The hour came and went with no sign of Thomas. After waiting another hour, Phillip folded his paper and departed. He returned the next day and the day after that. Thomas did not come and Phillip was starting to grow worried.
The fourth day, he took his place on the park bench and opened the paper. He was applauding Captain Kate, who had just kicked the evil count in the teeth, when he became aware of a man bundled in a greatcoat coming toward him. Phillip recognized Thomas despite the fact that a muffler covered the lower part of his face and a large hat concealed the upper. He walked slowly, giving the impression of a patient convalescing after a long illness, out for a restorative stroll.
Thomas took his seat on the bench a short distance from Phillip, who nodded as one does to a stranger, and continued reading the paper.
“You are late,” Phillip observed. “Is everything all right?”
“Ran into foul weather,” said Thomas. “I arrived the night before last, much to Sir Richard’s relief. He was so thankful to see me he practically wept over me. I would have come here yesterday, but he was so alarmed at the thought of my venturing out of the house that I deemed it better to remain with him.”
“How did you escape today?” Phillip asked, turning a page.
“He had to go to the House of Nobles. Once he was gone, I then had to dodge his manservant, Henshaw, who had been instructed to watch over me. A doting grandmama would not be more solicitous of my welfare,” Thomas said, shaking his head.
“When is your meeting with the queen?”
“That is another problem,” said Thomas.
“What? Is something wrong?” Phillip asked, looking up in alarm.
“Nothing is wrong. Her Majesty has left Haever. She has gone to her estate in Kerry,” said Thomas. “The trip was unexpected. According to Sir Richard, the queen received news that her favorite male griffin had fallen ill. She breeds her griffins in Kerry, and she did not trust his care to anyone except herself. She is not expected to be gone long, but no one seems to know when she will return.”
Thomas frowned. “Does Her Majesty do this sort of thing often? Run off to nursemaid a griffin?”
“She has been known to,” said Phillip, smiling and lowering the paper. “Queen Mary is very fond of her griffins. To be fair, Thomas, Her Majesty did not know when you were coming. Sir Richard could not very well arrange the meeting with her until you were safely upon Freyan soil.”
“I suppose you are right,” said Thomas, sighing. “But the delay means I am left to the ministrations of Sir Richard. He is a fine fellow, but he acts as though I had flown down from heaven on angel’s wings. I am not permitted to do anything for myself. He would have had his manservant cut my meat had I not rebelled. His conversation is dull in the extreme. He spent one hour expounding on the legal distinction between points of law as opposed to questions of fact.”
“He can’t be as bad as that,” said Phillip.
“You have no idea,” said Thomas darkly. “Sir Richard claims his wife is away on a visit, but I am convinced she died of wasting boredom and Henshaw buried her body in the garden.”
Phillip started to laugh, stopped to stare at something up the hill, then suddenly dove behind his paper.
“What is wrong?” Thomas asked.
“Sophia and Sir Rodrigo!” Phillip whispered, agitated. “Have they seen me?”
“They have not, but Bandit has sniffed you out,” said Thomas. “He is running toward us. Stay hidden. Sophia is calling him to come back. And, of course, he is not listening. She is running after him. I am afraid you are soon to be discovered.”
Phillip groaned. “Leave before they see you! Go back to Sir Richard’s.”
“Let me know what happens,” said Thomas. “I will take a stroll in the garden after dinner.”
“Yes, yes! Now go!” Phillip ordered.
Thomas pulled his hat low and departed in haste, heading for the grove of oak trees on a hillock that had given the park its name.
Bandit jumped on Phillip, claiming him as a friend.
“Bandit!” Sophia scolded. “Come off that gentleman. You do not know him!”
Phillip leaned down to the pet the dog as an excuse to keep his face concealed. All the while, he was watching Rodrigo, who was gazing after Thomas with a frown.
“I believe I know that gentleman—” Rodrigo began.
“Sophia, Sir Rodrigo!” Phillip exclaimed, springing to his feet. “What a nice surprise.”
