The Catherine Howard Conspiracy

by Alexandra Walsh

  Perdita felt sick. They were surrounded. Were they about to be murdered like her mother and grandmother? She turned to Alistair and true fear gripped her heart because he seemed as stunned as the rest of them.

  “They’ve blocked the lane?” he repeated. “If they’re on the boundaries too, we have no way out.”

  Alistair turned to Kit and, for the first time, he looked every one of his sixty-nine years. Susan, too, was ashen, gripping the back of an armchair for support.

  “Kit, I’ve failed you…” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

  “The tunnel,” said Perdita, suddenly. “The secret tunnel to Llyn Cel island, we can get out that way.”

  “Perdita, it’s a legend,” said Susan.

  “No, Mum, it isn’t,” replied Kit. “Mary left clues for Perdita to find and we discovered it this evening. It’s where we’ve been, it’s why I didn’t get your calls. The tunnel is real and we found something else…”

  Alistair’s eyes cleared as Perdita’s suggestion rallied him.

  “And isn’t it supposed to lead to the island?” interrupted Alistair, not taking in his son’s words in his relief at this new way out of Marquess House.

  “Yes,” said Perdita. “Granny and Bethan first discovered it through the entrance in the old tower on Llyn Cel island, the only part of the priory that’s still standing.”

  “The bay on the far side is hidden from the house,” Alistair continued, thinking aloud as he formulated a new escape route. “I’ll call Mark at Home Farm. He can row out to the far shore of the island and collect you. If they’ve positioned cars all around the boundary, you won’t be able to use the roads. Briony can bring the horses and then you can take the bridle path across Trewarren Farm, through the wood and around the back way to the airfield. MI1 won’t be expecting it. Billy, Larry, I need you to go too, in case Perdita and Kit need protection.”

  Billy and Larry Eve were the cousins of Briony, who ran the animal sanctuary, and her elder brother, Mark, who worked as a restorer in The Dairy. The Eve brothers nodded, already moving towards the door.

  “What about you and Mum?” asked Kit.

  “They don’t want us, they want you. We’ll be safe, but I’m not risking your lives,” said Alistair, his voice returned to full strength. He hugged his son, then Perdita. “You must hurry. Call me when you’re with Megan. I’ll call Mark and Briony.”

  Susan stepped forward and, after giving them both a swift, strong hug, pushed Perdita and Kit towards the door.

  “Now go,” she said. “We’ll join you all in Andorra as soon as we’re able.”

  Perdita and Kit raced from the room, the burly Eve brothers leading the way.

  They ran through the quiet house, not speaking, their pounding footsteps the only sound. Once outside the back door, their target was the chapel. Keeping low, the four of them skirted through the shadows, unsure whether the perimeter of the estate had been breached, taking no chances.

  Perdita could feel panic rising. What if the other end of the tunnel was blocked? They had not gone all the way through. Would they be arrested or would the Treaty protect them? Worse, would they be executed?

  The thought was so terrifying she felt momentarily faint. She understood now why her father and grandmother had behaved as they did all those years ago; this visceral fear, this seemingly unstoppable force that answered to no one but themselves was what they had been trying to protect them from. Now, Mary and James were both dead, and she wondered how long it would be before she and Kit joined them.

  They skidded to a halt under the kissing gate, waiting while Billy and Larry flitted silently ahead, checking their path was clear. A moment later, Billy signalled for them to run. Slipping inside the old building, they closed the heavy door behind them and felt their way down the aisle past the shadowy scaffold towers and ghost-like dust sheets. Perdita pushed away the thoughts of her last visit here and all that she and Kit had discovered. It felt like a different lifetime, before the true terror of MI1 Elite had been unleashed.

  “Where’s the entrance?” came Larry Eve’s gruff voice through the gloom.

  “This way,” said Perdita. Picking her way carefully to the altar, she knelt down. “I need some light,” she whispered.

  Billy handed her a torch, “Short bursts,” he said. She nodded and crawled further along looking for the faint carving. On her third flash of the torch she located it.

