And Alba, white faced, shrieked, “Edward,” at the same moment.
“We shall sit,” said Katherine, pulling off her cape. “And dear Ruth and myself will tell you all about it.”
She sat without being asked, and Alba frowned. “It is obvious, Katherine dear, that you have gained a good deal of confidence over your absence with Jemima.”
“I have been absent from here, but not with Jemima,” Katherine said, stretching her feet, heavy in their boots, and clasping her hands plump and comfy in her lap. “I shall start the story, since only I know the beginning of it. But then dear Ruth will continue. For there is a great deal to tell and although the beginning is wildly adventurous and extremely happy – it then leads to danger and darkness. There is a good deal which needs to be done, but you must understand the situation first, before deciding on the next moves.”
“You’ve known something important regarding dearest Edward, and have not come back to inform us for all this time. You’ve been gone since the end of December.”
“I was not permitted,” Katherine answered meekly. “Edward was in danger. He forbade me to leave the house. I have been looking after him in secret, you see.”
Alba squeaked, “Alive?”
“I would not be looking after a corpse, my dear.”
Sir Walter eyed her with doubt. “Are you trying to hint, madam, that these ridiculous rumours regarding my step-son actually contain some element of truth?”
Hearing the noise, raised voices and sudden squeals, the other women hurried downstairs. One by one they crept in to listen, shocked, delighted and horrified. The seven women in various states of almost undress, grouped together, pulling bedrobes and chemise over bare ankles, and crowding to listen, first to Katherine and finally to Ruth.
It was quite some time before a full explanation could be given and the fire died once more as the shadows collected deep in the corners of the hall, and Sir Walter clapped his hands, called for a page, demanded candles, and the fire to be relit, and insisted on three jugs of a good Burgundy being brought immediately, with cups for all.
Katherine shook her head, but Ruth reached for two cups and whispered, “You are one of us now, my dear. You shall join us and drink to keep warm. To celebrate the amazing truth of our beloved Edward, and to give us all the strength to plan for Master Wolfdon’s release and Jemima’s future.””
The cup hovered. Then Katherine accepted and Sir Walter ordered the page to bring another jug. “The story is barely believable, madam.” Sir Walter had remained standing and now paced, staring and frowning. “Unbelievable, yes. But I believe you, madam. Appalling. Disgraceful. And yes, you are right and a great deal must be done. I shall immediately approach the king.” He took the uncushioned chair from the far end of the hall, dragged it to the fire and sat down heavily. “I need another drink and I need to think.”
“And it is true,” said Ruth, nodding vehemently. “Every word. And something must be done.”
As Sir Walter sat, Alba and Elisabeth had both jumped up. “We must go at once to the Strand,” squeaked Elisabeth, her hands tight clasped in excitement. “Edward is alive. I must see him at once.”
“You, miss,” Alba exclaimed, “will take your turn. I am the first of all dearest Edward’s loves, and take precedence.”
“Oh, good gracious,” Penelope jumped up in a hurry, “we don’t need to form a queue. We must all go. It will be so exciting.”
“Too late, too late, ladies,” Sir Walter frowned, quickly emptying his cup. “Tomorrow morning we shall all go, and take the litter for you, my dears, while I shall ride. But tonight I shall go at once to see my son, and begin to instigate enquiries. Richard must be released. The Tower indeed! It is unacceptable. It is outrageous.”
Ysabel remained sitting. “If,” she said softly, “dearest Edward does not wish for our company, then I feel we should respect his wishes. Had he wanted us, he would surely have come to visit us here. Katherine must have told him that we’re all here, and we are friends only because we all love him still. But he didn’t come.”
“Silly. Haven’t you listened? He was in danger. He couldn’t leave the house.”
“He could have sent Katherine to get us.”
“I know what to do,” Alba said. She glared around her. “No one will stop me visiting my beloved, who I thought was tragically dead. I will see him, and kiss him, and he will love me still.”
“We all shall.”
Sir Walter left very quickly, bustling off into the rain with a call for his horse to be saddled. But he promised to return in the morning, with news, and with every intention of chaperoning all the women to the Strand.