Sophia gasped in astonishment. “Phillip! Is that you?”
“He might be. Or he might not be,” said Rodrigo with a quirk of his eyebrow. He cast another glance at Thomas, who was disappearing beyond the hill, then gave Phillip a knowing smile.
Turning to Sophia, Rodrigo added gravely, “We should leave, my dear. The duke is undoubtedly here on a secret mission and we do not want to reveal him to his enemies.”
“Nothing so dramatic as that, I am afraid, sir,” said Phillip, laughing.
He doffed his hat. Sophia gave him her hand to kiss. She was wearing a fur-lined cape over her dress, while Rodrigo had adopted the long flowing black gown with the blue silk hood that denoted a professor of crafting. They were accompanied by two servants: a lady’s maid carrying a sketchbook, pencil box, and a blanket; and a male servant encumbered with a picnic basket.
“Who was that gentleman in the muffler?” Rodrigo asked. “Something about him seems familiar.”
Phillip shrugged. “I have no idea. He asked if he could share the bench, sat for a few moments as though recovering his breath, and then departed.”
Rodrigo gave Phillip a shrewd, perceptive, glittering look, accompanied by an airy smile. The look said, “I know you are lying.” The smile added, “But I have lied in my day and I understand.”
Phillip turned to Sophia. “What brings you to the park, Your Highness?”
“My magic tutor has told me to take up drawing, and I am here to sketch the oaks,” said Sophia, making a face. “She maintains that transferring what I observe from my brain to the paper helps to concentrate the mind and makes me attentive to detail, thus improving my crafting ability.”
“I know that I find transferring a glass of wine from the bottle to my mouth improves my powers of concentration immeasurably,” said Rodrigo. “Speaking of wine,” he added, turning to the servants, “go spread the blanket over there in the sunshine and open the bottle. The red needs to breathe.
“Now that they are gone, we may speak freely,” Rodrigo added. “Why are you furtively lurking about the park in that dreadful suit, Your Grace?”
“Rigo, you must not interrogate His Grace!” said Sophia.
“I don’t mind answering your question, my lord,” said Phillip. “I received a letter from my banker saying I had to come to resolve matters regarding my estate. I am doing nothing more sinister than signing a few papers and yawning over account books.”
“Still, you are in peril,” said Sophia, regarding him with concern. “You have made a great many enemies by supporting Thomas.”
“I am taking precautions,” said Phillip. “Thus this dreadful suit. Please do not worry about me.”
They walked up to the top of the hill. The servant had opened the wine and was taking crystal glasses from the basket.
“Will you join us, Your Grace?” Rodrigo asked.
Phillip would have liked nothing better than to spend the morning lounging beside Sophia, drinking wine and admiring her sketches. The hour was nearing noon, however, and more people would be coming to the park. Phillip did not dare risk being recognized by anyone else.
“Thank you, my lord, but I have an appointment with my banker.”
“Will I see you again?” Sophia asked softly.
Phillip reluctantly shook his head. “I do not think that would be a good idea.”
“Of course, you are right,” said Sophia. “Please take care of yourself.”
She gave him her hand. Her fingers tightened over his. He remembered the Trundle
r good-luck charm she had once magically inscribed on his palm. He gently released her hand, bade farewell to Rodrigo, and walked away.
The oaks’ dead leaves rustled beneath his feet.
The next time I see her, Phillip said to himself, she will be Thomas’s wife.
* * *
Thomas returned to Sir Richard’s house—a staid and stately old building the walls of which were so thickly covered by moss and ivy it was almost impossible to see the brick beneath. The house had been built during the reign of King Oswald II, when the Wallace family’s fortunes were on the mend.
Trees surrounded the mansion and a wall surrounded the trees, hiding the house from the street and muffling the noise of the world outside. Thick intertwined branches cast deep shadows that plunged the house in gloom during even the brightest day. Shade-loving plants grew thick beneath the trees, almost covering the stone walkway that led to the front door.