  “There!” she said. “The corner of the second panel, I see a mermaid.”

  Billy and Larry exchanged a sceptical glance but Perdita was bending down, pushing the brick and releasing the narrow door. The Eve brothers made noises of approval, impressed by this unexpected escape route.

  “Come on,” muttered Larry. “We need to get you away as fast as possible in case they’re in the grounds. We’ll use the torches the minute that door is shut. I don’t want any overspill to give away our position.”

  Larry went first, feeling his way into the dark. Perdita followed, with Kit behind her, and finally Billy, who discovered a handle on the inside of the panel which he used to push and click the narrow door back into place. The darkness became impenetrable. Perdita was aware of Kit’s closeness, his breath in her hair, his hand holding hers. She glanced up and saw the faintest outline of his face close to hers. He looked down, his eyes reflecting her own unease, then they were flooded with light.

  “Come on,” said Larry, flashing his powerful torch around the enclosed space. “Let’s see where this tunnel leads.”

  They ran down the spiral staircase and into the arched passageway.

  “What is this place?” asked Billy, astounded, pausing as he looked around.

  “We think it was once part of the priory,” replied Perdita. “It was probably closed off when the nuns left.”

  “We need to keep moving,” urged Larry, glaring at his brother.

  Picking up speed, they ran. Perdita kept glancing behind her, half expecting armed MI1 Elite agents to bloom out of the darkness like a curse but, as they chased through the shadows, the only footsteps were their own.

  The tunnel was straight but long, and with each step, Perdita worried the exit might be blocked. All she could do was hold on to the memory that her grandmother had found the tunnel in the 1940s. With luck, Mary had continued to monitor it and keep the entrances open, even if she did not tell anyone else where these were. If this was the case then, with luck, their way out would be clear.

  Finally, they reached a stone staircase identical to the one at the entrance. The Eves switched off their torches and Perdita and Kit followed suit.

  “We’ll go up first. If Alistair wasn’t able to get hold of Mark, we might have to think of another way to get across the lake to the far bank,” said Billy. “Stay here until we come back for you.”

  They fell silent, merging into the darkness, barely breathing as they waited. Once again, Perdita was intensely aware of Kit’s physical closeness. She reached out, searching for his hand, craving reassurance. When she found it, he squeezed back in response to her touch and moved fractionally closer. She could feel his breath, the heat of his body, the force of his presence…

  “The boat’s here,” came Billy’s voice from halfway down the staircase breaking the unexpected tension between them, “but when we get outside, keep low, just a precaution.”

  Perdita went first and as she felt the cool night air on her face, the brief encounter with Kit vanished like an autumn mist as the terror of what they were dealing with flooded her once more, obliterating all other emotions. They emerged into the ruins of the tower where Larry hovered in the shadows, his eyes endlessly scanning the surrounding woodland. He pointed towards a clump of trees and began to move. Perdita ran, crouched and silent, behind the burly backs of the Eve brothers. Kit came last, constantly checking behind them.

  The island was small and it did not take them long to reach the tiny hidden bay. The ancient trees that fringed the beach soon gave way to soft pale sand. A rowing boat
was pulled up on the shore and a tall, dark-haired man in his late twenties was waiting.

  The water of Llyn Cel remained black and silken, the only noise the lap of the waves and the nervous breathing of the fugitives. It seemed MI1 had followed some of the directives laid down in the Milford Haven Treaty and had not yet breached the boundaries of Marquess House, but Perdita knew this was still a terrifying possibility. And what happens when we’re outside the boundary? she thought, then pushed the images of arrest and torture from her mind.

  “Mark!” hissed Larry. Mark squinted through the darkness.

  “It’s all clear,” he whispered. Billy beckoned Perdita and Kit towards the boat.

  “There isn’t room for us all,” said Mark, speaking quickly. He threw two small canvas bags to the Eve brothers before taking Perdita and Kit’s rucksacks and stowing them in the prow.