Ysabel watched him go, sighed, and relaxed her stomach muscles. “It is so bothersome,” she said, patting her midriff, “to breathe oneself into a flat belly when men are around. It is so much easier to flop and wallow and be oneself in all the comfort of abandon.”
“Abandon indeed,” Ruth said, lips pursed. “You are only half dressed, Ysabel. I can see the hairs on your legs beneath the hem of your bedrobe. And it is not yet even evening.”
Hitching her hems higher, Ysabel giggled. “Thinking of Edward – and knowing he’s alive – what else should I care about? In Eddy’s arms, I never used to wear any clothes at all.”
A mass sigh of joyous excitement permeated the air like the perfume of spices. Alba was pink faced. “But for all this time. And without a word.”
“I believe,” said Elisabeth softly, “I might point out that we are all – let me put it politely – memories of the past. Why should we expect poor Edward, already fearful for his life and limb, to contact us? He tired of each one of us, and sent every one of us away over the years. Why should he want us now?” Then she looked down into her lap, blushed as furiously as Alba, and murmured, “every one of us, of course, except myself. Since I was the last of his mistresses, he has never – actually – left me at all.”
“He left you,” Ruth pointed out, “to go a-pirating, and then pretend to be dead without any explanation.”
“True.” The blush remained. “Sadly true.”
“Squabble, squabble,” smiled Ysabel, stretching out her hands. “Listen my dears. We face the most thrilling time of past years. Tomorrow we go back to the Strand House and face the man we have all loved for so long. We should be so happy.”
Ruth shook her head. “I find you all so damned feeble. You’ve spent months here living on some invisible man’s charity. And no one thought to go back to the Strand House?”
“Why? To relive sad memories? To quarrel with the horrid Cuthbert?”
“Since,” smiled Ysabel, “I was lucky enough to share the very best guest bedchamber with dear Jemima, when she and Katherine left I then had it all to myself. I have enjoyed every moment. Luxury. When I wished to indulge myself in privacy I could order the fire made up, the best wine in England in jug-fulls, as many candles as I liked, hot bricks to warm the most comfortable bed I have ever slept in, and the most glorious and plentiful food three times a day. Every day! Then, if I wanted company, I could trot down to see all of you and chatter the day away.”
Elisabeth nodded. “I have eaten and eaten and eaten. I have drunk and drunk and drunk.”
“And a garden of beauty for peaceful walks. Flowers. Birds.”
“A library of books.”
“I expect you’ve all guessed,” Penelope said quietly, “what manner of life I was forced to live after leaving Edward. I had no choice. I tried to find honest work, but the only work was on the streets. I’ve been beaten. I’ve been hungry. Living here was glorious for me.”
“Do we even want Edward back?” Philippa said suddenly, looking around at the others. “He didn’t want us. Why do we want him?”
“It should,” Penelope said, “be dear Richard Wolfdon we are concerned about, not Edward. Our host is accused of treason, and is in the dungeons of the Tower. He cannot be guilty. He is a friend of the king.”
“The king,” sai
d Philippa, “executes his friends one by one. It is his favourite pastime.”
“And Edward’s favourite pastime was ridding himself of one mistress in order to take another.”
“He did not rid himself of me.” Alba glared, standing abruptly. “We had an agreement. He bought me a pretty little cottage, and a continued allowance.”
Ruth said quickly, “He rented the cottage, the allowance was a pittance, and it stopped some time ago.”
“The man I have always loved is alive,” Alba said through clenched teeth. “And I will see him, and kiss his sweet mouth tomorrow morning.”
Katherine has spoken little, but now she finished her wine, snapped the cup on the nearby table, and stood, shaking down her hems. “My dear ladies,” she said. “Master Edward has not been a well man. His problems have been enormous, and he has been extremely frightened. No gentleman is impressive when frightened. No gentleman appears admirable when he runs to hide behind a screen at the slightest sound of feet coming to the outer door. And no man inspires respect when he pisses himself at the sound of a key in the lock.”
Every woman stared at her in silent astonishment. Finally Alba whispered, “Poor beloved Ned. He needs me.”