A cab dropped off Thomas at the gate. He paid the fare, then opened the gate that creaked from disuse and walked through with a sigh. The house was always dark and always silent. The servants trod softly and rarely spoke. Sometimes, the only sound Thomas heard for hours was the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.
Henshaw opened the door before Thomas could lift his hand to knock.
“We are glad to see you safe, Your Highness,” said Henshaw. “His Lordship has been extremely worried.”
“I am sorry to have been the cause of any concern,” said Thomas, unwinding the muffler and divesting himself of his hat and cloak. “Where is Sir Richard?”
“His Lordship is in the study,” Henshaw replied.
Thomas walked the darkened halls, following Henshaw. After a barely heard knock, Henshaw quietly opened the door to the study to announce Thomas’s safe return.
Sir Richard Wallace was in his fifties, tall and thin. He was going bald, but scorned to wear a wig. His most prominent feature was the Wallace family beaked, aquiline nose. He had been accustomed to employing the same tailor for thirty years and he was proud to claim that his choice of cut and style and fabric had not changed in all that time.
He gave every appearance of dull, staid respectability and only a very few knew that this dull, gray man was leading a double life, belonging to a secret society known as the Faithful, dedicated to restoring the heir of James I to the throne.
Richard rose to his feet, grave and relieved. “Your Highness, I am glad to see you safe. You gave us a fright, disappearing like that without a word. We have all been extremely worried.”
“I felt the need for fresh air and exercise and I took a walk, sir,” said Thomas, trying to keep the impatience from his voice. He resented being scolded like a truant schoolboy. “I was not gone above an hour.”
“Leaving the house for even a moment is unwise, sir, as I have endeavored to impress upon you. The streets are not safe.”
Richard removed his spectacles to regard Thomas with a faint smile. “You are young, with the energy and restlessness of youth. I know you must find me a stodgy old fussbudget, but you must realize that you can no longer think only of yourself. You have a duty to your people, to your nation.”
“Have you heard any news of the queen?” Thomas asked, changing the subject.
“She remains in Kerry,” said Richard, adding dryly, “We must hope the griffin is recovering. I know you find the wait tedious.”
He replaced his spectacles and picked up a large, heavy tome. “I found an excellent account of the Cousins War, starting with the reign of your esteemed ancestor, Frederick I, and concluding with the fall of King James. I borrowed it from the library at my club. I sought it out following our conversation at dinner last night when you expressed a wish to know more about the family history.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Thomas, regarding the massive book with dismay. “I look forward to reading it.”
“And I have the morning edition of the Haever Gazette. I asked the maid to light a fire in the library for your convenience. I will be attending a debate in the House that will go on for hours. I have left orders with Henshaw to obtain anything you should desire.”
Thomas accepted the book and the newspaper, which was the same one Phillip had been reading. Henshaw marched him to the library and left him there. Thomas was surprised he didn’t lock him inside.
The library was as dark and gloomy as the rest of the house and was filled with law books. The fire struggled to combat the chill.
He placed the book on a table, sat down in a chair, and opened the newspaper to the back. The first article he saw was the lurid account of Captain Kate escaping from the clutches of the evil count by crawling out her prison window and nimbly climbing down a knotted bedsheet.
Thomas could so clearly see Kate in another prison, lifting her eyes to his in fear and despair, then hope and wonder. He remembered her shaved head, the guard’s boots that were too big for her, the cut on her foot … He remembered holding her in his arms …
He stood up and flung the paper into the fire, causing it to instantly flare up so that he feared for a moment he had started a conflagration. The flames consumed the paper quickly, however, and went back to licking the wood.
Thomas picked up the book that told the story of his ancestors: Frederick, who had been deposed by a younger brother and gone meekly to his tower; numerous Oswalds who had at least shown some spirit by fighting for their crowns, and ending with poor, weak James, whose one accomplishment in life appeared to have been dying a hero, though he had certainly not lived as one.
Thomas settled down resolutely to read.