  “Tents and food,” he explained to Billy. “You two are going to have to stay here until the coast is clear. I’ll come back for you then. Alistair said you mustn’t go back through the tunnel. If there are Watchers in Marquess House, we don’t want to give away its location.” Billy and Larry nodded. “You two,” he continued to Perdita and Kit, “get under the tarpaulin and try not to move around much. I’m going to drape fishing rods across you as extra camouflage, so if anyone spots me, it’ll look like I’m night fishing.”

  Perdita turned to the Eve brothers, “Thank you,” she said. “Take care of everyone for us.”

  Billy nodded, then Larry gave her a gentle push towards the boat. “Thank us another night, you need to go.”

  Perdita gave them both a swift hug, then hurried towards Mark. Kit paused to have a brief discussion with Larry but before she clambered into the boat, Perdita craned her neck across the black waters of Llyn Cel for a final, farewell glimpse of Marquess House. It happened in the briefest of moments, in the space between breaths but she was certain of what she saw: a long shadow with a fish-shaped tail but also human arms and flowing hair glimmering below the surface of the lake. She blinked and with a soft splash, the vision was gone.

  Kit was by her side, taking her hand, helping her into the cramped space.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, squeezing in beside her, forced to bend his long legs across her. Then he glanced at her pale face. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she whispered. “Nothing, I thought I saw… It doesn’t matter.”

  Mark pulled the heavy tarpaulin over them, tucking it in, ensuring they were hidden, then positioned a number of rods across them. Perdita wrinkled her nose and looked over at Kit, who rolled his eyes.

  “Nothing wrong with the smell of fish,” he murmured, but he moved slightly and slipped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her more tightly into his side. Perdita tensed briefly, then relaxed into the comfort of his closeness. A moment later, Mark climbed aboard and the Eve brothers shoved the boat into the water. Perdita closed her eyes, willing them safely to the far shore, trying to ignore the terrible feeling of doom that was closing in around her.

  There was a gentle bump as Mark grounded the boat, a splash followed as he leapt out and pulled the vessel onto the beach where he usually moored it.

  “The coast’s clear,” he whispered. Perdita felt relief as the weight of the fishing rods was lifted off her legs. Then the tarpaulin was folded back and they scrambled out. “Briony was supposed to be meeting you with the horses,” he continued, handing them their rucksacks, “but Alistair is concerned that if our house is being watched, it would look too suspicious if she saddled up three horses at this time of night.”

  “What does Dad suggest?” hissed Kit. “It’s too far to walk.”

  “You’re going to have to take Briony’s moped,” he whispered. “She’s supposed to have parked it at the end of the lane. You can use the old bridle path, the one we always used for scrambling on our bikes when we were kids. It takes you to the far side of the airfield and the hangars. Ordinarily, you’d go through customs like a normal airport but tonight you’re going to have to stow away.”

  “But what if we’re caught?” whispered Perdita.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” replied Mark dourly. “The pilot you’re looking for is called Elliot and he’ll be in hangar five. Give him the password, Blake.”

  Perdita threw Kit a glance. She was nervous about these impromptu plans but, she supposed, caught unawares as they were, this was the best they could expect at such short notice.

  “Can you ride a moped?” she whispered to Kit.

  “Yes, don’t worry about that,” he replied. “I’m more concerned about the noise we’ll make.”

  “It’s that or walk, mate,” said Mark, leading the way along a steep, sandy path. “Leave the keys under the wheel arch and I’ll bring Briony down tomorrow to fetch it.”

  They crested the hill and saw the black moped parked in the shadow of the hedge, with two crash helmets hanging on the handlebars. Kit strapped his bag on to the carrier in front of him. Perdita realised she would have to wear hers.

  “Thanks, Mark,” said Kit, turning to shake his hand. “We appreciate all you’ve done tonight. You’d better make yourself scarce before I start the engine.”

  Perdita hugged him.

  “Thanks,” she echoed, then pulling on the crash helmet and fastening it under her chin, she climbed on the moped behind Kit and slid her arms around his waist. Mark melted away into the shadows, leaving them alone in the darkness.