“He needs his daughter,” Katherine said with emphasis. “And now he has her back. She is busy trying to help both him and dear Richard. Edward needs no one else except a nurse to wipe up after him, and a lawyer to clear his name and sort his financial problems.” She smiled suddenly, and nodded. “But if you all turn up tomorrow and tell him how much you adore him, then I’m quite sure it will be excellent for his confidence, if nothing else.”
Through the lengthening shadows and the slither of a light drizzle, Sir Walter rode to the small private quarters of Thomas Dunn in the city, dismounted, tethered his horse to the water trough outside, and hammered on the door. As it was answered, he marched immediately inside and stood, wide legged and red faced, in front of his step-son’s friend.
“I wish to know,” he said, half bellow, “where Richard is. Why he’s there. Why you didn’t tell me before this. And what can be done about it.”
“Then you had better come in and sit down in comfort,” Thomas said, pointing towards the small solar behind him, alight with candle and small flickering fire, “and share my supper while I tell you everything, my lord.”
Over a ragged platter of ill-cooked sausages and boiled leeks, Thomas explained. It was a long story, and given in greater depth with a greater emphasis on the danger and the probable consequences than the tale of emotional romance and threat told earlier by Ruth and Katherine.
“Stay here tonight,” Thomas said after some hours. “The gates will be locked. You’ll never get back to court except by boat. And it’s too cold for that.”
Sir Walter leaned back in his chair, sipping the somewhat inferior wine The page had brought. “Gladly, sir, gladly. What you’ve told me needs a great deal of thought.”
“And a great deal of action, sir. I have already approached the courts. I have approached Cromwell’s steward. I have approached the greatest lawyers in the land. I have attempted , without success, to approach the king.”
“You should have come directly to me,” sighed Sir Walter. “You know exactly who I am, and that I have some small influence with the king. Though perhaps not enough.” He looked up, his face scorched by the last flames of the fading fire. “And you tell me that my step-son’s in love. Love? The boy’s never been in love in his entire life. Dalliance sometimes, and making use of the females who threw themselves at him. But not even whores and never genuine infatuation.”
“Then,” nodded Thomas, “it’s about time, since he’s approaching thirty. But,” and he clasped his hands tightly around his cup, “I cannot suppose that young Jemima, however much I admire the woman, is the best possible partner.”
“The daughter of a rascal, a thief and a pirate. No.”
“I came to know her well during these last months,” Thomas said quietly. “She is an exceptional woman of exceptional value. But a suitable bride for Richard? Who can judge?”
“I can,” Sir Walter said, half closing his eyes, hands now clasped across the bulge of his belly, velvet padded. “And I judge it foolish. But the boy’s never listened to me in his life and has always made up his own mind. I tried to arrange a respectable marriage for him a few years back. He well nigh spat in my face.”
“He’s wise. He knows his own mind.”
“Irrelevant.” Sir Walter blinked, eyes abruptly wide. “What matters is getting him out of the Tower and cleared of this ridiculous accusation. I want him safe, back at home, and proved innocent. Then perhaps we can talk of his absurd dalliance.”
“And,” added Thomas, “deal with the vile Lord Staines, who, without the slightest doubt, is the villain behind the accusations.”
“I shall start with the truth about Staines,” nodded Sir Walter, “when I see Edward Thripp in the morning. You, young man, had better come with me.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Black night blinked. The first faint flicker of a candle, the first clatter of bread to the platter and ale in the cup after the first reluctant scramble from the warmth of bed and blanket. April showers pattered like mice paws through the alleys and rippled the dark surface of the river. The city gates opened shortly after the clouds lifted to a rose-petal dawn reflected in the wet tiles of rooftops, and the puddled cobbles below.
On leaving the city, Sir Walter first visited his son, sending him riding fast towards the Tower. He then set off for Holborn. Instead of the usual lassitude and comfortable undress, he discovered a house of bustle and frantic preparation. With a prim dash from one bedchamber to another, Nurse Katherine helped each woman into her tightened chemise, stomach flattener, and very best gown. Breasts burst soft, pink and generously swelling from each neckline, and curls were pinned under small gossamer headdresses designed to disguise as little of such alluring ringlets as was possible without seeming naked and improperly covered.