* * *
Henshaw waited a moment with his ear to the door, to make certain that Thomas was not going to try to bolt. Hearing the rustle of the newspaper, Henshaw was satisfied and returned to Richard, who was waiting for him in the study.
“What is your report?” he asked
“I followed His Highness to Oak Hill Park, where he went to meet someone, my lord,” Henshaw said.
Richard frowned. “Do you know who?”
“The person made an attempt to disguise himself, but I recognized your brother’s agent—His Grace, Phillip Masterson.”
“He has duped Thomas into trusting him,” said Richard. “His arrival in Haever proves that the duke is still doing my brother’s dirty work. He would not dare to return otherwise. Undoubtedly he and Henry are plotting to lure the prince into some sort of trap. Were you able to overhear their conversation?”
“I regret to say I could not, my lord,” Henshaw replied. “Masterson chose the place for their meeting in a secluded area of the park. They did not speak long, and their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the Princess Sophia and a friend of the Countess de Marjolaine, Sir Rodrigo de Villeneuve.”
“Good God!” Richard was alarmed. “Did they recognize the prince? Speak to him? Her Highness would be discreet, but de Villeneuve is a rattlebrained gossip!”
“Prince Thomas had the presence of mind to hurry away before they saw him, my lord,” said Henshaw. “I saw him get into a cab and heard him give the driver this address. Knowing he was safe, I followed Masterson to his inn. We now know where he is staying.”
“Excellent. We must keep him under surveillance.”
“I took the liberty of doing so, my lord. I contacted the usual agency you hire in such circumstances. Their people are on the job. Will you tell His Highness?”
“It would do no good,” said Richard bitterly. “I attempted to convince the marchioness that Thomas should have nothing to do with the duke, but she is blinded by his wealth and prestige, just as Thomas is blinded by his professions of loyalty and friendship.”
“His Grace is very clever, my lord.”
Richard sat down at his desk, drew forth a sheet of paper, picked up a pen and dipped it in the inkwell.
“Prepare yourself for a journey to Bheldem, Henshaw. I promised His Highness I would say nothing to his mother, but his safety is of paramount importance. I must take matter
s into my own hands.”
FORTY-SIX
Queen Mary had grown up in Kerry Court, the royal family’s country estate located in Kerrington among the rolling foothills of the Glenharris Mountains. She and her younger sister, Elinor, had spent idyllic summers here in the care of their governess, happy to escape the heat of Haever and the hotter quarrels that resounded throughout the palace.
King Godfrey had been involved in a very public affair with a married woman, fathering two sons by her. His wife, Queen Jane, had not suffered in silence. She had loudly vented her fury on her husband, trying to shame and humiliate him in the vain hope that he would end the affair.
Godfrey had made it plain that he wanted nothing to do with his wife or his daughters. The girls felt abandoned by their father and found no comfort in their mother, for she attempted to turn them against him. Queen Mary had once confided in Henry that she had preferred Godfrey’s cold dislike to her mother’s querulous complaints and screaming rages.
Mary loved Kerry and had chosen to live here following her marriage, prior to becoming queen. Her only son, Jonathan, had been born here. She had built eyries for her racing griffins here, and lavished care and attention upon them. Her griffins were admired by racing enthusiasts the world over; their young fetched high prices.
The queen’s illness was still a closely held secret, and when she had collapsed three nights ago, her confidential secretary had transported her in the dead of night to Kerry for treatment. Henry had approved the decision. The servants at Kerry had been with Mary since childhood and were incredibly loyal. When Henry told the press that the queen was in Kerry to minister to one of her beloved griffins, no one questioned the veracity of the story.
Mary was attended by the Royal Physician, Dr. Broughton, and the Royal Healer, Sister Hope. The two put aside professional jealousies to work together, using all their powers—science, faith, and magic—to try to save their patient.
Henry had been roused in the night by the news. He had rushed to the estate and had remained here in case he was needed. This morning, a week after the queen had fallen ill, he ate a solitary breakfast with little appetite, then lingered over his tea as he read the paper.
Privateer Page 47