  “If we get away with this, I’ll be amazed,” said Kit, surprising Perdita with this sudden flash of pessimism. “Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  He turned the key and the engine sprang into life. It sounded deafening in the quiet country lane and with the smallest amount of acceleration as he could manage, Kit pulled away.

  It was the bumpiest ride of her life. The bridle path was old, mostly unused and littered with potholes. When things became unusually perilous, Kit would flick on the dipped headlight, but for most of the journey he drove in darkness. Perdita’s mind flitted fast and nervously over events: the discovery of Catherine’s grave, the ring, their escape, and the terror of MI1 Elite lurking in the depths of the shadows, forcing them to flee for their lives.

  And suddenly, anger burst into her heart.

  She had lost so much of her past to the darkness of time; so many people had been stolen from her by MI1 Elite. This evil organisation — acting with impunity thanks to government protection — had murdered her mother and forced her grandmother to step away from her and Piper in order to keep them safe. Her father had been left with no choice but to collude with her grandmother’s plans, such was his fear that he might also lose his daughters. Now, MI1 had murdered her grandmother too and had forced her and Piper to flee for their lives: she through the cold, dark Welsh night and Piper across Europe to a castle carved into a mountainside.

  Surely this could not only be because of something they or her grandmother had discovered during their historical research? What possible grounds did Westbury have to charge them with treason? There must be something more, she thought, although, at present she could not work out what that might be. Any historical discovery we make could easily be covered up, she thought. It would not be difficult to dismiss our work and discredit our careers. Yet, MI1 seems intent on destroying us. It made no sense.

  Perdita knew these thoughts were the way of madness and, with huge determination, forced herself to calm down, to focus on the present. Alistair claimed he would be able to deal with this mess, that they would soon be able to return to Marquess House, the place she realised she now thought of as home. This was her small ray of hope and she clung to it with all her might.

  She cast her mind to the wooden box they had discovered in the tunnel. Was this truly Catherine Howard’s missing ruby ring? It seemed so unlikely and yet, the items she had seen recovered from archaeological digs throughout her career were often older than the Tudor period and were still intact. Despite the present danger,
the thrill of discovery rippled through her. Oh, Granny, she thought, what have you led me to?

  Suddenly, Kit slowed the moped, idling the engine as he peered into the darkness.

  “What’s wrong?” she whispered.

  “There’s a black van parked up ahead,” he replied.

  Perdita felt her hands go clammy.

  “Do you think it’s the Watchers?”

  “Could be. This is where the bridle path crosses a road. It would be an ideal point to keep watch,” he hissed. “Any suggestions?”

  “Is it possible to go across county?” she replied, looking at the surrounding fields.

  “I suppose but we’d be more vulnerable in the open.”

  They sat, paralysed with indecision.

  “It might not be them,” murmured Perdita. “Wait here, I’ll go and look.”

  “No, you stay here,” replied Kit. “I know more people, I’ll be able to tell if they’re strangers. Keep the engine running and if I shout your name, turn it around and head back to Home Farm. We might have to trust to the Milford Haven Treaty to save you if I’m caught.”

  “Kit, no…” she began, but he was already heaving himself off the moped, forcing her to concentrate on moving forwards so it would not topple over.

  Realising she had no choice and, also agreeing with the wisdom of Kit’s words, she manoeuvred the moped into the shadows, allowing herself space to turn around if she needed to flee. But throughout, her eyes never left the shape that was Kit creeping through the shadows.

  He was within a few metres of the van when he stood on a branch and it cracked, sounding like a gunshot in the silence. Perdita stifled a gasp and Kit froze. To her horror, angry voices rumbled from the other side of the van and Kit was flooded in the light of a torch. Perdita sat transfixed on the moped as two men walked towards Kit. Her instinct was to ride straight at them and grab Kit, but she knew this would be foolish. If nothing else, she had only ever driven a moped twice in her life and was less than confident that she would be able to pull off such a rescue. Instead, she waited, watching, fury rising in her. She could not lose Kit too. The Watchers were not going to take another person from her.