Bundled into two litters, the women clustered, chattering with excitement. Sir Walter led the trundling parade, and the two guards and four drivers snorted, both impatient and amused.
Captain Edward Thripp, forewarned by messenger, was waiting on the doorstep, also wearing his elaborate and colourful best, including the proud metal flash of his sword, protruding from its leather scabbard and carefully polished, boots cleaned, and red silk sash. His hair, well brushed and equally polished was smooth beneath a lavish feathered hat.
They fell into his arms, one by one, Alba casting herself first with barely a hop from the litter to the pathway and immediately onto the copious scarlet velvet chest.
My adorable lambkin.”
“My heart’s desire, returned from the grave.”
Wine sparkled, empty hearths were sprinkled with lavender, perfumes floated within the slanting reflections of sunshine through window mullions, and the servants came running. Glowering cousin Cuthbert, every woman noticed, was mercifully not present.
“My own beautiful swan.”
“Oh, Edward, it has been such a tragic time without you.”
“And my pretty little merlin.”
“Oh, Eddy. Kiss me. I’ve missed you dreadfully.”
“Sweet sparrow.”
“Ned, come and sit down. We need to talk.”
“Yes indeed, Ruth dear, but first let me greet my plump pigeon, sweeter than any pie.”
“Silly boy. You can cook and eat me any time you wish, my love.”
“My lark of love.”
“Eddie, my Eddie, I shall sing for you whenever you wish. Do you remember how we sang together?”
“How can I ever forget, my beloved.”
But then Edward Thripp stopped, gazed, took one heave of breath, stretched out his arms, and embraced Elisabeth and she clung to him. “Oh my love. My true love.”
The other women stepped back, slightly aggrieved, and whispering. But it was Katherine who stepped in. “There’
s a great deal to be done,” she insisted. “Is Jemima here?”
She was not. Jemima had gone to see Thomas, and together they planned to ride first for a meeting with Thomas Cromwell at Westminster, then to the Tower with some small hope of visiting the innocent prisoner should they be able to bribe their way past the guards, and finally, if they could achieve the impossible, travel to Eltham Palace for a meeting with the king himself.
“Good,” said Alba. “She has her own new love to rescue. And I have mine.”
Edward Thripp’s arms loosened reluctantly from their hearty hug, and Elisabeth stepped back, blushing and patting down her skirts. “But I think,” she said softly, “it is dearest Jemima we should be concerned about.” She looked back at the captain. “Can we help?”
Thripp sat down with a bump. “I’ve been hiding for too long,” he said. “Bad custom. Bad habit. Never used to hide, not from whales, demons, nor storm. Now my little dove tells me the wretched Babbington is dead and gone, the greedy swine, I can come out and save my daughter.”
“Jemima is such a darling. Trusting. Loyal.”
“Sometimes foolish,” Alba nodded with a sniff. “And now back in the civilised parts of England, I’m sure she can be left to her own devices.”
“Wine, more wine,” Edward called. “Honey cakes and dates in syrup. Are any of my beautiful little birds suffering from the chills? I can order a fire lit. No? Well, then, my beauties. Let me point out the most important thing first. My little dove rushed off into danger to help me. Succeeded, she did. Found my – well – never mind about that. Babbington’s gone, thanks to her. Now it’s her I’ll save, and the man she wants to bed. So first my Jemmie. And then bloody Staines.”
Sir Walter had stood, elbow to the mantel, watching the kissing and flutter of silks, the blushes and sighing. Now he stepped forwards. “It is Lord Staines who has accused my step-son of treason. A ludicrous accusation, but Richard’s in the Tower, at risk of torture. That’s my priority. But think on this, sir. Staines has no quarrel with my step-son. What he has done is purely a matter of revenge, sir, and a bitter fury concerning your behaviour. He cannot accuse you, since as far as he’s concerned, you are a dead man. As far as I see it, my step-son risked his life to help your daughter, and is now suffering because of your debts. So rebirth yourself, sir, and face Lord Staines like a man. Get my boy out of the dungeons and pay your dues.”
The Deception of Consequences Page 39
