baggage in search of garments with stains and rents.

  ‘Dale,’ I said, ‘Brockley is upset. We have just ordered Philip to leave the house tomorrow.’

  ‘Ordered Philip to …?’

  I realized that in our determination to keep Philip’s name out of the business, Brockley and I had not even told his wife.

  ‘Brockley will explain,’ I said. ‘He is unhappy. He needs your help.’

  ‘Was Master Sandley somehow … involved? One of the plotters?’ Dale asked acutely.

  ‘I’m afraid so. Yes.’

  ‘I’m not surprised.’ Dale sounded quite venomous. ‘I never liked him.’

  ‘But it is hard for Brockley,’ I said. ‘Go to him now. He needs your comfort.’

  ‘So, Mary Stuart still lives,’ said Queen Elizabeth grimly.

  ‘She lives,’ I agreed.

  It was a mournful apology for a June day. The heatwave had gone. Beyond the latticed window, the gardens of Hampton Court, the trees and the grass, dripped greyly under a steady drizzle and the sky was leaden. It was cold, as cold as Elizabeth’s pale, shield-shaped face.

  Quietly, I said: ‘There are things I can’t do.’

  ‘Even for Harry? Even for your son?’

  ‘Even for him. It isn’t a matter of choice; it isn’t a matter of taking a decision. I couldn’t do it. I tried to make a pretence … give her something to make her a little unwell, so as to give the impression that I was trying, in case someone was on the watch. Which someone was – the man Russell Woodley. I couldn’t even bring myself to do that much. My fingers would not unstopper the phial of potion.’

  Elizabeth nodded. ‘Oddly enough, I understand. Because there are things that I can’t do. I – know what you mean.’

  ‘Do you, ma’am?’

  ‘Yes, Ursula, my sister, I do! These conspirators,’ said Elizabeth, ‘they wanted Mary out of the way so that Duke Francis would feel safe in coming to England to marry me. I wanted her out of the way because she’s a danger to me and to England and would be, even if Francis had never been born. He is a different, separate matter. I must deal with him myself.’

  ‘How, madam?’

  ‘I can’t marry him,’ said Elizabeth. ‘Like you, I find there are things that I can’t do. You couldn’t assassinate anyone or even pretend to try; I can’t marry anyone. It’s as simple as that. I can’t! I can’t give myself away to anyone; I can’t share the rule of England with anyone; I can’t share the privacy of my body. Or risk childbirth, improbable though that now is. It is just, barely, possible. It isn’t my duty to England to risk death, it’s my duty to live and reign and keep my people safe and just because that’s what I want to do, doesn’t make it wrong. It’s right. Though I have some very wearisome explaining to do.’

  ‘Majesty, I should make someone else do it for you,’ I said. I smiled. ‘The Earl of Sussex, perhaps?’

  ‘Thomas Radcliffe?’ Elizabeth snorted. ‘He has always earnestly wanted me to marry. He wants it so much that he closes his eyes to the dangers.’

  ‘He is also one of your most diplomatic councillors and one of your most loyal servants. He would do it better than anyone, once he understood that you meant it.’

  My sister sighed. ‘You may well be right. Dear Ursula. I was angry at first, when I realized that you were not going to carry out my wishes, but of course, private coteries of misguided patriots can’t be allowed to roam my kingdom, abducting young lads and threatening to sell them to corsairs. I realized that quite quickly. Have you found a new tutor for Harry, by the way?’

  ‘Not yet but … how did you know …?’

  ‘I haven’t known for long that Brockley’s newly discovered son was one of the conspirators. I have been told now, however. I have done nothing about it; Sir William Cecil advised against it. He said it was not what you or Brockley would wish. His informant, of course, was the individual who has taken over from Dr Fletcher, keeping Sir William informed of affairs at Hawkswood.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ I said. ‘Laurence Miller. Of course.’